Thirty Eight.

Savage left orders for Hiccup to be worked hard, driven harder and not touched. Though the Outcast Chief knew of Dagur's orders, he realised that his men would exercise no restraint and would probably kill the boy, and though he would not have mourned Hiccup's death, he did not want to be executed by Dagur for allowing the boy to die. And, of course, there was always the added bonus of abusing the boy himself. Hiccup had caused far more trouble than would be imagined possible for such a skinny little runt and Savage wanted to make sure the boy suffered for his actions.

Mildew was sent to retrieve Hiccup and the old man stared down on the beaten shape in the huge, stained tunic. He opened the cell and poked the slumped shape with his staff.

"Well, never thought I'd see yer back 'ere, 'Iccup," the old man sneered. "Thought yer were brighter than that!" The boy didn't even respond so Mildew nudged him hard with his staff again.

"I surrendered to save my father," Hiccup said tonelessly. "Dagur lied. He killed them." The old man froze and his eyes widened.

"Stoick's dead?" he breathed. Hiccup looked up, his eyes filled with loathing.

"Congratulations. You-you got what you wanted. Dad's dead and I am disowned, Snotlout and Spitelout are running Berk and that means we're doomed." His tone was bitter.

"You can't blame me for this, 'Iccup!" Mildew said slimily. "I didn't betray the village with a reptile!"

"You chose Alvin. Same difference," the boy shot back. Mildew glared at him.

"I 'eard you were broken, boy, but your smart mouth don't seem to 'ave improved!" he snarled.

"So beat me. I-I don't care." The last words were suddenly weary and the old man saw the shoulders slump. Mildew leaned close.

"You care enough still," he realised. "You hate what they do to you. You defied Dagur but you finally got him to cast you aside. Maybe you are brighter than you look."

"You would know," Hiccup muttered, suddenly drunk on despair. "Dagur is easily bored. He doesn't really want sex for love or anything like that: no, he wants to see me struggle and beg and scream in pain. He's a sadist more than anything. But I don't care. They're gone."

"Stoick?"

"And Toothless. No one on Berk wants me. So there's no point now in struggling." I'm so sorry, Astrid.

"Awww. Pining for your little lizard? Missing Daddy?" Mildew taunted him. Hiccup dropped his head. He blinked hard.

"Go 'way," he murmured painfully. Mildew grabbed his arm and wrenched the boy to his feet.

"You got a job, slave!" he sneered, dragging the boy through the door. "You're no longer Dagur's precious little pet. You're just a one-legged runt of a boy and if you don't work hard enough, I'll be watching them whip you to shreds!" Hiccup gave a little swallow, but said nothing, his head down and shoulders slumped as they headed outside. Mildew shoved him forward, trying calculate what to do. Stoick and he had clashed numerous times-that was no secret-but he had been a fine and strong Chief. His only fault, in fact, had been to indulge his weak, strange and useless son, who should have been cast out to sea at birth to perish.

The boy was looking more cowed than Mildew could recall seeing. His sass mouth had gone and the tone of his voice indicated weary acceptance of his doomed fate. The boy had suffered more than Mildew had guessed he could endure and he still faced Savage's very dubious mercy. He nudged the boy with his staff and drove him on. He not sure the next assignment would be to Hiccup's taste either. And then they arrived at the dragon pens. Hiccup glanced up and stiffened.

"Oh no," he said, backing away. "I'm still not training your dragons!" Mildew slammed him with his staff and he staggered.

"You're going to be cleaning out the pens so either they eat yer alive, boy, or yer 'ave to train 'em a bit!" Mildew taunted him. His job had been looking after the dragons and he hated it: it had been his idea to recruit Hiccup to the job. There were small risks which was why Mildew and a group of Outcast guards would be watching the boy. Hiccup stared up as he was thrust into the Whispering Death cage and he winced. These were one of the species he had problems with. The last close encounter with a Whispering Death had not gone well: it had a grudge with Toothless and Hiccup smelled strongly of Night Fury. But Hiccup could see the plentiful piles of fluorescent green dragon dung and knew he either tried to clean them up or faced a whipping. So he cautiously walked forward and slowly extended his left hand gently.

"Erm...easy, girl..." he murmured. The dragon hissed and he froze, then very slowly inched forward, his hand slowly moving towards the dragon's spiny snout. He glanced down and then allowed the dragon to sniff him. There was a pause and then the whited out eyes narrowed and it roared. Hiccup flinched and snatched his hand back as teeth crashed together where his hand had been. He ducked as the dragon spun round and its spiky whip tail slashed out. He ducked down and instinctively raised his arms to protect his face. And then he screamed as the tail sliced his left arm open, blood bursting from the wound. He cried out and scrambled away.

The dragon gave a furious roar and whipped its ferocious tail over Hiccup's head, but he ducked and avoided having his neck slashed open too. He grabbed the laceration and as he glanced up, his hand tightening on the oozing slash, the sickening feel of his own blood warm and slick under his skin. He squeezed tighter, ignoring the hot pain he caused and felt the flow diminish. And his green eyes saw the frightened dragon huddle back in the far corner, the paler scars on her body and flanks and pathetic testimony to the treatment she had endured.

Odin, he knew how she felt.

Crouching low, he rent a strip from his over-large and horrible tunic and determinedly wound it round the wound, then tied it tight. He hissed gently and half-turned to the guards and Mildew.

"Was it Alvin or Savage who whipped this dragon?" he asked in a low, angry voice.

"Does it matter, 'Iccup?" Mildew sneered back. Hiccup's fists tightened.

"You know dragon training is all about trust," he said tightly. "I was just wondering which person thought that hurting dragons say, by whipping them, would help them to trust you?"

"They became wilder after Alvin...left..." Mildew sneered. The boy stiffened.

Figures. Savage by name... Then he walked slowly forward, still watching the spooked dragon.

"Easy, girl," he murmured. Then he half-turned and flipped up his over-large tunic. His lashes showed angry red in the dull light and the dragon sniffed: the smell of blood was obvious. Slowly it uncoiled and slithered closer as Hiccup remained still, allowing the dangerous beast to sniff his lacerated back. Then, still looking down, his extended his hand again. The Whispering Death paused, then pressed her snout into his hand. He breathed a sigh of relief and glanced up. She gave a slight press and then skittered away, very nervous. He sighed and let his tunic drop. At least he could tackle the dung with less probability of being killed.

Wearily, he grabbed his shovel and a barrow and began cleaning up, removing the dung from amid the multitude of eggs that littered the cage. Mildew narrowed his eyes and thought hard. The boy was certainly looking to all intents and purposes as if he was broken but there was the occasional flash of Hiccup, the odd smart comment or show of self preservation. Mildew guessed he was a fraction from breaking, with only the smallest cruelty or torture needed to end him. He shuddered. There was nothing he could do and he was angry at his own thoughts. But Mildew was a traditionalist and he was looking at the rightful Chief of Berk. A treacherous part of him reminded him that this wasn't right-but the greater part of him reminded himself that Hiccup had brought this on himself and he had earned every second of his punishment.

oOo

There was a lot of shouting in Berk-not, helped, it had to be said, by the twins who loved stirring up trouble. The villagers, though they loved a good fight, were less than enthusiastic at attacking Outcast Island. They were furious at the attack on their Chief but there was a lot less interest in rescuing his sometime son. Stoick had stood before his ambivalent villagers and faced them without hesitation, knowing this was the most important speech of his life.

"I know many of you are not sure exactly what happened and why I demand this attack," he shouted, his voice commanding. He had been born to be Chief, raised as a future Chief and had never doubted himself for a moment. His eyes swept over his people-he was asking a lot of them, but no more than he asked of himself. His fist clenched.

"We must sail to Outcast Island," he announced. "Dagur has gone too far. First, he lured Lars into treachery and he framed by own son for his treason. My son, Hiccup, was condemned and cast out wrongfully, expelled from his tribe when he was wholly innocent."

The mutters silenced and all eyes inspected the chief carefully.

"My son-my only child and heir, was sent to the Outcasts," he said gruffly, his eyes bright with his shame. "He was beaten and tormented and given to Dagur as a slave." Murmurs started. "Yes, he was enslaved and yes, he was raped by Dagur," Stoick announced angrily. "And none of that was his fault. We did that to him, sent a boy to survive in the hands of men who wanted him broken or dead. When he was brought back, he warned me of Lars treason in time and almost paid with his life. I ensured he was able to stay."

"You bought him!"

"Slave!"

"Slut!"

"SILENCE!" Stoick roared. "Yes, I paid coin because it offered an easy solution to an uncomfortable situation and I wanted Dagur gone. I regret that as well-because Hiccup was set free the moment he stayed here. He is my son and I will not have slavery in this village. But he was treated badly by many people here because I paid for his freedom and they too easily forgot all the help he offered to them. And how he saved us all-before when he defeated the Red Death and now, when he warned us about the Armada and led the Riders who destroyed it."

There was the embarrassed shuffling of feet and a number of eyes inspecting the ground furiously.

"Dagur attacked us again, as we knew he would. His armada attacked under the cover of the storm but the dragons saw him and drove them back. But I was shot down and Dagur was about to execute me, there and then, when Hiccup saw my predicament." The Chief paused. "He flew down and offered himself in exchange. He made Dagur promise to release me on Toothless."

"Traitor! Returning to his master!"

"No," Stoick said in a gruff voice. "If he had been a traitor, he would've just watched them kill me and left with his dragon with them. He would have gone willingly. But he was trembling and his eyes showed just how much he feared the man. And he went through it anyway to save his Chief. But Dagur lied and we were shot down anyway. And we heard Hiccup howling with anguish. It sounded like a dying creature...and then the screams just...stopped." He bowed his head. "My son, my beloved, brave and loyal son, who sacrificed himself for me and the village that wronged him so badly, is dead." His huge hands clenched into fists. "So we sail to Outcast Island. We sail to avenge Berk's Chief but more, we sail to avenge my son. To War!"

And the cheers and roars of agreement echoed throughout the village.

oOo

"He's not dead." Astrid's voice was loud and firm in the Arena as the other teens sat around, preparing for the battle. Fishlegs looked up and frowned.

"Didn't you hear the Chief?" he asked. "He heard Hiccup die. So did Toothless!"

"And I don't buy it!" she argued, her thumb unconsciously rubbing over the gold of her wedding ring. "Dagur had tormented Hiccup for so long. He won't get him back just to kill him straight away. If he wanted to do that, he would have shot him down the moment he landed for the exchange! He has to be alive."

"And in big trouble," Snotlout commented. He frowned and loaded a few more weapons on Hookfang. He wasn't sure what to make of it. If Hiccup returned, would he replace Snotlout as heir? But did he really want to steal Hiccup's birthright when the boy was innocent? Was that fair to his skinny, dorky, clever cousin? Before the dragons, Snotlout would have happily beaten Hiccup to a bloody pulp just for the fun of it but now, he appreciated that his cousin was different. Still clumsy and weak but he was brave, a great leader (though Snotlout would die before admitting that to anyone) and cared for the other teens. He was their friend. And the gig of Chief wasn't as cool as advertised by his own Dad. It seemed to involve a lot more work and listening to other people and much less lording it over the people and making bold decisions.

"So we go behind the Chief's back?" Tuffnut asked hopefully. Astrid brandished her axe thoughtfully.

"Not quite," she said determinedly. "But we will be in on the mission and we have to look out for Hiccup. If he is alive, he will desperately need to be rescued." They all nodded, thinking back to how beaten and battered their friend had looked after his last visit to Outcast Island.

"I'll break their faces with my face!" Snotlout announced. "He doesn't deserve it. He would never leave Toothless." Astrid nodded and blinked. She felt a weight lift from her chest.

"Thanks," she said. "We don't want to leave him there. We have to get him back!"