Quick warning that this chapter does contain some depictions of violence. I don't believe anything I wrote is overly graphic, but this is a battle and therefore there is bloodshed. I just wanted to give a quick heads-up / trigger warning there!
Stoick kept a careful eye out for traps as he navigated towards the campsite.
He'd had to cut a few of his men out of such binds over the years, and he knew how well they could be camouflaged within the brush. As he crept through the trees he did take note of a few twisting through the environment, taking care to sidestep each of the hidden ropes.
Inside, his emotions burned like a wildfire. Had he been a dragon, he'd have incinerated the pathway ahead of him with his angered breaths, untempered rage driving his every movement.
These men had dared to come to his island and abduct his son. Secret or no secret, they'd caged his boy like an animal and Stoick would never forgive that while there was life in his body.
He'd have his pound of flesh before the day was out.
…just as soon as Hiccup was safe.
He could see where the trees grew thinner up ahead, light from the clearing breaking through. A flash of movement here and there confirmed it to be what he suspected, and he ground his teeth together as he marched forward.
Behind him, Valka's movements were much quieter and slower as she trailed him. She'd slipped out of sight, ready to offer cover if they ran up against a stray poacher, but the occasional rustle of leaves reminded him of her presence. There was a familiar comfort in simply knowing that she was near, one he hadn't felt in years.
One he'd never thought he'd feel again.
When he reached the edge of the clearing, Stoick took a deep breath through the nose to steady himself. He drew up his shoulders, masking his fears and donning the visage of a fearless chief. His grip was tight on his axe, but he held it loosely at his side. No matter how he felt, he refused to show these men any weakness.
Satisfied that no traps barred his path, Stoick strode into the clearing with purpose.
"Oi!" He yelled, voice booming through the air.
The chatter of the campsite petered off as the poachers took sight of him. Hands flew to weapons as they quickly drew together, forming ranks like a small army.
"I believe I have made it clear that you are not welcome on my island," he continued, meeting each new set of eyes with a steely glare. He forced himself to focus on the men, not allowing his gaze to seek out his son. As much as he was dying to seek out Hiccup, he couldn't risk drawing unwanted attention to Astrid's efforts to free him – especially with so little time before sunset. "Yet you defy me like this? Who speaks for you?"
"That would be me."
There was a snapping sound, much like a book closing with force.
Moments later, the sea of men parted to allow their leader to pass through. He walked calmly and confidently, arms clasped behind his back as he regarded Stoick with his dark gaze.
"Ah, Stoick the Vast, I presume?"
"Aye," he said.
The man nodded, looking largely unbothered by the chief's sudden appearance in their camp. "We do not wish to intrude on your territory," he said smoothly, "but circumstances have forced our hand. You see, our base was recently targeted by a dangerous vigilante and completely destroyed. We simply needed a place to regroup before trying to rebuild what was taken from us. I can see that we've outstayed our welcome here, but I assure you that we can be off your island by tomorrow's first light–"
"No," said Stoick, adjusting his grip on his weapon. "I think you'll be leaving sooner than that."
At that, the leader's eyebrows shot up in surprise. His voice was low when he responded, devoid of its previous carefree inflection, "Is that so?"
"Aye, you are not welcome on these shores," spat Stoick, anger boiling inside, "and I don't take kindly to intruders."
The man hummed, scratching his chin in thought. "I see…"
"Viggo," cut in one of his men, "what do you want us to do?"
Viggo. Stoick mentally filed away the name, planning to look into the man later.
"The chief is our honored guest," replied Viggo, shrugging blandly. "Why don't you show him some of our best hospitality."
There was a shift in the air as the last word left his lips, poachers taking on defensive positions. One eager man stepped forward, brandishing a broadsword as he rushed at the chief.
Stoick immediately twisted his arm, slamming the hilt of his axe hard against the attacker's chest and forcing the wind from the man's lungs. With his free hand, he gripped the man's arm, twisting until the poacher was forced to drop the sword.
Thoughts of Hiccup in a cage resurfaced and Stoick twisted even harder, hearing the satisfying snapping of bone beneath his fingers. Stoick finally released his grip, letting the poacher drop to the ground. The man wailed in agony, cradling his broken arm to his chest as he crawled away.
Stoick felt no sympathy. As far as he was concerned, these men had earned what was coming for them. He'd break a thousand bones if need be.
"Anyone else?"
The poachers muttered amongst themselves, deterred by what they'd just witnessed. They kept their weapons draw, but did not advance.
It was Viggo who stepped closer, closing the distance until he stood just a few paces away.
"I can't help but notice you seem to be taking our presence here almost personally," observed Viggo, voice quiet enough that only Stoick could hear. Dark eyes narrowed as he reminded the chief, "we haven't disturbed your land, nor have we disturbed your village. This reaction of yours does seem a bit…dramatic, don't you think?"
Stoick clenched his fist, "you have disrespected me, and–"
"No," said Viggo, a look of new understanding sweeping over his face. "That's not it at all. This is about our little catch."
Stoick fought to keep his face blank, feigning ignorance. He would not be baited by a poacher's calculated words.
"It is, isn't it?" Viggo observed, nodding to himself. He raised his voice, addressing his men. "Gentlemen – he's not here about land. He's come to take our prize from us. Now, are you going to stand back and let him rob you of your hard-earned reward?"
The poachers bristled, a dull roar of anger building amidst them. No mercenary worth his salt would allow a reward to slip through his fingers.
Viggo narrowed his eyes, dropping his voice once more. "It's well known that Berk has never dealt in the dragon trade. I do wonder, why would you suddenly go to such lengths to possess…no, that's not it…to defend one now?"
Stoick didn't like the knowing glint he could see in the man's eye. It was both too calculated and too self-assured – as if he had some sort of leverage.
He knows, Stoick realized with dread.
The chief raised his axe, preparing for the onslaught of attackers.
Hiccup watched his father square off against Viggo and the assembled poachers with wide eyes.
Ever since he'd entered the campsite, Stoick had commanded attention. He'd stood tall, strong and intimidating – cutting an imposing figure, even as just one man against a small army. Hiccup had always known that his father had a certain might to him, but it was startling to see that presence in action.
He'd listened to their conversation with rapt attention, stomach taking a somersault when Viggo let on that he knew the truth of the curse. Keeping his secret was so important to Stoick…as ridiculous as it was, Hiccup felt like he'd somehow let down his father in letting it spread. Like he was fifteen all over again and he'd done something to disappoint the man once more.
Old feelings of failure welled up inside him, and he did his best to stamp them down. He knew logically that he was not entirely responsible for this mess. He'd been shot down for Thor's sake! Still, his role in taking down their base had put him directly on the poachers' radar. Had he stayed on Berk, as his father expected, they'd never have been looking for a Night Fury.
Hiccup's emotions raged within him. He firmly believed the trip to the fortress had been justifiable – he'd found his mother, learned so much about the dragons and gotten a taste of freedom he'd lacked for years. The question was: was it all still worth it when he considered how things had landed?
Astrid slipped away, oblivious to his thoughts. She navigated around the cage, heading deeper and deeper into the campsite in her mission to find the key.
Hiccup tried to keep an eye on her, but his attention was torn between her progress and his father's standoff with the poachers. Both caused him great worry.
Astrid stuck closely to the tents as she crept forward, ducking against or behind the fabric whenever she got too close to anyone. She evaded sight, if only just barely.
It frayed Hiccup's nerves to watch her slow progress, but he needed to know that she was okay. He'd positioned himself up against the bars, prepared to fire a plasma blast through the openings if anyone threatened her. There wasn't much he could do in his current predicament, but at least with his jaws free he could provide some sort of cover for her.
As the poachers rushed towards his father with weapons raised, Viggo calmly retreated behind his men. He stood watch, eyeing the fight with a neutral expression – as if the whole thing bored him.
Astrid continued to advance, now only a few short paces away from her target. She had paused, likely assessing Viggo as she planned her next move, determining where on his person he was most likely to keep the key stashed.
Hiccup pressed further against the bars, heart thrumming away in his chest as he watched Astrid step forward.
"You!"
A shout rang out, and Hiccup flinched. To his surprise, the man who'd shouted was pointing not at Astrid, but at the treeline. A slim, masked figure had emerged, weapons drawn as she joined the fray.
Was that…
Hiccup stared dumbfounded at the scene, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his mother and his father were fighting side by side – as a team.
They didn't move in perfect balance with one another, but there was a certain push and pull to their movements that complimented each other well. Where Stoick's swings were strong and forceful, Valka's grace and speed allowed her to get a second strike in before the men could recover.
Hiccup's thoughts were spiraling, questions growing like a building pressure in his mind. How was she here? Why was she here? She'd made it pretty clear she had no intent to ever return to Berk.
Did his father even know who he now fought beside?
As Hiccup watched, a poacher grabbed hold of Valka's wrist. The man sneered, pulling her closer and raising his hammer high to strike.
"Argh!"
Stoick didn't hesitate, striking his axe down upon the man's wrist so hard it cut the man's hand clean off. Blood splattered, and the now disembodied hand fell limp from Valka's wrist.
"You will not touch her!" He commanded, advancing on the injured man.
Hiccup looked away, not wanting to see what came next. Instead, he refocused his attention on Astrid, who now stood just behind Viggo. The man appeared to be fixated on the ongoing fight and the sudden appearance of the vigilante who had destroyed his base.
Good, thought Hiccup. At least he's distracted.
Astrid appeared to have deduced the belt was the most likely hiding place, and was reaching out towards it. Her hands were steady, despite the danger of her current task. Hiccup was certain he'd be shaking in her place, but she'd always been made of steel.
If anyone could take on such a daunting task, he reasoned, it would be Astrid.
Still, he wished she didn't have to do this. He wished he hadn't gotten himself into this mess – that he hadn't put himself in a position where his loved ones were all now in danger. If he'd gone straight home…Hel, if he'd gone back with Astrid instead of extending his time at the nest…maybe things would be different.
Astrid drew her hand out of Viggo's belt, and Hiccup could see the glint of silver.
She got it, he thought with wonder. She never ceased to amaze him.
Then Viggo looked down, catching sight of the blonde crouched beside him. Astrid stood quickly, reeling back and she tried to put space between them.
"Foolish girl," he said, advancing on her with quick strides.
Hiccup let a plasma blast build low in his throat, watching for an opening where he could help. As it stood, Astrid was positioned between him and Viggo. If he took the shot now, he risked hitting her – and he'd never take that chance.
Viggo lunged, grabbing Astrid by the braid and pulling her back towards him. "Did you really think you could–oof!"
Astrid had swung her elbow up in an arc, nailing Viggo in the face. A trickle of blood ran nose, which had taken the brunt of the force.
He did not release her, continuing to struggle to regain the keys that were clasped in her hand. Astrid fought, squirming and throwing her elbows out defensively. She twisted in his grip, spitting at him in a desperate attempt to throw him off.
Viggo snarled, lunging once more for the keys. They tugged back and forth, each determined to be the victor, before ultimately sending the keys flying.
Hiccup blinked, staring at where the keys had landed just a few feet from his cell. They'd gotten mixed up in some loose leaves, but the glint of the metal was unmistakable. Perhaps if he angled his tail just right…
Astrid suddenly screamed, the sound instantly reclaiming his focus.
In a single sharp movement, Viggo threw her to the ground, sending her head colliding hard with the stony earth.
She did not get back up
Hiccup stared in horror at Astrid's unmoving form.
He slammed his body against the bars repeatedly, willing the weight of his Night Fury form to bend the metal. Unsurprisingly, it did not give – whatever metal the poachers had commissioned was too strong from him to break. Based on what he'd observed from Viggo, it wasn't a shock to know the man had done his research.
Frustrated, he refocused his attention on Viggo, letting the plasma blast in his throat fly.
The man yelled, dropping to the ground and just dodging the fire. A few strands of his hair were not so lucky, smoking and smoldering as they were set alight. Viggo swore, using his vambraces to stamp out the fire.
Hiccup narrowed his eyes, letting another blast build.
Viggo drew his sword, pointing it towards Astrid's body. "I wouldn't do that," he cautioned, angling the blade over her exposed throat. "One more shot and she never wakes."
Hiccup let the blast fizzle out, a whine escaping him.
"Wise choice," said Viggo with a nod, but he did not withdraw his sword. He seemed content to use Astrid as a human shield for his own safety.
The light in the campsite was dying as the sun finally slipped beneath the horizon. With just one active campfire, the ongoing struggle was painted in the dimmest of light.
Hiccup's shift back to human filled him with a strange, deep dread. He'd always welcomed the comfort of returning to his own skin, but today the change meant that he was rendered utterly defenseless in the middle of a fight.
And worse yet, he was exposed. There was no hiding what he was within the bars of his prison.
As the purple fire receded, shouts filled the air. In firing his earlier plasma blast, he'd commanded the attention of several of the men. They'd been watching him when the sun set, and had seen the strange blaze. They'd witnessed his change – reacting in such a way that others turned to see what had happened, catching sight of where he now leaned against the bars.
Those locked in battle with Stoick and Valka held their ground out of self preservation, but the rest stared openly at Hiccup.
"It's a demon!" One man assessed, setting off a roar of shouts amidst the men. There was nothing quite like superstition to stir up a group of vikings.
"...sort of test from Loki?"
"Look at his hand, he's got the bloody claws of a beast!"
"....forget the reward, we'd best kill it now to be safe–"
"Aye, capturing a devil's bound to doom us all!"
"...the sooner we're rid of him, the better!"
Hiccup flinched, drawing back from the bars. His heart pounded away in his chest, breathing erratic as he listened to the poachers pass judgement.
This…this was what he'd always feared. Since the day he'd been cursed, he'd expected to be met with fear and hatred for being what he was. He'd been lucky to have been proven wrong by his tribe, but it appeared that grace did not extend beyond his home island.
To these men, he was a monster.
"Anyone who harms the boy will answer to me," said Viggo sharply, raising his voice above the crowd and speaking with authority. "Yes, it is true that our Night Fury is full of surprises, but do not let your fears get the better of you. I assure you this is no demon – just the cursed heir of Berk. Isn't that right, Chief?"
Hiccup's eyes flickered back towards his father, stomach dropping when he realized that Stoick and Valka had been disarmed, now cornered against a large rock. There was a shallow gash running the length of his father's forehead, blood dripping down towards his tired eyes.
For all his strength, even the great chief of Berk was only a man – taking on nearly four dozen men was an impossible feat, even with his wife's help.
Stoick's expression twisted, voice dangerously low when he commanded, "You will release my son, now."
"I don't believe I will," said Viggo evenly. He nodded back towards the cage, "he's far too valuable to give up – and frankly, his potential is being wasted on this island. I'm doing him a favor."
Judging by the look on his father's face, the statement had taken him aback.
"Hiccup Haddock is a ghost upon this island," he said bluntly, "despite the incredible power that he wields. You're a fool to hide from it, when you could have harnessed it for Berk's benefit. I will not make that same mistake. You see…I've offered your dear Hiccup so much more – a place in my ranks where he can use his talents more appropriately. Once he accepts my offer…"
Hiccup tried to tune the man out as he continued to speak, instead kneeling and focusing on shoving his arm through the bars. He strained his muscles, reaching out towards the glint of the key. If he could just get his hands on it, perhaps he could free himself.
His arms weren't quite long enough, falling just short of reach. Undeterred, he readjusted so that he was sitting, kicking his left leg through the opening in the hopes his prosthetic could reach. If he could use the curve in it to scoop the key along, it just might be the tool he needed.
To his dismay, when his metal foot did brush up against the key, it only served to knock the item further out of his range.
His eyes swept back to Astrid's prone form, the lump in this throat growing.
Perhaps…perhaps he should just give Viggo what he wanted. If he promised to cooperate…if he agreed to the man's insane plan, maybe his loved ones could be spared. He'd be sacrificing a degree of his freedom and taking on a role that he didn't want, but if the price was safety for his father…for Astrid …the choice was simple.