A/N: References to physical and sexual abuse. But a slightly happier chapter here...

-0-

Thirty Four: I want you, son.

Hiccup opened his eyes and lay still for a long moment, confused. He didn't know where he was or what had happened-until the pain in his wrist reminded him and he closed his eyes. Tears streaked down his face and a dry sob ripped through his throat.

I can't even kill myself properly. Thor…please…what else can I endure?

"Easy, son," a deep voice murmured and his eyes snapped open in panic, his head rocking to see the Chief leaning forward in a chair, his elbows on his knees and hands clasped as if in thought. Hiccup tried to recoil as far as he could from the man but he was tangled in the blankets and could go no further. He shook his head.

"Please…no…" he whimpered. "I-I-I'm sorry…" Stoick leaned forward and took his uninjured hand, dragging the boy across the bed. Hiccup just went stiff, his eyes dark with terror. "Don't hurt me!" he gasped and Stoick froze.

"Oh, son," he murmured. "I won't hurt you." Hiccup pulled his hand free and curled up into a small ball, his knees clutched to his chest and arms wrapped around them. His head was spinning from blood loss and shock.

"You-you already did," Hiccup told him quietly, his voice so soft that the Chief almost didn't hear.

"I-I never meant to…" Stoick began but Hiccup stared at him, trembling.

"I think you did," he said slowly. "I-I think you wanted to destroy me. You-you knew what happened in the port. You knew what I feared. And you knew what would befall me on Outcast Island. But when you saw me, your face changed and I saw then you were…disgusted with me. You were ashamed of what had happened-and you blamed me." His voice was thick. "And because you ignored me, everyone else did too. Only Gobber would speak to me. Snotlout did-when he raped me. But that was it. And after you cast me off, I knew nothing would get any better. Is it any wonder I didn't want to live any more, that death was infinitely preferable?" Stoick blinked, his eyes filled with guilt.

"I didn't know," he said softly. "I assumed you understood why I had to be distant for now. And I thought that your friends were with you…"

"Why-why would they be?" Hiccup asked slowly. "I was ruined. The message you gave was that I was nothing. So they all treated me like that."

"Then why did you thank them?" Stoick asked, his face shocked. Hiccup blushed.

"Because they showed me kindness before when so few people have in the past," he admitted in a shamed voice.

"And I did not?" Stoick's tone was sharper than he had intended and the boy stiffened.

"You promised to protect me," he reminded the Chief painfully, his face filled with betrayal. "But you never came to see me when I was recovering. You sent Gobber all my possessions, clearly throwing me out of your home. And then you ignored me when I spoke to you. I've seen you stop and talk even to Alva Jorgensen but you wouldn't speak to me. You made it plain I was nothing to you any more. You called me son and said your house was my home…and then, when I try to do what the village asks of me to save you, I am thrown aside like a broken sword." Hiccup's green gaze was intense.

"I-I..." Stoick mouthed, unnerved by the piercing look.

"Why should I thank you when you utterly broke my heart?" the boy asked.

Stoick froze, looking into the luminous green glare.

"What?" he said. Hearing the words had been like and hammer-blow to the gut and he was vividly reminded of all those moments when Hiccup had looked at him with gratitude and hope. But now Hiccup stared downwards, no longer meeting his eyes.

"I-I loved you," he murmured. "In-in my m-mind, you had become like a f-father to me." His eyes stubbornly inspected the floor.

"I-I…" The Chief stared, gaping in shock.

"When you rejected me, it broke my heart."

"Oh, son…" Stoick murmured. The boy's eyes snapped up and they were angry.

"I'm not your son," he said coldly. "So why did you throw me aside?"

"I thought you understood why. I thought you were strong enough to hold out until I managed to fix it." As soon as he said the words, Stoick groaned inwardly because the boy's battered face moved into a scornful expression, though his eyes were still dark with hurt.

"Strong enough?" he gasped and a bitter laugh left his pallid lips. "What the Hel does that mean?" Stoick stared at the boy and wondered where this anger came from. Was this the real Hiccup or was this the action of a desperate and wounded boy, lashing out when he knew he no longer had anything to lose?

"I mean you've faced worse than just being temporarily Outcast," Stoick told him, feeling as if he was inching over thin ice. "I thought you were stronger than giving in like this. I thought you were a Viking!" Hiccup have his bitter laugh again but his eyes were shimmering with tears. His hands balled into fists and he took a shuddering breath.

"I think it's obvious I'm not a Viking!" he shot back, his tone bitter and suddenly, sad. "After all, my mother died at my birth and my father rejected me. I was to be floated out to die with my mother's corpse-but my aunt, the midwife, took pity on me and she and her husband fled, taking me with them. They raised me as their own and I loved them. I wanted to make them proud and did everything I could to do that. But they died when I was twelve, still small and scorned. And then we were attacked. I was given by my Village into slavery. No love from my Tribe, no family. And then I was branded as a slave.

I knew I had to be strong because my aunt and uncle would have wanted it. They wouldn't want me to break but every time I defied him, he whipped me. Every time I tried to escape, he whipped and starved me and eventually, I had to give in. Because I simply could not manage with no food and no water and continual whippings. And I hated myself for not being strong, for letting them down and not being the son they deserved. But I survived and planned that one day, I would get away. I was strong for my dead family. And when I was sold to the Meathead, it got far worse. They insulted me and my tribe. And I had to be brave because it would be so much worse if I wasn't. But he found that beating me wouldn't make me stronger so I was sold.

And then was the Captain. He just delighted in torturing me, setting impossible tasks and savouring my punishments when I failed. And I only kept strong because I wanted to escape and make him feel as bad as I did." He sagged.

"Please, I…"

"No! You saw me raped in the whorehouse," Hiccup said sadly. "I wasn't strong there. I was pathetic and desperate and you rescued me. But when you did rescue me, I knew I had to be strong to make you proud of me. I endured Snotlout's family and their horrible treatment. I was forced to carry water and chop logs, I was denied food and warmth and scorned and beaten. I had to be rescued again. So when I saw you fall, when I saw Alvin try to kill you, I had to run forward. I had to defend you with my life. I stopped them killing you but he had me down, had his axe at your throat. When Snotlout suggested a hostage, I knew he would mean me and I could see how badly he would treat me. But I had to be strong, had to go with him because it was the only way to save you."

"Hiccup…"

"And it hurt, sir," he whispered. "It hurt more than anything I could imagine. I couldn't move, couldn't even breathe without it hurting. But they dragged me back again and again and all I could see, as they held me helpless, was you. Your face as you drank your mead with that little smile on your lips. And it gave me what little strength I had to endure their abuse. Until you came…and then, I saw it was all a lie. You rejected me out of hand because I had done what was needed to save you. And no one would look at me here. When Snotlout came and had me last night, I knew no one would lift a finger to protect me. I was truly on my own. When you cast me aside, I knew there was nothing left. Alone with no friends, no protector and even the man I loved as a father hating me, there was no point in living any more." He lifted his eyes as tears trailed down his bruised face. "I can't apologise of being weak, sir. I ran out of strength. I ran out of everything. You should have let me go."

"I couldn't," Stoick said, staring at the boy and feeling smaller than the lowest worm. The guilt was burning his chest and he had to force the words out past the lump in his throat. His arms longed to wrap around the distraught boy. "You see, I believe your father was never given the choice whether to reject you or not. My wife died in childbirth, fifteen years ago. I was told my son had died but I was never shown his body, merely told he was too small to survive. And, blinded by grief, I hugged the body of the woman I loved above all and let her go. My wife's midwife left the island the next day, not even waiting for the funeral of my wife and the little body of my son. My wife's midwife was Marte Alkmund-the woman you called your Aunt. She came from Berk and left with her new husband, Dag, after my wife died and my son was supposedly stillborn."

Hiccup's wary green eyes lifted and inspected the big face leaning close to him.

"When I met you, I said I couldn't react because you reminded me of someone. My dead wife: you are her image. And your tale informs me that you are my son. Marte assumed I would reject you as a runt rather than embrace you as the last part of my beloved Valka. I was denied any chance to know you, to raise you. By a miracle you are back. You are my son."

Hiccup shook his head desperately, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

"It can't be…" he breathed.

"No other woman gave birth, died or lost a child within a month of my wife and the departure of Marte," the Chief said levelly. "I checked with Gothi. And you do look like my wife." He rose and walked to a chest, pausing for a long moment to stroke the top then open it with a creak and fished out a board, wrapped tenderly in a grey-blue dress and a shawl. He turned and tenderly revealed a painting, delicately rendered on the wood. He offered it to Hiccup and the boy stared.

The image of Stoick was excellent, the shape of his face and nose, the colour of his hair and eyes and the bearing all right, telling the boy that it was a good image of the subjects. And then his green eyes inspected the woman at his side, much slighter and more lithe than her husband. Her dark reddish-chestnut hair and green eyes stared back at the boy, her pale skin flawless. Hiccup swallowed: it was like looking in a mirror. He felt his breathing accelerate and he gasped, then handed the picture back as if scalded.

"No," he moaned but the word was a hoarse plea against fate. Then his eyes snapped up. "She couldn't…" Stoick nodded.

"I am sorry," he said. Suddenly Hiccup was sitting on his knees, glaring at the Chief.

"SORRY?" he shouted, his eyes flashing with rage. "It makes it even worse. You knew and you rejected me anyway. What were you doing? Did you try to decide if you ever wanted to accept me or not? Or did you change you mind once Alvin ruined me? Was I meant to go to my grave never knowing you are my father?"

"I was planning to tell you the day of the attack-but when I came to, you were gone!" Stoick said, his words tripping over one another. "I-I'm sorry."

"And the way you treated me?" Hiccup shouted. "You wouldn't even LOOK at me! You blanked me-and then you made sure I knew I was completely rejected. I guess Aunt Marte was right: she just got the date wrong." Stoick stared at him.

"You know, Gobber said almost exactly the same thing," he murmured.

"He's right!"

"I-I panicked." The admission was only spoken in tiny words so that Hiccup could barely hear. He blinked and stared.

"P-panicked?" he repeated.

"Yes. I'm so sorry, Hiccup. I-I've never been a father before. I should have been for years but my son was stolen. I dedicated myself to my village. It has…become a habit, putting the needs and wants and concerns of the village before my personal wishes. So when I heard what happened…and I saw the Outcast brand on your flesh…I reacted wrongly. I did what a Chief should, with his enemy taunting him and claiming you as his slave and possession-not what a father must. I forgot you were a frightened, wounded and desperate boy begging for affection and protection. I just saw a boy who was marked as an Outcast, who we had to isolate by custom and law. I have had the Council, Gothi the Elder, Earwig the Archivist and every clever man I know looking for some way to overcome this. But I should have explained why I couldn't talk to you in public or acknowledge you. I-I panicked and did the wrong thing. I'm sorry."

Hiccup suddenly began to shake, his shoulders jerking as his hitching breaths threatened to choke him. He blinked and tears fell from his eyes.

"You-you want me?" he begged, his face desolate. Stoick nodded.

"Please, give me a chance," he asked. Hiccup paused and then flung himself against the man's huge chest, his hands latching onto the tunic. His head buried into the chest and Stoick closed his arms around the body as Hiccup collapsed into jagged, tearing sobs. His entire body shook and he pressed harder against the Chief, like a small animal seeking comfort from his parent. The Chief found his eyes burning with tears as well, the wetness unfamiliar on his skin, for he had not shed a tear since the day his wife died. Quietly, he nuzzled into the soft auburn hair, feeling the dampness on his tunic. "Please give this fool a chance to know the son he had always dreamed of." Hiccup swallowed and blinked.

"B-bet you never dreamed of this," he mumbled. Stoick gave a small smile.

"Aye that's the truth," he murmured, feeling the boy shift against him. "I mean, I always guessed a son of mine would be a buff, burly lad with flaming hair and a temper to match." Hiccup looked up and shrugged.

"Um…I can see why you didn't recognise me immediately," he admitted and Stoick chuckled.

"But that's the thing, lad-I did," he confessed. Hiccup looked up, shining emerald eyes puzzled. "You look like your mother. That is why I stopped when I saw you first, why I couldn't say anything. You looked like my dead Val…and that completely threw me." He sighed. "That's why I asked the Councillors I trusted to look for any clues that could link you to Berk-and to me. Thank Thor we found enough to convince me-and them." And then he smiled.

"Why are you smiling?" Hiccup asked quietly, his expression suspicious.

"Because I have a majority in the Council," he said simply. "And that means I have enough to back me when I officially recognise you as my son." Hiccup stared.

"But at the moment you can't," he sighed. "Because I am an Outcast." Stoick nodded, allowing the boy to sit comfortably against him, his powerful arm wrapped protectively around the skinny shape. The Chief nodded.

"There are a number of people in this village who should be loyal to their Chief but who instead are vying for my position," Stoick revealed in a grave voice. "Oh, I think they presume that are being subtle and stealthy but I have been Chief of Berk for over twenty years and there is little I haven't seen." Hiccup sighed and rested against him.

"Mildew was one-I only found about him when I was on Outcast Island," he admitted. "I mean, they considered I was never going to leave so I heard the guards talking. I knew he was a traitor-and he was out to finish you off. So I asked Astrid to go warn you…"

"Ah, that will explain why she arrived just at the right moment to save my life-and kill Mildew," the Chief commented with a small smile. Hiccup's eyes widened.

"She killed him?" he gulped.

"He was about to stab me in the heart," Stoick added.

"Oh Thor," Hiccup breathed and stared up into the big face. "Are you okay?" The Chief chuckled.

"I am fine, son-unlike you," he advised him and Hiccup sighed.

"I miss her," he said quietly, the longing obvious in his voice. "I mean, she was my best friend here-and I was hers…and now I guess she's not allowed to speak to me at all…" Stoick gave him a gentle squeeze.

"I'll have a quiet word with her and tell her to come and visit you, lad," Stoick said gently. "I'll have Gobber bring you some food over as well." Hiccup frowned and realised where he was.

"I'm in your house?" he breathed. "I-I thought…" Stoick frowned.

"I brought you up here when I thought my stupidity had lost you," he explained. "And while I cannot acknowledge you as my son-yet-I am not leaving you in that shed in your condition. Especially since I now know exactly what my nephew-your cousin-is capable of." Hiccup cringed and closed his eyes. "Hiccup?"

"I'm fine," he lied hollowly. Stoick leaned close, his voice gentle.

"Who was Bud? The friend you hoped to see after…" He couldn't say the words. Hiccup took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes in sorrow.

"It's no matter," he sighed. "He's gone."

"But at least I still have you," Stoick admitted with relief. "And now I just have to find a way to make you a Hooligan again."

oOo

Deep in the forest, an exhausted and injured Night Fury dragged his frozen body into his scrape in a gulley adjacent to a neat cove on Raven Point. Formerly, he would have flown down but the damage from the attack on Outcast Island seemed to have injured his tail and ruined his ability to fly...and though a downed dragon was a dead dragon, Toothless wasn't dead yet. And as he hit the water, he retained only one image: Berk. His home, where he hoped his friend Hiccup would be taken once the Vikings rescued him. So he had struck out and had doggedly swum the long miles back to the island.

And now Toothless was home, exhausted, grounded and starving. So he would get some sleep and then he would try heading down to the village to find his friend.