Winter was in the air. It was crisp and shocking, the northern winds having picked up during the night to deposit the first flakes of snow in the early morning. It wasn't all out snowing yet but it was only a matter of days before the isles would be blanketed in white. Winter wasn't the best season for hunting dragons bit Viggo normally enjoyed the reprieve the winter months often gave. At this time the Hunter ships would normally head home and be removed from the water for repairs while Ryker prepared the ice breaker to go out and keep the trading channels open. His brother was rarely gone from home for more than a day or two during Winter and spent most of his time with his family, time he never had in the warm season.

That felt like a life time ago, maybe another life entirely. Viggo was no longer sure. His head felt like mush. He had woken up feeling sick, sicker than he had in years. He had no fever, of that he was certain, but the left side of his face ached worse than usual, the normal burning and tingling of his scar sensing an excruciating jolt through his skull. It filled him with the need to vomit and for the first time since the awful day of his fall he found himself calling out for his brother, like a scared child afraid of the dark. But Ryker didn't come. Ryker would never come for him again. He was gone now, lost at sea. Dead by Viggo's command.

A strange guilt filled Viggo, something he had no clue how to handle, and so the chief waited and hoped that maybe it had been some awful dream and his brother was still alive. It weird and wistful and eventually Viggo had to shake himself back to reality. Whatever he had been drinking with Krogan and Johann the night before had to be stronger than what he was accustomed, which would be odd since he didn't often allow himself to partake in anything stronger than wine. Viggo was not one to allow himself to have a hangover in the morning. He hadn't had one since his youth. Yet this was surely a hangover to out do all hangovers. He felt nauseous, lightheaded and the urge to vomit had yet to subside.

Getting to his feet, he stumbled toward the basin on a side table to fill it with water. The table seemed high we than it should, the water jug slightly out of reach. Viggo stared at it for a long moment as his mind tried to rationalize why everything looked out of sorts even though there were exactly where he put them.

Then he tripped over his pant legs and fell on his rear with a small surprised cry.

His groggy mind awoke with a jolt at the strange sound that escaped him and his hands automatically slapped over his mouth in shock. That was not his voice, he reasoned, the sound he heard far too high. But even as he thought this he discovered other new and unusual things amiss. For one, his clothing were far too large for him, the sleeve of his night shirt hanging off one shoulder and trousers tangled around his feet and sliding off his narrow waist. His vantage point was now much lower as if…

"Ryker…" he whispered, although unsure why he was calling for his dead brother. His voice was definitely not his own.

He shakily got to his feet, his trousers sliding right off and he no longer caring, and made his way to the was basin. The water jug felt absurdly heavy and large in his hands as he poured just enough liquid in the basin that he would have a reflection. The lighting was dim, coming only from the small opening within the tent from the sunlight outside but it was just enough to see by. What stared back at Viggo with big brown eyes and a scarred little face was not a grown man and chief or the Dragon Hunters but rather a small boy of only five or six.

Shocked, Viggo stumbled back and once more fell on his rear having overturned the table and knocking both the basin and jug to the floor with a loud crash. His heart raced as he tried to understand. It wasn't possible. It had to be some trick of the light. There was no possible way for what he saw to be real.

He looked at his hands but they were now small and bushy and baby soft. The left was still scarred and the burns were tough and angry but the rest was like that of a child. His legs bore no hair, at least not the dark hairs their once did but instead a soft down that was near invisible.

"This is impossible," he breathed, touching his face and neck. His scars were still there but his beard was gone and he had no stubble. His hands shook in fright as he tried to understand how he could possibly be a child once more. There was no magic powerful enough to do such a thing. It was impossible. And even if there was such a way why would the gods do this to him. It made no sense. Worse, he didn't know who to turn to for help.

Nonetheless, Viggo was a logical man. He was still a chief and he could not hide in his tent all day and ponder what had happened. He needed a cure and that would lay with either Krogan or Johann. One of them had done this to him. Of that he was certain.

With a grumpy scowl, he took a pair of trousers from his chest, sliced the length of the legs by half, and pulled them on, making sure to tie the waist tight with twine, then shrugged on his now oversize tunic which could have passed for a dress, and trudged outside.

"Where's Krogan?" he demanded, glaring up at the guard in from of his tent. It took a moment or two before it hit him that he normally didn't have guards posted before his tent but it seemed his mind was having trouble keeping up with what was going on. No doubt the drug slowly him down as well as de-aging him.

"You better tell Krogan he finally woke up," one guard told the other. The other man nodded and took off while the first quite literally knelt before the now child size Viggo.

Viggo felt the urge to kill him.

"You best wait inside, little one," the guard said, as if truly speaking to a child.

Viggo's eyes widened. "I beg pardon? Do you have any clue who I am?"

A disturbing grin lifted the guards lips. "I know who you were, and I know what you no linger are. Now get in there and sit still like a good boy." He stood and gave Viggo a hard shove back into the tent.

The child Viggo stumbled and for the third time found himself on his rear. Not awake a half hour and already fell three times. Viggo was anything but happy. He felt a small sob build in his throat and swallowed it down. He couldn't let whatever had happened to him take control. He had to think clearly. Obviously the guard knew what had happened and sent for Krogan, which meant Krogan knew what happened, which meant it was done on purpose and someone, most likely Krogan, had drugged him with some strange potion. But why? Why turn him into a child? Children were mousey and messy and not at all logical, except for him. Viggo was always logical, Ryker used to complain about it all the time. He used to say Viggo always thought ten steps ahead before taking one.

Viggo shook his head, trying to dispel thoughts of his older brother.

Krogan must have thought he could control a child Viggo better than the man. Well Krogan had another thing coming then.

Grabbing a few small knives that were light enough for his now smaller size, Viggo tied them to his outer thighs then wrapped the remaining fabric from his cut trousers around his feet as make shift shoes. Then he grabbed the Dragon Eye and shoved it down his tunic so it settled against his newly were a belt tied the oversize tunic in place. If Krogan and Johann wanted the Dragon Eye and all its knowledge then they had to restore him to his proper size and age or he'd simply hide it somewhere where no one would ever find it. Or he'd give it to Hiccup. Let Krogan and Johann fight the riders for it.

He waited only a heartbeat longer then peeked his head under the back flap to see if there were anymore guards. Seeing none he darted out toward the other tents then off into the forest. He had to hide the Eye and then maybe, if luck was with him, find a dragon that would let him ride it. Dragons like kids, right?

. . .

Krogan was a bounty hunter before much else. He knew the moment Viggo realized what had happened to him he'd bolt with the Dragon Eye. The guards were meant merely to alert him if the former Hunter Chief awoke before the potion took full effect which appeared to be the situation. He wanted to keep Viggo useful without the constant struggle and Viggo high and mighty attitude. The man was brilliant but Krogan patience for him was running thin. A child would be manageable. A child Krogan could control and manipulate. That brilliant mind would still be intact but it would be Krogan's to mold, and in turn Drago's to use as necessary. All Krogan needed was a few more hours for the adult side of Video to be subdued by the new child side. Which meant they now had to hunt him down and lock him up until the transformation was complete. At least the little bastards could fight anymore. Subduing him should be easy.

Flyers took to the air while Krogan led a ground party, his red Singetail in tow. The boy couldn't have gotten far.

"I want minimum damage," he ordered his men. "Hurt him, break a bone, but I want him alive."

The men acknowledged the order, each more than happy to hurt Viggo, even if only a little. Even if he was reduced to the form of a child.

. . .

The problem with trying to track down the Dragon Hunters was that they moved camped every week or so and rarely went to the same island twice. They pretty much swooped in, took what dragons they wanted and were gone again. Activity had peaked as the cold started moving in. Dagur explained it was due to them getting ready to wrap up for the season, which meant one more auction before the Hunters disappeared for the winter. Dagur was a well of knowledge when it came to the Hunters. Not so much about Viggo but he had learned a lot from Ryker and in an odd way still looked up to the elder Grimborn. They had had common ground as big brothers trying to deal with eccentric little brothers, or so Dagur said. Hiccup and Heather would exchange a look and keep any commit they had between themselves. There were days when Dagur was overprotective of them both but made sure they knew it was for different reasons, not just because he was the eldest – which he also used from time to time.

Now they flew together scooting out the northern islands as the others flew to the east and west, each group staying high enough to avoid any possible sneak attack from Flyers while searching for Hunter ships or their new base of operations.

"I'm just saying, if you're trying to avoid the big fancy wedding your father no doubt has planned that I can do a quickie," Dagur offered yet again, almost desperate to officiate over Hiccup's and Astrid's wedding. "We can do it on the Edge. No one has to know. And then when you're ready do the big one on Berk. That way you're officially married and it's done with."

"I'm sure Astrid would be all for that," Heather interjected with a roll of her eyes. "Why not wait until the next battle and have it then. Nothing says 'I love you' than a good battle."

Dagur brightened up. "See, she gets it."

Both Heather and Hiccup laughed. Dagur didn't always get sarcasm.

Hiccup shook his head. "First my Dad would kill me for doing such a thing and then you for suggesting it."

Dagur shrugged. "Stoick just doesn't get me."

"Not many people do, Dagur," Hiccup confessed honestly.

The Berserker gave another shrug, kind of used to being the odd ball of the group. "That's why I have you two."

Hiccup wasn't sure how to take that. It had been months since Dagur stopped being their enemy and became their friend. In a lot of ways it was still new to all of them while also feeling strangely like this was how things were always meant to be, as if Dagur had always been a rider but needed more time than the others to realize. Now he was where he belonged. Their little group was complete, or at least it felt like it. At least Hiccup didn't feel scared by Dagur anymore. He's presence amongst the other riders was even soothing at times, as if he had becomes everyone's big brother, even if some refused to admit it.

They were approaching a cluster of islands when Toothless gave a warble in warning. Hiccup turned his thoughts away from Dagur to focus on the island they were approaching. Sure enough there were fliers in the air but they were low over the island, as if searching for something or someone.

"I see them, bud," he assured, petting his dragon's head. "Let's just observe them for now. We'll double back and get the others shortly." But he did take note of the island and sketched it into his notebook so he could find it again later. He'd add it to his every growing map as soon as they got back to the Edge.

"Ah…Hiccup, I think you might want to take a look at this " Heather called as she watched the Fliers through her spy glass. She threw it to Dagur while Hiccup pulled out his own spy glass.

Hiccup's heart leapt into his throat in shock. The Fliers weren't just looking for anything, they were chasing a kid. Why on Earth would they be after some kid?

Krogan and his men were murderers, that much Hiccup knew. He wasn't about to let them hurt a child. "Cover us," he told Dagur and Heather. "Let's get them, Toothless."

. . .

Usually Viggo thought of himself as very cunning and able to get out of just about any situation with his wits alone. Right now all of that was failing him. He was running as fast as his now little body would carry him. His feet hurt, the fabric around them ripping where it got snagged by rocks, and his knees started from tripping over a root he should have been able to step over. Krogan's men were close behind him. Any one of them could have grabbed him by now. Krogan himself was walking at a leisurely pace not far behind him. The Fliers were above him and pretty much had him surrounded. Internally Viggo knew he was defeated and should simply give up but he kept running and stumbling as if escape was just feet away. Krogan was trying to tire him out. He knew it. The man wasn't as stupid as he looked. Whatever he had planned he needed Viggo in a weakened state. And Viggo was weaker, his mind kept slipping from rational to child like panic. He couldn't make sense of his thoughts. He wanted to scream and cry. He want to fight and kill.

A familiar sonic scream filled the air and a moment later Viggo found himself flying forward in the air as a plasma blast hit the ground directly between him and a Hunter. Viggo landed hard, his knees scraping the rocky terrain. He gave a choked sob at the sudden sting, his mind delving into that of a small child. It lasted but a moment, a moment when he wanted to call out for his mother or father or even his big brother. A moment when was hurt and needed protection. He shook it off, reminded himself he wasn't really a child, that he was a grown man, chief of the Dragon Hunters, a logical and strategic man who didn't succumb to childishness. But fear filled him at the roar of dragons closing in around him. There was yelling and blasts of fire, the clang of swords and metal. Then someone was picking him up and cradling him to their chest as they climbed onto a dragon and took to the sky.

For a moment vertigo hit Viggo and his stomach twisted as vomit burned the back of throat. He fought it back and tried to clear his head. Was he just captured? He fully expected Krogan to do horrible things to him now that he could. He expected to be tortured and forced to hand over the secrets of the Dragon Eye. Fear and anger and hurt and exhaustion tugged at him as he looked up from the chest he was pressed against.

His breath hitched as his gaze met that of curious green eyes. "Hiccup," he breathed in awe. He blinked, frightened for one horrible moment that he couldn't explain. He kept his left side hidden as best he could, certain the Dragon Rider would dump him in the ocean if he knew just who he had saved. Then exhaustion took hold. His eyes closed and his head rested against Hiccup's chest and Viggo's world went dark.