A/N: This segment is very dark. All through Riders, there have been hints that Hiccup has suffered some serious traumas and this documents the answer to the question 'What did Dagur do to Hiccup?'. Well, part of it...there is more.

Triggers warnings for Noncon/rape; self-harm, child sexual abuse, suicidal thoughts-these are an issue for you, jump to the next chapter!!!!!!

What happened to the Geek?

It really was a very long way to Pen One and Hiccup Haddock, reluctant rider and IT staff member was trudging alone to see his dragon along the isolated way. BERK was built into a mountain the the remote Highlands of Scotland and the main Pens were modified from naturally existing caverns in the tough granite. Pen One-the largest with the main exterior exit for the dragons, was an inconvenient distance away from the main base but Hiccup made the mile-long trek at least twice a day because Toothless, his Night Fury, was probably his best friend, the one non-judgemental person the twenty-year-old knew.

His stomach rumbled and he grimaced. He had skipped lunch...and breakfast, if he thought back...because he had not wanted to face the blizzard of abusive taunts, low level physical hazing and general scorn that met his every appearance in the mess. He was tall, lanky and too lean, his face generally amiable with very pale skin occasionally freckled, stunning forest green eyes and shaggy dark auburn hair, cut above the shoulder and wildly sticking out in all directions. But his posture was slump-shouldered and lacking in confidence, as if trying not to draw attention to himself. And unlike everyone else in the military base, he wore a pair of dark brown jeans that had seen better days, a khaki T-shirt with a green check shirt slung over. His sneakers were coming apart at the heel and the only signs he was part of the base were the ID clipped to his waistband and the wrist com round his right arm.

He lengthened his stride and tried to occupy himself by mentally revising his final conclusion for his doctorate. He had swept through his degree in less than a year and started his doctoral work before he even had his results. And because there was almost nothing else for him to do, no real friends to distract him or family that cared to spend time with him, because BERK was literally in the middle of nowhere, all he had done was work and learn how to ride his dragon. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment: he had been taunted throughout his miserable school career and now here, he was a pariah. Though he had never done anything to earn such savage disapprobation except be a skinny outsider, the son of the General, dragged from his home in small town USA to a foreign land with no discussion or choice. He hadn't asked to be the youngest here, the only non-military member of personnel and a geek.

The passage suddenly opened ahead of him and he stopped as an enormous brushed steel door yawned up ahead of him, over twenty feet high and heavy enough to stop a dinosaur, Hiccup gave a small smile and pressed his left hand to the pad, staring into the iridoretinal scan and waiting for the clunk of the locks fastening to confirm his identity had been accepted. Then he walked in.

The massive space yawned over fifty feet high, a quarter of a mile long and almost as wide, the rocky lined space had a small lake, lighting from the mica roof panels and soft LED lights. Small bushes and moss made the place feel like a pleasant valley, rather than a cave. And then he heard the roar and smiled, the expression lighting his anxious expression as the familiar black shape bounded forward, knocking the young man to the ground. Sticky saliva sloshed across his face and caused his hair to stick up in all directions, his gentle laugh sounding in the pen.

"BUD! You KNOW that doesn't wash out!" he protested, trying to push the excited dragon away. Finally, Hiccup was allowed up, dripping and delighted, his heart flying at the welcome from the only person pleased to see him. He hugged his dragon, petting and scratching him, then swiftly pulling the saddle and tail assembly out of the locker and strapping the gear into place. He had half an hour before he needed to get back and he was determined to use very minute so he threw himself into the saddle and launched. Huge black bat-like wings flapping, the Night Fury rose and them swooped and soared, flipping, looping the loop and throwing a series of dangerous and precise tricks that the daredevil rider executed with perfect accuracy. No matter how quiet and beaten down he was in the rest of his life, in Toothless's saddle, he could be the man he was mean to be.

Finally, reluctantly, he landed, unsaddled the dragon and spent a long moment hugging him. During the flight, he had poured out his troubles, the latest pranks the twins and his cousin had played on him, the most recent encounter with Dagur, the twin of his mentor Ozzie and a man who scared and intimidated him, a man who made his flesh crawl for half-understood reasons. He retrieved a couple of cod from the cold box and fed the dragon, then gave the dragon a final rub before walking to the door.

"See ya later, bud," he said with a smile and let himself out, the smile still playing on his lips as the door clanged shut behind him. He shook his head and started to walk to the corridor.

"Hello, brother."

He stiffened his eyes wide with fear as his head snapped round to see Dagur emerge from the tunnel, his pale green eyes focussed on the skinny shape. Hiccup turned back to the door as Dagur's partners in crime-Savage and Vorg-ran for the young rider, grabbing him before he could go through the exacting and time-consuming access process. He was grabbed and hauled along the side passage until they were in the isolated side tunnel parallel to the corridor to the main base. Kicking and fighting, he struggled for all he was worth until Dagur hammered his fist into his face and he sagged, stunned.

"You've been avoiding me," Dagur said in his sing-song voice, his face twisted in a curiously frightening expression. His fist curled and slammed into the lean shape, pounding the young rider's body again and again.

"Dagur...please..." Hiccup begged, his voice hoarse with pain. Swaggering closer, the man leered down on the pinioned younger rider, his powerful, buff shape tense and cropped carrot hair darker in the limited lighting.

"What are you asking me for?" Dagur breathed softly, leaning closer, his big hand stroking Hiccup's bruised face in an unsettlingly intimate gesture. Hiccup tried to pull his face back.

"Please...let me go," Hiccup pleaded. "Please d-don't do this..." And he grunted in pain as Dagur ruthlessly punched him in the face again...and again...and again... Hiccup gasped for breath, his head spinning.

"You don't know how much you are disappointing me, brother," he sneered. His fist bunched again and the blow almost knocked Hiccup unconscious. The younger man blinked blearily, sagging and spitting blood. He almost felt as if his legs wouldn't carry him as Savage and Vorg jerked him upright.

"W-what am I-I s-supposed to have d-done?" Hiccup mumbled thickly, blood smeared over his lips and chin. "D-dagur..."

"You stole my dragon!" the man hissed, punching the younger man again. With a nod, he turned round and the others dropped him, watching the battered shape slam to the floor. "And you don't respond to me. You need to learn that I take what I want, brother!"

Moving feebly, his body screaming protests, Hiccup raised his head and winced. He felt acutely vulnerable with three powerful men standing over his prone shape but he had to defy them. It was the only thing he had could do that would claw back the slightest shred of self-respect because, Gods knew, what Dagur was doing to him was crushing his self-worth totally. He knew with grim certainty that it couldn't make worse whatever they planned for him."You will NEVER get Toothless!" he breathed defiantly, expecting the flurry of kicks that slammed into his vulnerable shape. He curled up to protect himself but it only altered the points on his body where the kicks impacted. Trembling with pain, he lay still, awaiting the next assault, his head spinning with pain and breathing difficult with his newly-cracked ribs.

Dagur paced back and forth, his cold eyes raking the huddled shape, his hands clenching and unclenching as he fought his impulses. He hated the fact that a weak, skinny civilian had stolen the alpha dragon from under his nose by gate-crashing a hatching he should never have been in, that he had scuppered Dagur's plans and condemned him to stay in this place for years longer than intended...but then there was the other thing. Hiccup was pretty...very pretty to Dagur's eyes. The pale skin, lightly freckled and now delightfully smeared with blood and bruises...the wide green gaze, usually so innocent but now dark and fearful, as it should be...the lean, lanky shape that begged to be mastered...the shaggy auburn hair than made him want to fist it to pull the head back to expose the pale neck, now bobbing with fear...

"Strip him!" he commanded. Hiccup's head snapped up, despite the vertigo and he tried to resist as his shirt and T-shirt were torn from his body, as greedy hands fumbled at his waistband and ripped his jeans down and off, as they hauled his boxers down to his knees, exposing him. He curled up into a fetal ball, shaking visibly.

"Dagur...don't...please..." the young rider begged softly, his voice thick with the swelling from his beating and the tears he was starting to shed. He had recognised the implied threat, the unspoken lust that Dagur had always exuded. The cold air on his almost naked body was prickling his bruised skin with goosebumps and he tried to pull away as Dagur dropped beside him. His big hands grabbed Hiccup's shoulders and tried to pull him up but the boy fought, his head down and desperate. Without any compassion, he jerked his head and his two companions grabbed the young man and forced him onto his face. Hiccup was begging now, endlessly repeating the words "Please, don't..." as if his life depended on it.

The younger man's terror was arousing Dagur-as if he needed more excuse as he looked at the beautiful wounds on Hiccup's pale body. He was skinny, his ribs visible as he heaved his too fast breaths and back bones a little too proud. Almost reverently, Dagur stretched out a hand and caressed his behind...and Hiccup gave a strangled gasp and tried to jerk away. Dagur grinned nastily and unzipped his fly, shoving his pants down.

"It's alright, brother," he said soothingly. "You know you want this as well..."

"If I wanted this, you wouldn't have to ambush me, beat me almost unconscious and hold me down," Hiccup whimpered. "Please, Dagur...don't do this. I don't want this. I never wanted this." Dagur grabbed the younger man's hips  with a ruthless expression on his face.

"I do," he growled.

oOo

[Noncon/rape]

It all became a mismatched collection of sensations and fragments, of memories he never wanted but knew instinctively he would never lose...  Hiccup screamed, his body tensing against the violent intrusion, trying to pull away, trying anything to stop the assault, escape the abuse. Savage grabbed Hiccup's hair and slammed his head twice against the concrete floor, almost knocking the younger man unconscious. Seeing stars, his vision greying, all Hiccup could do was scream at the  pain, the sounds of Dagur taking his pleasure loud in the quiet corridor. He cringed as he felt Dagur haul his head up, felt the man's mouth slide over his neck, his tongue working at the angle of his throat, pulling his face round to press his mouth onto his and force his tongue into him. He tried to pull away but Dagur plundered his mouth as brutally as he was plundering the rest of his body.

Dagur was murmuring filth into his ears, reminding the younger man how much he wanted and needed Dagur, how the man had read the 'signs' in his posture and words and knew how much Hiccup desired to be taken by Dagur. How much he claimed Hiccup had sought this. But he moaned and begged and pleaded the man to stop because he never had and never would. And Dagur had responded by biting his shoulder deeply, drawing blood and another scream from the desperate rider.

There was nothing left he could do as the assault grew more urgent, the motions savage and deep and utterly merciless. His screams more desperate as Dagur finally finished, the victim gave a final desolate cry as his head was cracked into the floor once more and he felt his vision slipping. Going limp and almost unconscious, he felt Dagur finally move away.

[End]

"Do you want a turn?" Dagur asked aimlessly, refastening his pants. Hiccup heard the words faintly with an inner shudder and a prayer to Odin. Savage and Vorg rose and he wondered if he was going to be raped again by either or both...but they just walked away.

"He's yours, Dagur," Savage said acceptingly. "And he put up a good show. Maybe next time..."

Please, Odin, please, Thor...don't let there be a next time. Ever.

"As you wish," Dagur said, rising to his feet and kicking the shivering Hiccup on the hip. "Clean yourself up, brother. I prefer my bitches in good order..."

"Shouldn't have beaten me to a pulp then..." Hiccup breathed, earning another brutal kick. Dagur started to walk away, snapping his fingers to get his colleagues to follow.

"That mouth will get you into trouble, brother," he sneered. "And I will get that dragon..."

And with that, he was gone, leaving the almost naked and blood-smeared shape lying alone in the cold side-tunnel. Finally, as soon as he was sure the steps had receded, Hiccup buried his head him the crook of his arms and began to sob wildly, his entire body shaking with grief and pain and utter, utter shame. Even crying hurt, every wound screaming at him. He felt as if he couldn't breathe and wanted no one to ever see him again.

But finally, he ran out of tears and he knew he had to move. With grim determination, he dragged up his boxers and managed to wrestle his pants up. He could feel blood smeared between his legs, his entire lower half hurting and the searing pain in his ass overwhelming. But he crawled to his other clothes and painfully dragged them on. Finally, he tried to get to his feet. His legs buckled and it took him three attempts, his legs like jelly and head spinning. He paused, doubled up and threw up.

Heaving wore him out, the exertions stabbing pain through his wretched shape. But he straightened up and began the long and painful stumble back to his room. There was no way he would call for help, no one he could call for help anyway. He concentrated on the simple mechanics of walking, a skill he suddenly found so complex he could almost not manage it. But it meant he had no room to consider what had just happened, what he had endured...and who had done it. So he stumbled and staggered, his legs wavering. He felt utterly wretched, in horrible pain and totally worthless. But he walked on regardless, making the main base, continuing along the lower levels until he found the stairs to the habitation level. These almost killed him, three flights technically beyond his battered body's capability. He ended up crawling to the top, his face ashen in pain and levering his broken shape to his feet before he managed to stumble to his door. Awkwardly, he let himself in, then carefully locked the door and collapsed to his knees.

Shedding his clothes, he stumbled into the tiny en suite, slapping the shower on and standing under the warm jet, the water sluicing blood and other fluids from his battered and savaged shape. His legs wobbling, he forced himself to wash his body, forced himself to wash his hair and push the dark mass from his face, forced himself to wash every trace of the man's touch from his body. And then he slid down, shoulders shuddering again as he curled up and wept, allowing the water to wash away his tears until the shower went cold, when he finally shut the water off. And then he finally got to his feet and stumbled to the cabinet, lifting a razor and fumbling the little blade free, holding the metal in his water-shrunken fingers as it gleamed in the lights. Trembling, he pressed the painfully sharp edge against the old white scars inside his right wrist, feeling the sharp pain as his skin parted, the red well of blood from his body from the shallow cut...

...and he cringed inwardly, images flashing across his memory, of the only time he had surrendered to despair before, to the days in that place, where he had been abandoned like trash to rot in the kind of Hel only a public institution could create...

...the fear of being cornered, of him taking him to the office, of him touching him, him pushing him back, him pushing fingers in...and other things never meant to go there...of hot breaths and sloppy unwanted kisses and the same pain he felt now, over and over...of despair curling his entire being into knots...of the only possible release as he cut into his flesh over and over, watching blood drip down and ease the excoriating shame at enduring such appalling abuse...of the realisation all he achieved was more damage and more victory for them...of being finally rescued without a word of apology or concern or interest...of having to deal with the memories on his own as usual...

He remained there, tears dripping from his cheeks, his shoulders shaking with misery and he dropped the blade, watching the little trickle of blood until he wrapped his hand over the shallow cut until it dried. And then he crawled to his bed, pulled the covers over his beaten shape and buried his face in the pillow. Again, he felt tears slide over his swollen flesh and he curled up as tight as he could, wishing he should vanish and never face anyone ever again.

Wishing he could die and end it.

It would be so easy...just another cut, deeper and longer than the others...no one would bother to check on him until it would be far too late...and no one would even care...

...except Toothless, his buddy, his only friend...he wouldn't understand why Hiccup never returned, why the human he chose was so much of a coward that he chose nothing rather than the most amazing creature on the planet...

...why the person he loved had abandoned him...

...like Hiccup had been abandoned...it had hurt so much...

...he couldn't do that to Toothless...

Sobs wracked his beaten shape, hurting worse than the blows that had battered him earlier. It was just so hard, enduring the shame, the hatred, the pain every day...but for Toothless, he would try. He would go on...for those precious minutes when they were together...

...when they flew...and anything was possible...

He regained consciousness as the lock clicked and his body tensed in terror. If Dagur came to see him now, there was literally nothing he could do about it. He was completely helpless, naked and wracked with pain. And no one would care or check on him.

The door opened and a bulky shape peered round. He shrank back in fear: his father would be even worse than Dagur and he wasn't sure he could endure the scorn of his disappointed father who would inevitably make it seem as if it was Hiccup's fault he was ambushed, beaten up and raped. But the shape entered the room and he held his breath...

"Laddie?" There was a pause and Gobber flipped the light on, his kindly face worried-and then VERY worried as he spied the mess that Hiccup was. He slammed the door and scuttled forward, crouching by the bed and staring in shock and horror at the young man. His face was black and blue with an eye swollen and almost closed, a huge cut on his cheek, three huge contusions on his forehead, purple and swollen, split lip, swollen and bruised chin and hickies on his neck. There were horrible bruises on his shoulders, chest and arms and a nasty bite on his shoulder. "Gods, boy-what th' Hel happened tae ye?" Hiccup shook his head, his face crumpling.

"Please...don't ask," he whimpered, his voice hoarse from screaming.

"Laddie...ye've bin missed," Gobber told him gently. "Ozzie was getting a wee bit worried. Yer father was angry ye missed yer report tae him. And the other riders are...well, outta control..."

"They have other officers who should keep them in line," Hiccup rasped painfully. "Why is it my fault when I have no rank at all? None of them respect me...or do anything I ask. I shouldn't be in charge. Please...let me sleep..."

"Hmm..." the Colonel said quietly. "How long have ye bin in here, laddie?" Hiccup closed his eyes.

"Just after lunch," he murmured. The older man winced.

"Ye've missed supper," he murmured.

"Not hungry," Hiccup rasped.

"Laddie...Dagur did this, didn't he?" Gobber didn't wait for an answer as Hiccup painfully pushed himself up in a sitting position, shifting position with a flinch and grimace of pain. The final piece fell into place. "Oh, laddie, ye cannae let this go." Hiccup looked up, his battered face utterly desolate.

"And what will happen then?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. "Dagur and his friends will claim I begged him, claim it was consensual, claim I begged him to rape me...and beating me half to death was part of the fun. So security will just humiliate me with a load of personal questions, will humiliate me in front of the base and then let Dagur off. If I'm even more lucky, they'll do a very invasive examination first before they utterly shame me. No."

"Then at least let Gothi treat ye, laddie," the Colonel begged. Hiccup shook his head.

"I'm not going to the infirmary because it would just egg Dagur on, validate what he's done." The head was bowed now and the skinny shape was shaking.

"I can get her tae come here, laddie," Gobber offered desperately and Hiccup slumped onto the pillows, grimacing and hugging the pillow against the groan threatening to escape his lips. He closed his eyes and gave a tiny nod of the head. Gently, Gobber gently ran his hand through the tousled hair and painfully, Hiccup leaned towards him...and suddenly, Gobber was dragging the young man into a powerful hug. He could resist for only a second before collapsing into Gobber's bulky shape, sobbing piteously, his head buried against Gobber's shoulder.

"I'm s-sorry, G-gobber," he whimpered. "I-I am j-just so useless..." Gobber hugged him ferociously.

"Laddie...it isnae yer fault," he soothed the young man, gentling his hair and hugging him tenderly. He loved the young man like a son and had since the boy's mother had died when he was a tiny child of three, when he had been abandoned by his father to nurses and neglect. "Trust me, son," he murmured. "I am here for ye..."

Finally, Hiccup finished sobbing, subsiding to sniffs and gulps. He nodded. "Th-thanks, Gobber," he sighed and slid back onto his bed. "I-I'd like Gothi to h-help...if she can spare the t-time..." His pitiful lack of confidence and self-worth made Gobber want to shake the boy but his instincts told him that Hiccup was so vulnerable right now that he would barely cope with even Gobber's default level of sarcasm. He hugged him again and gently stroked the boy's face once more.

"I'll be back soon," he promised and left, locking the door. And, true to his word, he was back in ten minutes with the small but purposeful shape of the head of the medical services, Major Gothi. She was well past sixty and had lost her ability to speak except using a mechanical voice but she was kind and caring. And she had known Hiccup since he came, recognising a young man abused and failed by everyone who should have loved and protected him. She frowned as she saw him and hastened forward, her face distraught at his beaten state.

She murmured a few questions, mechanical and cold due to her voice synthesiser but softened by the concern in her eyes. Exhausted by pain and despair, he answered her honestly, admitting every detail of the assault and ashamedly turning his right wrist over as well. Her eyes shone with sympathy and she carefully examined him, treating his wounds where she could, recognising his broken ribs, the heavy bruising, the concussion that should never have been left. She did far more for him than she should outside the infirmary, sewing his cuts and binding ribs and a sprained wrist. And giving him every last ounce of psychological support that she could.

Gobber watched with anger and quietly resolved to watch Dagur far more closely. He moved Toothless to the main pens and ensure Hiccup had a unique one-touch access facility to prevent him being cornered outside the pens again. Hiccup remained in his room for two days, his meals brought carefully by Gobber and Gothi who visited him three times a day. But no one else did: not even his father or his cousin. And though he considered harming himself again, he stared at the single fresh scar on his wrist and the charcoal image of Toothless on his wall and kept his fists clenched but resisted.

After two days, he emerged to return to his duties, still battered and beaten. His swelling had gone down a little but it was impossible to imagine looking at the huge contusions on his face that anything had happened to him other than a brutal beating. But he sneaked into the back of the Mess and grabbed a breakfast. Gothi had been very insistent: he was underweight and he couldn't afford to skip meals, no matter how hard it was to go to the mess. But as he settled in the corner, tucking quietly into his bacon and egg, the riders swept in, noisily pushing past the support staff and grabbing their food rudely from the servers. Snotlout cast a glance at the corner and saw the slumped shape. He gave a cruel smirk.

"What happened to the geek?" he asked, his sharp eyes picking out the horrible welts on the young rider's face. There was the faintest hint of concern on his voice, because Hiccup was his cousin and even Snotlout realised there were limits. But Dagur nudged him with a grin.

"I think he's been getting exactly what he wanted and deserved," he scoffed and Hiccup cringed, curling in on himself. Snotlout paused for another second...then dismissed the thought.

"Well, it's only Useless," he said airily. "So let's see...what's for breakfast?"