Thirty Six  [Contains scene-Sexual Abuse]

Toothless flapped helplessly as they sank into the ocean. The storm was thrashing the waters fiercely and he couldn't manage to break the surface. Stoick had separated and was sinking fast. And though Toothless couldn't fly, he was a strong swimmer, as all dragons were. So he undulated fiercely down and grabbed the Chief, who was struggling against the current. Toothless dragged him further down, under the fleet and away from the arrows and catapults they had no defence against.

Finally, they arched up and the Night Fury felt the Chief start to go limp as he ran out of air. And then suddenly, they broke the surface, clear of the remnants of the armada and fighting against the waves. And they heard the howling, echoing terrifyingly across the water from the ships. Chief and dragon shared a worried glance: it was Hiccup's voice, howling as if his heart had been torn out. The dragon made to swim to the ship but Stoick held him tight.

"Listen to me!" he spluttered through the spray. "LISTEN! We go back now and we will be killed. He gave up to save us. We have to get away. We can come back. We can come back..."

And then, the terrible howling abruptly stopped.

Stoick gave a low moan, his heart juddering in unbearable pain. For the screams to terminate so abruptly could mean only one thing. The Night Fury gave a fearsome howl, his huge green eyes filled with utter pain and despair. They both felt the same pain because they knew what had happened: Hiccup was dead.

For a long time, the dragon and the Chief struggled to stay afloat in the seas, united in grief. Finally, the Night Fury ducked under the man and manoeuvred him on his back. Dying out here didn't suit the a Night Fury's plans. His brother, his rider had been slaughtered and Toothless was determined to get home, get his tail fixed and come back. And then he and Hiccup's father would return and kill Dagur.

So they turned and the dragon began to scull back towards the distant isle of Berk.

oOo 

Hiccup awoke on his face in a tiny cell. The floor was moving so they were on board Dagur's ship. His back hurt so badly he could barely breathe but he couldn't feel anything. His entire centre felt numb, as if his heart had been torn away. He was a slave once more, he had been beaten dismally and he had surrendered to save his Dad and Toothless.

But they were dead.

All he had to look forward to was the remainder of his life as a slave and a plaything. He would be worked and sneered at. Men would strike at him at random. He would be whipped and raped at Dagur's pleasure. And he would die, nameless and worthless and be fed to the dragons once he was gone. He had no honour, no hope, no future. He had given his life for his people who despised him and wouldn't even recall what he had done. For Astrid, who was protected. And for his Dad and Toothless.

But they were dead.

It was funny that he didn't seem to be so bothered by the fact he had lost them. He had always accepted his father would one day die, because his mother had gone when he was a baby and being a Viking was a hazardous occupation. He had been groomed as Chief but now his birthright had been handed to Snotlout. Berk would get Snotlout and Spitelout to run it. He hoped they would do a better job than he imagined they would.

And Toothless...

It hit hit then, as if an axe had just wrenched his heart from his chest. Pain rushed in, filling every pore of his body with boiling hot acid. His mouth opened and he rested his face against the floor, emitting an incoherent keen of agony. Shuddering sobs jerked through his savaged body and tears ran unchecked from his eyes. He could scarcely breathe and he couldn't see anything beyond the face of his dragon, feel anything beyond the yawning loss of his first and best friend. And he cried until he was exhausted and finally passed out.

He was woken when they docked and dragged back to his old cell, where he was given water and some dry meat before being taken to Dagur. He stared at the floor and refused to answer the Berserker Chief. Dagur grabbed his face and jerked the battered boy up to face him.

The Chief's face was a mess, his nose broken, bruising spreading under both eyes and gouges scoring his cheeks and chin and eyelids. There was a deep rip in his neck as well and Hiccup stared in shock at his handiwork: he was the single most useless Viking in Berk's three hundred year history at combat so that fact he had beaten the Berserker Chief seemed unreal. Though he deserved it, he added silently. And now, I will get what I deserve. Dagur's eyes were roiling with hatred and his fists were opening and closing menacingly.

"So you just couldn't stay away, Hiccup," he sneered, his eyes exploring the smaller viking's face. Hiccup raised his eyes, flat and dead.

"You promised, Dagur," he said tonelessly. "And now you have killed the Chief of Berk. Prepare for war." Dagur backhanded him.

"It's MASTER!" he roared. Hiccup stared evenly into his face, with no fear anymore.

"Never master," he replied. Dagur backhanded him to the ground, then rent his tunic open, his finger stabbing triumphantly at the slave brand.

"You're MINE!" he screamed. Hiccup raised his flat green eyes.

"No," he said. Dagur grabbed his throat and hauled the boy off the floor, staring into the eyes and expecting panic, pain, perhaps a pleading look...but there was nothing. It was as if Hiccup no longer cared what Dagur could do to him. The boy's slender throat bobbed as he struggled to breathe and he gave a slight sigh but Dagur dropped him before he could lose consciousness. He kicked the prone boy brutally and the boy exhaled in pain with every savage impact but he didn't beg. He just lay there and took the abuse. Finally, Dagur gestured and the boy was dragged limply to his chamber.

Hiccup was dumped on the floor and lay still. His body was hurting awfully and he felt sick. His head was spinning and he lay still, panting slightly. He knew what was coming next, but somehow, he no longer cared. It no longer mattered. Dagur had cut his heart out and the boy had no more motivation to fight. He couldn't train any dragons against his own people but otherwise, he would just let his doomed fate befall him.

Dagur dragged the boy up by his hair and pressed a rough kiss on his mouth, tasting the blood from the blows he had already inflicted on the boy. He sucked greedily on the boy's split lip and gently caressed the slender neck, the skinny shoulders and toast rack chest. Hiccup remained stock still, neither responding nor resisting. Dagur fisted his auburn hair and pulled his head back, sucking greedily at his throat, bruising his collar bones and scraping his teeth over the chest. The boy's throat bobbed again and he squeezed his eyes shut. Dagur greedily slid his hand down, cupping the boy's buttocks before sliding his hand into his leggings and grasping the boy's genitals.

Hiccup stiffened but remained absolutely still, his breathing calm and even. And he remained stubbornly limp in the Berserker Chief's hand. Angry, Dagur worked him harder but he remained utterly unresponsive. The Berserker tossed his helmet aside and threw Hiccup bodily onto the bed. He landed on his flayed back and gasped in pain, his eyes widening for a brief second before he settled back into his little pool of indifference.

Enraged, Dagur lunged at him, tearing his leggings down and shedding his leather armour and weapons. "Fine-if you don't want me to be nice to you, then I will make you scream, Hiccup!" His sadistic voice echoed through the room in a way that would have made Hiccup tremble in terror last time. And without any further preamble, he flipped the boy onto his front, forced his legs wide and furiously thrust into the boy, his hands bruisingly gripping the boy's hips. There was no tenderness, no preparation, only the sadistic desire to hurt and degrade the young man in his clutches. Dagur gave a laugh as he felt tissue tear, blood beginning to smear his shaft as he lunged violently into the brutalised body beneath him.

Hiccup was thin, beaten and broken, his savaged body jolted by Dagur's assault but he wasn't resisting. Dagur fisted his hair, leaned forward and bit hard into his shoulders but the boy hardly jerked at the brutal injuries. The Berserker slapped his hand hard against the boy's ass and he jerked but made no noise. Finally, he hauled the boy up and leaned forward.

"You wanted this, didn't you, bitch?" He sneered. "You're so tight, despite all our lovely romps. You take cock like no boy I know. How many men did you whore yourself to on Berk? Have you forgotten you're mine boy? MY SLAVE! MY WHORE! MINE!"

Hiccup said nothing, his eyes closed and teeth gritted against the groans of physical pain. Dagur was tearing into him: he had never been so brutal but the boy expected the brutality as punishment for his attack. There was no emotional pain: his heart was still shattered from the deaths of his father and Toothless. Dagur could rend his body apart but his soul was already gone.

Enraged at his failure to respond, the Berserker abandoned taunting the boy and was just shouting obscenities as he used the boy, pouring his hatred and scorn onto the body he was pounding into. And Hiccup just lay still and took it, his eyes faintly shimmering with tears. There was a low moan as Dagur released but that was all.

Dagur stared down at the boy as he rose from the coupling. Hiccup had lain like a corpse, his body resisting slightly, the only sign he was alive. And it displeased the deranged Berserker more than he could express. The fun of the act-apart from the purely physical release-was the fun of forcing himself into Hiccup. Dagur savoured the younger viking's resistance against the violation, his desperate struggle against his rape. Dagur tingled every time he thought back to that wonderful time in Hiccup's old bed, fighting the boy who was resisting with every fibre of his being and screwing him almost senseless. This...slave wasn't even a shadow of the Hooligan Heir he enjoyed tormenting.

"A rather poor effort," he announced, pulling his armour back on. "Maybe I've broken you. Never mind," he continued in his eerie, singsong voice, "we'll have another go or two. But if you don't buck up you act, slave, I will have to give you to the men."

Hiccup just lay still, breathing gently. Dagur snorted and rose, leaving the boy lying half-naked and bloody on the bed. He never looked or he would have seen the tears streaming down the boy's bruised cheeks as he mourned for his father, his dragon, his beloved wife he would never see again and the last remains of his life.

oOo

Toothless was exhausted, the shivering and sodden Stoick on his back. He had swum as far as he could and the jagged shape of Berk was in the distance but the Night Fury knew his strength would fail and he would drown before they made land. Stoick's teeth had stopped chattering but he was still moving slightly, his grasp on the saddle strong.

Chief and dragon were both warriors. Both would kill without hesitation if necessary-and they had shared a a silent promise to take Dagur's life for slaying their Hiccup. Hiccup had been different-he was brave, almost fearless, inventive and oh so determined. But he was unflinchingly good-hearted, trusting, a little naive and dedicated to peace. He never struck first and never ever killed. He always sought the peaceful solution and sometimes frustrated his dragon who knew that a swift plasma bolt would solve the issue far more efficiently. But that wouldn't be the Hiccup way.

The sea was still stormy and wild but overhead, he heard the hissing shriek that was so familiar. Deadly Nadder. It was his friend. So he lifted his head and with the last of his strength, he gave a despairing roar.

They heard him and he heard the answering roar. He flapped feebly against the waves and one washed over them. Stoick was slipping and the dragon felt regret that he couldn't even save his rider's father, let alone beloved Hiccup. He gave one last despairing roar as the water closed over his head.

He felt the splash rather than heard it as Stoick was snatched from his back. Then another set of claws dug down through the frigid waves and Toothless felt himself scooped up by the strong claws of his friend, Hookfang. The Monstrous Nightmare pumped his wings, the dripping and limp Night Fury dangling from his sure grasp. Snotlout peered down at the exhausted shape, the smashed tail and the empty saddle and he peered over the Astrid, who was inspecting the frozen and soaking Chief and glancing frantically beyond for the missing shape.

"What the Hel happened?" he shouted. All semblance of cockiness had gone: this was deadly serious. "And where is Hiccup?"