"Oh?" Hiccup raised a brow.
"I may have made my thoughts clear, but at least I'm not keeping secrets." Hiccup sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and counting to ten. Hackett smirked, revealing gaps in his teeth. "I think I have every right to openly disrespect you, Hiccup. You're not a proper chief, are you? Haven't been for years." The riders and Stoick rose, all ready to argue. Hiccup raised his hand. "Admit it, Hiccup. Admit you have it."
"Have what? Great charm, great looks, what?"
"The slavemark." Shocked gasps broke through the Hall and then outrage.
"LIAR!" Someone screamed. Ada pushed to the front, displaying an anger and confidence no-one had ever seen from her. "Hiccup is one of the greatest chiefs Berk has ever had, there is no way he can have that accursed brand!"
"Is that so?" Hackett tried to stand. His friends pushed him down. "Check his arm! His left arm! Remember he wore those bandages for so long? He was hiding it!"
"For argument's sake, let's just say he actually has this slavemark," Snotlout snorted, "how would he have got it?"
"Dagur."
"He's dead."
"Not when he gave Hiccup that."
"And you're so sure about this because?"
"Because Dagur told me. Because Hiccup made me promise not to say anything to anyone to stop me being tried back then."
"Hiccup?" Hiccup looked to his father. "Just to sort this, will you show them your arm?" Hiccup smiled.
"Of course." He undid the straps on the greave, tucking it under his right arm so to pull his sleeve up. He showed his forearm. Hackett paled, gawping. "No mark. That's a burn from dragon training... as is that one, that one and that one. This one is a scar from that time with Dagur, he cut my arm quite badly. And that one, if I remember right, is when I tripped over Spike's tail and got my arm caught on a hot pan over the fire. No slavemark." In fact, the scar Dagur had supposedly given him was truly self-inflicted, running from the crook of his elbow to his wrist, distorting the actual mark to appear as burns and scars from life as a dragon trainer. Hiccup had effectively removed the mark and the only ones that knew about it were the ones who had helped him get rid of it. "I believe that brings us to your-"
"NO!" Hackett bellowed. "You did something, you got rid of it!"
"There was nothing to get rid of, Hackett."
"But you said-"
"I said to keep whatever Dagur told you to yourself as to not cause problems here. We all know how much of a liar he was, he'd have done anything to unseat me and mine. Now, as I was saying, your sentence." He looked questioningly to the council. They were whispering to each other, minor disagreements rising only to be quelled by Stoick. A couple of minutes passed before they all nodded. Stoick rose.
"The council finds Hackett guilty of all charges and has settled to have him banished."
"What? No!" Ingrid stomped her foot. "Dad, they can't be serious!" Stoick motioned for her to be quiet. Ingrid coloured angrily, gripping her axe with white knuckles.
"Before he leaves, he is to fix the chief's home and restore the destroyed belongings. He himself will be branded as a traitor and he will have an hour to pack what he can before we send him off. Hackett, you were a good friend of my father, I don't know what happened to you, but it is no longer accepted. You are no longer accepted." Stoick crossed his arms.
"You can't do this!"
"Well, we can't now." Hiccup shook his head. "We've already done it."
"How do you expect me to do anything with this?" He waved his stump angrily, wincing and clutching it to his chest again.
"The same way Vikings have for many generations." Stoick said crossly. "Deal with it."
