Complex Relationships.

"I've come for my grandson," the Governor said. Blinking in shock and rerunning the words in his mind, Magne frowned and stared at his uncle in shock. He gave a small laugh.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But what are you talking about, Uncle?" Stoick drew himself up to his full impressive height, his enormous shape tensing with anger and grey-green eyes glittering in scorn at the tone.

"Fury's son," he growled. "Like as not, the man who is Captain Fury was born my son, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock. And while he is disowned, his son remains my grandson, an heir to the Haddock line and it is my right as his kin to reclaim him.' A scornful expression on his features, Magne shook his head.

"You are joking, aren't you?" he scoffed. "You think you can walk in and just take that little brat away? Gods, do you think I am an idiot? That man has annihilated my business, sunk my ships, disgraced me-and I am not just handing over his brat to you! I get to keep his son as payment for the wrongs he has done me!" Stoick shot a sideways look at Gobber, his face stricken with horror at the vengeful and vicious tone of his nephew's voice. The stark implication-that Magne intended to keep the boy in revenge for the wrongs Fury had done, to take his vengeance against the boy, made the Governor's flesh crawl. Every report of Magne's sadistic and cruel behaviour swirled though his memory and he clenched his fists.

"This is not a request, Magne," Stock told him grimly. "I am taking the boy. Fetch him here!" Magne glared at him...then abruptly sat behind his desk and waved at Kjetil. There was a cruel smirk on his face.

"Get the boy," he growled and then gave his uncle a triumphant look. "I think you may find the boy is cheeky, disrespectful, disobedient and defiant. I suppose that is proof that he is Hiccup's son, at least. I have yet to get the boy to do anything he should. I doubt he'll want to come with you, Uncle. He needs taming-and I am the man to do it!"

An unpleasant sensation swirling in his gut, Stoick swallowed, inspecting the cold, cruel face before him and wondered how he had never seen in before. How could this man be the younger sibling of Snotlout who, despite some vanity and pride, was a hardworking and generally decent man? He saw the man stare unabashedly back, the smug smile on his face reminding Stoick that he was plotting against him. That this man had tortured and bullied his own son for years and had taken great delight in telling Stoick about the boy's betrayal...

...a betrayal that profited Magne and the Hoffersons and destroyed two young lives. A betrayal that was born of innocent friendship and hope by two young people who could not understand why their fathers hated each other. Two children used as pawns in their games of vengeance and damaged terribly by the consequences. Two people who were now facing ultimate destruction-his son at the end of a rope and the girl at the hands of her unworthy husband...

...a betrayal that maybe wasn't such a betrayal but a tentative olive branch that two stiff-necked and vengeful men had ripped to pieces, hurting their only children in the process...

...a betrayal that savagely destroyed his own son ultimately in favour of the treacherous man who had deliberately manoeuvred everything to his advantage...

The door opened and Kjetil walked in, his hand tight on the shoulder of the young shape that Stoick recognised from the ship, the little boy who had appeared with the key that had certainly saved their lives. The young boy that Fury had brought back in his arms, limp and battered. The boy that the pirate clearly cared for with a passion that Stock had never managed with his own son. The boy made to pull away and Kjetil jerked him back, shaking the boy cruelly without thinking.

Messy black hair half-concealed the bright green eyes that were just a little brighter than his son's but filled with the same defiance and curiosity. Memory hammered Stoick hard then, the image of the small shape peeking with bright forest green eyes from under auburn bangs, the pale skin with a smattering of freckles lightly bruised from another unsuccessful encounter with his cousins. Hiccup had been small and curious, lacking in confidence and craving love and approval. And, to his eternal shame, Stoick had granted him neither, instead pouring scorn and disapproval on the narrow shoulders that had slumped in resignation and despair that he would never win his father's love. He blinked and the scornful words of his son swirled through his memory.

You ignored me for years. You neglected me for years. You beat me frequently for the slightest excuse. You tortured me because I fell in love with a girl you did not approve of. And you threw me out to die. No father could ever do that!

The boy was battered and bruised, his arm broken and clothing dishevelled. There were fresh welts on his face and Stoick felt anger rise in his throat. Magne had been beating the boy...because he couldn't take his vengeance out on the pirate. Nausea rising in his stomach at the implication, the Governor hunkered down in front of the boy, his eyes inspecting the little shape.

"Hello," the Governor said as gently as he could manage. A huge man used to command, Stoick didn't have much experience of speaking softly but he was trying. The green eyes flicked up and there was resentment there.

"Go 'way," the boy said stubbornly. With a roll of the eyes and gritted teeth, the Governor tried to remain patient.

"I am trying to help you," he said with forced patience. The boy lifted his bruised chin.

"P-people always say that just before they do something horrible to me," he said despondently. Frowning, Stoick inspected the little shape. How many people had abused this small boy to make him respond in such a way?

"I mean it, boy," he said gruffly. "I don't want to hurt you. I want to get you away from here." He started then, green eyes locking on the big face and flashing with a momentary hope.

"W-why do y-you want to help me?" he asked timidly.

"I am your grandfather," he said. The boy stared at him and cringed back, his green eyes narrowing.

"You-you were the man in charge of my Dad's trial," he remembered suddenly. "You were really mean to him. He told me his Dad was a bad father. I could tell from how he spoke that you really really hurt him. That was you, wasn't it?" Shocked at the accusation and stung by the criticism, the Governor glared at the boy and he cringed back.

"If you are his son, then you are mine!" he snapped. "Jorgensen, I will have the boy. My son is gone but I will take his son to replace him!"

"I don't wanna go with you!" Arild protested softly. "All you did was hurt my Dad."

"You will do as you're told!" Stoick growled, his patience rapidly evaporating while Gobber frowned, his unibrow dipping over his nose.

"Er, Stoick...that's hardly going tae get the laddie ter trust ye!" he commented. Ignoring him studiously, Stoick glared into the boy's face.

"You are my son's son," he insisted. "So you are my kin and heir to the Haddock family. There is still time for you to replace my son as my heir..." Green eyes widened in shock and horror and Magne felt his anger rise, his fists bunching fiercely.

"He stays here with me!" he snapped, slamming a fist onto the desk. "Do you think I'll hand you a rival to my place? I am your only heir now, Uncle. Not this little rat!"

"I'm not going with you!" Arild cried, struggling against Kjetil. "I don't want to stay with ANY of you. I want my Dad! Please let me join my Dad!"

"Your outlaw father will be hanged today, brat!" Magne shouted and the boy cringed back, his face paling between the welts.

"You d-don't have to kill him," he whimpered softly, tears spilling down his bruised features. Trembling visibly, he swallowed, his throat working as he lifted his chin in a brave gesture to face the Governor. "Please...if-if I s-stay with you, sir...w-will you let m-my D-Dad go? W-will you s-spare his l-life?"

There was a shocked silence as the boy sniffed, his grubby hands trying to wipe the tears flowing down his bruised face. Stoick stared at him in shock.

"NO!" Magne growled, gesturing for Kjetil to slap the boy. The blow was loud in the quiet room and he gave a small sniff.

"Please," he begged.

"I-I'm afraid there is nothing I can do," Stoick said, curiously affected by the selfless bravery of the small boy. It was beyond anything he had ever seen-bravery he would be proud to acknowledge in a kinsman.

"Then-then I won't come!" Arild whimpered then cringed back as the Governor grabbed his thin arm and jerked the trembling boy towards him. His face was scarlet.

"You are my kin and I will decide how you are disposed of!" he roared.

"My other Dad said that as well," the boy sighed, shrinking away from him against Kjetil's grasp, his head bowing. There was a pregnant silence and every eye suddenly bored into the slumped little shape.

"Other Dad?" Gobber said softly, voicing everyone's question. The thin throat worked as Arild ferociously inspected the floor, absently palming the moisture off his grubby face.

"The man my Mom lived with when I was very little," he admitted. "Gunnar."

"So Fury...Hiccup...isn't your real father?" Stoick asked directly. Trembling under so many fierce glares, Arild shook his head.

"Um, no," he admitted softly. "My...my Mom wasn't s-sure who he-he was...but she did m-mention the name B-Bork a few t-times..."

"So Hiccup isn't your father?" the Governor repeated, raising his eyes to catch the switch in Magne's expression as well. Both men suddenly looked angry and cheated.

"He...he f-found me on D-dragon I-island," the boy admitted, his voice hitching. "He-he looked after me and offered to look after me. I was w-warm and given f-food and a b-bed. And they taught me stuff. I was given the choice to stay or come with him...and he was the kindest p-person I had known apart from Mom s-so I s-said y-yes. I-I asked if I-I could call him Dad and he...he said y-yes..."

"Stoick..." Gobber breathed softly, his voice almost pleading. He could understand the reasoning: to love a boy as a father, you didn't have to have physically created him. Memory flashing back to the scrawny younger Hiccup, he felt a curl of shame now: he had rejected the boy when he needed him so much, just as Stoick was going to do now.

It was like a mountain rising as Stoick got back to his feet, his grey-green eyes glaring at Magne. "My mistake," he said coldly. "You can keep the brat!" A groan shaking his form, Gobber stared at the Governor: instead of grasping the chance at redemption, the chance to save a vulnerable and abused boy no matter his parentage because he meant everything to the Governor's disowned son, Stoick had cast the boy aside like trash because he had no tie of blood. An adopted son was no use to the Governor because he would not further the ancient line of Haddocks-and so Arild lost any worth to him...and any hope of rescue. The younger Jorgensen leaned forward and inspected the boy like a particularly noxious insect, his calculations ruined by the unexpected variable.

"So he is a worthless cabin boy," he snapped as Arild curled in on himself, anticipating another blow. "Put him in the small room in the cellar. I'll decide how to dispose of him later." Despite trembling hard at the chilling menace in the tone, the boy stared up at him and bravely lifted his bruised chin.

"It doesn't matter if he is my blood father or not because he loves me," he said with absolute conviction, his small voice shaking. "And I love him." There was a pause. "And he is going to come and kick your ass!"

oOo

"So you strategised the entire ambush, General? I am astonished at your perspicacity!" Tuff was staring at the rolling parkland at the front of the Hofferson Mansion which gradually rose to meet the very edges of the spruce forest of Raven's Point. Beyond the trees was the bay where the ship was no longer moored-the twins had watched the ship sail into Berkisport harbour as they had mugged several well to-do people for their clothes, coach and identities...before coming up with their own twist. Eret puffed up his chest at the compliment.

"I am flattered, my Lord Terje," he replied smoothly. Befriending a Count would always further his ambitions on the mainland once Magne took Berk. Eret had no intentions of staying on Berk once the coup was completed-after all, Drago was going to lay waste to the place. His future plans would be best served by grabbing as much money and influence as he could before he abandoned the Archipelago to its fate.

"Huh?" For a second Tuff's concentration slipped and he had to remind himself who he was pretending to be. Blowing things up was much less strenuous! "Ah, of course," he continued, covering the slip. "But you have my sincerest commiserations at the disgraceful conduct of your wife. I, for one, would not stand for such transgressions." And then he turned his face back to the mountains in the distance, hoping Eret would take the bait. Predictably, the General moved a little closer and broached the subject.

"You...have had such problems, my Lord?" he asked with interest. Tuff inspected the ferrule on the cane with apparent disinterest: they had needed to sneak back onto the Night Fury to get the cane because it was a unique piece that Fury had made for the twin. Well, to be honest, Tuff had swum round and sneaked onto the ship while his sister had tried to seduce the guards at the dockside.

Can't unseen that! he reminded himself philosophically. "Indeed," he said aloud. "And such hysterical behaviour should qualify your wife for a lifetime of imprisonment in a refuge or sanctuary because her weak mind is clearly unsuited to the vagaries of the modern world. And in committing her, you will of course immediately inherit all her goods, possessions and titles. Once she is locked away, she can be divorced without any contest and you can look for a new wife...one more worthy to your status. Say...my sister, Ragnehilde?" Folding his arms, Eret inspected him calculatingly and gave a cocky smile.

"Come inside, my Lord," he invited, turning back to the house. "I have some fine mead that would be perfect for discussing such a contract..." And the two men turned to the house...to see Ruff and Astrid erupt through the door and race towards the parked coach. Tuff groaned and ran forward after Eret, who was already sprinting toward the escapees, his sword drawn.

"WHAT PART OF BACK DOOR DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?" he bellowed at his twin.

"HEAVILY GUARDED OR I'D HAVE GONE THAT WAY!" she screeched back. Eret glanced over his shoulder in betrayal and swiped at him as the male twin accelerated past him, heading down the slope for the coach.

"BUTT-ELF-GET ON BOARD!" he shouted but the General was closing and his men were emerging from the house.

"WHAT DO WE DO NOW?" Ruff shrieked at him.

"DUNNO! WE ONLY PLANNED THIS FAR AND THEN ASTRID WAS GOING TO COME UP WITH THE PLAN!" Tuff reminded her at top volume, despite the fact they were almost on top of one another.

"Fair enough!" his sister shot back at only half the volume with a broad grin while Astrid gaped at the implication.

"What plan?" she demanded.

"The plan to get us out of here alive!" Tuff shouted-and then he heard Eret close and spun, grasping the cane and drawing the concealed sword within the finely worked walnut wood. The rapier was finer than Eret's sabre but the blade was made of Gronckle iron, a very unique alloy that Fury had explained only Gobber and he knew how to make for it was lightweight but stronger than a blade five times its size. The clash of blades was loud as Ruff leapt into the coach and tossed Astrid an axe and a sword.

"You wanted a plan?" she asked Ruff with a gleam in her eyes. "Chop the bad guys into little pieces!" The female twin grinned in approval as she tossed a couple of knives into retainers who came too close.

"Knock yourself out!" she invited the girl.

"Rather knock them out!" Astrid shot back with a grin, feeling the reassuring weight of an axe in her hands. Her eyes trailed over to the men as Ruff grabbed a mace and threw herself on the retainers. Astrid leapt from the coach and saw two men in Hofferson colours who were new men of Eret's. With a scream, she launched herself on them, slamming them aside as a very effective way of relieving her anger at her husband. She leapt forward, using the flat of the axe to clobber them unconscious because she knew that the men weren't guilty per se...they just worked for the wrong man. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Ruff bashing two men with the mace and winced. One of them was an old family employee-who had sided with her husband and father against Astrid. She growled and knocked another two men down.

Swords clashing and wrists jarring, Tuff found himself being driven back by Eret. As Hiccup had found before, the man may be an ass-but he was an ass with some sword training that meant he was a dangerous opponent. The male twin was a gunner not a swordsman and he had the uncomfortable feeling the other man was toying with him. He knew he was barely fending the General off...until a shape somersaulted in between them, an axe and sword raised to face the black-haired soldier.

"I think this one is mine," Astrid told him icily. "Get the coach and discourage the retainers from bothering us!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Tuff grinned and leapt away, diving into the coach and emerging with a pair of pistols. "Ha ha!" he laughed wildly. "Now this is more like it!" Without hesitation, he shot a retainer who was sneaking up behind his sister and another man in the ass just for the Hel of it. "So much better than thinking!" he sighed in relief.

Circling each other like gladiators, Astrid locked her azure gaze on her husband, nothing but hatred boiling in her stomach. Eret's expression was mocking, supercilious: he thought he knew her weaknesses, thought he was better than her...but she always practiced, always learned and wouldn't waste the chance to improve. The axe twirled in her hand and the sword was lifted in the other. Eret had no clue the amount of training at arms she had gone through, enough to make a battalion of soldiers envious. She altered her direction of pacing but never took her eyes from Eret.

"You know, I want a divorce," she said coldly. The General laughed scornfully.

"You know, your friend there was talking me into getting you committed to a sanatorium sanctuary, declared insane...and then I would have divorced you, once I had full possession of everything you own!" Eret sneered. Astrid's knuckles whitened but she gave no sign. Master the anger. Control the rage. You own it: it does not own you.

"You coward and snake!" she hissed. "This was your plan all along!"

"And yet it took you all this time to work it out, Astrid," he sneered, almost jerking a step forward and seeing her tense. He smiled lazily. "Didn't you wonder why I never demanded my dues on our wedding night-as I easily could have? It's far easier to divorce a crazy wife if she isn't pregnant-and I wanted no excuse to keep you. Your father outlined your many flaws in the contract negotiations and promised to support my decision if I decided to dispose of you. After all-once I married you, I become his son and now your are disinherited, everything is already mine." He tensed. "So I was minded to enforce my rights...as I was planning, until you ruined it by escaping. But in fact, I don't even need the sanatorium...or a divorce when my insane wife tries to kill me...and I have to kill her in self defence!"

"AARGH!" Astrid screamed and broke first, flinging herself at the powerful shape, ducking his guard and swinging the axe up to parry the blow at her left side-her weakness-as she chopped at his leg. He bellowed and stumbled forward, blood staining the back of his thigh.

"I was going to be humane, woman-but now this is going to hurt!" he threatened and barrelled forward, his sword swinging and weight forward. She danced back, light on her feet and acrobatic...but wary: he had seen her fight before and he was trying to kill her. Breathing hard and hyperaware of everything around her, she backed up a pace and kept her sword up, leaving her left side exposed. She knew that her arm and her axe were balancing her but not in a combat position as she blocked and parried but she didn't want to relinquish her best weapon. Inwardly, she sighed: her sword master had been a champion, paid for by her father to get his sole heir up to speed and he had concluded that she lacked the patience to become a true master. It had been a fair assumption at that moment...but time and bitter experience sometimes were better teachers than any number of imported experts.

A slash narrowly missed her middle and she angrily dragged her full attention back to the present and her husband who was trying to kill her. The clang of metal and the shouts of the twins reassured her that they were alright but she was in the most trouble. She ducked under a swipe, kicked out and caught Eret in a very inconvenient place and spun away as he bellowed like a wounded yak. With a bellow, he cut out wildly and tagged her arm: she hissed but ignored the wound, circling him again. He was sweating and his eyes were dark with rage now: it was a level playing field. But he seemed inspired, launching a ferocious attack that had her stumbling back, the sword being slammed again and again. Finally, he landed a blow which smacked the sword from her stinging hand and tossed her onto her knees. He rose above her, his sword raised.

"Consider this your divorce!" he scoffed. Then she spun, the disregarded axe slamming into his exposed midriff. He froze, eyes wide with pain and shock as he staggered back.

"Thanks," she said, rising and grabbing her discarded sword. He took two further paces back, his eyes rolled back and then he fell flat on his back, dead. Professionally, she grabbed her axe and went to help the twins but they had already seen off the rest of the servants. Looking up with a sigh, she looked upon her home one last time. Ruff glanced at her as Tuff took the reins of their coach.

"You okay?" she asked and Astrid managed a watery smile as she clambered into the coach.

"Strangely...yes..." she admitted. "This place has been a prison rather than a home for the last five years. I'm glad to be going..."

"Should we tell the Captain that you killed your own husband?" Tuff asked her as he whipped the horses to a gallop.

"Would you like my axe in your back?" she asked sweetly.

"Shutting up and driving!" Tuff called down. "Any plan?" After a moment, she gave a smile.

"Yes," she murmured. "I have the perfect way to get into the Jorgensen Mansion..."

oOo

There was scarcely a glance by the guards when the supply carts rolled up to the Jorgensen mansion from Berkisport. The Master and the two young Masters insisted on the best and copious quantities of meat, cheese and mead had to be delivered very regularly. The drivers were escorted to the doors to the cellars and tipped their caps gratefully to the guards before calling their porters and beginning to unload. With a few groans and mutters, the poorly dressed men scrambled down and began to heft the carcasses, wheels of cheese and barrels of ale, mead, salted port and jerky into the cellars. With quiet industry, they swiftly unloaded the carts.

Two of the men made their way up to the kitchens: one carrying two huge wheels of hard yellow yak's milk cheese and the other a cured leg of boar over his shoulder. The shorter man with the cheeses paused, then waved to a cook, who flapped her apron at him crossly.

"You shouldn't be here!" she admonished them tartly. The shorter man's blue eyes crinkled.

"I think you've said that to me before, Jannicke!" he said in a cheerful voice. She gaped and grabbed his arm, hauling him and his friend to the side of the kitchen by the cold room.

"Master Snotlout!" she hissed, peering under his hood and frowning. Pushing his disguise back, the older Jorgensen grinned at the cook and she blushed. "But what are you doing here?" she asked him worriedly. "I mean...the Master is furious! Master Magne has assumed all your honours immediately and everyone was told you were dishonoured for running off with another man's wife!" Cringing at the accusation, Snotlout sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

"Um, not entirely true," he admitted and opted to tell most of the truth because he liked the woman and knew she was decent. "I helped Astrid get away from her ass of a husband because he was harming a little boy...the same boy Magne has got locked up here. Where is he, Jannicke?" The woman's warm brown eyes shadowed and she fiddled with the edge of her apron worriedly. Then she sighed.

"Oh, it's not right, a frightened little scrap like that being locked up and beaten so cruelly," she exclaimed softly, her eyes shining with empathetic tears. "I hear Master Magne saying he was worthless when they went back to the town this morning. But not before he'd given the boy a lesson in manners." The other man stiffened and his hooded face turned to Snotlout-but instantly, the cook's sharp eyes narrowed. "Who's he?" she snapped, drawing back defensively.

"The boy's father," Snotlout explained soothingly, resting a hand gently on the taller man's shoulder. "He's worried for his boy." She nodded, relaxing and gestured to the narrow, winding star down to the cellars.

"He's down there, Master Snotlout," she told him softly. "Master Magne locked him in the smallest storeroom all alone. It's dark and cold down there and no one has been tasked to feed or water him. It would be a mercy if someone went to fetch him." Snotlout nodded but the tall man was already moving, his lean shape stiff as he limped to the stairwell and vanished. The cook gave Snotlout an unexpected hug and then leaned close. "Now go, Master," she said in a whisper. "Not all ears are so friendly." Returning the hug, he nodded and vanished after his friend.

Hiccup had grabbed a torch and had his sword out as he navigated the cellars. Having spent part of his childhood here, he knew the cellars well-though mostly as a place to hide or sometimes, be cornered and tormented. Shaking his head to dispel the thoughts, he limped on, the numerous pains forgotten in his anxiety to find the boy. Arild had been woken from sleep, held hostage and then taken by Magne...Hiccup was more than worried about the boy. Finally, he found the smallest storeroom then lifted the bolt and, raising the torch, he wrestled the doors open.

The small space yawned ahead of him, dark and smelling of damp with the unwelcome scrittering of rats sounding. And also the sniffing of a human being.

"Arild?" There was a scuffling and something moved in the dark...and a small shape timidly limped closer. A flash of white skin was caught in the firelight.

"D-dad?" Hiccup dropped the torch, dropped the sword and dropped to his knees as the boy flung himself into his arms. His arms wrapped fiercely around the shaking boy and he hugged him desperately.

"It's okay, buddy-I promised!" he reassured the lad and felt Arild press against him.

"I-I'm s-sorry," he whimpered. "I-I couldn't stop him and when-when he grabbed me it was too-too late..." Hiccup rubbed his back gently, drawing the boy towards the door and inspecting him. Arild was bruised and shaking, his face downcast and fearful. "When that m-man came to get me...I t-told them by-by accident that you weren't my real D-dad..." He sniffed and closed his eyes. "They looked at me like I was n-nothing..." Hiccup stiffened and hugged the boy harder, his hand tenderly rubbing the skinny back.

"Then we're well matched because I am definitely nothing on Berk," he reminded the boy. "Arild, I know you aren't my son by blood...but it doesn't matter. I love you as a son and nothing is gonna change that. I came for you because I want you. Okay?"

"But that m-man...the man with the red beard from your trial, your Dad...he came and wanted to take me because I was your son...but when he found out that I wasn't your son, he looked at me like d-dirt. And then they locked me up in this r-room because I wasn't w-worth k-keeping..." Tears spilled down his grubby cheeks again and Hiccup sighed, shifted the boy and the torch in his arms, then levered himself up using his sword.

"I think you're worth keeping," he assured the boy gently. "My little dragon..." Arild chewed his lip and then gave a small sigh as he lifted his bruised face.

"Dad," he said anxiously. "That bad man...the one whose ships you sunk...he-he arrested your Dad and a one-legged man who was with him. He s-said it was time for a change...and that Berk needed a new leader...now...and that he-he was that leader..." Hiccup stared and turned...to meet Snotlout's surprised gaze.

"You heard?" he asked. Clenching his fists, the older Jorgensen sighed and nodded.

"My treacherous younger brother has started his coup d'etat!"