"You're not my son."
Hiccup lay still on the stone floor, watching the door swing shut after his father's departing form. He shut his eyes, partly because of the pain of being thrown to the ground, but mainly in an attempt to block out the words Stoick had growled as he left.
"You're not my son."
Letting out a groan, Hiccup sat up and put his hands to his face. Guilt overtook his mind. Guilt about not telling his father about Toothless, guilt that he had let his beloved dragon fall into the hands of a vengeful Viking population, guilt that he had failed them all.
"Ready the ships!" he heard Stoick call from outside the door. It was Hiccup's fault. They were going to find the dragons' nest. They were going to kill Toothless. Or else, they were going to be killed by the massive beast that resided within the mountain. It was his fault.
"You're not my son."
Hiccup stumbled to his feet, desperately trying to evade the thoughts crowding his mind. He ran out of the door and into a Viking hauling weapons down to the ships. Glancing upward, Hiccup received a glare that made him back up a few paces. The Viking hissed something to another, and they both turned fierce looks on the teen. Hiccup ran.
Unaware of how he made it to the docks overlooking the ships being loaded, Hiccup peered over the edge and saw Toothless being strapped down and placed on a ship. His gut clenched at how roughly the Vikings handled the dragon. Toothless didn't deserve this. He hadn't done anything wrong, only what was needed to survive. And Hiccup saw the fear in the dragon's eyes.
Stoick was nearby, overseeing everything. Hiccup watched as his father studied everything, and then turned an eye on his son.
"You're not my son."
The Viking chief turned away, but not before Hiccup saw the anger burning in his eyes. And something else. Fear.
Hiccup had driven them to this. If only he'd killed the dragon. He could only stand and watch as the ships disappeared across the vast ocean.
"You're not my son."