Hiccup really missed his dad.

Like A lot.

It felt like a weight had been carelessly dropped upon his shoulders, a weight that his scrawny arms couldn't hold without turning into a wobbly mess of half-churned butter. And now, as Chief, there was no way he could escape the blinding and painfully obvious truth: He wasn't his dad. Every time that realization hit—well, that's exactly what happened, it hit, a stinging slap as hard as the fists Astrid's thrown at him, but not nearly as pleasant. And quick kiss never—at least not yet— came after these sucker punches. (But Hiccup certainly wasn't holding his breath for one, either).

SMACK!

He was nothing like his father.

BAM!

He would never be his father.

KA-POW!

Nor was there any point in trying to fill his place.

And that was the end of that…for a good three minutes.

Hiccup sighed, trudging down the hill towards Gobber's workshop to help fulfill the urgent( At least from a viking's point-of-view—they hadn't an ounce of patience) requests, one of his many, tiring tasks as Chief Viking of Berk. By the time he made it to the forge, he found himself in the middle of storm cloud, hair sopping wet and boots covered in sludge.

"Hey, Gobber," Hiccup sighed, shaking his head like a wet dog.

"Hiccup!" Gobber hopped up from behind a large hedge of steel, "You're late! There's a line outside as long as Odin himself!"

And Hiccup could see that Gobber was right(metaphorically, speaking of course. Hiccup had never had the pleasure of meeting the Norse god). The line stretched all the way to the mess hall. Viking women and men and children, shielding themselves from the rain with…well, their shields, others attempted the same with axes and swords, not nearly as successful. Some argued and pushed each other in line while others arm wrestled standing up. It was a sight to be seen. Only in Berk, Hiccup thought, Only in Berk…

When they saw him, their faces brightened, "Mornin' Hiccup!" they cheered.

Hiccup could only smile weakly, his head being bludgeoned with hammering rings of Not Your Dad, Not Your Dad!

"Okay," Hiccup grimaced, looking down at the counter, "Number one?"

"I'm Number One!"

"No me!"

"That's Number Seven, ya idiot!"

And that was his life now…without his dad. Honestly, Hiccup had never thought he would become Chief, even if he was the Chief's son. He had never payed much attention to the duties as leader, always the black sheep of Berk(and definitely not the one worth ten points). He had assumed the "honor" would be given to someone who was true viking inside and out…someone like Astrid, or even Snotlout or Fishlegs…and definitely not him. He was too busy flying and discovering new lands with Toothless, he was too busy being selfish.

Yep. Definitely not his dad.

Hiccup was first at a lot of things:

1. First Viking to Not Kill a Dragon

2. First Viking to Fly a Dragon

3. First Viking to Try to Reason with Drago Bludfist

4. First Viking Whose Best Friend Pet Dragon Killed His Dad

5. First Viking Who Did Not Stop Said Best Friend Pet Dragon From Killing His Dad

…

And drumroll.

First Chief of Berk to Not Deserve Being Chief.

Yeah, Hiccup was a first-class piece of dragon—

"Hiccup!" Gobber called, "Get out of that little head of yours and get to work!"

"Right," Hiccup sighed, shaking a way his angst-driven thoughts. "Number One?" A Viking Woman looked down on him expectantly. "How can I help you…uh, ma'am?"

"Ooh! I would like wagon my dragon can pull! It should be made of sheep skin,well the gliders, coated with three layers of fish oil, and it should have three wooden wheels exactly sixteen inches in diameter and if you don't mind, I would like the wood to be pine, the highest pine in Berk and…and…and…and—"

Hiccup really missed his dad.