Twenty Two.

Astrid arrived at the Chief's house as Hiccup was laid on the table, both Stoick and Gobber leaning anxiously over the unconscious boy. She gasped as she saw his wounds in a better light. The boy's face was black and blue, swollen from welts. His slender neck was circled by bruises as well and he was moaning slightly. Stoick turned to his friend.

"Fetch Gothi," he told the blacksmith. "I'll take him upstairs..."

"No!" Astrid cried as she entered. She hadn't meant to speak but she instinctively knew that would be a mistake. "Sir-he can't go into his bedroom. Not now." Stoick turned to her. "Dagur! He...well...was with Hiccup there..." The Chief frowned and then nodded

"Yes, I heard Dagur rape him," he said gruffly. Astrid's eyes suddenly burned with tears at the bleak description of her friend's ordeal-and the fact that Stoick had done nothing about it. The Chief considered for a moment, then nodded. "I see. Gobber-help me bring the bed down here." Astrid folded her arms and her expression spoke volumes.

"My bed won't fit," Stoick told her gruffly. "It will have to be his bed." So he left her to keep Hiccup company as the two men man-handled the bed down the stairs and set it down by the fire. Stoick rounded up a sheet, blankets and furs and made up the bed. Then the Chief tenderly turned back to his son. He looked worriedly at Astrid.

"Er, lass, you may want to step out while we strip him," Gobber suggested, looking meaningfully at the boy.

"It's not like I haven't seen naked people before..." she argued.

"Have you seen naked Hiccup before?" Gobber asked. She gaped. "Look, lassie-Hiccup is a really shy lad. He knows he's not the most impressive looking Viking and has endured some pretty cruel taunts about his physique throughout his entire life. And...he really... likes you, Astrid. Don't shame and embarrass him when he can't ask you to respect his dignity." She blushed. She hadn't thought about his shyness and the fact everyone had bullied him for ever. She glanced at Hiccup-sweet, shy, kind, nervous around her-and she didn't want him to feel any worse.

"I'll get Gothi," she said suddenly and ran for the door. Stoick waited for the door to slam, then turned back to the still shape. Carefully, the two men stripped the boy of his tunic, vest and leggings. Stoick tenderly unstrapped the prosthesis and checked the stump finding-as he expected-raw areas and inflamed scars from lack of care. Then the Chief lifted the naked body of his son and gently laid him in the bed. He sighed.

The boy was appallingly thin, having lost a terrible amount of weight from his already skinny frame since his exile. Most of Hiccup was covered in savage bruises at all stages of healing, varying purple to fading green, many overlapping. His toast rack chest was battered with the marks of fists and boots. The livid, puckered angry scarlet burn was ugly on his left shoulder. The livid marks of whips were ugly over his shoulders and both men had gasped at the savage map of lashes covering his skinny back. Almost unnoticed and carefully concealed, the word 'slave' was viciously carved into the inside of his left arm. And there was blood on his thighs. They gently laid the boy on the fur-laden bed and twitched furs over his still body. Stoick blinked and abruptly turned away.

"I should have believed him, Gobber," he said in a broken voice. "He was sobbing, begging for me to believe him, believe his innocence. I turned him down. I disowned him, exiled him from the Tribe. Odin, I can still see his face, begging for his dragon." He rubbed his nose. "He looked as heartbroken as when I disowned him for keeping Toothless."

"Stoick, the boy loves you desperately," Gobber told him. "He would do anything to make you proud of him. All those ridiculous contraptions he used to fight dragons were to win your approval."

"Gobber, I do love him," Stoick said heavily, "but he's so..."

"Stubborn? Inventive? Brave? Always thinks he knows best?" Gobber offered.

"Un-Vikinglike," Stoick sighed. "Oh, he had changed our island, ended the war, protected the village from Berserkers and Outcasts..."

"Which was why exiling him was such a bad move," Gobber said. It was the only chance he had to talk his friend round. "He's loyal to you, his friends and of course the dragon. I am certain they tortured him badly to work against you. His friends and I never believed he was guilty." He paused. "You know, he never strikes first? He deliberately won't kill. Murder is not in his capability. And you as his father should know that."

"I wish he had come home when he returned," the Chief said.

"You know why he couldn't," Gobber said, standing by him after gently pushing the tousled auburn hair from his bruised face. "He's more stubborn than you. But you couldn't just say you were sorry when he needed to hear it most. No, you had to chastise him for being defiant and causing so much trouble in the past. I saw his eyes as you put him down in front of the village yet again-even when you should be apologising and begging his forgiveness. You broke his heart."

"I almost took him home last night," Stoick said hollowly. "He wanted to get back to the dragon. He was so...changed. He really was like a slave. He wouldn't look at me, wouldn't meet my eye-and he was trembling. Really trembling in fear. I knew those guards were trying to..." He sighed. "I should have brought him here because I bought him as my slave. That way, he could have been protected. As a slave, he has no rights or status at all."

"Apologise again," Gobber advised him. "The boy is going to be in pain, vulnerable and frightened. Let him lead you and talk to him. Listen to him."

"I am his Chief," Stoick said gruffly. "I can't be expending all my time on an injured boy..."

"How about being a father tending his injured son?" Gobber asked shortly in an exasperated voice as Astrid arrived with the tiny humped shape the elder. Gothi silently assessed Hiccup and her wizened face crinkled into a scowl of anger at the tale she read. Her tiny, claw-like hands tenderly cleaned his ravaged body and then she applied salves and ointments to the worst of his wounds. A special sticky paste was applied to his burn and another to his whip gashes and a special lotion was massaged into his reddened and raw stump. A bowl of medicine was gently poured into his mouth and he automatically swallowed it. Finally, the tiny elder left instructions with Gobber and left.

"Well, she's not happy!" the blacksmith commented as she pointedly whacked him with her staff as she went.

"How is he?" Astrid asked quietly. She had waited outside until Gothi emerged, respecting her friend. Her blue eyes focussed on the pale shape and she winced at the bruises. Stoick pulled the furs up over the toast rack chest and fussed with the pillow. He shook his head.

"I should have made him come home," he said.

"...wouldn't...come..." Hiccup breathed. His brow furrowed and he gave a groan. Stoick grasped his hand urgently.

"Hiccup. Son," Stoick said, inspecting the boy's swollen face. Hiccup's eyelids fluttered and his brilliant green eyes warily swung up to look into his father's face.

"No one's son," he sighed wearily.

"Hiccup, I'm sorry," Stoick said gently. "You were right. I can never know what it's like to be thrown out of my tribe and disowned by my father. But I want to help. I made a mistake-the worst of my life. I have to make that up to you. Please, let me atone for my wrongs!" The boy's eyes slid up and he frowned as he inspected the room. And his breathing accelerated.

"You brought me home?" he gasped hoarsely. His tone was accusing.

"It's the only safe place," Stoick told him. "You needed warmth and..." Hiccup's eyes widened and there was fear and distress in his gaze.

"You know what happened here?" Hiccup spat. His eyes swung down and he stiffened in anger. "In this bed?" Stoick nodded. "I was begging you for help. Begging! You did nothing. You just stood downstairs and...and listened!" His expression was utterly betrayed. Stoick nodded and looked ashamed but the boy sat up abruptly, the fur sliding down his naked torso. He gave a sudden gasp of pain and Astrid ran to his side,

"Hiccup!" she said, resting her hand in his bandaged wrist. He flinched fearfully. "There's nowhere else we could put you. They hurt you badly."

"So did he!" Hiccup complained, dropping his head. His shoulders were very hunched with pain and starting to jerk with quiet sobs. So she perched on the edge of the bed and threw her arms around his skinny shoulders. He stiffened in sudden fear and then he buried his head in her shoulder and wept. Stoick just stared at the boy and the girl, who gently stroked the back of his head and made gentle cooing noises. He held onto her until his sobs eventually died down. He pushed away with a watery smile.

"How are you?" she asked him in a low voice. He swallowed and tried to wipe his face.

"I've been better," he suggested dryly. "Is Toothless..?"

"Full of fish and sleeping curled up with Stormfly," she reassured him. He gave a nod and then winced, balling his fists and digging them into the bed, using then to hitch his body over slightly and ease his position. He gave a low moan of pain. "Is something wrong?" He looked and realised she had seen. But she knew anyway so he gave a weary sigh.

"Sore. Really really sore," he explained quietly. "Those guards seemed to think that calling me a slut is the same as an invitation to fuck me." She stiffened and almost pulled away, all the instincts of a good Viking maiden only overcome by the sudden wave of sorrow that filled Hiccup's emerald eyes at the sudden lifting of her touch. His face twitched with a sudden lopsided smile of immeasurable sadness.

"I'm sorry," he said sadly. "I never asked for any of this. I never asked to be sent to Outcast Island. I never asked to be handed over to Dagur, who had been trying to get me for years. I never asked to be whipped and beaten for refusing to tell anything about Berk's defences or how to train dragons. I certainly never asked to be branded as a slave. I begged not to be raped by Dagur, that first time and every time since. And I though I dreamed about it every time I closed my eyes, I never wanted to come back here because I knew I could never be forgiven. That nothing bad would be forgotten. Though everything I did to protect Berk and help my Dad was forgotten because of this!" And he gestured to the burn. "That's what defines me now."

"Hiccup..."

"Traitor. Slave. Slut. Not a pretty selection of names but all I hear. In fact I think my name's been legally changed from Hiccup to slave. People don't look at me or if they do, they look with disgust. Your parents didn't want me in the house. Spitelout told me he would beat me senseless if I darkened his door. Boy, that's a welcome from your uncle you wouldn't forget!" His tone was bitter and his smile grim.

"I..."

"The guards didn't need to be so cruel," he said softly. "They could just shout at me or hit me and send me on my way. There was no need to feel me up or drag me behind a storehouse and try to rape me for being out after curfew!" He blinked hard and his long lashes were beaded with tears. His voice was hoarse again. "And-and they thought it was okay because I was a Berserker slave and slut!" He lifted a shaking hand to cover his battered face. "My Dad spared me last night...but they came back and got me today. So why should I stay when I have no confidence in the guards? When I know-I know-they will do it again. And no one will stop them."

"For your friends?" she suggested. His creased brow softened and he sighed.

"Just remember me as I was," he begged her. "Not...this..." And he gestured to his beaten shape.

"Hiccup, I can't," she said gently. "You are my friend, my closest friend..."

"And you recoiled from me when you recalled what they did to me," he groaned. "I was raped, Astrid. Over and over. And that changes everything. Because there can be an 'us'. Not any more. I am unsaleable. You will marry a man with honour and status and be happy and I will hide what I am for the rest of my lonely life, leaving everything behind because no one here could believe I am innocent and a free Viking." Tears were dripping from his face now. "No one could ever forgive that. But they are the ones who did it to me!"

And he broke completely, his incoherent sobs loud in the hut. Astrid tried to comfort him but he huddled away, wrapping his skinny arms around his battered and beaten shape. His head was down, his hair obscuring the bruised face. Gobber nudged Stoick, hard.

"We need a Thing," he announced. "A town meeting. I can't have you treated like this, son."

"I'm..."

"YOU ARE MY SON!" Stoick bellowed, shocking his son to a terrified silence. Every eye turned on the Chief and he forced his face into a calmer expression. "You are my son, Hiccup. My only son. And I have repealed your sentence." Hiccup swallowed painfully.

"Yeah, that's gonna work," he said sarcastically and switched to his excellent Stoick impression, his voice becoming growling and commanding with a thick Berkian accent. "I know I threw this boy out of the tribe twice, the last time for trying to kill me. I know I gave away every possession, struck him from my heart and replaced him as Heir but really that's okay because I've changed my mind. Oh, don't mind he's a slave and a sex toy, that's okay and we'll all forget about that, shall we. Good. All sorted!"

The Chief just stared at him. The boy was breathing hard and his eyes were glittering with anger and hurt-but also fear.

"Hiccup..." he said more gently.

"You can never know!" Hiccup told him shortly and his eyes shone with misery. "Never know how much it hurts to be rejected like you did. You have always been the perfect Chief-big and powerful and strong. You never had anyone call you a fishbone or a toothpick or...or runt. You never had your Dad sighing as you struggle to pick up a hammer too heavy for your strength. You never had your village laugh at you when you are doing your absolute best. And you never had your father tell you that you were not his son, that you were a disappointment!"

"Son..."

"Please, D...sir...at least be honest with me," Hiccup pleaded miserably. "You have said you are proud of me precisely once-when I jumped onto Toothless to fight the Red Death. That was enormously stupid and carried almost certain death but that was the only time I was sure you had any feeling for me other than contempt." Stoick looked shocked.

"Hiccup...I always loved you!" he protested.

"Clearly not!" the boy shot back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and scootching over to put his foot on the floor. He dragged the fur around his beaten shape and then shoved himself to his foot, one hand holding the fur around his middle and the other helping steady himself as he hopped slowly to the stairs and settled on the bottom step. He tugged the fur tighter around himself and stared at the others. "Because no one who loved his son would accept that he was guilty."

"The evidence..."

"And here we go again," Hiccup said sarcastically. "Look, Sir, if you loved me-if you even knew me, you'd know I can't kill. You'd know I would have given both my legs to have you show me a word of love, of pride, of any affection. But you didn't. So I kept trying with every ounce of my strength to try to kill dragons and make you proud. But it was never going to be enough because succeeding in Dragon Training was the only thing you cared about. You would never accept me for me."

"But the dragon..."

"By Odin! Toothless is a Night Fury. If he had wanted to kill you, you would be dead. He NEVER misses!" Hiccup was almost shouting in his frustration. Stoick scowled at the tone: he didn't like being shouted at but Gobber was poking him with his hook and he bit his tongue. It was pretty obvious Hiccup had a lot of things to get off his chest. "He never misses. And had you moved, he would have finished you before you even stopped rolling."

"Then why didn't Fishlegs think of that?" Astrid asked softly. The boy sighed.

"He's a Dragon Expert," he admitted, "but not the most gifted with common sense." He sighed again and Astrid rolled her eyes.

"And the poison?" Stoick asked his son. Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"Since I know nothing about any if this, I really can't say!" he replied testily. He shifted his position slightly: it was really sore but he had been determined not to lie on the bed. Every second made him feel Dagur on top of him, his hands digging into his flesh, his breath on his face, his voice taunting him. And the pain, spearing into him. He was breathing hard.

"Look, s...Hiccup...you have to understand that I have a duty..." Stoick began.

"Yeah, of course," Hiccup winced. "You have spent most of my life telling me what a Chief is supposed to do. But you've also spent all of my life, shouting at me for being useless and too weak and too clumsy. For being in the wrong place and causing chaos. For trying to hunt trolls and learn weapons. For embarrassing you. I have been shouted down and humiliated and even struck in front of the village. And I have been beaten up and taunted and denigrated my entire life. And apart from a few hugs when I was little, I really can't recall any time when I felt you loved me. You don't know me. And I doubt you have loved me for a long time."

The room fell silent at the despondent tone and every eye fell heavily on the boy.

"You thought I didn't love you?" Stoick said, his voice a pained croak.

"No," Hiccup said levelly. "If you loved me, you would never have sent me to Outcast Island. You would have exiled me where I stood a chance of life. Outcast Island was a stone cold death sentence." The Chief's face was unreadable.

"I have always loved you," Stoick said quietly. "You are my son"

"Gobber has been more of a father to me than you over the past five years or so," Hiccup shot at him, his eyes still flashing.

"I..."

"Yes, I know. A Chief has to put his people first. But that's not true. What you mean is that a Chief has to put all his people except his son first."

"I was spending all my time clearing up your messes!" Stoick retorted.

"And when you came home, Dad?" Hiccup asked him softly. "What did you do then? Did you talk to me, discuss what had happened, reassure me that my inability to slay dragons wasn't the worst thing in the world? Did you suggest how I could improve, do things better? Did you offer to teach me to be a better Viking? Or did you shout at me some more for being a disgrace, a failure, a total stain on the family name? Did you scream at me that if I couldn't fight dragons, I may as well get eaten by one?"

Stoick stared at him. He couldn't recall all his talks with Hiccup, only that the boy was frustrating and apologised profusely-then messed up again. But an insistent nagging feeling reminded him of the shy, almost hopeful look the boy always gave when his father returned home-to be instantaneously replaced by hurt and misery as Stoick had begun his latest tirade against the boy.

"You gave all my stuff away. You wouldn't even let my friends talk to you when they found evidence I was wrongly accused. You had cut me from your life. All of it!"

"I was betrayed!"

"So was I!" Hiccup shouted. "Twice! First by Lars who framed me and then worse, by my father who exiled me. And there is nothing worse than knowing you are innocent and being sent away anyway. When I came back, there was still a tiny corner of me hoping that you would look at me and see someone desperate for your help, your protection...but all I saw was a cold glare as you turned away." He looked away, unconsciously rubbing his brand.

"I'm sorry," Stoick said. Hiccup sighed.

"So am I," he admitted. "Because though I was innocent when you sent me to Outcast Island, I'm not any more. I'm a slave and..." He paused. "Ruined," he added.

"Berk doesn't recognise slavery," Stoick said.

"But some of the villagers do," his son baldly told him. "And that means I can never return."

"Unless you are freed and your mark removed," Stoick said softly. Hiccup blinked.

"It can only be burnt off," he said very slowly. It still hurt now: what would it do if he had sear the mark away? He paled.

"You know Lars is going to betray us to Dagur, right?" he said abruptly, forcing his mind from the image of more hot iron pressing into his shoulder. He was feeling sick at the very thought. "He wanted to know numbers of catapults, patrols, guards, patrol routes, ships...and he kept asking me. They have a game called Truth or Forfeit. If you don't tell the truth, you pay a forfeit." He swallowed. "The only things I said which were the truth were that it hurt to press the brand and I didn't want to be raped. The rest were all forfeits because I wouldn't help him. No matter how much it hurt, what they did to me..." He stopped and stared at the floor. He was trembling again. "I didn't want any of you to die. I knew I didn't matter any more."

"Hiccup..." It was Astrid, her voice gentle and heartbreakingly sad.

"You know..." he said wretchedly, "he promised that he would spare Berk after he...he..." He swallowed. "But I knew he was lying. He wants to attack here. Half his armada is north, digging out the Skrill. The rest will head here and things will get bad. I'm sorry, Dad. I couldn't stop him..." He closed his eyes and when he opened them, Stoick was kneeling in front of him.

"Son, I never realised," he murmured. Hiccup swallowed the deserved retort and let his body sag. He was tired, so very tired of never being loved or feeling anyone cared for him.

"Yeah," he said despondently. Stoick raised his hand the boy stiffened, his eyes widening with fear. His breathing accelerated and he looked terrified as his father gently laid his hand on the bruised and battered cheek.

"I should have stopped him," he admitted ashamedly. "I knew it was wrong. I could see you were terrified and fighting and desperate. I heard him threaten you and I just stood there. I could see you there with Toothless and I just couldn't move, couldn't rationalise what had happened. And I heard you sobbing and had to leave. But you came, warning me just in time to save my life. You came when I needed you, no matter how much you knew it would cost you. And I...was ashamed of my mistrust and...proud of my son."

Hiccup gave a low sob, his face buried in his hands.

"Come back, son," he repeated gently. "Please forgive me for doubting you. Let me care for you and show you how much I love my boy." He paused. "Be my son again."