A/N

Yes, I'm still alive, for those who wondered. And no, this is not the sequel to Quiet After the Storm, but rather a distraction for my exams. Luckily I only have history and economics left, but those are subjects I find very hard. Well, history not so much, but this time I have an oral exam, and it kinda freaks me out... :P

This will probably be a two-shot, so expect another chapter. I don't know when though, maybe this weekend, maybe not. I'm not sure.

I hope you'll like it!

Disclaimer: I don't own HTTYD

As fast as she could, Astrid climbed the structure of the new house until she was on the rafters, which would soon be covered by the roof. She put down her hammer and nails where they wouldn't fall down, and turned her head towards the sky, eyes closed. The sun shone warmly in her face, and a gentle breeze made her bangs sway softly back and forth. It was truly a beautiful day, and Astrid was sure that there would be a dragon race later that day.

She looked down on the village, and saw Vikings and dragons alike rebuilding houses and taking care of the stock. Only a few dozen feet away, a giant spike of ice glittered in the sun, giving it's surroundings a blueish glow.

Rebuilding the village after the attack of Drago and the Bewilderbeast was expected to take many months. Years maybe, if the ice didn't melt fast. Villagers lost their houses to the ice, or to the attacks from the many dragons that were under the Bewilderbeast's command, before Hiccup and Toothless managed to defeat it. Luckily for them, after three hundred years of fighting against the dragons, the Vikings knew how to build new houses fast and efficiently. In the beginning, they were a little bit rusty. It had been five years since the war had ended, after all. And the fight against Drago wasn't really a war, according to the Vikings. Wars took years to be won, they said.

But Astrid didn't think that. If it hadn't been a war, then there shouldn't have been so many casualties. More Vikings were lost than during a dragon raid, but less than the whole war against dragons.

And the most important thing: a chief rarely died if it's not a war.

Astrid felt a pang of guilt when she thought about Stoick the Vast. In a way, it had been her fault, hadn't it? She was the one who riled Drago up, when they were captured by him and his followers. She was the one who told Drago that Hiccup was the true dragon master, and she was the one who told Drago that Hiccup would defeat him. And look where it all led to. If she hadn't said those things, Drago wouldn't have set his Bewilderbeast on Toothless, forcing the Night Fury to obey him. If she hadn't said those things, Toothless wouldn't have shot that plasma blast, killing Stoick in the blow. Stoick, who was trying to save Hiccup.

She had gone to Valka one time, even though Astrid had only known her for a few days that time. It was her who told Astrid that she wasn't to blame, because these things just happened, how awful they may be.

"It is a bit cruel for me to say, but I'd already come to terms with losing Stoick twenty years ago," Valka had said. "I think that's why I'm not as sad as people expect me to be." Valka had been cooking that time, and while she had her attention focused on Astrid, she didn't see the black cloud of smoke slowly starting to rise, until the smell reached her nose.

"Oh, dear, I don't think cooking will every be something I learn to do." Astrid had watched as Valka tried to save what was worth saving, while thinking of what the dragon vigilante had said. It was understandable for Valka that she wasn't mourning as much as the rest of the village, and somehow her words lessened the weight on Astrid's shoulders, as if it had blown the guilt away as if it was a small feather.

Astrid smiled as she saw a small girl trying to push a small wheelbarrow - probably made for her size - towards a Viking who, Astrid presumed, was her father. Said Viking was working on another house, along with a few other Villagers. Hiccup was there as well, coördinating everyone and everything, while also giving others the chance to come up with their own ideas.

Sighing, Astrid went back to work. Truthfully, Hiccup did very well in his role as Chief. No, he was not Stoick and he handled things different, but the Vikings of Berk followed him - well, maybe not Mildew, but he was about to die of old age anyway (thank Odin).

Just as Astrid was about the slam the hammer on a nail she had held in the right place, she heard a commotion on the ground. She looked down again, and saw that the girl who was pushing the wheelbarrow lost control of it, causing it to topple over and lose almost all of it's contents. The girl, who was around seven years old, looked wide-eyed, probably startled senseless, while the other villagers also came to look what the ruckus was about.

Some of them, including the father, quickly went to put the wheelbarrow back up, and to put its contents back where they belonged. Hiccup had already went to the little girl, who looked as if she was about to burst in tears.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, thinking that maybe she had been hurt.

Astrid promptly let the hammer fall on her thumb, hard, but she ignored the pain. How could she not have noticed before? How could she be that stupid to not realize it sooner?

Looking down again, Astrid concentrated on the form of her boyfriend, more specifically, his face.

Hiccup looked really tired, if the black circles were anything to go by. His face was also a bit sunken in, and he definitely needed to shave, even though it was very un-Vikingesque. He walked a bit hunched, as if he had the weight of the world to carry on his shoulders, which was actually a bit true. When had Astrid not seen Hiccup either helping rebuild the village or helping the villagers with their troubles the last few weeks? When had Hiccup last flown just for the fun of it, and not just to move large things from one place to another, which were too heavy for himself or other villagers to lift over a large distance? When had Astrid last seen Hiccup eating dinner in the Great Hall with the other Vikings, instead of doing his chiefing duties? When had Astrid last seen Hiccup doing something for himself at all?

Not one time.

Astrid felt immensely guilty. Why had she not noticed it? She could have done something, instead of being one of many people who needed Hiccup's attention on their work. Almost everyone had partaken in it, but Astrid doubted that anyone else noticed what they were doing. What they had done the last few weeks.

A shout from below managed to pull Astrid out of her thoughts, and knowing that she couldn't do something about it right now, she continued to slam the nails in the right places. But I will help you Hiccup, Astrid thought. I promise.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?" Valka asked her son, but Hiccup only shook his head. He knew she was worried about him, but what could he do? He just wasn't hungry, plus he didn't even have much time to eat at all. And his mother's food wasn't exactly tasty, but he didn't want to tell her that.

"Maybe you should go to bed early tonight," his mother suggested, but Hiccup already knew that wouldn't happen. There was always some last-minute problem what needed his attention, and he couldn't leave the villagers to handle things on their own. He was the Chief, after all. And Chiefs always have to be able to help their people when they needed it.

Hiccup could feel his mother's eyes on him, and he sighed. "I'll be okay mom. I mean, if dad could do it, then I can as well, can't I?" he asked, not waiting for an answer, for a Terrible Terror had flown in through a window, carrying a message that his help was needed at the docks.

"Ah, got to go," Hiccup said as he stood up, ignoring the pain in his back. "Bye mom, love you," he said and he gave his mother a slight peck on the cheek.

On his way out, he gave Toothless, who was dozing by the fire-pit a pat on the head. "See ya later, bud."

The Night Fury warbled softly, hoping that his best friend would take it a bit easier, but knowing that Hiccup could be as stubborn as hell when he wanted. And Toothless was afraid that this was one of those times.

It turned out that some fishermen needed their ship repaired, otherwise they couldn't sail out early the next morning. Since these ships were of Hiccup's newer designs, he still needed to help the men in maintaining them. But it was all worth it, Hiccup thought, for the hauls had increased a third.

Now, four and a half hours later and past midnight, he was walking back towards his house, letting his joints pop and crack so that he felt less stiff, and ignored the pleas of his body for immediate rest. It would get that soon, even if it wasn't very much.

When he was finally in his room at home, he immediately sat down on the bed and detached his prosthetic. It had been hurting him all afternoon, but since he needed to help with the rebuilding of the village, he didn't have time to take proper care of his leg.

One look at his leg told Hiccup that he would be lucky if it was better the next day. His over-exercised stump was quite red, and seemed to have swollen a bit as well.

Hiccup looked around, and found a stray cloth on his nightstand. He quickly put it in the water-bowl he always had near his bed, and as soon as the cloth was soaked in the cold water, he put it on his stump, sighing in relief when it didn't feel as inflamed as before.

Noticing that Toothless was already asleep on his stone slab, Hiccup laid down as well and closed his eyes, letting the darkness take over.

It wasn't much later that Hiccup startled awake, still seeing the images of the Bewilderbeast, Drago, and Toothless's plasma blast. But those weren't the worst. The worst was the image of his father, laying on the ground with pieces of ice everywhere on him. Hiccup had pushed and tried to move the ice, and when he finally managed to get the one that was hiding his father's head away, he had stared right into those still, glassy eyes. Eyes that, even then, managed to look at him, accusation clearly evident in them.

It was always the same dream, every night, and he always managed to get just a few hours of sleep. Two or three at the most. Four if he was lucky.

Fortunately, he had been able to stifle his screams as a little boy, when he used to have nightmares of dragons coming to get him, eating him alive, so now no-one awoke because of him. Good, he wouldn't want to disturb anyone. They needed their sleep.

But don't you as well? A little voice nagged him in the back of his mind. Hiccup shook his head. A Chief protects his people. If they didn't have their sleep, they wouldn't be able to concentrate on their tasks, thus they would fail. And if everyone failed to do their tasks, then the village would break down. And Hiccup wouldn't allow that to happen. Even if it meant he had to sacrifice his rest as a result.

A/N:

So, this is part one of the two shot.

For those who are wondering, I do have some chapters written for the sequel of Quiet After the Storm (which is called Afterstorms) and I have this awesome plot (at least, I think it is pretty cool...) I only don't know yet what to write around it :P

Thank you for reading, and I hope to see you soon!

Forever Me