Disclaimer: I don't own How To Train Your Dragon or its characters or content.

I don't know when it started, this feeling. It seemed to have moulded into my life gradually, creating a grip around me that I didn't notice until it was too late.

Hiccup Haddock the Third. Hiccup Haddock the useles. I'm sure you'll find the second one is more fitting. I always hoped that would change. But who was I kidding. I've been the village screw up for as long as I remember and I don't see my life going any other way.

I was supposed to be the strong, honourable heir to the great Stoick the Vast, chief to the strong and brave warriors of Berk. You know a strong boy with beefy arms, extra guts and glory on the side! Oh if only. I'm stuck with being a talking fish bone. I radiate clumsiness and uselessness on a daily basis. Perhaps I'm being too negative too quickly, let me start from the beginning.

You see after my mother died, my father took it badly. He was hurt, no, he was scarred for life. His heart had been ripped out and handed back to him on a silver platter. I think when he looks at me, he sees what he lost and what he could've had. It's clear in his eyes that he wishes that I had died and my mother had lived. I am just the reminder of what hes stuck with. This lead him to overwork. He left first thing in the morning and didn't come home until long after dark. Most days I would have to cook for myself and take care of myself, but sometimes Gobber would cook for me if he decided to walk me home from the blacksmith. Maybe he's trying to stop me from drowning myself in work like my father is. Maybe. There are a lot of maybes going through my mind. Maybe if I was a bit taller I would've been less invisible. Maybe if I was stronger my dad would see I was worth his time. Maybe if my mother had lived I wouldn't be living with the constant nagging thoughts that I am worth nothing in this world.

There is one thing I'm sure of. If I disappeared, no one would notice. Their lives would go on as usual. Better even!! Maybe the village would even throw a party to celebrate!! No one would miss that old nuisance. Perhaps it's for the better. I'm no stranger to pain. Snotlout and the twins take it upon themselves to remind me constantly about how unwanted I am. But I can live with the bruises and the broken ribs. But it's the words. They burn my heart, cut me deeper than I could ever imagine.

Don't they get it? I know I'm unwanted. I know I'm nothing. I know my dad would've been better off without me. I know Gobber would have more free time if he didn't have to baby the unwanted child. I know I'm better off drifting off into the land of unconsciousness forever, never to return. Perhaps I can say hello to mum. Maybe she wants me. Maybe I'll be welcome there. Maybe I'll be happy.

The truth is, every day I feel like a piece of my heart is being torn out and ripped apart right in front of me. I feel like I'm underwater struggling to breathe and the whole world is keeping my head under. I feel like someone has reached into my chest and is squeezing my heart. But they won't let me die. No wound strikes the final blow. No matter how much time passes, nothing is merciful enough to let me go, to let me die and be in an eternal state of peace.

I was born as the son of the chief, and yet I was still born with nothing. At least they all have something. They all have love and friendship and peace I'll never get to see. But I gave up all hope long ago. I have the scars to prove it. My arms are littered with faded lines, the only proof of the pain within me.

I'm overwhelmed. I'm tired. I want to go. If the world won't be merciful to me, then perhaps I should be to myself. It doesn't take long. I'll just grab this dagur. Hold my breath. I let my hand guide the dagur down my arm. I hope mum will be happy to see me. I hope she accepts me and loves me. All I want, is for someone to care. The world begins to fade away but it's ok, because I'm inching closer to my mother, slowly-