It was absolutely typical that a particularly severe late storm should hit today of all days. It wasn't as if Hiccup particularly bothered about his birthdays-mainly because he only had one every four years so he had them only infrequently-but he usually spent the days since he had found his dragon flying on Toothless and this storm was so bad that Toothless was refusing to even go out the door. Not that Hiccup had any more desire to freeze on a flight but it kinda ruined the only plan he had for the day.

He stomped downstairs to find his father had already left with Skullcrusher, his Rumblehorn. Stoick the Vast pushed on, despite the weather. In fact the only time he had ever been defeated was when the Chief had been snowed in and it had been physically impossible to open the door. A Chief serves the needs of his people-and he can't do that hiding by his fire! he had told Hiccup once as he plunged out into the Blizzard of Olaf, the worst blizzard in twenty years. Hiccup sighed: he wasn't his father and he really didn't want to become Chief anyway. He was just hoping the weather would clear soon so he could head out and continue his explorations for new lands and new dragons. Listlessly, he rounded up a little breakfast then slowly clambered back upstairs to his room, pulling open his plans to upgrade his flight suit again.

After a couple of hours, he laid his charcoal pen down and stretched, his neck cracking after being cramped over the table for so long. He cast a glance at Toothless, who opened a luminous green eye a crack, then closed it pointedly as the wind howled outside. "Thanks for nothing, you useless reptile," Hiccup grumbled. He was feeling bored and more than a little abandoned. He supposed he could tidy the house, maybe clean some floors or...

And then he rested his head on the desk. If he stayed in, he would go crazy. He was supposed to have friends, family, people who cared about him. Not that it had always been the case.

When he was one, four years after he had been born, his father had been busy with a Meathead delegation all day. Excited at FINALLY having a birthday like all his peers, Hiccup had waited hopefully all day for his Dad to come and spend some time with him as all his friends' parents did but his father had stayed away. Gobber had come in the morning to ensure he had some breakfast and had given him a small wooden sword and shield and a sheath of parchment and charcoal pencil. Thrilled with the presents, Hiccup had excitedly spent the day drawing a picture of his father so that when Stoick came back, he would be proud of what his son had done. Gobber had been very encouraging when he returned to give the boy some supper and had assured the boy that his father wouldn't be long.

But Stoick didn't return all day and Hiccup had cried himself to sleep, curled up at the bottom of the stairs, the little picture still clutched in his tiny hand.

He levered himself to his feet. The wind was howling, the snow was ludicrously heavy and he knew it would be ferociously cold but he knew he had to go out. So he reached for his flight suit and strapped the leather on over his tunic and leggings, layer after layer. It was distracting enough to keep him busy for a few minutes, and then he reached for his cloak. His father had wanted to ensure that he had a bear-fur cloak fit for a Chief and Hiccup felt embarrassed wearing the huge cloak. He reckoned he looked vaguely ridiculous, his lean and lanky shape swathed in the voluminous layers. He cast one last look at Toothless-who ignored him-and then stamped downstairs. He braced himself then dived out into the storm.

The wind was so cold it was like a slap in the face before it went numb. He had to squint, particles of ice driving into his eyes and causing tears that immediately froze onto his face. His hair was sticking up crazily and icing over. He headed down the hill, stumbling through the lying snow and losing his footing more than once. Landing in the snowdrifts just got him colder and more miserable and he had scrambled up and tried to dust himself down, but he just got colder and colder. Eventually, he made the Hofferson house. Shivering, he rapped hard on the door. He huddled close to the frame as the door finally opened. Olaf Hofferson stared at the shivering shape in front of him.

"Hi-Hi, Mr Hofferson," he said, his teeth chattering, "is-is Astrid in?" Olaf Hofferson gave him a cold look. He had always been welcoming and pleased that the Chief's son was close friends with his daughter: it was already acknowledged that they were a couple and Hiccup knew that her parents were expecting him to make an official offer for her hand sooner rather than later. But today, Olaf seemed to stare right through the shivering shape, his snow-capped auburn hair and chattering teeth testament to the journey he had made.

"She's busy. She'll see you later!" he said and slammed the door closed. Hiccup stared at the wood which had missed his nose by a whisker. Astrid had always seen him whenever he called and she tended to just walk in on him when she visited his home. It was an unspoken agreement that they always made time for each other. And he loved her. The fact she had left orders he wasn't to be let in winded him. He stared at the house for a moment longer, then turned away, feeling completely abandoned.

It had been his second birthday, eight years after he was born. After years of going to others celebrations, he was able to invite the others to his special day. His father and Gobber had organised the day, ensured that food and drink was available and had asked the parents of the others his age of they would come to spend the afternoon with Hiccup. His father had been called away shortly before the party but he had promised Hiccup that he would be back for the cake. His son had given a small smile and nodded: he knew his Dad was busy and had other much more important responsibilities. Stoick had spent a couple of years telling his son what being a Chief involved so that Hiccup wouldn't bother him with childish requests for time he couldn't spare and the boy was already realising his place in his father's order of priorities.

When Stoick returned, he found his son sitting alone, sniffing miserably. He had looked around in surprise: the other children should be here, celebrating with his boy. So he had stomped forward and loomed over the tear-streaked boy and crouched down before him. "Where are the others, son?" he asked gruffly.

Hiccup had given a choked sob and fled up the stairs.

Exasperated, the Chief had stomped upstairs to find his son lying on his bed, sobbing quietly. Finally, the boy had rolled back to his Dad and explained what had happened. The other guests had arrived-but finding Hiccup on his own, they had refused to leave their own children without any adult supervision. So his friends had been taken away again, leaving Hiccup abandoned and alone on his birthday. And though Stoick gave his son an apologetic hug and had given the boy a big slice of cake, the Chief could see the tears shimmering in his eyes as he cast longing glances at the table where the party food had been set up and where he should have been sitting celebrating with his friends.

He sobbed himself to sleep that night.

Hiccup dived down the hill, stumbling through the snowdrifts and tucking his head under the cloak. His hands were going numb and he headed unerringly for the forge: at least it was warm and he could do something productive. He was shivering hard as he made the main building and ducked into the shop, shaking the snow off his cloak and ruffling the snow and ice out of his hair.

"Hey, Gobber!" he greeted his boss. "Any work needs doing today?" The blacksmith seemed distracted, hammering carefully on a sword.

"What're ye doin' here, laddie?" he asked, frowning. "I thought ye'd be celebrating yer birthday?" Hiccup felt like scowling that no one seemed to recall it was his birthday but he knew he shouldn't complain: he had never made a fuss so why should anyone else?

"Guess they're all busy," he sighed, "and the weather's way too bad to fly so I wondered if you could use another pair of hands?" He looked up pleadingly, his forest green eyes wide with a mute appeal. "I really could use something to do." Gobber sighed. "Please?"

"Business is really slow, laddie," he apologised. "This is the last item I have as well. After this, I'm closing up and going home to the warmth. You should as well." Hiccup took a shuddering breath. He wondered if he had contracted some horrible disease which just meant no one wanted to spend any time with him.

"Okay-well, thanks, Gobber," he said with a sigh and grabbed his damp cloak. He couldn't express how miserable he suddenly felt: everyone he would really want to spend time with had let him down. "See you later."

"Okay, lad," Gobber called absently, the clang of his hammer sounding in the forge. "Happy Birthday, by the way."

By the way, Hiccup thought bitterly as he trudged up the hill. That seems to be all I am today-an afterthought. And he was kicking himself mentally for the surge of self-pity, an emotion he really never indulged in, but he was feeling abandoned, alone and very cold. His stump was really hurting as well, as it always did in cold weather but all he could do was try to cope with the pain and try to get warm soon. Shivering, he found himself at the Jorgensen house, where his uncle's family lived. He hadn't seen eye to eye with Snotlout all his life but they had certainly gotten on much better since they had returned from Dragon's Edge. Though that may have been a consequence of Hiccup punching his cousin unconscious and Snotlout finally realising Hiccup wasn't a total pushover in the combat stakes. He sighed and hammered on the door.

When he was three, twelve years after he was born, Stoick had decided to arrange a family meal with his brother Spitelout and Hiccup's cousin Snotlout. Hiccup had approached the meal with trepidation, because Snotlout had already started to bully him on a regular basis. The smaller boy had not wanted to look weak in front of this father and had not told him about the merciless taunting, the persistent name-calling...RUNT...FISHBONE...USELESS...all names that tore at his fragile self-confidence and undermined what little happiness he had.

That particular day, Hiccup had been ambushed by Snotlout on his way back from the forge and he had been pushed around and beaten up by his cousin. Hiccup had curled up on the floor, sobbing in pain as the older and larger boy had walked away laughing. "Happy Birthday, Useless!" he had sneered, leaving Hiccup to stare after him unhappily and try to swipe the tears off his grimy face.

And now Hiccup had to sit next to his cousin at his birthday meal as their fathers laughed and joked and clattered flagons of mead. Snotlout had already poured stew on Hiccup's lap and spilled his watered down mead, earning the boy a scolding from his father. Scared to tell on his cousin, for fear of being pounded into a pulp, he had just bowed his head and accepted the scolding miserably. Throughout the meal, Snotlout had jostled him, pinched him cruelly or spilled his food. Finally, he had stolen Hiccup's cake and scoffed it while the two men refilled their flagons. Stoick stared at his son and had raised an eyebrow.

"I expected you to wait, son," he had said sternly. "Or share with your cousin." Snotlout sniggered next to him and Hiccup had given a huge sigh, blushing with shame.

"Yes, Dad. Sorry, Dad," he said automatically and stared at his stained lap. He would have to wash his tunic tomorrow to get the stew out of it. He sighed. It had been a horrible meal and he had eaten hardly anything.

"Thank your Uncle and cousin for your birthday treat, son!" Stoick had ordered him as he rose to leave and beckoned the boy. Hiccup had risen stiffly and stared to his uncle and smirking cousin.

"Thank you for a memorable birthday," he had sighed and walked wordlessly out of the house, ignoring the growl of annoyance his father gave at his ungrateful son. He had spent the rest of the day in his room, refusing to come down and discuss his behaviour. His father left him, assuming he was just under the weather.

There was no answer. Hiccup hammered again and again, his head resting against the wood. He could hear movement within and he finally gave a scream of frustration.

"SNOTLOUT! I KNOW YOU"RE IN THERE!" he bellowed. "OPEN THE DOOR!" And then hammered one more time. "FINE! I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU'RE HIDING BUT YOU CAN CONTINUE HIDING TO RAGNAROK!" And he stormed away, thoroughly fed up. He had one last option. The twins had already told him they would be at their cousin's house all day so he finally trudged to the Ingerman House, looking for Fishlegs. He was exhausted, frozen and exasperated as he hammered on the door.

"Fishlegs?" he called. "It's me! Can I come in?"

"Er, not a great idea," a hoarse voice called. "I'm coming down with something. Really not well. I don't wanna give it to you. Maybe see you tomorrow?" Hiccup sagged and gave a huge sigh. Fishlegs was considerate and knew Hiccup had suffered from colds and flu frequently as a child: it was completely in character for him to not want to make his friend ill. But the way he was feeling, he would even hazard a dose of Eel Pox just to see someone.

On his fourth birthday, sixteen years after he was born, there had been an outbreak of Eel Pox in Berk. Sick villagers-including his father-had been housed in the hall and the Riders had been dispatched by Stoick to collect Gothi's list of ingredients for the cure. Hiccup had spent his birthday on Eel Island with a crazed and out-of-control Toothless who had accidentally eaten a Bloodbane Eel. It had been a frightening and anxious day, trying to get his dragon back and give him the cure before he got himself killed-or accidentally killed Hiccup.

Fishlegs had come to his rescue then as well, with Meatlug and Hiccup had never been so glad to see anyone as he had the larger boy and his Gronckle. They had saved Toothless and then got the cure back to Berk. Of course, Hiccup had come down with a really bad dose of Eel Pox after his exciting day but at least he had spent the actual birthday doing something he enjoyed...sorta.

"Yeah," Hiccup sighed. "Hope you're feeling better soon." And, defeated, he stumbled up the hill, his prosthesis slipping twice on the steps, firing white-hot stabs of pain up his leg and dumping him into the snow. He made it back to his house, slid in the door and stared at the silent room. "I'm back, bud!" he called and stumbled to the fire, urgently feeding the flames and trying to get a little warmth back into his chilled body. He felt utterly drained and abandoned. "Toothless?"

The lack of noise worried Hiccup and he sprinted up the stairs-to find Toothless's slab empty. He spun around, feeling suddenly really worried. Where was Toothless? He stared at the space, breathing hard for a long moment, then ran for the door, grabbing his damp cloak and grasping at the handle.

The door slammed open and Stoick burst in, surrounded by a flurry of snow. "Son!" he growled. "We need you-now. The Great Hall..." Hiccup shook his head.

"Dad-Toothless is missing!" he said worriedly. "He's gone-and he refused to fly this morning. I have to find him and I..."

"I need you in the Great Hall!" Stoick insisted. Hiccup stared up into his father's eyes and shook his head. He would risk anything for his dragon-even his father's wrath.

"No," he said evenly. "I have to find Toothless." Stoick paused and his face grew puce, a vein throbbing on his forehead.

"YOU WILL GO TO THE GREAT HALL-NOW!" he bellowed in a voice that could be heard all the way down in the docks. Hiccup pulled his shoulders back.

"No, I need to find Toothless!" he insisted.

"You won't find anything in this weather!" Stoick told him, barely above a growl. "There are dragons in the Great Hall-maybe they could help you locate Toothless. And if you don't go, I will sling you over my shoulder and carry you there myself!" Hiccup backed off a pace: there was some truth in what his father said. Hiccup didn't stand a chance at finding Toothless in the snowstorm-but a Tracker dragon would have no problems. And he didn't want to be carried up to the Great Hall like a sack of turnips.

"If you get Skullcrusher to find Toothless, I will come," he said in a low voice, his lips pressed together in a stubborn expression. His green eyes were glittering with determination. Stoick glared at his stubborn son and nodded, then wrenched the door open. Hiccup dived out into the blizzard, his father at his back. The sooner he sorted whatever dragon problem was in the Hall, the sooner he could find his dragon. He stumbled and fell again but this time, he scrambled up and continued scrambling urgently up the slippery steps. He could just hear his father panting behind him above the howling of the gale.

He was thoroughly chilled and soaked as he reached the huge doors and dragged one open, sliding in and dragging it closed behind his father as soon as he had entered.

The Great Hall was pitch black with no light at all. Then he heard the distinctive sound of the Night Fury firing and saw a flash of purple plasma before the fire erupted into life-to illuminate almost the entire village. They all dipped torches into the flames and turned to face the confused boy.

"SURPRISE!" they all shouted. Hiccup froze in shock. Astrid and her parents, the twins, Snotlout and Spitelout, Gobber, Fishlegs, Gothi, Gustav and the rest of the A-team riders were all clustered in the centre by a very proud looking Toothless, who was guarding a small pile of items wrapped in sackcloth. The rest of the villagers were all ranged around the hall, clearly in on the surprise as well. Hiccup swung his wide green eyes over the scene in utter astonishment and his jaw dropped. Astrid walked towards him and gently put a finger under his chin, closing his gaping mouth.

"Happy Birthday, babe," she murmured and kissed him on the cheek. He stared at her in shock and a huge measure of relief.

"I think I need another one of those," he murmured, leaning into another much needed kiss. She closed her eyes and melted into his arms-until Stoick clapped him hard across the shoulders.

"Easy, son," he said cheerily. "Plenty of time for that later!" Hiccup looked round and stared at his friends.

"Let me get this straight," he said carefully. "You have spent the entire day hiding from me, making me feel that everyone had forgotten my birthday, that no one cared I even existed...so you could throw me a party that I had to be threatened to even come to?" Stoick draped a huge arm round his shoulders and propelled his son towards his friends.

"Yes!" he said proudly. "Great plan, hmm?"

"A plan, certainly," Hiccup told him again carefully. He was trying to decide whether he should shout at everyone for making him feel so bad, burst out laughing in relief or just roll his eyes at their utter inability to understand how miserable he had been feeling. In the end he sighed. "Thanks."

"Look, son" Stoick said more gently as he handed Hiccup a large mug of mead. "I know your previous birthdays haven't been especially good. And I know most of that has been my fault. So this time, I got all your friends to help me give you the best party I could to try to make up for all those times I wasn't there." He gestured. "We've got plenty of food and drink, honeycomb and cakes, all your friends, your dragons and a pile of presents that everyone has bought for you." The big Chief looked embarrassed. "Your are my only son, Hiccup and I couldn't be more proud of the man you have become. What you have done-for me, for our village-has been amazing. And I just wanted you to finally have a birthday you could remember," he sighed.

Hiccup looked up at the big face and saw him look downcast. Stoick was trying really hard-and he did love his son, though he was really really bad at showing it. He wasn't the most empathic or considerate of fathers but this time, he had recruited everyone who cared for Hiccup to make his day special. So the boy gave a big grin and hugged his father.

"Thanks, Dad!" he said warmly and his father relaxed in relief. Then Hiccup turned to Toothless. "So you were in on this?" he asked. Toothless gave a little laughing croon that was the dragon equivalent of 'Hah! Fooled you!'. Then Astrid took his hand again and gave him a smile.

"I told them that hiding from you wasn't the best idea," she murmured, "because I know how easily you feel rejected, babe. But never fear-we all care for you. I care for you." And she pecked him on the cheek again. He nodded and swallowed hard, the enormity of that they had done hitting him. The entire village was here to celebrate the birthday of their Heir.

"Hey, H-you better open our present first!" Tuffnut called. "The chicken says it's gonna explode pretty soon." Hiccup stared at them.

"What is in that parcel?" he asked suspiciously. Snotlout glared at the twins.

"I told you it was a bad idea..." he grumbled. "We already know that dragon eggs and celebrations don't mix..."

"Oh gods," Hiccup groaned and dived into the pile as one sackcloth package began to smoke, steam and glow... "TOOTHLESS!"

When Hiccup was five, twenty years after he was born, he had a party with all his friends and his entire village present. His loving father had organised the whole thing to ensure his only son at least had one birthday he could remember with happiness. And despite a few small explosions, several second degree burns and three fights, it was Hiccup's best birthday ever.

The End.

A/N: Not original I know but it was fun.