Heir and Pride

Chapter One

"Please, Snotlout-stop! You're hurting me!"

The larger boy pressed harder down on his smaller cousin, increasing the pressure cruelly and almost tearing the boy's shoulder from its joint. Writhing beneath him, the younger boy gave another incoherent gasp of pain, his ashen face beaded with sweat with only his little smattering of freckles and his glorious green eyes for colour. His untidy dark auburn mop was grubby with dirt from the rest of the battle. He gasped plaintively and his arm was pulled even harder.

"It's meant to, Useless!" the larger boy grunted, finally releasing him. He slumped onto his face and he lay for a long moment, gingerly moving his arm. Slowly, he pressed up onto his hands and knees-and then a fist smacked straight down onto his check and he was slammed unceremoniously into the dirt. Kicks pounded into his side and guts and he curled up, giving a pained moan. Finally, Snotout stood up, sneering down onto the smaller boy curled sobbing at his feet. "Now get out of my sight!"

"S-sorry..." Hiccup whimpered, tears streaking his battered face. His right arm felt bad, the shoulder horribly painful. He was sure he had felt something tear as the other boy had dragged on it. His body was hurting and he knew that the other teens had watched the beating silently, no one standing forward to help him.

Hiccup was small, scrawny, clumsy and universally despised. He was the worst Viking, unable to fight and apparently unable to follow orders. Every time he tried to help, he brought disaster to Berk. But he was the son of the Chief Stoick the Vast, his only son-and he was an embarrassment to the Tribe. Snotlout, his larger, brawnier cousin had replaced him as heir for the good of the Hooligan Tribe and Hiccup, set aside and supplanted, was now the constant target for abuse and beatings. He just lay on the cold ground, his head spinning and body hurting and just sobbed his heart out. It wasn't fair: he couldn't have tried more.

Finally, he lifted his head. The other teens had long gone, the fun finished for the moment. Painfully, he levered his body up and scrambled to his feet. It was just another day in his perfect life: his father ignoring him as usual, the daily beating and now he was late for work. He rubbed his painful shoulder and slowly began to drag himself down the hill to the forge.

He painfully slank into the back of the forge, grasping his leather apron and shrugging it on. He winced as he moved his right shoulder: this was going to be a nuisance at work. He looked up-and met the scowl of his boss, Gobber the Belch. The big blacksmith frowned, his eyes inspecting the scrawny and battered shape.

"Nice of you to turn up!" he said sarcastically. Hiccup just slumped miserably.

"Sorry," he mumbled. Somehow, he had got into the habit of apologising on principle. No matter what happened, he would end up being in the wrong so he might as well save time.

"Laddie, you've got work to do," the blacksmith said gruffly, taking in the grimy and battered shape. Gobber had been his boss since he was apprenticed at eight and though he trusted the blacksmith implicitly, he just didn't feel there was anything Gobber could do to help him. The blacksmith handed over an axe. "This was brought in for sharpening. Can you manage that without any catastrophes?" Hiccup nodded and held the axe, glancing at it and then freezing. He knew this weapon: it was Astrid's axe.

Astrid Hofferson. The most beautiful girl in Berk, with sun bright hair that flopped over one eye and braided fiercely. Her eyes were a clear sea blue and her face was perfection. She was totally the most beautiful girl on the island. If not the Archipelago, his mind amended softly. Astrid had been his friend when they were small-before everything changed. She was now the most promising shield maiden in the history of Berk. And she had stood by, her arms crossed, as Snotlout had pounded him into the dirt this morning. He shivered.