Heir and Pride

Chapter Twenty Five

Below the soaring dragons, Gobber walked up to Stoick. He wasn't alone and he was looking troubled.

"We need to talk," the blacksmith said grimly. The Chief turned to see his friend and saw him holding Hiccup's journal. For so many years of bullying and isolation, Hiccup had no friends and the only place he could confide his fears, worries and thoughts was the inanimate book. He handed it to Stoick and opened it at the point they had marked with a scrap of leather. "Astrid found this when she was reading his journal as he slept," he said unselfconsciously. Stoick read the runes, his brow dipping as he scanned the words:

It's all my fault. Dad is dying and it is all my fault.

    

I shouldn't have done it. I should have stayed in the forge like I'm ordered to do, but I saw Gustav sneak out and get cornered by three Nadders. They were going to kill him-and he's only a young kid. Only Olaf Hofferson was near and I know he can't run. So I grabbed a sword and charged them. I was praying my Dad wouldn't find out-I don't want to shame him any more-especially when they scattered. I shouted at Gustav to run and he did-but then they had me. I tried to keep them back. I thought I was going to die and to be honest, it actually would probably be for the best.

    

I mean, Gustav is loved by his family and has two sisters and a baby brother to look after. My Dad hates me, my Mum is dead, Snotlout and the others beat me up every single day and the village treats me like dirt. Only Gobber shows any kindness. If I just died, then everything would be okay. My Dad could move on, maybe marry again and have the son he's always wanted, not the disappointing runt he always calls me.

    

But Dad came. He always comes. He attacked them with such power, such ferocity, I was so proud to be his son. But they caught him off guard and he was hit by loads of spines. There was blood everywhere and they got away as he fell. He had saved my life-but at the cost of his own.

    

Why? Why when he despises me so much? He's the Chief-he should let me go. He has much more important things to worry about than me.

    

I was screaming and crawling to him. I wanted him to know, to apologise, to hug him to let him know I am his son and I love him. But they held me back and screamed at me. It was ALL my fault. I shouldn't be out.

No one would listen.

And then Spitelout and Snotlout started to beat me. I mean really beat me. Every blow was utter torment. My vision went red, my ribs were broken, every part of my body was pounded into the ground and still they kept hitting me. I knew they were going to kill me. I just cried for my Dad, struggled to get to him while I could. I didn't want him to die without him feeling my touch one last time. I didn't want to die without saying goodbye. Saying sorry.

   

But they just kept hitting me.

   

Until Gobber came and shouted for them to stop. I was the Heir-I couldn't be slain while Dad was so sick.

    

Funny. It's the only time that being the Heir has spared me one moment of pain. But instead, it condemned me to worse. I wanted to die-and they made me live. They took Dad to Gothi. But they left me lying on the dirt, bleeding and pleading to see him. And even when I managed to crawl to Gothi's, when I begged and pleaded, they wouldn't let me see him. Even when I collapsed from concussion and bloodless and broken bones, they kept me away from him.