To Be Loved the Way You Love Me
Life on Berk turns upside down when a sixteen year old boy traveling with a dark past, a world of hurt, and a Night Fury washes up on its shores. The love-starved boy will only tell people one thing about his past: His name is Hiccup. But where did he live before? And why doesn't he trust anyone?
Chapter 34: Taking a Gamble
A/N: GUYS I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS
You know how Hiccup gave Stoick that sword for Snoggletog, way back in chapter 26? Stoick began using that sword instead of his old one, because his old one was wearing out. So he replaced it with the one Hiccup had given him.
WHICH MEANS...
That Hiccup was nearly killed at Stoick's hand with the sword he had given him earlier in the story.
Isn't fate artistic?
P.S: Forgive me -I'm terrible at writing action scenes. I do better with dialogue for some reason. Really, I'd be happy with my battle just being - "and Stoick and the others cut those mean old Outcasts into pieces and they all went home happy" - but I know I can't do that :P
I flinched away from Alvin's harsh touch, his rough fingers on my chin, but the moment I moved, several more Outcasts flanked me, pinning my arms behind my back, making me feel vulnerable and defenseless.
Toothless was growling nonstop at the sight of Alvin, the only person I had never once tried to stop him from attacking. He was edging forward, looking for a way to me around the Outcasts, and, without even looking up, Alvin said, "Gentlemen, this is just a friendly chat between two old chums. You may handle the Night Fury."
He spoke it in Norse, which surprised me, because that was the advantage Outcasts always had over their opponents: nobody could tell exactly what they were saying, because nobody else was fully fluent in Outcastese. As far as I remembered, the language had never made it past the waters filled with choppy rocks that marked the beginning of our land.
The other Outcasts nodded and retreated from us, one man pulling a coil of rope off his shoulder and edging towards Toothless, who growled and hissed flames at his attacker.
I wanted to run to him, to go to him, to protect and defend the one person I had failed so badly in a situation so similar, but Alvin seemed to have guessed what I was thinking. His grip on my chin had vanished and was instead replaced by a stronger, tighter one on my shoulders that left me in no doubt that he could pick me up and carry me away from here if he wanted.
When I had seen the other teens being held hostage by the Outcasts, I had been certain that coming back had been the right idea. Now, held so tightly by Alvin that I had no hope of escape, I wasn't so sure.
Maybe it would have been better to keep running, keep hiding, just keep being afraid, because fear was better than being stupid…
I shook my head to clear it and Alvin, obviously thinking that I was planning something with Toothless, tightened his grip so hard I winced.
"Now, Hiccup," he smiled, showing his teeth that had been filed down to strangely sharp points, "you happen to be the very person I came here for." As he spoke, I spotted other Outcasts out of the corners of my eyes, holding other members of the Hooligan tribe by the hair or beard, with knives or axes at their throats, confirming what I'd suspected since I'd landed on the island: Alvin hadn't needed the Murderous tribe's information about my location. He had known where I was, known, probably from the very start, and yet he'd waited to jump into action until the Murderous had confirmed it.
It scared me that he'd known for so long, maybe even watching me from a distance, which would explain his cruel smile now.
But how could he have known it would be Berk? The Hysteric tribe was easier to guess, much easier, because Alvin would've remembered what he told me about them – though Outcasts often worked alone, if there were allies to be had, they could be found in the Hysteric Tribe.
But he'd warned me against Berk, filled my ears with lies about how the chief was an evil, vile man who cared for nobody but himself. He talked of how truly brutal Stoick the Vast was, a man who cared for only war, a man who wanted to live the scariest and most dangerous life possible for a Viking chieftain.
How could he have ever figured I'd willingly choose to go to Berk?
I shoved those thoughts out of my mind. There was no way I could afford to think of that right now. "I thought I might be," I replied, determined to keep things light, even though they looked darker and darker by the second.
Gobber and Stoick, I noticed, were also heavily flanked by Outcasts. They'd been beaten so easily today, when I knew the Hooligans were tough and brutal fighters who never surrendered.
"But, I mean, c'mon, Alvin, a full-scale invasion? Just for me? I'm flattered. Really. I didn't think I'd mean quite that much to you."
"Of course you do," Alvin said, in mock surprise. "How could we ever forget you?" His fingers were now so tight on my shoulder that my whole arm was going numb. He leaned forward and I could smell his putrid breath. "Despite how stealthy you think you are, Dragon Boy, you left a trail of clues a mile wide. It was easy, really."
It was as if he'd read my thoughts about his knowledge of my stay on Berk.
I swallowed and forced myself to meet his gaze, although I felt like sinking back down, lower and lower until I disappeared into the sand forever, where not a hair on my head or a stitch of my clothing was left of me to prove that Hiccup the Outcast had once sat on this very beach.
"That's a bit of a disappointment," I replied, trying to fight the panic that was choking me. "Because the next time I escape and the time after that, why…I'll just to have to work on my sneakiness, I suppose."
I could tell I was making him angry.
It had always been this way, though; he'd hated me for being able to make a light-hearted and most likely sarcastic remark no matter how dark things looked.
His brows drew down so low, like thunderclouds, before he forced the corners of his lips upward into a mocking smile. "Oh, you can try, sure," he snorted, "but you will never get away from me again."
I was shaking now, shaking and trembling and sweating from being so near him for so long without ever once making a move to defend myself, and from the implied threat in his voice and words. "I suppose all the other times have been what, harmless flukes?" I forced myself to smirk confidently, like I was merely mocking the man in front of me, like I had done so many times before, the one activity that had always gotten me into so much trouble.
"You can't win, Alvin. I say that to you every time and every time, you give me some lame threat about how I'm never getting away from you. It happened on Hysteric Isle and it happened every time after that, too. Must we go through this again?" I gave a bored little sigh.
"Oh, no, Hiccup," Alvin gave a little laugh of his own, "you really don't understand this time when I say, 'never getting away'. Come to Outcast Island and you'll see what I mean." It wasn't a challenge; there was no 'I dare you' tone to his voice. It was a threat.
I swallowed. "No, I don't really feel like it. Sorry." I shrugged.
"Oh, but I insist," Alvin said. "Otherwise, I'm afraid we're just going to have to bring you against your will. You know me, Hiccup – I'm a patient, civilized man…" (I snorted) "…but I draw the line at fighting. You know me, Hiccup. I'm quite peaceful."
I would've laughed again had I not suddenly heard a choked sound coming from one of the Hooligans.
I looked around, my eyes scanning the crowd for whoever had attempted to speak, and suddenly Alvin's dark, murderous brown eyes gained a twinkle, a glitter of purest malice. "Surely you don't mind me taking him off your hands, do you, Stoick?" he smiled in mock sweetness at the Viking chief. "I mean…by the looks of it…" he gestured to my sleeve, which I had rolled up earlier, fully revealing the 'traitor' still scabbing over on my arm. "…You've already decided you don't want him."
Stoick gave another weak sound in the back of his throat, but one of the Outcasts holding him hissed 'shh!' in Outcastese, holding the blade even closer to his throat.
"Unless, of course," Alvin continued swiftly, "you'd rather fight me on this? I'm a fair man, Stoick – my men will let you go." he snapped his fingers and hissed a command in Outcastese, causing the nine Outcasts holding Stoick to reluctantly release him and step back respectfully, waiting for their chief to make his move.
But of course, Stoick was stripped of his weapons. He had nothing at all. And it was crazy to think he'd even try and fight Alvin for me in the first place, because I was nothing to him anymore – and the healing cut on my arm proved it.
Nonetheless, Stoick shook himself proudly, as a Viking chieftain should, and he turned to face Alvin, opening his mouth to say something, but what, I'm not sure.
"It would be undoubtedly foolish for you to put the sake of your whole island on the line for one little boy," Alvin shrugged, "but if you choose to fight me for your boy, then, by all means – a war it is."
There was a long second of silence and then, all at once, the people of Berk began crying for him to leave it, that I was an Outcast and that I didn't matter enough to put the whole island at war.
Alvin's eyes gleamed. "I should've known," he shook his head, a chuckle building up in his throat. "You're more like me than I would have thought, Stoick." he turned away from Stoick, snapping at a few of his men in Outcastese to bring him some more rope to tie the rest of the Hooligans and me up.
As the Outcasts slithered into the crowd of Hooligans and began binding them and as they bound me, I sat still, the cries of the people of Berk still ringing in my ears.
"He's nothing, Chief, he's nothing!"
"Sir, he's an Outcast!"
"You can't put the whole island at risk for him!"
They spoke of me like I was nothing – and to them, I really was.
I closed my eyes before hearing a bright, clear ringing noise, like stone on metal. As I looked up, I saw Alvin glaring at the crowd of Hooligans, clutching a heavy black stone in his hands. "Which one of you threw that?" he snapped angrily, and most of them stepped forward, raising their hands and claiming credit for the rock.
Gobber even spat at Alvin's feet before being yanked back into the crowd and tied up thoroughly.
Another rock flew and this time, I saw where it had come from. Stoick was weaponless, but there was a small pile of stones at his feet and he had the fierce look of a Viking getting ready to fight, and for some reason he reminded me of Viking fathers I had seen, getting ready to defend their child.
I shook my head to clear it of the notion and used the chaos of Alvin shouting at Stoick about something and issuing threats to the entire Hooligan village to scoot over to Toothless, also chained.
I struggled with his muzzle for a second or two, but eventually my fumbling and bound fingers found the buckles and I managed to undo it for him.
He moaned in thanks, wriggling his tail and attempting to break the ropes around his wings with his teeth.
I reached up to help him untie them as a rock that either an Outcast or a Hooligan had thrown collided solidly with my shoulder and I winced.
Man down, I thought hazily as I pushed myself up and Toothless snapped open his wings, roaring and greatly enjoying the chaos.