Hadrian's toes tap to a fast pace, Brandur's words echoing in his mind: I don't know.

If not even Dagur's own guards know what he's planning, that must mean that he's planning something big and deadly. This worries Hadrian more because it means he's thinking, and not planning to just ram into Berk even though he has the upper hand. Hadrian can only hope that Hiccup is counseling with Stoick on how to outsmart Dagur.

Not that Hadrian's relying on Hiccup to save him. He doesn't even expect to be rescued. he's now two days into his own annihilation, and is making great progress. He hasn't drank a drop of water since they dragged him into the dungeon, and any food they deliver – which is mostly scrapes – he shoves the tray back into the hallway and turns on his side to mimic sleep. His tunic feels looser than before, and he is starting to find it a struggle to hoist himself up to stand.

All is going according to plan.

Once Hadrian is no longer leverage, hopefully it'll give Hiccup that advantage since he won't have to worry about every little move endangering Hadrian's life.

Dagur hasn't once come to visit, and Brandur seems to have been reassigned since he's not patrolling the halls anymore. Only makes things easier for him since the other guards barely pay attention to him.

Sitting on the floor of his cell, he hugs his knees and gazes across the aisle to the cage of a dragon – a Changewing. The creature has been sleeping, even though Hadrian has no idea what time it is. The only light belonged to the torches that glow the same monotone orange. Practically freezing time itself. The only evidence Hadrian has is when the dungeon falls quiet that he knows it's around nighttime. Though, he is still having trouble distinguishing between naps and sleeping.

The Changewing is coiled into itself, its tail curved into a spiral on the floor. Its breathing heavy and even. Unsure if it could sense him staring, Hadrian watches the dragon's eyes blink open and lock with him instantly. After a moment of silence, the Changewing blinks again and shakes its head. It grunts as it lowers its head; then Hadrian watches as, starting from its center, the creature slowly fades into nothing. Until all Hadrian is left staring at is the optical illusion of an empty cage.

Oh, how Hadrian wishes he had that amazing ability to just disappear into nothing. To curl into himself and just shrink. Perhaps then he could find comfort in that in-between realm; where the word 'nothing' has true meaning that comes to life. But he has one final job to do. Then maybe when he's finished, the gods will let Hiccup know that he's sorry, somehow.

A bang at the end of the hall echoes throughout the compound and vibrates through the bars. Hadrian jolts, his fingernails digging into the dirt beneath him. He fumbles as he tries to scramble to his feet. He grips the bars at the forefront of his cell and gazes out to find a guard walking down the aisle wielding a torch in one hand, keys jingling by his side, clinking as he moves his left hip. The Changewing has materialized against and now snarls.

Hadrian's nerves prickle his spine as the guard makes eye contact with him and starts to walk towards Hadrian's cell.

Swallowing the lump of wax in his throat, Hadrian keeps himself rooted in place, his knuckles turning white from his grip on the rusted bars. If it weren't for the light, Hadrian would've recognized him sooner, but he didn't have his helmet, revealing his hair in a shaved, clean-cut style. Brandur.

Hadrian doesn't say anything as he set the torch on a bracket near Hadrian's cage. "Long time no see."

"It's only been a couple days." Hadrian croaks. His voice is hoarse and scratchy, like his throat was made from gravel.

"Aw, you've been keeping track. Miss me?" Brandur smirks and leans on the cage door. Hadrian instinctively takes a step back. Hadrian answer by sneering. "Oh, so mysterious. Anyway, I brought you some food."

Brandur turns and retrieves a metal tray with a plate of meant, a small slice of bread, and a glass of clear water. He slides it under Hadrian's door and steps back. Hadrian looks to it, then to Brandur.

"There's nothing in it." Brandur says with an annoyed tone. "Just something to hold you up."

Hadrian chuckles coldly. "I was hoping you did poison it. Would've been easier."

"I told you I don't do favors."

Hadrian's stomach growls like a vicious, ravenous dog spotting a banquet of food. He tries to settle it down as saliva fills his mouth. With an iron will, he ghosts his hand over the meat and takes the cup of water. It takes slightly of rust, but it does more than awaken Hadrian's insides as he feels a cold chill through his veins. He sets the glass back down and mumbles a thank you.

"Aren't you going to eat the meat?" Brandur asks.

"I'm not hungry."

"The hell you're not."

"I'm not." Hadrian insists.

"Hadrian." Brandur says, his tone quiet. He crouches down and rests his elbows on his knees, fingers intertwined. "I know what you're doing. And you can bet that Dagur will not have it."

"I don't care. Either way I win. He can't kills me even if he's upset or he loses his leverage. And even if he force-feeds me, I'll spit it all back in his face. I won't let him use me."

"What about Hiccup?" Brandur asks.

"Hiccup will -" Hadrian stops instantly, an ice bomb detonates inside him, numbing his arms and turning his mouth to sandpaper. "What did you say?"

Brandur looks to him then blinks, and swallows. "I said what about the hiccup."

"No, no you didn't. I never told you the name of the chief's son." Hadrian accuses. He rushes to stand and grips the bars; a sudden rush of anger replacing his blood. "How'd you know his name?! If you have him here I swear to the gods - !"

"Shh! Keep your voice down!" Brandur hisses through grit teeth.

"Where's Hiccup?!" Hadrian demands.

"He's not here!" Brandur seethes. He lower his tone to a whisper. "Listen, I'm an undercover soldier. Now I need you to eat. I've received word that you execution is soon. Dagur will be sending out word to the Berkians soon, and you'll be moved to a new holding spot."

"How can I even trust you?" Hadrian challenges. "You could be making all this up just to win me over, then when I finally trust you, you turn and I end up with Dagur's knife in my back."

"I figured you wouldn't trust me, so I brought evidence." Brandur steps aside and Hadrian looks down to see a Terrible Terror crawling towards the cell door. It chirps and squawks, a note strapped to its leg. The silhouette of violet lines showing like dark veins through pale skin. Hadrian snatches the note and it felt so real and solid in his hands. He runs his thumb over the smooth surface of the paper. He holds it against his chest for a few heartbeats before he opens it. He drops to his knees as he read my Hiccup's handwriting in elegant lines of purple ink.

Hadrian,

When I found out you were alive,

I couldn't thank the gods enough.

I'll be coming to get you soon.

I'm sorry I can't right now,

I'd get you out of there in seconds,

No matter what the cost would be.

I will be getting you out soon,

Just please, please

Hang on.

I've heard you're barely making it.

Please,

Stay strong.

I'll be there soon.

-Hiccup

Hadrian is kneeling on the floor shaking like he's been caught in a snowstorm with nothing on but his underclothes. He jerks his head up to Brandur, who turns to the side and shows Hadrian a tattoo of the Berk crest on his shoulder. Under his armor, it's not even noticeable with the smears of dirt.

Hadrian stands again. "How long have you been here?"

"After the last attempt he did to capture Hiccup and Toothless. When that little runt Gustave came riding in on his Nightmare. I snuck in with the men and they haven't noticed since. Apparently I play Outcast better than Beserker." Brandur explains.

"So, is Brandur your real name?"

"Yeah, seemed to fit around here. But enough talking, eat."

'Just so we're clear, I still don't trust you." Hadrian says.

Brandur sighs. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Without another word, or letting Hadrian ask another question, he turns and walks out of the compound.

Hadrian devours the meal in minutes, his stomach probably shrinking to the size of a walnut, aches with pleasure. Hadrian curls up back up on the blood stain and lets the food and water work its best on his diminished form. The spark of hope has ignited in his chest and now spreads through his body. White hot triumph coursing through his veins, replacing his blood.

Please hold on.

"I will."

"Alvin the Treacherous, you are hereby charged with the following crimes." Gobber speaks, a thick piece of parchment in his hands.

The villagers of Berk roar and shout in hatred as Alvin stands in chains before Hiccup and Stoick in the Great Hall. Thick chains bind his wrists. He had arrived in the village shortly after Hiccup and the riders gathered in the arena with his father to discuss potential plans to rescue Hadrian.

Hiccup still wears Hadrian's tunic as Gobber reads off the crimes committed by Alvin. "Treachery, attempted treachery, pre-meditated treachery, conspiracy to commit treachery, and well . . . you get the idea!"

The shouting begins again.

Hiccup fists the end of the tunic sleeves and takes a shaky breath. They had sent out Snotlout to inspect the island from where Alvin came from. They should've heard back by now. It would seem that every time Hiccup got nervous – whether from looking at Alvin, or thinking about Hadrian locked in the dungeon – it would seem like Hadrian's scent would waft to Hiccup's nose and ease his nerves and numb his mind. Like a comforting hand that magically makes all pains and anxiety go away. Stoick quiets down the villagers. Hiccup takes another deep breath, this one steady.

"Alvin the Treacherous, you will be remanded to our jail until a proper sentence can be handed down."

"Is this how you treat a man who comes with good intentions?" Alvin says with a raspy tone.

"Good?" "Alvin?" Hiccup overhears the twins mumble.

"I know you Alvin," Stoick steps down from the alter at the epicenter of the Hall. "I know you Alvin, you did it for yourself."

"What could I possibly have to gain from coming here alone?!"Alvin counters. "I did it for us both, Stoick. Now I have a proposition for you."

"Not interested." Stoick instantly declines. He then turns without another glance. "That's it everyone! Go home!"

Hiccup watches as Gobber and Bucket haul Alvin out from the Hall. It then feels like he's awaken from a long slumber. It felt as though he was there, but not really. The drug influence of Hadrian wears off as Hiccup hears his name being called.

He turns to find Astrid. "Hiccup! Snotlout just got back. And apparently Alvin wasn't the only big, nasty creature on that Island."

"The Screaming Death. It's closing in on Berk." Fishlegs says.

"Well that's fantastic news!" Hiccup says. Too sharply. He hurries to amend it. "Come on."

Outside, the ground feels slick beneath Hiccup's shoe, and Toothless instantly by his side the moment he breaks through the doors. Hadrian's scent infects Hiccup's nose with every breath, and he pretends that is all there is.

When they get to the Academy, Hiccup, Astrid and Fishlegs run through attack simulations while the twins were busy trying to convert Snotlout's pen into a lounge area for the Academy. Tuffnut was hanging a shark rug on the wall while Ruffnut rearranges a vase of flowers. Meatlug spews a Lava Blast, the Toothless with a Plasma blast, and Astrid trying to dodge both.

"Come on you guys, focus." Hiccup instructs. "We need to figure out a way to stop the screaming death from reaching Berk."

As Toothless flies another lap, Meatlug was about to pass them when they suddenly get cut off and swatted aside by Snotlout and Hookfang. Fishlegs and Meatlug crash to the ground. Snotlout dismounts.

"Hey everyone, did you miss me? Of course you did. Ha!" he points to Fishlegs and Meatlug sprawled across the stone. "Why do I even ask?"

Hiccup and Astrid land their dragons.

"Oh great." Tuffnut whines. "I can't return this fabric."

"Snotlout," Hiccup calls. "Did you happen to see Hadrian anywhere?"

"No, why would I?" Snotlout snaps. "He's stuck in Dagur's dungeon."

"Snotlout!" Astrid barks.

"What? He's not going anywhere."

"It's fine Astrid. I was just curious." Hiccup defends.

"Boy you really must be worried if you're defending Snotlout." Fishlegs jokes.

Hiccup merely shrugs in reply.

"What were you expecting?"" Astrid asks.

"I don't know, I just . . . figure Hadrian would've broken out by now."

"Hiccup, he's on the island with Berserkers and Outcasts. Even if he were to break out," she leans closer. "even if he had help, it still wouldn't be enough."

"I suppose, I just . . . hope he's okay."

Darkness has now overtaken Outcast Island. Thanks to Brandur's help, Hadrian wounds were able to be healed and Hadrian's strength is returning. He now lies on a pile of hay with the pelt of a wolf lying over it. He's tucked his one arm under his head to substitute for a pillow, the other resting over the wound in his side.

He's not a very light sleeper, but sometimes his body wakes on its own whenever he has an uneasy feeling. One of the benefits that he can't be snuck up on while sleeping. The same feeling awakens him tonight. His eyes blink open and he carefully pushes himself on his side. Thanks to the result of some pain medicine, the pain in Hadrian's shoulder from the arrow wound has now reduced to a dull throb.

He pushes himself to a seated position and runs his fingers through his hair. He blinks away the sleepiness, and le leans forward, his back pressed to the stone. He brushes his hair out of his eyes and rubs his eyes. He was so and still is so distraught that he didn't notice the fist and obvious sign. The door to his cage was open.

The sight makes Hadrian's blood go cold. It was slightly ajar, but it was enough for Hadrian to see a sliver of the other side open and clear. Hadrian begins to rise, his hand slipping on the wet stone beneath him, his feet slip.

"Brandur?" Hadrian grunts.

He's just made it to a standing position, when a hand grabs him from behind.

He immediately begins to scream, but a hand claps over his mouth. It smells like bonfire smoke and it's big enough to cover Hadrian's mouth and part of his chin. Hadrian thrashes, but the arms holding him are too strong, and Hadrian has to bite down on one of the fingers.

"Ow!" a rough voice cries.

"Shut up and keep his mouth covered!" that voice is deeper than the average male and clearer.

It's an ambush of guards.

A strip of dark cloth covers Hadrian's eyes, and a new set of hands ties it around Hadrian's head. Hadrian struggles to breathe as his hands are bound together buy warm cloth. There are at least two sets of hands on his arms, dragging him forward, and one on his back, shoving him in the same direction, and one on his mouth, keeping his screams in. Three guards. Hadrian's chest hurts. He can't fight three guards on his own. Especially because of his – now stupid – attempt to try and starve himself to death.

No. This can't be right! He thinks. My execution isn't for two days!

"Wonder what it'll sound like when Hiccup's prized soldier begs for his life." One guard speaks.

Hadrian tries to focus on the hand on his mouth. There must be some way that he can get it off. But he doesn't dare lick it, and biting it proved to be useless. Hadrian needs to solve a problem before he begins to panic. The palm is sweaty and soft. Hadrian clenches his teeth and breathes through his nose. He thrashes and their rough skin grates against his, but he knows it's useless.

He mumbles through the hand, and it would seem one of the guards understands him. "Oh this isn't your execution. We're just bored and need something to occupy our minds."

A weight drops in Hadrian's stomach.

The hands push Hadrian around and a pair of arms reach up from behind Hadrian under his armpits and lock tight. Hadrian can feel the world spin and he feels his spine slam into another body, which is pressed against something hard and cold. Judging by its density, it's a wall. So it's a wall, a guard, and Hadrian pinned from behind by the guard. Hadrian's breath wheezes and a breath touches the back of his neck. Hands press his back into the body behind him.

A heavy hand gropes along Hadrian's chest. "You're pretty strong, even for an eighteen-year-old." The other guards laugh.

Bile rises in his throat and he swallows the bitter taste.

"Oh, I think I found something!" His hand drifts down near Hadrian's groin and squeezes. Hadrian bites his tongue to keep from screaming. More laughter.

The mysterious hand slips from his mouth. It grips his jaw and tilts his head to the side. The sleeve of his tunic slips from his shoulder. Hadrian feels dry lips and teeth grazing his skin and nibbling on his neck. Hadrian can't stop the moan from escaping his mouth. Now that his mouth is exposed, it vibrates through the air.

"Oh, I think he likes it!" another deep voice says.

When the hand lets go of him, Hadrian thrashes against and slumps to the ground. This time, he bites down as hard has he can on the first arm he finds. There's a scream and Hadrian clenches his jaw tighter, the cooper taste of blood in his mouth. Something hard strikes his face. White heat races through his head. It would've hurt if the adrenaline wasn't coursing through him like acid.

The one guard wrenches his trapped arm away and throws Hadrian to the ground. Hadrian bangs his elbow against the dirt stone ground and brings his hand up to remove the blindfold. A foot slams into his side, forcing all the air out of his lungs. Hadrian gasps and coughs and screams. Hadrian claws at the back of his head as someone grabs a handful of his hair and slams his head against the stone wall. The scream comes from pain as it leaves his mouth, and leaving him dizzy.

Pain throbbing through his muscles, Hadrian clumsily and frantically fumbles along the side of his head to get a grip on the blindfold. Hadrian drags his hand – which seems to have tripled in weight – taking the blindfold with it and blinks. The scene before him tilts sideways and bobs up and down. Hadrian can see someone running away – one of the large guards. Hadrian's hand fumbles for something to grab on the wall. But his hand keeps slipping and his arm isn't strong enough to hoist him to his feet.

A thick hand wraps around his throat and lifts Hadrian, the thumb pressing Hadrian's Adam's apple, effecting his breathing. The guard's hair is shiny and sticking to his forehead. His pale face is contorted and his teeth gritted as he holds Hadrian up against the wall. Spots appear on the edges of his vision, crowding around the guard's face, black and grey with blue. Hadrian's stomach clenches, and he actually hopes he vomits so that it'll get the guard to release him. His breath reeks of yak meat and milk. Hadrian's lungs scream for air.

There's a shout, and Hadrian is released. He lets himself drop to the ground in dead weight. The world dips and sways around him, and someone is screaming from down the hall. There's thumps, kicks and groans.

Hadrian blinks a few times and focuses as hard as he can on the only face he can see. But the urge to vomit forces Hadrian over in a hunch and he convulses bile and acid that burns the back of his throat. He jumps as a hand places itself on his back, but it's flat and gentle. Hadrian sniffs and sloppily wipes his mouth. He spits the last of the bile and wipes his chin with the hemline of his tunic.

The face he sees is contorted with anger. His eyes are dark blue.

"Brandur." Hadrian croaks.

Hadrian closes his eyes, and hands wrap around his arms, right where they join with the shoulder. He pulls him over away from the puddle of vomit, and against his chest, gathering him into his arms, easing an arm under Hadrian's knees. Hadrian presses his face into his shoulder, and there is a flash of black ink curling around the side of his shoulder and Hadrian lets the gentle sway calm his frayed nerves, and rock him into darkness.

The pain is a constant throb in Hadrian's head, cheek and ribs. Seconds go by before he can see definite edges in his surroundings, the door of a cage, the stone wall and ceiling. Hadrian startles himself into a seated position, which makes everything worse. He grunts into his teeth and holds his side. The door creaks open and Hadrian brings his hands to cover his face.

"Hadrian," a soft voice says. "It's me."

Brandur.

Hadrian still keeps his hands over his face, until Brandur's familiar and soft hands pull them gently down to reveal his face and eyes; placid. Blood on his knuckles stain the gauze he attempted to wrap around it. It looked hurried. Hadrian's breath shakes as Brandur unknowingly touches a bruise.

"Sorry." He whispers.

Hadrian sighs and sniffs. The scent of crimson wafts in his nose. He wipes with the back of his wrist and the skin feel crusty. Hadrian knows there must be dry blood. Brandur brings in a bucket with a white rage dangling over the edge, and comes to kneel beside Hadrian. Hadrian sits with his legs stretched out in front of him, as Brandur dips the rag into the bucket and wrenches it dry. He then hesitates, but Hadrian loses his eyes and gives the faint smile of consent.

Brandur pats the spot just above Hadrian's temple and Hadrian's winces as the pain throbs inside his head.

"Sorry," Brandur repeats.

"It's fine." Hadrian croaks.

"Not just about this. About everything."

"The attack isn't your fault." Hadrian assures.

"It's more than those jackasses." He pauses to dip the rag again, and Hadrian can see the corner of the rag it spotted red.

He watches Brandur swallow.

"Dagur's decision has been made."

The only reaction Hadrian feels is the icy explosion of fear in his stomach, but he's in too much pain to react otherwise. Anger boils inside him replacing his blood with bitter water and filling him, consuming him.

"Listen, Dagur's going to send a note out to Berk, that if they don't deliver the Night Fury and Skrill by tomorrow that . . .well." Brandur pauses and swallows. "You iknow."

"Hadrian does know.

Death. His execution.

Hadrian's body grows numb and he takes a deep breath, eyes drifting in a daze. He wants to hit something, but he can't move. So he starts to cry.

"Perfect." He grunts. Brandur rests his free hand on the other side of Hadrian's face. His fingers careful.

"Hey, hey. Listen, Hiccup will get you out of here. The minute he gets that note, he will think of something."

"It's all a trap." Hadrian mumbles.

"He'll know that."

Hadrian snorts and tears slip behind his ear. He bangs his head against the stone, but doesn't feel it anymore. The pain of his bruise near the crown of his head is only a dull throb as his ears ring and the world becomes muted.

"He will get you home." Brandur says.

"What if he's just using me to get to Lightning? Or Toothless? And once he has them both he'll simply dispose of us both?"

"You sound like you don't believe in Hiccup." Brandur accuses.

"I do. But I don't believe Dagur. He can't be trusted." Hadrian pushes himself up. Pain rushes through his body in sharp bursts, but he tries to ignore it, stifling a groan. Brandur grips his shoulder with one hand while the other holds Hadrian's head.

"What've you been doing to yourself?"

"Don't see how that's your business." Hadrian snaps back.

"It is if I'm getting you to Hiccup." Brandur counters.

Hadrian bites down on his lip. "Listen, you have to get me out of here."

"I will."

"No, not when I'm a trading product for Dagur. I need to get out of here. Now."

"What?"

"I will not be leverage got that maniac!" Hadrian roars. "Brandur please, you have to get me out of here. I need to leave."

Brandur sighs and rubs his hand across his chin. "You can't leave like that. What were you trying to kill yourself?"

Hadrian sighs, "Yes, I, I was so determined to give Hiccup the upper hand. So determined to not be Dagur's bait that I didn't care. But now I see that it was only desperation that drove me, that clouded my mind. And now I realize that, I don't want to die. I want to live and fight and be with Hiccup and my friends. I want to live."

Tears swell in the corners of Hadrian's eyes. And even as they spill over down his cheeks, cutting rails through his blood and smeared cheeks, he looks Brandur dead center.

Hadrian swallows. "Please help me." He whimpers.

Brandur looks at him. His face placid, eyes swimming with his emotions and options. Hadrian always like to watch the way people process information. Observing Hiccup over their time together, it was something that fascinated Hadrian. Like watching the inside of a machine, all the gears turning, shifting, adjusting, working together to form a particular function.

Brandur's eyes look to Hadrian, and they flick from side to side before he turns and walks out of the cell and down the hall.

Hadrian releases a choked gasp and clamps his mouth to stop himself from screaming or crying. He forces himself to wait to see it he'll come back.

After the first five minutes, Hadrian feels his eyes water. At the ten minute mark, Hadrian sinks down to the floor and feels ready to scream, when he hears a bang at the end of the corridor. He doesn't even ready himself to fight. He'll be out numbered and he's too weak from his fight and attempted suicide. A single pair of footsteps walk briskly down the hall and Hadrian looks up, and Brandur's back.

Not only that, but he's brought a tray tat's piled with foo and a full pitcher of water. He kneels and slides the tray under the opening of Hadrian's cell.

"This should be enough to rehydrate and fuel you. And try to walk around and do basic exercises to regain some strength." He instructs.

Hadrian nods and sit in front of the platter of food. A sound of a ravenous dog erupting from his stomach.

"Thank you." He whispers. Brandur smiles.

"Eat slow, and get some rest." Brandur says. "We leave tonight."