Twenty Nine.

He woke in a cage, his head pounding with pain and cold. They had put his tunic back on but his vest and cloak were gone and he was lying on the cold floor. Painfully, he shifted and slowly scrambled to his knees.

"We don't like escaped slaves!" a voice sneered. It was a guard, a particularly scruffy and fat one who was eyeing the boy unsettlingly. Hiccup wondered if casual abuse of the prisoners was one of the perks of the job.

"I'm not a slave," Hiccup protested, wincing as he rubbed the back of his head. He wondered what Harald had hit him with: he'd left an impressive lump. "I was bought and freed by Stoick the Vast of Berk in front of witnesses from Dagur the Deranged of Berserk. Please-I am a free man!" The guard belched and took another long pull from his jar.

"Save it for the Merchant Prince!" he slobbered and reached for a steaming plate of boar in gravy. Hiccup watched him in dismay. He was starving, cold, imprisoned and afraid. He had no clue if Astrid knew what was going to happen to him or not.

"Then take me to him!" he asked suddenly. The cage was starting to play havoc with his nerves and his stomach was knotting fiercely with anxiety. The guard lurched forward, his meaty hand grabbing Hiccup's tunic and slamming the boy forward-hard-into the bars. He released him and Hiccup collapsed to the floor, his hand pressing to his forehead, which had taken the brunt of the impact.

"He'll be here soon enough," the guard sneered and sat back down, filling his mouth with food once more. Hiccup stared up at him in despair and curled up in a small ball, burying his face in his knees and praying Astrid would find him.

oOo

She arrived back at the forge a little before sunset, her face flushed with the cold air. She had managed to secure a position in a bakery, helping carry sacks of flour and knead the dough. Nothing skilled but she had indicated she was a hard worker and willing to learn and that had earned her the job. Now, flushed with success, she was hoping that Hiccup would be more cheerful.

She scanned the little forge as she arrived and saw only Harald, slamming his hammer angrily on an axe. She frowned and leaned through the window.

"Excuse me? Is he in the back?" she asked. Harald looked up and scowled angrily at her. Abruptly he turned away and stormed into the back, returning with Hiccup's fur vest and cloak. He literally threw them at her and she caught them, frowning.

"Did you know?" he accused her. She looked confused.

"What?"

"DID YOU KNOW?" She blinked. "That he was a slave?" Her eyes widened and she felt her heart lurch in shock and horror.

"He's not a slave!" she said firmly. "He was bought and freed by Stoick the Vast of Berk. He was kidnapped and enslaved by Dagur who treated him horribly. And he needed to get away to find himself. He ran away because he was struggling so hard with all his ordeals and I have been searching for him ever since because I love him." She didn't even realise she had said the words but Harald's eyes widened at the simple statement.

"He's branded-fresh, if I am any judge-and he's been acting shifty. Twitchy."

"Hiccup's always twitchy," she sighed. "He was treated badly and bullied as a boy because he was smaller than the others his age. He's never had much confidence but now...he flinches when someone touches him. He's a decent, kind young man: he's no threat to anyone."

"The law says he's a slave unless he can prove he was freed," Harald told her and she glared at him.

"Where is he?" she demanded. He gave her a smug look.

"He's in the town cells, in the Arena," he revealed. "They'll either try to return him to his master or, if they really can't be bothered, they'll just feed him to the dragons!" She vaulted over the counter and grabbed the nearest weapon, digging the freshly-sharpened edge hard into the smith's throat.

"You better hope he's not hurt, or I will come back and chop you into mince!" she hissed. "That's my friend and he deserves better." She paused and dug the edge even harder in. "Now hand over his pay. I don't believe you've paid him properly. He's a skilled smith: but he can barely feed himself on your wages." She drove him back to his backroom and took the handful of coins he shakily offered. Then she leaned closer to him. "Remember-one single word to anyone and I'll be back. And I won't be alone!"

She had vaulted over the counter, taking the new axe with her and sprinted into the deepening gloom before he could even catch his breath. Her eyes were only on the masts of the docks-and beyond them, the Arena-and Hiccup.

oOo

He looked up as the door creaked open and a richly dressed man lumbered in, his portly middle emphasised by a thick leather belt, his rich blue tunic familiar from the previous night where he had freed the dragons. It was the Merchant-apparently, the Chief Merchant or 'Merchant Prince'-and he had come to Hiccup. Wearily, he raised his wary green eyes and stared up at the man.

"He hardly looks like much," he commented. "How old are you boy? Twelve? Thirteen?"

"Fifteen," Hiccup said softly. "I'm not a slave-this is a mistake."

"Dagur the Deranged has put a reward out for you," the Merchant sneered. "And he describes you as an escaped slave. The description was very accurate."

"Dagur took an handful of gold from Stoick the Vast of Berk for me in front of witnesses," Hiccup argued. "Which man do you think is more reliable?"

"Neither-both are barbarians!" the Merchant sneered. "But Dagur has offered your weight in silver."

"You should contact Stoick," Hiccup told him breathlessly, praying he would at least believe him. "If I am a slave, if I am his slave, you should offer him the chance to get me back. And he will tell you I am free." Even if it means I am dragged back to Berk, I can't be handed over to Dagur. Dear Thor, please kill me before that happens!

"Berk is a long way away," the Merchant scoffed.

"Outcast Island is further-and that is where Dagur is with his Armada," Hiccup retorted. "Where I was-before Stoick freed me."

"Oh, you are persistent," the Merchant scorned and looked at the boy closely, seeing the sparkle in his bright green eyes, the determination in his battered face and the conviction in his voice. "And I can see why Dagur wants you, little one. He wants your body." He leaned closer. "I guess he's already enjoyed it many times, hasn't he, pet?" Hiccup swallowed and flushed scarlet. "Do you think he minds sharing?"

"Yes." Hiccup said softly. "How much do you want that money? He'll pay far less if I've been spoiled for him..." The Merchant stroked his face.

"It's a very generous price," he murmured. "For a little lying rat."

"But I'll bet you need all of that," Hiccup shot back, unable to stop himself in his anger at being disbelieved and condemned to slavery when he knew he was free. He knew now the man wouldn't listen to him. He had one last tactic left and it was very risky. "To pay Ryker and Viggo for those dragons you lost!" The Merchant suddenly glared at him, his eyes scanning the boy as if for the first time.

"Now how did you know that, unless you were hiding at the Arena?" he hissed, fisting the boy's hair and jerking him to his feet. Hiccup gasped in sudden shock and tried to prise the hands from his hair. Panic gripped his chest tightly and it became almost impossible to breathe.

"I was just seeing the dragons," he gasped. The Merchant narrowed his eyes and inspected him.

"Or freeing them?" he accused. "Ryker said he saw a red-haired boy on his ship the day before his dragons were stolen. You?" Hiccup swallowed but his sudden blanching and wide eyes gave him away. The Merchant threw him backwards and his eyes narrowed. "I can't afford to anger the Grimborn brothers so I have drained my personal reserves to pay the debt." He glared down on the boy. "You like dragons so much, boy-let's see how they like you!"

He turned and rapped on the bars, glaring at the guard. "Prepare him. We're feeding him to the dragons!"

oOo

Astrid made the Arena as people began to swarm in for the games, a swirling tide of warm bodies that thronged into the stone arena with the barred roof and the stands at each side. She slid in with the joking fishermen and ducked aside, hugging the rough stone wall and looking for the cells. Her keen eyes spotted a narrow passage and the shapes of guards, slumped on stools, intermittently taking long pulls of stone jars of ale or mead.

Her grip tightened on her stolen axe. Astrid wasn't a person who feared guards-especially not the fat and slovenly specimens she had seen guarding the Arena-when she had a weapon in her hand and her eyes focussed on their every move. Slowly, she inched forward, every sense straining as she crept through the shadows. Every cage she passed seemed to contain some poor beaten or battered dragon, howling in mindless rage and fear. She flinched at the painful, pitiful sounds, understanding why Hiccup had felt the desperate need to free them.

Then she found an empty cage and saw a small cup of water placed in the corner-and she knew that Hiccup had been here. She turned and saw the guard, half-drunk and dozing. Furiously, she kicked him in the groin to wake him up, then slammed her axe against his throat. He gave a howl of pain and then froze, feeling the cold edge bite into his flesh. She leaned close, her azure eyes glittering with fury.

"Where's the boy?" she hissed. He gave a nasty smile.

"That slave?" he hissed. "He's being fed to the dragons for running!" He searched her face for horror, despair or shock but instead her beautiful features tilted into a small smile.

"Clever boy," she murmured and slammed the flat of her axe against his head, knocking him immediately unconscious. Then she turned the way he had looked: towards the Arena. Her head snapped up as she heard a roar and she started to run.

oOo

Hiccup was thrown to the floor of the Arena, his prosthesis slipping on a puddle of blood and dumping him on his face. He rolled over as he heard the creak of a cage being opened and the click of dragon claws on stone. He crab-crawled backwards as he heard a voice echo through the Arena.

"This slave-Valkan-escaped his master and helped the dragons escape the Arena. So he will be fed to the dragons as penalty for his crimes!" The Merchant sounded triumphant and the boy groaned inwardly but forced his concentration back to the moment and the enraged and flaming black and tan Monstrous Nightmare advancing steadily at him.

"It had to be a Monstrous Nightmare," he sighed as he stumbled to his feet. He backed off a pace, watching the dragon carefully and quietly lifting his hands. The dragon roared and he slowed his retreat, his eyes facing unthreateningly at the creature. He could peripherally hear the roar of the crowd, the slam of feet on boards and knives on stone. He took a slow breath: this was who he was in his heart.

I am the son of Stoick the Vast, a Viking of Berk. I am the Rider of Toothless and Head of the Dragon Training Academy. I ended the war with the dragons and trained a Night Fury. I can train this dragon...

He advanced slowly on the Monstrous Nightmare, breathing calmly. "Easy, big guy," he murmured softly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm not like these other people. Trust me. Easy, easy...I mean you no harm..."

His hand inched closer to the snout and the dragon slowed, his flame dying and a puzzled croon rose in his throat at the small shape that smelled of...Night Fury? He slowly moved his muzzle closer and closer to the outstretched hand...

Astrid elbowed her way through to the front row as the dragon pressed his muzzle to the boy's hand and the battered face moved into a little smile.

"Hey, big guy-wanna be my friend?" he murmured, resting his other hand against the hideous jaw and beginning to give the dragon a gentle rub. "Much better than being in a cage..."

"SORCERY!" The cry echoed through the Arena and Astrid's head snapped up. To the men and women of the Port, this would look like some exotic form of magic-but it was a magic born of knowledge, compassion and love that Hiccup had perfected with his saviour and best bud. Men surged to the front of the stands and a few began to leap into the Arena, ready to slay the accursed boy. But Astrid was quicker, vaulting the low stone wall into the Arena and brandishing her axe. She glanced over at Hiccup: the dragon was starting to alarm at the ruckus but this time, he had the situation under control, never relinquishing his contact with the beast and continuing his stream of gentle words and caresses. And under his touch, the Monstrous Nightmare remained docile and quiet, his pupils wide and calm.

Between him and the stands, Astrid slammed her axe into the first man who approached, knocking him senseless. The second ran at her and she threw him, a swift kick laying him out. She spun under a sword, her axe slamming up to block the blow and swinging round to take the legs from the man. Two more approached her with more care, seeing her eyes focussed like gimlets and axe held with expertise.

"Stay back," she rasped angrily. "Leave him alone!"

"He has to die!" the men growled and lunged at her but she was quicker, her protective instincts fully aroused. The blade swung round, carving through raised swords and flesh, the spray of hot blood and screams of the injured men causing the other attackers to back off a pace.

"Hiccup, if you have a plan to get out of here, now would be a great time for it," she breathed heavily, backing towards him. He looked up and smiled at her.

"I knew you would come," he said quietly, his relief evident. "Now get on. I think this guy wants to help us out!" He stroked the dragon again and the Nightmare lowered his head, inviting the boy on. He leapt up and then offered the girl his hand, helping her up behind him. His hands closed on the twisted horns of the dragon. "Okay, boy-shall we go?"

More men were approaching but the dragon lowered its head now and let out a ferocious growl. There was a general scramble for the stands and in the chaos, the dragon slammed the door to the Arena open and galloped out onto the street, then gave a single roar before leaping into the air. Astrid tightened her arms around Hiccup, sighing with relief.

"You didn't need me to rescue you, did you?" she asked. He nodded.

"They would have killed me before I could have established enough of a bond to fly this guy," he told her. "I needed you, Astrid. And thank the gods you came for me. If they had decided just to send me to Dagur, I would still be in the cell..."

"Dagur?" she breathed as they hovered above the Arena.

"He's put a reward out for me," he admitted in a shamed voice. "I think I'm a hunted man." She rolled her eyes.

"You really don't do things by halves, do you?" she told him, feeling him shiver with weariness. He shook his head.

"I've never seemed to," he sighed. "Let's head for the cave and pick up the dragons," he added wearily. "I think we've worn out our welcome..."

And as they banked across the harbour towards the distant shore, a brace of bolas and a weighted chain-metal net entangled them and they plummeted from the sky.