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Hiccup squirmed against the arm wrapped tight around his torso as he was carried, slung over a bulky shoulder like a sack of wheat, to whatever godsforsaken place the twins and Snotlout were taking him. He’d been jumped while wandering slowly through the trees toward the beach, exhausted and sore and desperately trying to think of a solution to his Zippleback problem.
He’d heard a noise behind him, but when he turned to look, he saw no one. But then, when he turned back around, he was yanked back by the bag thrown over his head, dragged into the bushes, and wrestled to the ground, a knee on his back and hands like iron twisting his arms behind him. Rough rope had been wound far too tightly around his wrists and torso, and then he’d been slung over someone’s shoulder and carted off.
He’d assumed, with good reason, that his kidnappers were actually Ruff and Tuff, with Snotlout as an accessory — after all, the past few days had been nothing but the twins putting him in real danger: dangling him upside down from a rope over a cavern, rolling logs down a hill right at him, having Snotlout punch him squarely in the face.
Hiccup’s body ached from nearly being blown up by Barf and Belch, from being an unwilling participant in a game of Bat the Nut, from crashing off Toothless and getting punched in the face and constantly having to change prosthetics. He definitely wouldn’t put it past the twins to totally disregard his orders to leave him alone, or to pull a stunt like this.
Still, as Hiccup fought against the ropes and struggled to breathe with a bag over his face and a muscular shoulder digging into his gut, he couldn’t shake the creeping feeling that something was off. No one had said a word throughout the kidnapping, and the hands on his arms had seemed larger, stronger than even Snotlout’s. Hiccup knew from experience that the twins didn’t have the capacity to stay quiet for more than a couple minutes at a time, and Snotlout would never pass up the chance to mock Hiccup in a situation like this.
But who else could it be? This had to be yet another half-baked scheme to get Barf and Belch to rescue him, thus ending the Zippleback life debt. Nothing else made sense.
This thought alone, that he was being abducted by his idiotic friends rather than true enemies, kept Hiccup’s panic at bay as his abductors carted him. His steady stream of appeals, complaints, and admonishments fell on deaf ears.
Fear began to take root when he felt himself being thrown into the bottom of a small boat and rowed across choppy waters. Finally, he was hauled off the boat and tossed roughly to the ground, his back slamming against what could only be a ship’s mast.
“Okay,” Hiccup groused, wriggling to a more upright position and striving to keep the encroaching fear from rising, “this is the single worst idea you’ve ever come up with!”
Cold dread pooled in his stomach as the bag was whipped from his head. Leering over him stood Dagur, Ryker, and a handful of Dragon Hunters.
“Oh, I don’t know, brother,” Dagur boasted, arms spread wide in victory. “You’re our prisoner. Seems like a brilliant plan to me!” A peal of mad giggles escaped his lips and Hiccup’s skin crawled. He shoved his mounting fear deep down and glared at Dagur as the man knelt in front of him and made a jab about the Edge having no watchtowers.
Hiccup’s eyes darted around while Dagur babbled. As he’d suspected, he had been taken aboard a ship, sailing away from the Edge. With the mast at his back and a semicircle of enemies in front, he had nowhere to go, no means of escape. As surreptitiously as possible, Hiccup strained his wrists against the rope that bound them, but found no slack. His fingers tingled from lack of blood flow and his arms ached from the strain of their position.
When Hiccup settled his gaze back on Dagur, he realized the man had stopped talking and now eyed his prisoner with a keen interest.
“What?” Hiccup snapped waspishly. He bit back a groan as Ryker stepped forward and kicked him in the knee. “What was that for?”
“You’ll learn to control your tongue, or we’ll control it for you.”
Hiccup rolled his eyes, maneuvering so he could shift his injured leg beneath him, out of Ryker’s reach. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
Ryker prepared to kick him again, but Dagur stopped him. “Oh, let him sass, Ryker,” the Berserker all but simpered. “I’ve known Hiccup for a long time, and it’s just part of his… charm.” He punctuated the last words with air quotes.
Ryker scoffed but backed off, crossing his enormous forearms over his chest. “We didn’t take the boy so you could have a pet, Dagur,” he sneered, and Hiccup’s fists clenched behind his back, revulsion pulsing through him at the very idea. “He’s here to tell us everything he’s learned from the Dragon Eye, and I don’t take well to prisoners who run their mouths.”
Hiccup opened his mouth, to protest that he’d never, no matter what, divulge any dragon knowledge to the Hunters, to blithely remind them that running his mouth in the face of danger was kind of his whole thing. Before he could speak, Dagur’s hand shot out and gripped his face, fingers digging so hard into his cheeks Hiccup feared they’d leave bruises. Hiccup breathed in sharply through his nose and bit back a cry of pain.
“All in good time, Rykie,” Dagur started.
“Call me that again and I remove your head with your own axe.”
Dagur gulped. “Sure thing, man. Don’t get your skivvies in a bunch.”
If Hiccup’s face hadn’t been in a death grip, he might have laughed at the murderous expression on Ryker’s face. He prayed a bit wildly that Dagur would keep pissing Ryker off and they’d turn against and kill each other.
No such luck.
Ryker stood back to watch while Dagur turned his attention fully to Hiccup. He leaned in uncomfortably close, his breath hot on Hiccup’s face.
“Anyway, where was I?” Dagur muttered. He snapped with his free hand. “Oh yeeeeeah, I thought I saw something earlier… and…” His deranged eyes roved Hiccup’s face almost hungrily, and Hiccup thought his heart had never beat so desperately. Terror flooded him as he sat there, completely at the mercy of his two most dangerous enemies.
Of the two, he thought, Dagur scared him more. Sure, Ryker was cruel and brutal, but Dagur was unpredictable as well as violent, and he’d had this creepy obsession with Hiccup for years. To have the man this close to him, his sour breath hitting his face… well, suffice it to say, it wasn’t Hiccup’s idea of a good time.
“Aha!” Dagur shouted suddenly, making Hiccup jump. “Look, Ryker!” Dagur jabbed his finger in Hiccup’s face.
Hiccup couldn’t imagine what had Dagur so interested in his face — maybe he had found a particularly fascinating freckle? — but Ryker chuckled darkly when he leaned in to see what Dagur had noticed.
“Looks like we’re not the first ones to get to you, eh?” Ryker chuckled. He reached out a meaty finger and pressed hard on the bridge of Hiccup’s nose.
Hiccup tried to jerk away at the pain, but Dagur held his face still and he settled with breathing deeply though the sharp stab slowly bleeding into a steady ache.
Oh, yeah, Snotlout had punched him square in the face earlier. In all the commotion of being kidnapped, he’d forgotten about the painful bruises forming on the bridge of his nose and under his eyes.
Dagur finally let go of Hiccup’s face and rocked back on his heels. Hiccup breathed a sigh of relief, even though he could feel the aching impressions where finger-shaped bruises would surely form. “Looks like someone beat us to our fun, pun intended!” Dagur cackled.
Hiccup rolled his eyes and worked his jaw. “So are you just planning on torturing me with your bad jokes or…?” Hiccup cursed himself as soon as the quip left his mouth. Sometimes he could swear his mouth had a mind of its own, which wouldn’t necessarily be a problem if it didn’t always seem to run away from him when he was at the mercy of enormous angry Vikings with a grudge against him.
Sure enough, Dagur’s face darkened. “Everyone loves my jokes,” he hissed.
Hiccup snorted. “Okay, now that. That was a good one.”
Dagur growled but took a deep breath and regained whatever small amount of composure he possessed. “Tell me, brother,” he said, almost conversationally, “who gave you these exquisite bruises?”
He fisted one hand in Hiccup’s hair and shoved his head back against the mast. Hiccup couldn’t hold in a gasp of pain and a look of dark satisfaction unfurled over Dagur’s face. Glancing up at Ryker, Hiccup saw that the giant man smirking, watching Dagur and Hiccup with eyes glittering in anticipation, and Hiccup steeled himself as best he could. With his free hand, Dagur pressed a couple of fingers directly into the most sensitive part of the bruise. The pressure slowly built, pain compounding on pain, but it still was just a bruise. It wasn’t unbearable. Hiccup gritted his teeth and didn’t make a sound.
Dagur growled in frustration at the lack of a response and slammed Hiccup’s head against the mast by his hair again, harder than before. “Who did it, Hiccup?” he snarled.
Blinking stars out of his eyes, Hiccup managed to gasp, “Snotlout! My — my cousin. Why the Hel do you care, anyway?”
Dagur shrugged noncommittally. “Just want to know the artist whose work we are going to improve upon.” A sick kind of dread coiled around Hiccup’s chest, squeezing his ribs so tightly he thought they’d be crushed. “Now, tell us, Hiccup — where is the closest island the Dragon Eye has led you to?”
Despite the fear thundering through his body, Hiccup squared his shoulders as best he could with his hands bound behind his back and glared defiantly at Dagur. “I’m not telling you anything.”
Dagur grinned, grotesque and feral, all sharp teeth and blood lust, and exclaimed, “We were hoping you’d say that!”
He stood, dragging Hiccup up by his hair, only to turn and toss him to the deck at Ryker’s feet.
Hiccup’s pulse was a caged bird throwing itself against the bars of its prison again and again and again, slowly killing itself in its desperate attempts to break free. But still he clamped his mouth shut as he struggled to his knees.
Without warning, Ryker’s foot shot out like an attacking serpent, his boot catching Hiccup in the center of the chest. White-hot pain burst like fireworks through his ribs and Hiccup was thrown back against Dagur’s legs, eyes squeezed shut, trying desperately to suck breath into lungs that felt like they’d been crushed.
Above the rushing in his ears, he heard Dagur chide, “Not so rough right away, remember? He can’t tell us stuff if you kill him.”
Ryker grunted. “I can control my own strength, Dagur. The boy won’t die from bruised ribs.”
“B-bruised?” Hiccup wheezed incredulously, hunched over as far as the pain would allow. It felt like his ribs had been shattered, like if you opened him up there would be shards of bone littering his insides. That may have been a bit dramatic, but damn, that had hurt! And he still felt like he had to labor for every breath.
Dagur reached down and yanked him to his feet, then shoved him at Ryker before Hiccup could even begin to regain his footing. Ryker laughed coldly as he wrapped his freakishly large hands around Hiccup’s upper arms and held him in place, half-standing, half-slumped. With his hands tied behind him, there was no way for Hiccup to try to defend himself from the onslaught.
Dagur attacked with precision, each punch pulled just enough to avoid dealing too much damage while still maximizing pain. His fist buried itself into Hiccup’s gut, and Hiccup gasped as the air was knocked out of him yet again, his stomach muscles clenching painfully against the assault. Hiccup tried to hunch forward in an attempt to ease the pain, but Ryker’s grip held him upright.
Dagur struck his jaw next, snapping Hiccup’s head back, to thud against Ryker’s chest. Then his right side, then his left. Chest. Shoulder. Eye. Sternum. Hiccup’s body rocked with each hit, involuntary tears streaking down his face, never able to catch his breath between blows. Nothing snapped, nothing knocked him out. Everything just hurt, pain wrapping itself around his body like a suffocating blanket, building upon itself until it was all he knew.
At last, Dagur stopped hitting him and Ryker threw him to the deck with a growl of disgust. “Stronger than he looks,” he muttered, and if Hiccup hadn’t known better, he might have thought he heard the tiniest note of respect in the man’s voice.
Dagur crouched down to Hiccup’s level and cupped his chin almost gently, forcing his head up. He leaned in close. “You’re gonna have some beee-utiful bruises come morning, brother,” he proclaimed, running a finger possessively down Hiccup’s cheek, admiring his handiwork. Hiccup shuddered at the unwanted touch. “And unless you want us to start getting more… creative… with our interrogation, I suggest you answer our question.”
Before Hiccup could form a response, he felt Ryker’s foot on his back, pressing just above his bound hands. The Hunter demanded, “Agree to show us the closest Dragon Eye location on a map, and we’ll take a break. Let you rest until we get there, and then you can show us its secrets.”
In that moment, beaten and bruised, Hiccup seriously considered at least pretending to cave. Where could he take them? Melody Island? Maybe the Deathsong would attack and he could escape in the chaos? But no, that was too risky. Tied as he was, he had no guarantee that he would be able to escape his captors, let alone an enraged Deathsong. And if they somehow managed to capture the dragon? Gods, they could use it to lure in and kill other dragons! No, Hiccup couldn’t, wouldn’t, lead them anywhere that there were dragons they could subjugate or kill.
He wrenched his chin out of Dagur’s grasp. “Sorry, slipped my mind. Maybe if you hadn’t hit me so hard in the head—”
He broke off with a wheeze as Ryker pressed his boot harder into his back.
“Wrong answer,” Ryker said, and he sounded positively gleeful about it.
He finally removed his foot, then stopped and grasped Hiccup by the tied wrists and hauled him
to his feet. “Let’s take him below. I’ve got some ideas of how to change his mind.”
Hissssss.
As Ryker started to pull a bucking Hiccup toward the trapdoor leading to the lower deck, green gas enveloped the ship. “What the—” Hiccup started, even as hope rose up inside of him. Took you guys long enough, he thought, then shuddered at the thought of how much worse things had been about to get. Well, better late than never, I suppose, he amended.
Boom.
The ship rocked, sending everyone crashing to the deck. In the chaos, Ryker lost his grip on Hiccup’s arm, and as his captors struggled to their feet, swinging around wildly to pinpoint the source of the attack, Hiccup ignored the pain lancing through his battered body, somehow managed to get to his feet with no hands to balance him, and ran.
The two-headed dragon dropped to the deck in front of him like some kind of giant, mutant Valkyrie and Hiccup laughed in relief, turning his back so they could bite through the ropes.
“It’s been a good, long while since I’ve been happy to see you guys!”
A couple of hours later, Hiccup sat shirtless on his cot while Fishlegs poked and prodded and assessed his new collection of bruises.
The rescue had been a precarious one, and Hiccup knew that adrenaline was mostly the reason he was still alive after the beating he’d received. Nothing else could have given him the strength to help Barf and Belch fend off the Hunters until they could retreat into the skies. Ryker had gotten in another hit, backhanding Hiccup savagely across the face as he’d struggled against a Hunter three times his size. Then there was the incident with Dagur and the crossbow launcher, but Barf and Belch came through again, and soon Hiccup had been flying to freedom on the back of the dragon that had made the last few days the most annoying of his life.
But because things were never allowed to be easy, the other riders had been flying to rescue him just as he escaped — including the twins on Toothless, who they’d promptly crashed into Hiccup and Barf and Belch.
But all had worked out for the best, because when Barf and Belch got netted, it was the twins who rescued their dragon, and now the insanely loyal Zippleback had not only fulfilled their crazy life debt, but owed their riders their life.
Now, Hiccup groaned as Fishlegs pressed firmly on his ribs, checking for breaks. “I told you, Fishlegs,” Hiccup gasped, trying to arch away from the pain. “They wanted information, not to kill me. They wouldn’t risk breaking any bones so early on. I’m just bruised.”
“Be that as it may, Hiccup, as an apprentice healer, it is my sworn duty to do a thorough examination and treat you accordingly.”
“I’m just bruised,” Hiccup protested in exasperation, swatting Fishlegs’s hands away and trying to stand. At his feet, Toothless gave one of his no-nonsense growls and Hiccup threw his hands in the air.
“Really? You too, bud?”
Toothless chortled and nudged his rider’s side, urging him to sit.
“See? Even Toothless is worried about you!” Fishlegs exclaimed, resuming his exam when Hiccup gave up and lowered himself gingerly back onto the bed.
“To be fair, I think Toothless is always worried about Hiccup,” came a voice from the door of Hiccup’s hut.
“Tuff! Ruff! What are you doing here?” Hiccup asked, not the least bit apprehensively. “Please don’t tell me Barf and Belch are still obsessed with me!”
Tuffnut scoffed. “Puh-lease. Zipplecup is sooo yesterday.”
“Yeah,” Ruff chimed in. “And anyway, you just saved them from an avalanche. We saved them from drowning and captivity. So they basically double-owe us now.”
Tuff strode over and gripped Hiccup’s shoulder. Hiccup winced as the touch aggravated the deep bruises forming there. “Be brave, young Hiccup, for when next you see the fair Zippleback, they will no longer have eyes only for you.”
“I’ll try to contain my despair,” Hiccup deadpanned, gently removing Tuff’s hand.
“Brave man,” Tuff sniffed, patting Hiccup on the head. Hiccup wrenched away from his friend’s hand; his scalp hurt to the touch from all the hair-pulling Dagur had done.
“Anyway, guys, is that all?” Hiccup asked, weariness painting every syllable.
“Not exactly,” said Ruff. “But we kinda wanted to talk to you alone.”
Bemused, Hiccup gestured to Fishlegs, who had stepped away to grab something out of his satchel. “Uh, I’d love to chat, guys, but as you can see…”
He trailed off, hoping the twins would understand what he wasn’t saying — that he was being treated by their resident healer, which he found wholly unnecessary but had resigned himself to because of the bonds of friendship and an overprotective dragon.
“Ooooh, I get it,” Tuff drawled. “You can’t talk to us alone because Fishlegs is rifling through a bag.”
“Makes perfect sense,” Ruff commented.
“Yes,” Hiccup answered automatically. He blinked. “What? No, Fishlegs is treating my injuries.”
They stared at him blankly. Hiccup motioned to his black and blue mottled torso. “From when I was kidnapped? Like two hours ago?”
Ruff sauntered over and stuck her face a little too close to Hiccup’s bare chest, then stood back and whistled appreciatively. “That looks pretty bad, Hiccup. You should probably get that looked at.”
“Oh, gods,” Hiccup moaned. “Can this please wait until morning, guys? I’m exhausted and sore, and Fishlegs is—”
“Done!” Fishlegs supplied, thrusting the jar he’d pulled out of his bag at Hiccup. “You were right, just some bad bruising. It’s all contained to your front, so you shouldn’t need help putting the salve on before you go to bed. But if you do, you know where to find me.” He gave Hiccup an encouraging smile and patted Toothless on the head as he left. “Night, Hiccup. Feel better.”
“Alone at last,” Tuff intoned ominously, and Hiccup fought the urge to inch away from him. Instead, he massaged the bridge of his nose, but that hurt, so he settled for rubbing his hand wearily over the back of his neck (that also hurt, but not as much).
“Okay, what is it you have to say?” Hiccup prompted. “I really want to go to bed.” Toothless gurgled in agreement, like, Hurry it up, my human needs to rest.
“Well, we just wanted to, well…”
“What Tuff means is we…”
“Will you spit it out?” Hiccup snapped, tacking on a measured “please” at the hurt looks on his friends’ faces. Gods, he was tired and everything hurt.
“We’re sorry, Hiccup!” Ruff burst out.
If Hiccup hadn’t been sitting, he might have stumbled back from the shock. “I — I’m sorry?”
“No, we’re sorry, H!” Tuffnut all but wailed. “I know we said you were becoming a tyrant—”
“—which is still true,” Ruff reassured.
“—but if you were right about anything, it was that we shouldn’t’ve goofed off and left the island unguarded.”
“Yeah, we should have goofed off while we were guarding the island!”
“Look at you,” Tuffnut sniffled, gesturing at Hiccup’s battered body. “So frail and weak! Covered in bruises, battered with fists and words—”
“—but mostly fists—”
“And it was all our fault! You could’ve died! And then where would we be?”
“Probably having a lot more fun outside of your tyrannical reign,” Ruff suggested.
“But fun or no fun, we would be lost without you, H. You are the skinny, muscularly challenged glue that holds this rag-tag band of dragon riders together!” Tuff finished.
Hiccup stared, lips slightly parted in astonishment, as the twins finished their speech. His eyes moved from one twin from the other. He cleared his throat. “Uh… well, th-thank you? I… I think?”
When the twins continued to stare at him, he stood gingerly to face them and upon looking closer, saw real tears in their eyes. He softened.
Placing his hands on their shoulders, Hiccup ignored his body’s pleas to collapse and gave the twins a small smile. “Look, guys, I know that watch duty isn’t exactly fun and that it’s not a good day for you if something doesn’t blow up—”
“Damn right,” Tuff agreed.
Hiccup took as deep a breath as his aching abdomen would allow. “What I’m trying to say is that sometimes we have to do things that aren’t fun in order to keep ourselves and those we care about safe.” Toothless chuffed in agreement. “And I’m really glad you guys see that now. And… even though you did end up crashing into us in midair, thank you for riding Toothless to rescue me. Kinda surprised he let you on his back, to be honest.”
Toothless grumbled, and Hiccup was sure he meant something like, Desperate times.
“So, then, we’re good?” Tuff sounded so tentative, so young, and for a minute Hiccup was reminded that these chaotic personifications of fire and explosions were also sometimes unsure, sometimes vulnerable, sometimes hurting. Sometimes human instead of walking agents of chaos.
“We’re good.”
“Oh thank Thor, because if we weren’t, breakfast was gonna be reeeeal awkward.” The twins threw out their arms and advanced on Hiccup, who stumbled backwards and fell onto his bed. Toothless growled at them, and thank the gods they got the message. Hiccup wasn’t exactly a huggy person at the best of times, and he thought a double-Thorston hug right now might just knock him out from the pain.
“Okay, guys, uh… thanks for stopping by. Now, I’d really, really like to get some sleep. Please?”
“Sure thing, dragon wing,” Ruff agreed cheerily, ruffling his hair.
Hiccup hissed in pain and pulled away, then managed, “Uh… thanks?”
“Keep it real, T,” Tuff said, saluting the Night Fury. Toothless sneezed.
When they had finally gone, Hiccup unscrewed the salve jar and began slowly, painfully spreading the stuff all over his chest and stomach and sides. He also rubbed some on his face, carefully avoiding his eyes. The herbs worked quickly, sapping the worst of the ache. Hiccup yawned hugely, gasped as bending over to unstrap his prosthetic sent pain flaring through his bruised ribs.
He lay down, one hand idly stroking Toothless’s scales as he faded into an exhausted sleep.
“What a day, huh, bud?” he murmured. Toothless purred in agreement. “Hopefully tomorrow… will be better.”
He had a feeling that after a night of sleep, his bruises would be inflamed and his muscles stiff and sore from abuse. He might not be up to much physical activity for a few days. But for the first night in what seemed like forever, he fell asleep without worrying about whether a Zippleback was going to break into his hut and suffocate him under a pile of thank you fish while he slept.
And that? Well, he figured that might just make the pain and bruises worth it.