Five.

Hiccup awoke, bound like a beast. He was back in his wretched little cell, his wrists tied behind his back and shackled by a long chain to the wall and knees roped together like a yak trussed up for the spit. He was lying on his side, his head spinning and feeling sick. And he could hear steps approaching. He lay still, his eyes closed and body tense. He knew he was completely vulnerable.

A staff slammed into his battered ribs and though he bit down, he still groaned. The steps came closer and then a hated voice sounded.

"Oh dear. Come on, Hiccup-open yer eyes!"

Mildew. The traitor who had betrayed Hiccup to Alvin when they had faked an island of Night Furies, the Isle of Night. Hiccup's eyes snapped open and he inclined his head to peer up at the old man.

"There, isn't that much better?" the old man sneered. Mildew could sound almost reasonable even while he was sneering the most foul insults at Hiccup-and the boy had endured a whole lexicon of them. Hiccup glared at the old man.

"No," he hissed. "Go 'way." His voice was thick with pain and weariness. Mildew brandished his staff and frowned.

"Oh, poor little runt," he sneered. "Missing Daddy?" Hiccup's throat tightened and he had to swallow abruptly. His eyes burned with tears. "Get up!"

"Go to Hel," Hiccup mumbled. Whack! The staff crashed into his side and he yelped.

"Get up!" Mildew insisted snidely. "Or can't you even do that?" He hit Hiccup again, this time the staff whacking the boy hard across his tender back. He screamed and curled up frantically, trying to protect himself.

"Traitor," he gasped in agony. The word was little more than a cough of pain. Mildew leaned forward on his staff, his narrow eyes inspecting the boy like an insect. He loathed Hiccup as much as the boy hated Mildew and this was what he had dreamed of.

"So are you," he pointed out snidely. Hiccup stiffened and for a moment the old man thought he might start crying but the boy raised his battered face and stared defiantly up.

"No," he murmured.

"But you're been Outcast for your crimes," Mildew pointed out obviously. "And Savage really isn't happy at your attitude."

"So you're s'posed to improve it?" Hiccup muttered. But the old man laughed.

"And you were supposed to be the brightest boy on Berk!" he scoffed. "Others will have that fun!"

"Can't wait." Mildew swooped forward and grabbed Hiccup's hair. The sudden pain brought tears to his eyes.

"You won't 'ave to," Mildew told him ominously. "We're going to see them now so you can tell them how you escaped. Savage is really angry at you, boy." Hiccup shuddered before Mildew hauled on his hair and dragged the boy to his knees. Sagging like an old sack, the boy hunched on his knees, his head bowed. Mildew stared at him. A less hard man would have felt sorry for the battered boy but Mildew still felt satisfaction that the dragon-loving runt would finally learn the proper Viking way. Then he unlocked the chain and sliced the rope around Hiccup's knees. Hiccup remained still, breathing hard, so the old man grabbed the neck of his tunic and dragged the slight shape to his feet. Hiccup swayed but remained upright so Mildew shoved him forward with his staff. The boy stumbled but managed to keep on his feet as he was driven from the cell.

He became uncomfortably aware that the Outcast guards were sniggering and jeering at him as he made his painful way through the dungeon. Mildew was as taciturn as normal and was clearly enjoying his role as jailer. Hiccup's memory flashed back to his last time in the cells, his disastrous escape attempt and the plaintive plea the old man had made to the boy after he had knocked out the Outcast who had been certain to beat him for his escape attempt. He had relented, his own trusting nature and generous heart giving the old man the benefit of the doubt and releasing him. Mildew had betrayed him, of course, helping Alvin train dragons using the tips Hiccup couldn't help offering. And he wondered if Mildew had been involved again this time.

Mildew grabbed his tunic and stopped him as they rounded a corner into the heart of the dungeon and the wide space lined with guards. Savage was standing there, his expression menacing and Dagur was watching from a corner, his expression bored. Hiccup suddenly felt fear clutch his stomach and he froze. Mildew slammed his staff across his back and he cried out, pitching into his knees.

"Get him up!" Savage snarled and two men hastened to obey. Hiccup was dragged up and he struggled, breathing quickly, feeling the ropes around his wrists cut. Somehow that gave him no confidence at all. The Outcast gave a slow, cruel smile at the boy's fear.

"Scared, boy?" Mildew sneered. "Oh, I am disappointed!"

"Typical Hooligan cowardice," Savage added. Hiccup pulled harder against the grips on his arms.

"I'm not afraid!" he shouted. Dagur stirred.

"Really?Really?" he said mildly. "Whip him!"

"No!" Hiccup blurted before he could stop himself and the Berserker Chief gave a sudden cold smile. "Dagur...please..."

"I'm your master, you pathetic runt!" Dagur roared, lurching forward. "And you will call me that!"

"Not gonna happen," Hiccup breathed through gritted teeth. He felt the grips on his arm tighten so much he began to lose feeling in his hands. The Berserker Chief paced backwards and forwards in front of the struggling boy.

"Do you know what I can do to you?" Dagur breathed. "Anything I want. You are a slave, Hiccup. And I own you!" The boy glanced up and his green eyes flashed with defiance.

"I am Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third," he said breathlessly. Dagur nodded and he heard the whip crack and flinched a the sudden explosion of agony across his already-scored back. He grunted in pain and swayed. "I-I am the s-son of Stoick the Vast, Ch-chief of B-Berk..." Another blow drew a gasp of pain. "I-I am a Viking of B-Berk...r-rider of T-Toothless..." He screamed at the next blow and sagged but lifted his face with a final hint of defiance. Dagur's mouth lifted in a nasty smile. "I am n-not a t-traitor...n-not an out-outcast..." He screamed again. "I-I'm not a s-slave..." he whispered.

Dagur grabbed the boy's face in one hand and forced the boy to look up at him. Hiccup's face was bone white, his only colour the faint freckles scattered over his cheeks and the dark bruising from Savage's blows. His green eyes were dark with pain and fear. The Berserker Chief watched as the boy's face wrenched into another scream of pain as the whip scourged him again. The Berserker dug his fingers harder into the bruised flesh to keep the boy conscious.

"Oh, but you are," he said.

oOo

Gobber found the teens hanging around in the Arena, aimlessly petting their dragons. Astrid was throwing her axe at targets with a ferocity that had him admiring her dedication. Snotlout was showing off to the twins and the old Blacksmith noted that Hiccup's cousin looked a lot less upset than the other teens. Snotlout was brash and self-absorbed anyway and he kept stealing glances at Astrid as she demolished another target with scream of rage. Gobber recalled that Snotlout had pestered Astrid more or less non-stop at the start of Dragon Training though since the Academy had opened, she had spent more time with Hiccup than anyone else. He sighed. He knew the boy well enough to recognise that Hiccup had a huge crush on Astrid: he doubted Snotlout stood a chance.

Fishlegs noticed the blacksmith first, looking up from the rearranged Bork papers that he had fussily rescued and reorganised from Hiccup's room. He sniffed.

"Nothing!" he moaned. "Bork had written absolutely nothing on the comparative features of dragon burns." He sighed. "Though of course I consider myself the expert in this field..." And then he turned a page in the journal and found a couple of sheets of parchment tucked in. Aimlessly, he opened the paper and peered at a beautiful representation of the burn pattern of all the dragons, effortlessly sketched by Hiccup. The boy was the best draftsman and artist among the teens and he had always helped Fishlegs, who was a hopeless artist.

Wordlessly, Fishlegs folded the paper and then realised there was another sheet carelessly folded behind the burns. He unfolded it and saw amazingly accurate representations of the teens-Fishlegs with his Gronckle Meatlug, the twins in another of their pitched battles, Snotlout posing heroically and Astrid... Fishlegs stared at the small image, crafted with obvious love and attention. It was a beautiful drawing and told Fishlegs-if he hadn't already guessed-how much Hiccup cared for Astrid. He folded the picture carefully and slid it in the back cover for protection. He glanced over to Meatlug and the dragon gave a little burp in acknowledgment.

Gobber walked over to Astrid and ducked as she swung furiously, nearly taking his head off. "Good form!" he complimented her, then caught her axe before she could swing again. She glared at him, her blue eyes flashing with anger.

"I expected better if you!" she spat. Gobber frowned slightly.

"What?" He was able to master the dumb look perfectly after so many years of practising. Astrid spun to face him.

"You worked with him for years and you've known him since he was a baby!" she accused him. "But you didn't speak up for him!"

"But the evidence..."

"Sweet baby Thor! And you believed it over him?" she snapped. "Dagur has mistreated Hiccup for years and years. He threatened to kill Toothless. Hiccup would NEVER have anything to do with him!"

"Lass, while I know Hiccup is your friend, you can't deny he isn't the most obedient boy," Gobber told her gravely. "And who knows what he and Dagur discussed when they were alone on Dragon Island?" He paused and a nasty thought struck him. "When exactly did Hiccup plan the training exercise on Dragon Island anyway?" Astrid stared at him.

"He didn't!" she said coldly. "I planned it and only told Hiccup and the others that morning. It was to improve our survival skills without our dragons..."

"Yeah-he'll really need those now," Gobber said with a hint of concern. Hiccup was certainly brave, determined and inventive but he was still very small for his age, weak and one-legged. His default when in trouble was to put on a brave front and engage his sarcastic sense of humour. The old blacksmith doubted any of his captors would appreciate the sarcasm and that could cost the boy dearly.

"Look, Gobber-Hiccup was really alarmed by Dagur when he met him on Dragon Island," Astrid said softly. "Dagur was hunting dragons-and he wanted the Night Fury. We saw Dagur try to kill Toothless and he threatened to kill Hiccup when he stopped him. He sent us to find our dragons when it was obvious they had escaped Tuffnut. When we caught up with him, he was fighting Dagur for Toothless. Toothless saved him."

"How did Dagur get away?" Gobber asked thoughtfully. Astrid sighed.

"Hiccup let him go," she admitted. Gobber scowled. "Yes, I know it looks bad in light of everything that has gone down but really, Dagur's entire armada was there and if we had hung around, we and our dragons could have been killed. I could tell Hiccup was very unhappy at letting him go but he knew his duty was to us and the dragons." Gobber patted her shoulder comfortingly.

"Aye, lass-that it was," he murmured.

"Gobber-do you really believe that he's a traitor?" she asked him slowly. The old blacksmith paused for a long second.

"No," he said heavily. "He loves his father. All he ever wanted was his father's love and respect. He was badly wounded whenever Stoick was disappointed and angry at him but he tried never to let him know. That boy would walk through fire for his father! He would never betray him." Fishlegs walked forward.

"So someone else must have put that evidence there," he offered. Gobber handed over the latest letter and Fishlegs and Astrid read it with dismay.

"So everyone knows where Hiccup keeps his things," Astrid said spikily. "This total rot!" Snotlout cockily ambled over.

"Another one?" he asked guilelessly. "Are we any closer to finding out who did this?" Gobber stared at him.

"You're looking for someone else?" he asked. Astrid nodded.

"Hiccup would never try to kill his father!" she announced. "So someone else must have. And that person is still on Berk while Hiccup is on Outcast Island." Gobber pushed his helmet back and rubbed his forehead.

"Don't let Stoick know," he advised them gruffly. "He won't even allow Hiccup's name to be spoken in his hearing. I've never seen him so grim." Then he paused. "But if he was really a traitor, he wouldn't be begging not to go. He was so shocked, so upset, that he lost his facade. That boy had endured some horrible times and never broken. Until now." Astrid stared at the floor.

"Do you think he's still alive?" she asked worriedly. Gobber patted her on the shoulder.

"If it's possible, he will," he said, praying to Odin he was right.