Fourteen.

The leading Berserker ship approached the docks of Berk with the rest of the Armada moored just beyond the harbour. Stoick, Gobber, the Elders and the Riders all stood by, their dragons perched on the ramp. Dagur dropped the gangplank and his lieutenant stood forward.

"The supreme Chief of all Berserkers, Dagur the Deranged, would speak to Stoick the Vast of the Hooligan Tribe under a flag of truce!" he announced.

"What, does the flag of truce just allow a small armada now?" Gobber asked out of the corner of his mouth. He had tried to speak to Stoick as well but the Chief was as boneheaded as he had always been and had refused to even listen to his friend. The dragons were ready to fly and all the defences were readied. Guards and armed Berkians were stationed all over the harbour and village.

"It's not the time for the Annual Treaty," Stoick told the man loudly, his gruff voice echoing through the harbour.

"Not that we actually signed that last time," Dagur shouted back. "Stoick, I can see there is much mistrust between us but I want to try to avoid a blood-feud or all-out war. Surely that is worth exploring?"

"Signal the Armada to moor out of the harbour," Stoick snarled. "Then you can come ashore." Dagur nodded: he had anticipated e condition and gave the signal without a protest.

"I presume I can bring my retinue?" he asked. Stoick gave a single curt nod, never taking his eyes from the Berserker. "Lieutenant Kjetil, Savage, my bodyguards Erik and Per and, of course, my personal slave..." He gestured and Hiccup was shoved forward, limping painfully. He walked to the back of the party, to the very edge of the gangplank but no further.

Stoick glanced at the bowed shape and unwillingly, his eyes flickered with pity. The boy had been cast out but Berk did not keep slaves and the boy certainly seemed to be suffering. Hiccup didn't dare look up, fearing to see the hatred and dismissal in his father's eyes. Once was enough, in the Great Hall. He doubted the last shreds of his courage would stretch to coping with that again. Aaldo shoved him roughly forward and he staggered onto the dock. He was breathing hard

Dagur noted the veiled dismay in his eyes and grinned."I see you know my slave," he added smugly. Magnus leaned forward.

"That traitor is not permitted to set foot on Berk. He is an Outcast!" he spat. There were agreeing noises from the other Elders and the rattle of axes and swords. Hiccup bowed his head in pain and took a shuddering breath. He was shaking hard and felt the words like a blow. But he also heard the gasp of Astrid and cringed that she was seeing him like this. She was the last dream he hadn't tampered with, hadn't even touched because knowing he had lost her would shatter him. The other Riders were equally horrified at his appearance, battered and bruised and in chains. He looked much thinner and paler than they had ever seen him. There were a few rents in his dirty and blood-stained tunic with the red of his welts visible through and he looked hunched and in pain.

"Er-HELLO! Ruler of the Outcasts now! They're ALL Outcasts! And he is my slave," Dagur said menacingly. "My personal slave! I am entitled to bring my retinue." And his hand dropped to his sword.

Stoick slightly raised his hand to silence his companions, his expression grim and angry. "Why are you really here, Dagur?" he asked slowly. "Hiccup has been found guilty of treason and Cast Out. He is not allowed on Berk. He has been disowned by his family and his Tribe."

Hiccup closed his eyes at the finality of the words and swallowed a sobbing breath. Despite everything he had said, there had been a tiny corner of his mind that had clung to the remote fantasy that Stoick would see him and forgive him. That he would take him in his arms and tell the boy that he was forgiven. That he wasn't rejected by everyone he knew and loved. Dagur laughed.

"Then you should be pleased that this traitor is suffering a suitable fate!" he scoffed. "Of course, when you threw him off Berk, we had to adopt him. He's a Berserker now!" And he tore the shoulder of Hiccup's tunic open, revealing the savage brand. "We mark our slaves like beasts-and this one was more wilful than most. He seems to enjoy the lash-don't you, slave?' Hiccup swallowed slowly.

"Yes, master," he whispered.

"Louder, slave!" Dagur roared. Hiccup visibly flinched.

"Yes, master," he said more clearly. Dagur walked over to the boy and ran his fingers over the brand.

"He's wilful but I think I've broken most of his spirit. And his hide," he added, laughing. He grabbed a handful of hair and forced Hiccup's head back, demonstrating his bruises. "What do you think?" Stoick frowned, his eyes remote and vaguely disgusted.

"I am not about to congratulate you on acquiring a traitor," Stoick said coldly. Hiccup caught his expression and cringed inwardly. The words were dismissive. Stoick had already erased him from his life. "Or that you have beaten your recalcitrant slave." Hiccup tried to pull away and Dagur jerked his head back.

"Do you want me to show your friends what you've been doing?" he threatened softly. Hiccup bowed his head as he was released and stared numbly at the ground.

"No, master," he mumbled.

"You try to run or speak out of turn and I'll show your friends how you serve your Chief!" Dagur hissed. "Won't that be fun?" Hiccup swallowed. He was shaking so hard he could barely talk, his throat thick with unshed tears.

"For one of us," he breathed. Dagur leaned closer.

"You will pay for that," he promised, then shoved the boy back and stalked off after Stoick, up the ramp. Wearily, he limped after them, his head down and body hurting with every movement. He knew the way up from the harbour like the back of his hand, the sights and sounds and smells almost agonisingly painful in the reminders of rejection they brought up. He limped along and suddenly found Astrid at his side. He glanced up in alarm but Dagur was verbally sparring with Stoick and wasn't watching his slave.

"Hiccup!" she said in a low voice. He sighed, then looked up. Close up, he looked even worse. His was gaunt, dirty, battered and cowed. Her blue eyes lingered on the savage brand and she winced. "How are you?" she asked seriously. The fact she wasn't teasing him only made him feel worse.

"Been better," he said, self-consciously, pulling at the torn shoulder and vainly trying to cover the brand.

"That's gotta hurt," she said sympathetically. He nodded.

"You have no idea," he said tonelessly. "Astrid-how's Toothless?" She gave him a sad look and his heart jolted but she gently laid a hand on his arm.

"He misses you terribly," she said heavily. "Sometimes, he won't eat or fly, he just curls up round your saddle and whines."

"Don't let him, Astrid," he begged pitifully. "He-he doesn't deserve any of this!"

"And you do?" she snapped, suddenly angry. He flinched and stared at the ground. She saw his hands tremble and regretted her harsh tone. It was obvious Hiccup had endured a terrible amount of harsh treatment. "I'm sorry, " she added quickly. "I..." He managed the faintest ghost of a smile.

"No, it was fair," he murmured. "I never betrayed Berk. I was innocent. I...was condemned and exiled for something I didn't do." And he swallowed nervously. "B-but n-now..." He stopped, trembling so hard he had to clasp his hands together. "I-I'm not s-sure I didn't help him without meaning," he added. "I-I never knowingly did anything against Berk. But...but I had to help him find the Skrill..." She stopped, scowled and folded her arms.

"Really?" she snapped. "And how isn't that helping him against us!"

"It's buried deep in the ice...it'll take them years to dig it out without dragons," Hiccup replied and then closed his eyes. "Astrid, it was that or tell him exactly how to invade Berk." He stared at his trembling hands.

"You shouldn't have done either!" she told him dogmatically. He sighed.

"Yeah, that's easy to say, safe here in Berk," he said bitterly. "You try it with Dagur whipping your hide, burning you with brands, threatening...starting to.. to cut off your hand..." And he ashamedly lifted his left wrist, the grimy bandage over the deep cut. She hesitantly pulled the grubby material down and looked at the horrible scar. Her eyes softened.

"Oh," she said. He stiffened and a sudden surge of anger at the unfairness of it, of how he was still being judged by people who had no clue how much he had suffered. He swallowed.

"Yeah," he murmured and resumed his painful limp after the rest of the party. Savage was waiting for him and Astrid hung back as the Outcast grabbed Hiccup cruelly on the shoulder.

"Have you been whining to your old friends?" he menaced. Hiccup stiffened and Astrid caught panic on his voice.

"N-no, Savage," he said urgently, begging for clemency. She saw him cringe, especially when the man lifted his whip and used it to tilt his bruised chin. He was almost hyperventilating and she felt a surge of disgust at his cowardice before reminding herself that Hiccup wasn't a coward and she had no idea the tortures he had suffered over the weeks he had been gone. This thin, scarred, cowed boy was very different from the bright, kind, generous friend who had been cruelly exiled.

We should have been quicker, she realised. How much damage have they done to Hiccup? Can he possibly recover from this? The boy was shaking with fear and Savage was whispering horrible threats in his ear. He bowed his head and swallowed.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly. "Please don't tell Dagur." Savage gave a nasty smile.

"Don't push it!" he snapped and stalked up the hill. Hiccup put his head down and walked after him. Astrid ran to catch up but he ignored her. Eventually, she ran and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him to face her. His face was pleading.

"Hiccup!"

"Please, Astrid," he said in a nervous voice. "If they see me talking to you-or the others, they're going to whip me!" She frowned. He sagged and then slowly, ashamedly, he dragged his tunic up to show the welts across his back, all in various stages of healing. After a moment when her silence told him everything, he dropped the stained material and resumed his painful trudge up the hill. Astrid stared after him, then went to join the others.

"What does he say?" Fishlegs asked eagerly. The plan had been to let Hiccup know what they had found and that they were planning to get his exile rescinded. Astrid looked up, her face distracted.

"Hmm? Oh, I didn't tell him," she said thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Oh, come on! Leave it to me!" Snotlout cut in brashly and made to get up but she shook her head.

"He's been very badly treated," she said quietly. "Very badly. I think they've spent the whole time beating and whipping him. He won't talk to us because he's been threatened with the lash. And he's terrified."

"Might have known that runt couldn't..." Snotlout scoffed but Astrid cut in.

"Don't judge him!" she snapped. "Not until you've spoken to him. Please, show him some pity." Fishlegs paused.

"So what does that mean for our plan?" he asked.

"We never caught Lars," Astrid said, "and Hiccup is here. This is our only chance to save him."

"And if no one listens?" Fishlegs asked. Astrid sighed.

"We'll get him to Toothless and they can escape together," she said. "No one deserves the abuse he's been taking!"

Dagur had toured the armoury, the grain store and the plaza before heading for the Great Hall for a hastily-prepared feast. Hiccup remained solidly at the back of the Berserker group, catching hissed words of 'traitor' and ''murderer' everywhere he went. Every time the words sounded, he winced. He had almost grown used to being called 'runt' and 'useless' though every time he caught the words, he had felt them like a blow. This felt just as bad.

I was exiled from Berk. I am a slave. I have never worked against Berk. Lord Thor, please don't let me be a traitor...

He stood trembling behind Dagur as the Berserker Chief began his feast. Hiccup folded his hands and stared at the floor. He was far too close to Stoick, the proximity a torment in itself. He wanted to run forward, throw himself on his face and scream and beg for forgiveness from his father. But he knew as well that Stoick wouldn't even acknowledge his existence. He noticed Gobber, who was sitting next to his Chief, casting an unabashed eye over the battered boy and grimacing-Hiccup presumed it was in disgust-while Snotlout sat in Hiccup's-the heir's-chair and tucked into the food lustily. Hiccup's stomach was growling with hunger and he was feeling light-headed as Dagur waved his goblet angrily.

"Slave!" he hissed. Hiccup stiffened then lurched forward, grabbing the goblet in a trembling hand and refilling it with ale. As soon as he had placed in carefully by his Chief, Dagur turned and casually hit the boy, knocking him brutally to the floor. He lay still for a long moment, his shoulders jerking with sobbing breaths, before he slowly clambered to his knees, then back to his feet. Swallowing, he lifted his chin and stared stonily at Dagur, blood smeared on his lip.

Snotlout watched Hiccup go down and stopped chewing for a long moment . His eyes flared with anger: he knew he was a bully but he had never seen anything so deliberately cruel. His fists curled but then a tight grip on his shoulder stopped him. He looked up into Stoick's eyes.

"Easy, son-it's none of our business," he said finally.

"But it is," Snotlout said quietly.

"Enough," Stoick repeated and turned back to his food. Snotlout cast a helpless look at the others. The Chief was completely determined not to hear anything about his exiled son. Snotlout watched Hiccup throughout the rest of the feast, uncomfortably aware that the thin and battered boy wasn't allowed anything to eat or drink. Dagur lazily summoned his slave, getting him to fetch and carry fresh ale, mead, meat and stew which he ate hungrily. Hiccup stumbled a couple of times and placed a plate down heavily, spelling gravy on the table. Trembling, he hastily wiped it away with his sleeve but Dagur's expression twisted in anger and he leaned towards Savage, whispering harshly.

After the feast, Stoick prepared to take them around the upper village when Dagur paused and leaned close to the Chief, asking him a question. The Chief scowled them gave a gracious nod, murmuring a sentence. Dagur gave a grin and strode off by his host, his mood suddenly very chipper. His entourage hastened after him but Savage grabbed Hiccup as they left the hall and pulled him aside. The boy stiffened, his eyes wide with anxiety.

"I-I didn't say anything, Savage," he protested urgently. The Outcast gave a nasty smile.

"You are the most useless slave I ever saw!' he hissed. "And Dagur is very displeased by your performance. Any slave would be beaten for such inattention." Hiccup shook his head.

"Savage-please," he pleaded. "I-I..." The Outcast hauled him towards the back of the hall, glancing up to check that the rest of the party had gone ahead, then he lifted his fist and hit the boy.

Astrid was waiting outside the hall when Savage emerged alone. The man thoughtfully stretched his hand, then snapped his fingers and waited impatiently as Hiccup emerged. The boy was listing, fresh bruises on his face and he was gently supporting his ribs. He looked utterly defeated.

"Hiccup," she said worriedly and gently out a hand out to steady him. He flinched away from her and took a shuddering breath, his face ashamed.

"It's okay," he said quietly. "I-I...deserved it..." He was painfully aware of Savage who glared back at him then lunged at him and grabbed his arm, hauling the boy away. She stared after him, seeing his beaten shape sag. She shook her head, her eyes narrowing. She had seen the flash of raw terror in Hiccup's eyes as the man had grabbed him.

"No, you didn't," she said quietly then ran down the hill to alert the others.

Hiccup was half-dragged up the hill, the wrenching on his burnt shoulder seriously painful. Savage was growling threats at him for failing to serve Dagur well and for talking to Astrid. He stumbled, his knee slamming into the hard turf but Savage continue to drag him along and it took him several yards before he could get to his feet. A heavy cuff hit the back of his head and spots danced before his eyes.

"Pay attention!" Savage snarled. Hiccup stumbled again: he hated the feel of Savage's hands on him. Savage who had always threatened violence, whose fists had administered that very first beating, who had gleefully held him helpless for that horrific first whipping, who had raped him so brutally, who had promised to make Hiccup pay for every humiliation he had caused the Outcast. He was starting to feel light-headed. Berk was very precipitous and Hiccup hadn't eaten since yesterday. And then he looked up and all thoughts fled his stunned mind.

They stood outside the Chief's house-his home. His former home. He froze, his eyes widening. Savage shoved him forward and he saw Dagur standing by his father.

"Slave," Dagur said, his eyes hungry and tone threatening. Hiccup swallowed and dropped his eyes.

"Master-how may I serve?" he murmured flatly. He was breathing hard from the fast climb up the hill and the stirrings of fear that Dagur's expression were creating.

"Did you manage to get the brat to get a skip on?" the Berserker asked Stoick. The man scowled, his expression grim. He didn't answer. "I really find the lash does the trick, eh, slave?"

"Yes, master," Hiccup replied tonelessly.

"And it seems to have cured him of that irritating smart mouth," Dagur added, grabbing the boy's hair and jerked the boy forward. Hiccup went rigid, his eyes widening. "You did offer use of your house, Stoick. I am grateful. Sometimes, after a good meal, a man needs a little relaxation before continuing his duties." Hiccup's eyes flared with betrayal and he began to struggle.

"M-master," he breathed. "Dagur-you promised!" The Berserker grabbed his branded shoulder and used the twin grips on his shoulder and hair to drag the boy into the house. Hiccup kicked and fought furiously, struggling with grim desperation. But Dagur was strong and cruel, hauling the much smaller shape into the main room.

Stoick trudged heavily into his home, angry at the sight of the traitor, his former son but stamping on his feelings to watch the deranged Berserker wrestle the boy into the middle of the room. A memory treacherously flashed across his eyes, a simple scene from only a couple of months earlier: Hiccup sitting at the bottom of the stairs, petting Toothless and laughing as his dragon licked him stickily. Then the boy had seen his father enter and his face had lit with happiness. He had run to embrace his father and then had skipped to dutifully fetch him a mug of ale. The boy had asked him about his day, sympathised with his troubles and made a sarcastic comment about Mildew that had the Chief guffawing in mirth. It had been a happy, normal evening.

His vision cleared to see the same boy-now thin, beaten, terrified-struggling grimly against the Berserker. No matter what he had done, he was paying a savage penalty. Then he stopped himself: Hiccup was no longer his business. Dagur was pawing his neck, whispering harshly in his ear.

"The old homestead, eh? How's it feel to be here again?"

Hiccup said nothing, shaking his head and struggling silently. Dagur fisted his hair and pulled his head back. He inspected the desperate expression, seeing utter misery in the boy's eyes.

"Poor baby," he taunted. "Were you expecting Daddy to welcome you home with open arms? To salve your wounds? To forgive you?" Hiccup swallowed nervously, feeling the Berserker's hand caressing his neck. Dagur could kiss him, bite him or try to choke him and he really wanted none of those. Then the Berserker turned his head to Stoick. "Where? Upstairs?" He jerked his head towards Hiccup's loft room. The Chief gave a heavy nod. Dagur was deliberately trying to provoke him but he had hardened his heart against the traitor and he watched without emotion as Hiccup was dragged, still struggling and kicking silently, up the stairs. Hiccup had cast him one, pleading glance, his bright green eyes desperate. Stoick had glanced coldly away.

Hiccup felt his mind almost blank as he was hauled up the stairs and tossed forward onto the loft platform. But as he looked up, he felt his heart freeze in shock and dismay. The room was empty save for a bare bed. His diagrams, books and drawings were all gone, along with every possession he had. There was nothing left to mark that he had ever existed...except... Tucked into the little niche in his headboard, unnoticed by everyone but the boy who put it there, was the little, battered, hand-stitched dragon his mother had made him as a baby. No one else would know to look there but it only stabbed the pain of his exile harder into his heart.

"Hmm. A little bare," Dagur mused, as he turned full circle. "It used to be a bit more homely. And the bed...very hard. Still, I'm sure you can cope." Hiccup swallowed numbly. He could run for the edge of the loft platform, throw himself over the edge. If he landed head-first, he could kill himself. And that really seemed the only option. His room had been one of his core memories, the place he had been happiest with Toothless. It was a tiny corner of light that he had clung to during his most horrible times. And Dagur seemed Hel-bent on soiling the memory, on despoiling the boy in his own home.

"You promised," he whispered. Dagur frowned.

"I don't remember ever saying that!" the Berserker said calmly. Hiccup stared at him, then turned for the edge. But Dagur grabbed him hard and lifted him from the floor, carrying the kicking and thrashing boy towards the bed, "What's the matter, brother?" he breathed, nuzzling the boy's neck and ear. Hiccup tried to pull away.

"No," he hissed. "Not here. Please..."

Dagur slammed him into the bed but he rolled and tried to scramble away. Dagur grabbed at him and he writhed and fought. There was a grim desperation in his struggles, a single-minded defiance that angered and aroused the Berserker. Dagur shoved him back and punched the boy hard in the gut. Hiccup staggered back, his knees buckling as Dagur grabbed his shoulder and punched him across the face. Hiccup went down with a slam, still writhing and trying to get up, get away. The Berserker snagged his tunic, hauled him up then punched him once more, his body hitting the ground hard.

"You still haven't learned!" he shouted. "You still defy me even after all the effort I have put into training you!" He grabbed the stunned boy, slamming him hard onto the bed, pressing him face-down on the hard wood. Eagerly, he tore the boy's leggings down and knelt behind him, fumbling urgently with his own belt. The boy's defiance was really hot and Dagur felt the pounding in his loins was sounding so loud it would deafen him. He really hoped Stoick was listening.

"I was really trying to be nice," Dagur snarled, grabbing the boy's hair to hold him still. "But now, this is really going to hurt."