A/N: Confused yet? Heh, let me try to explain.

This piece is what I'd originally intended "The Berk Maneuver" to be. Just a short, humorous story about Hiccup and Astrid getting into a sticky situation and totally kicking butt together to get out of it. (Hence the title "Power Couple". Ha.) But, as some of you know, "Power Couple" more fittingly turned into "The Berk Maneuver", which then exploded into a full-fledged fan fic and the rest is history, blahblahblah.

Anyway, I still wanted to use that title because of the sheer awesomeness it suggests. I love the idea of Hiccup and Astrid becoming this formidable pair known throughout all Vikingdom as great leaders, but also for not taking any crap, especially when Berk and/or their loved ones are involved.

So...yeah. Buckle up, kids. There will be more. ;)

(...And yes, for those of you wondering, I am currently working on the finale of "The Berk Maneuver". It's just...sometimes I have to write what my brain tells me to, not what I want. It makes things easier on our relationship.)

...

Part 1

Voices.

Piercing the dark…low and gruff…dragging nerves back into consciousness…

"…looks on their faces!" someone guffawed drunkenly. "Especially the boy. Never in my life have I seen such a stunned-stupid expression."

A rowdy burst of laughter accompanied the dull clunk of overfilled tankards meeting wood, making his woozy head spin worse than it already was. The voices grew harsher, crueler.

"'Bout time somebody taught those weaklings in the Archipelago a lesson. They've gone soft, they have, thinking they're so high and mighty flying around on their dragons while everyone else grovels in the dirt at their feet."

"Ha! Good thing we caught the source of the problem, then, huh?"

"Right. Without him, they'll have no idea what to do with themselves…or those dragons."

Without who…? Me? They're talking about me…

"Maybe they'll finally come to their senses and kill the beasts."

"Nah, they'd never do that. That's why we're gonna do it for them. Without their dragons, they're nothing special and we'll wipe'em clean off the map."

Hiccup's mind catapulted into a sick swirl.

His final conscious memory had been of someone large—perhaps one of the overabundance of guards standing about the place—grabbing him from behind and clamping a damp, odd-smelling cloth over his nose and mouth. There had been little time to struggle or even comprehend before he was gone. It was so quick, so unexpected, so…shocking.

The whole thing was a setup, he concluded bitterly. It was nothing but a web of lies, every word of it, down to the very last kind offer to "accommodate" the Berkian chief, his wife and their dragons during their stay. But apparently this tribe wasn't looking for peaceful negotiations after all. They intended to start a war and, Hiccup hated to admit, were off to a pretty solid start. The leader they had been corresponding with for months, the leader who first extended his hand in friendship and trade, the one who had invited them here to begin officially forging an alliance, was just a spider waiting for them, the unwitting flies.

Their errand of diplomacy was now a humiliating and extremely precarious situation. And worse, no one knew what had happened to them. No one was aware that they'd flown straight into the gaping mouth of a trap. As far as the rest of Berk was concerned, he and Astrid were off drawing up accords between the Hooligans and a welcome new ally with nothing to fear, not stuck in some deep, dark…

Where am I?

He shifted, only to realize after a few feeble movements, that he was lying sideways, the ground beneath him cold, hard, damp stone.

A…dungeon?

At that, the young Viking stirred more vigorously, finding himself to be bound tightly from head to toe and unable to move more than an inch or so.

Oh no…Astrid. Where's Astrid? And Toothless and Stormfly?! Wait, I can't see…why can't I see?

Now fully awake and very alarmed, Hiccup struggled, attempting to call out their names and getting no further than a series of thoroughly muffled grunts. There was some kind of thick, coarse fabric wrapped firmly around his entire face several times, blocking sight, speech, even breathing, to a rather uncomfortable extent.

The laughter died.

"Quiet over there, runt!" shouted the first voice while a sturdy bench's legs scraped across the ground.

"Aw, c'mon," jeered another in mock sympathy. "Da widdle chief just misses his widdle dwagon."

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Hiccup thrashed and twisted, determined to free himself and show them just what "da widdle chief" and his "widdle dwagon" could do. There would be no more laughing after that.

"Ha," someone else joined the fun, "lookit'im wriggle! Better stop talking about his pet like that. He might break loose and crack your skull."

"Oooohoohoo!" chorus the rest of the table.

A large boot came to rest in Hiccup's side. "Trust me, he's not going anywhere and neither is she."

She? Astrid…

"Hear me, kid? I said you're not going anywhere."

The boot dug deeper, making the Berkian squirm.

"Didn't like that little surprise up there in the hall, did you, now?"

Up…? So this is a dungeon. Terrific.

"Well, you only have your own stupidity to thank for that. Hasn't anyone bothered to tell you that lanky, freckle-faced, naïve boys aren't tribal chief material?"

The man paused, allowing his audience another chortle.

"Oh, don't worry, we'll take good care of you…until the slave traders pass by."

Hiccup's insides twisted.

"Thor only knows what'll happen to such a young, healthy dragon trainer after that. Maybe you'll get lucky, you and your girlfriend, and be sold as a pair? And the best part? If you ever manage to escape someday, Odin forbid, there won't be an island for you to come back to. As for your dragons… I hear Night Fury skin fetches quite a price on the market. So rare and precious, so…expensive."

He couldn't hold back the fear and anger any longer. With an unintelligible shouted insult, Hiccup jerked out from under the boot and rolled to his back. All that earned him, however, was more laughter and an even more uncomfortable position.

Right, like that was going to work, Hiccup, you idiot. Why did I even—

"Aha, still have some fight, I see. Well, it won't do you much good without this."

Hiccup froze at the familiar click and hiss of an extending blade and hoped to Asgard the man hadn't figured out what else Inferno was capable of…

There was a whoosh, followed by a bright orange flare that Hiccup could see through both the material and his eyelids.

So much for that. No pity from the gods, as usual…

"I have to say, this is a very useful little gadget you have here."

The young chief cringed, turning his head away as he felt the incredible heat move closer until it was directly in front of his face. Chuckling with the rest of the gang, the man briefly touched the tip of the sword to Hiccup's right shoulder armor, making it sizzle. Then the intense light was snuffed out and his tormentor stepped back.

"Ha! I'm not going to kill you, kid. Had you going there for a second, though, huh? But seriously," the boot was back, this time rolling him to his side again, "you'd better keep still and quiet, otherwise I'll give you something real to scream about."

He heard the blade retract, and then the boots clunked away. Unable to do much more than think and at least try to breathe, Hiccup lay stunned for a moment before the rasp of metal-studded clothing on stone caught his attention. Sensing movement, he tensed. Something, or someone, was coming toward him.

Suddenly, a hand slipped into his, giving it a squeeze when he uttered a startled noise. It was cold, but there was no mistaking that touch.

Astrid.

She was here by his side—maybe more like back-to-back on the ground—though not in much better shape judging by the scratch of rope against his fingers.

Trust me, her firm grip seemed to say. Do you trust me?

He squeezed back.