A/N: Wow, eleven reviews on the first chapter? You guys rock! Seriously, I've never had such an immediate response to one of my stories before. Thank you all so much! I hope you continue to enjoy this.

Chapter Two

Celebration

Hiccup yawned as he descended the stairs the next morning, rubbing sleep from his eyes and trying his best not to tumble headlong to the first floor of the house. Toothless followed behind him, looking as though he desperately wanted to take his friend's tunic in his teeth and carry him. The passing time had not made the boy any less clumsy. The dragon visibly relaxed when Hiccup set both feet on solid flooring again.

"Morning, Dad," Hiccup said.

Stoick, seated at the table, didn't even look up from the papers he was reading. "You're late, Hiccup."

Hiccup blinked and frowned. "Uh…"

"You were supposed to be at the forge ten minutes ago," Stoick continued, still not looking at his son.

Hiccup didn't know how to respond to his father's words or icy voice. He exchanged a glance with Toothless, who looked just as befuddled as he was. Looking back at Stoick, he stammered, "I, uh…I'm sorry, Dad. I'm on my way now."

Stoick merely grunted. "Don't let it happen again."

Hiccup stood for a moment longer just staring at his father. Then he turned and headed out the door. "What in Odin's name was that all about?" he said once he was safely outside and out of Stoick's hearing. "I mean, I've been late before and he's never acted like that. And it's only ten minutes! It's not like I slept the morning away or anything…"

Toothless warbled a confused response and Hiccup sighed. "Well, better not waste any time I guess," he said, and they descended the hill into town.

As they neared the village square, Hiccup caught sight of a pair of familiar faces. He grinned. "Hey Mulch, hi Bucket. How are you doing?"

To his surprise, Mulch merely continued walking, not even glancing towards the boy who had greeted him. Bucket, predictably, smiled a bit absently (he did everything a bit absently, truth be told) and waved. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mulch whipped around and punched his companion on the shoulder. "Ow!" Bucket yelped. "Sorry!" And then the pair continued on without so much as a glance Hiccup's way.

Hiccup came to a stop and watched them depart. "What…?"

"Oi! Move along boy! You're blocking the path!"

Hiccup jumped, startled, and quickly scurried away from the shouting Viking as he barreled past with a heavily-laden cart, glaring at the teenager and muttering darkly under his breath. But before Hiccup could express his surprise, hurt, and confusion, another Viking shoved him roughly, and he stumbled, only narrowly avoiding another tumble in the dirt. "Get out of the way!" the offending woman snarled, looking at him as if he was something unpleasant she'd found on the bottom of her boot.

Hiccup was too stunned to move. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide. For a moment he wondered if he was still asleep and having a bizarre dream.

Toothless nudged him, bringing him back to reality, and they retreated across the square to the forge. "Ah, there you are!" Gobber the Belch said, glancing up from his work. "I was beginning to wonder."

"Sorry, Gobber," Hiccup replied, picking up his apron and tying it around his waist. "I overslept a little."

Gobber shrugged and grunted and said nothing more about it.

"Hey Gobber?" Hiccup asked, trying to sound unconcerned but not quite pulling it off. "Why is everyone so…um…upset?" It didn't seem like the right word to use but it was all he could think of.

"What do you mean?" Gobber asked, not looking at him. There was an air of forced lightness to his voice that made Hiccup suspicious.

"Well, Dad scolded me for being late, Mulch wouldn't look at me when I said hi, and I was told to get out of the way twice in thirty seconds," Hiccup recited. "What's up with everyone? Did I miss something?"

Gobber shrugged. "Eh, they're probably just tired."

Hiccup raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on the lackluster answer. Instead he asked conversationally, "So what was the big meeting about last night? Dad wouldn't let me attend for some reason."

Gobber paused for maybe three seconds before answering smoothly, "Oh, we were planning Snotlout's party."

Hiccup frowned and wondered if he'd forgotten something…again. It would certainly explain why Stoick was so upset with him. Everyone else though… "Oh?" he inquired. "What's the occasion?"

Gobber laughed. "Why, celebrating his defeat of the Red Death, of course! What else?"

The hammer Hiccup had been wielding missed the sword he was working on and clanged loudly before falling from his grip and hitting the floor. He made no move to retrieve it, staring at Gobber in open-mouthed speechlessness. Gobber continued working as if unaware of how his words had thrown his young apprentice off-balance. "Snotlout's defeat of…Snotlout…I…what?" Hiccup finally managed to splutter.

Gobber nodded, inspecting the axe he had finished hammering. "Yeah. And about time, too. Been a year after all. What with incorporating the dragons into our daily lives and all there just hasn't been time to celebrate. It's tonight at sundown in the Great Hall. Everyone will be there to hail the hero."

Hiccup's knees threatened to buckle. His head spun. "Gobber," he said slowly, "I'm the one who defeated the Red Death, remember?"

Gobber finally turned to look at him, and he was laughing. "You?!" he gasped between great guffaws. "You? Defeater of the Red Death? Oh that's a funny one, Hiccup. Best joke you've ever told!"

Hiccup exchanged a bewildered glance with Toothless, who looked just as stunned and nonplussed as he did. "I'm not joking!" he finally managed to say. "How else would I have gotten this?" He gestured down at his metal leg.

"Uh, you tried to help out during the battle but fell off that dragon of yours," Gobber explained with the air of someone trying to convince a stubborn child that one and one made two. "Clumsy as ever."

"That's…not how I remember it," Hiccup retorted.

Gobber shrugged. "Well, I can't help it if you have an overactive imagination, lad."

Hiccup didn't know how to reply. His chest felt as though it was being squeezed by an unseen force, preventing him from drawing a full breath. Was this some kind of prank? Retaliation for some unremembered wrong he'd done? Was the whole village in on this?

His last question was answered almost at once. He heard a great cheer rise from the people in the square, and he looked out in time to see his cousin Snotlout strut into view, looking, if possible, even cockier than usual. "There he is!" someone cried.

"The Dragon Conqueror!"

"Defeater of the Red Death!"

"Hero of Berk!"

Hiccup watched in silence as Snotlout bowed haughtily to the adoring crowd, his expression sickeningly smug. He felt anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Snotlout? That idiot? Defeater of the Red Death? Were they serious?

Clearly they were. Throughout the day, whenever Snotlout appeared (did he always make this many public appearances or was he out and about more than usual today?) he was greeted with cheers and adulations. And whenever someone looked at Hiccup, there was undeniable disdain in their eyes, as if they were all silently asking him why he couldn't be more like their new hero. By the afternoon, Hiccup was making a concentrated effort to stay in the back of the shop as much as possible in order to avoid these accusing stares.

"Did I imagine it?" Hiccup wondered aloud after hearing yet another cheer go up for Snotlout. "Did I imagine defeating the Red Death?"

He looked over at Toothless, who was curled up in a corner, watching him. "No," he answered himself. "We did that. We defeated the Red Death, right bud?"

Toothless crooned and nodded.

"You shot a fireball into her mouth. It ignited the gas inside her. Destroyed her from the inside out."

The dragon nodded again.

"I didn't imagine it."

Toothless shook his head.

"It really happened."

Nod.

"We did that. Not Snotlout."

Nod.

Hiccup imitated his dragon's head motion. "Right. I thought so."

So why didn't anyone else remember it that way?

At sundown, Gobber closed up shop and led Hiccup and Toothless up to the Great Hall for the big party. Even though his metal leg pained him, the young Viking determinedly climbed the stairs on his own, refusing Toothless' help despite the difficulty. Naturally this meant the trek to the hall took longer than usual, with the result that he and his dragon were the last to arrive. The hall was packed with beefy (and rather smelly) Vikings all cheering and praising their new hero. None of them spared Hiccup a glance.

Hiccup led Toothless away from the crowd, leaning against a far wall and looking dispiritedly around at the gathering. There hadn't been a party for him when he'd woken up missing a leg. Not that he'd really wanted one: Hiccup wasn't a particularly social person. But still, the injustice of this bewildering turn of events stung, and he couldn't pretend otherwise.

He frowned as he observed Snotlout. His cousin looked so smug and pleased with himself that it made him feel nauseous to watch. He made a sound of disgust and looked away. His eyes fell on the row of portraits that hung on the wall of all the past chiefs and their sons. A small smile turned the corners of his mouth as he remembered posing with his father for Bucket, who, after an admittedly disastrous first attempt, had captured them admirably well. That was the day Hiccup felt sure that Stoick loved him and was proud of him, that he didn't need to be big and strong in order to win his father's affection. It was one of the best days of his…

His smile slipped from his face, leaving his jaw slack with shock, confusion, and pain. The second portrait, the one that he liked, the one that showed him for who he really was, was gone. In its place stood the awful original, the first painting Bucket had done, the one that portrayed him as big, beefy, and, well…Viking-ish. The one he had hated for all its implications that he wasn't a proper Viking…

"Hey Dad?"

Stoick, who had been talking animatedly with Gobber, looked around at his son's call. He didn't look pleased at the interruption but Hiccup pressed on. "What happened to the other portrait?"

Stoick's gaze flickered for a moment to the painting and he shrugged unconcernedly. "I got rid of it," he said carelessly.

Hiccup felt his insides turn to stone. "Wh-why?" he stammered.

"Because I like this one better," Stoick replied in a cool voice Hiccup had never heard him use before, at least not towards his own son. Hiccup didn't dare ask why his father's opinion had suddenly changed. He had the distinct feeling he wouldn't like the answer.

Apparently satisfied that the conversation was over, Stoick turned back to Gobber, leaving Hiccup to stare at the portrait in disbelief, a nameless feeling starting to churn and grow deep inside him. He couldn't quite place what it was yet but…

"Hey, Hiccup."

He whirled around and found himself face-to-face with Astrid. As they did whenever he saw his girlfriend, his spirits couldn't help but lift just a bit. He grinned at her, though he knew the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hey, Astrid. Look, I'm sorry about our plans for last night…"

Astrid waved him off. "Oh it's fine, Hiccup. Your dad explained it to me. We'll take a night flight some other time."

Hiccup breathed a sigh of relief.

"So," Astrid continued after a moment, "some party, huh?"

Hiccup snorted and glanced over at his cousin, who was striking a series of masculine poses that normally would have had everyone either rolling their eyes or gagging. Tonight, however, the crowd was going wild with delight.

"Yeah," he said bitterly. "Some party."

Astrid would have had to have been deaf to not pick up on Hiccup's displeasure. "What's wrong?" she asked, sounding concerned.

Hiccup sighed. "What's wrong?" he repeated exasperatedly. "What's right? Yesterday everything was normal, then I wake up this morning and suddenly everyone's saying that Snotlout defeated the Red Death and I'm suddenly the town screw-up again and no one will tell me what is going on or why! I'm…what's so funny?"

Astrid was laughing.

"Oh Hiccup," she said between chuckles. "Who do you think defeated the Red Death? Fishlegs?"

Hiccup felt his heart clench. He was a moment in replying. "Astrid, I defeated the Red Death! Toothless and I did that together! Don't you remember?"

Astrid was still chortling. "Oh Hiccup, you are good for a laugh, I'll give you that!"

Hiccup's legs threatened to buckle from underneath him. He leaned on Toothless for support, and the dragon warbled in worry. Hiccup didn't acknowledge him. No, not Astrid too…of all of the people on Berk, he had been certain he could count on her. He'd fully expected for her to tell him why everyone was suddenly so convinced Snotlout had brought peace to the island and not to worry about it because she knew the truth and would stand by him no matter what…but now…

His eyes hardened and he turned away. "Well I'm glad I'm good for something," he said sardonically.

As he wasn't looking at Astrid, he didn't see when her smile faded and a look of guilt and sadness flickered across her features. She pulled her grin back in place so quickly that, even if he had noticed it, he wouldn't have been certain he'd really seen the change at all.

But he wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the ugly portrait again, and that strange feeling was bubbling in the pit of his stomach once more. This time he knew what it was: anger. He suddenly realized what it was about the painting he hated so much: it made him look like Snotlout.

"Why now?" he suddenly demanded, still looking at the portrait. "It's been a year, and for that year everyone treated me like I was…like I was a part of them. Like I belonged. I fit in. Why has everyone suddenly turned on me? Why does everyone glare at me in the streets? Why do people look at me like I'm…like I'm a…"

He stiffened suddenly. He'd just realized what they were all treating him like.

"…like I'm a hiccup?"

He turned to look at Astrid again. She was gazing at him with a faint smile on her face, an expression that didn't look the least bit cheerful. "Well Hiccup…that's what you are." She shrugged. "No point in trying to pretend otherwise."

Hiccup was so stung by this that he didn't answer for a minute. He just gaped at Astrid, wondering if he had really heard those words come from her mouth. Astrid, the girl he trusted, the girl he loved, had just told him that he was a hiccup, a runt, a mistake. No, it wasn't possible…she couldn't have said such a thing, could she…?

Then cold realization hit him, and he barely contained his rage when he said, "Well you wouldn't want to be seen with a hiccup, now would you Astrid? That would totally ruin the image you've been trying to build for yourself."

Now it was Astrid's turn to look surprised. "What do you—"

"Why don't you go hang out with the Hero of Berk?" Hiccup interrupted, placing an unpleasant emphasis on the title. "Snotlout is a much better match for you than I am, obviously. He's got it all: title, respect, muscle, and the brain of a limpet. What a pair you two make."

He felt an odd combination of regret and savage satisfaction at the look of stunned disbelief plastered to Astrid's face. For a long moment she simply stared at him, her mouth hanging open in shock.

Then she closed it with a scowl and said coldly, "You know, maybe you're right." And before he could say anything else – before he could see the tears starting to well in her eyes – she turned and stormed off.

Hiccup watched her march right up to Snotlout and whisper something in his ear, something that made him grin like a total idiot. She then took his hand in hers…and kissed him on the cheek.

Hiccup turned away, quite certain that his heart was breaking. Toothless crooned sadly, and Hiccup rested a hand on his head. "I should have known better," he managed to choke out. "I should have known it was too good to be true. No one in their right mind would choose a hiccup over a hero."

Toothless growled softly at his friend's self-deprecation, but Hiccup just shook his head. "Let's go home, bud. If I stay here I'll go insane."

But he wasn't going to get out of it so easily. As he made his way to the massive doors that separated him from freedom, he was intercepted by Stoick, who sternly ordered him to stay for the duration of the celebration, "as a proper show of respect for our hero." And of course the party went on till early the next morning, so Hiccup was forced to endure hours upon hours of utter torture, watching from the shadows as Snotlout was heaped with praises. The only attention he got all night was the occasional glare from a passing Viking. Poor Hiccup had never felt so alone, so hated, so…

"Out of the way, Useless!" someone barked as they bustled past, nearly pushing Hiccup to the floor.

Useless. The boy let out a hollow laugh. Hiccup the Useless. It was a name Snotlout had created for him when they were kids, once it was certain that he was going to turn out small and scrawny. It had hounded him for years, right up until the time he had killed the Red Death. And now…now it seemed it had come back with a vengeance.

The sky was starting to lighten by the time Hiccup finally collapsed into bed. Waking up a mere two hours later, he hoped and prayed that the previous day had just been a terrible nightmare, that today everything would be back to normal. This hope was dashed the moment he descended the stairs, as his father was waiting for him, looking distinctly peeved. "Get on with it, you lazy boy!" he barked. "Did you plan on sleeping the whole day? You have work to do! Now get going!"

Hiccup didn't bother to correct Stoick. Really, what would have been the point?

A/N: And so it begins…