A/N: Thank you all for the lovely reviews so far! It's so good to be back :)

Chapter 2

It had been a month since they lost the war. A month of silence, a month of weakening muscles and a frantic brain. A month since he learned that his friends had died.

When Hiccup had woken up after his capture, he was sure he never wanted to wake up again. Everything hurt and everything stung. The wound on his shoulder pulsed with burning pain. He had no clue how long he had been unconscious, let alone where he was. But what he did know was that his current reality was not worth waking up to. He groaned. He didn't really have a choice. He forced his eyes to open against the searing light.

His surroundings weren't particularly interesting though. A small window let in a bit of golden light that was either caused by a sunset or a sunrise – he had no way of telling which. The green-tinted dragon-proof gate that enclosed him in his cell he had seen many times before. The wooden walls around him told him he was on a ship, but he couldn't feel the rhythmic sway that would indicate they were still at sea. Had he been out for the whole journey to Johann's base? The thought made him groan again and he tossed his head, only to find himself facing the wall. He blinked. He wasn't on the floor. He was on a little wooden ledge that stuck out of the wall. He snorted when he realised it was more like a shelf than a bench. He was skinny enough to fit on a large shelf. He wasn't sure if he should be insulted or laugh at whoever had put him here. But since laughing was an excruciating experience in his current state, being insulted was the only good choice.

So Hiccup begrudgingly tried to sit up, wincing the whole time. One glance over his shoulder told him that his shoulder had been bandaged. His tunic was torn in multiple places from the fight, but there was also a gaping hole where the fabric that would have covered his injury had been ripped away. His shoulder pad and the entirety of his right sleeve had slid off his arm and onto the floor since it was no longer attached to the rest of the garment. At least his leather armour was still somewhat intact. His other shoulder pad remained, along with the strap across his chest and the empty sheath on his back. What protection that would give him during his captivity, though, was doubtful.

That was at the start of his captivity, back when he still believed that trying to escape was worth it, back when his friends were still coming for him, back when Krogan and Johann still bothered trying to get information out of him.

Hiccup had been awake for a few hours when they first came to visit him. They strode in with scowls on their faces, no more of the feigned pleasantries that they had greeted him with when they had first shot him and Toothless down. Maybe they had become just as tired of the fight as he had. Hiccup scoffed at the thought. They weren't the ones to get two arrows in the same shoulder.

"Where's Toothless?" he greeted them before they had the chance to speak or explain what their intention was with the weapons they carried. He hadn't missed the axe and dagger sheathed in Krogan's belt; nor did he imagine that Johann had come without multiple knives up his sleeves.

"You're worried about him?" Krogan asked, sounding surprised as he laughed – actually laughed. "Your dragon is still safe and sound on your island. We only came for you. You proved enough a nuisance to get without lugging the Night Fury along too."

"Now, now, Krogan," Johann sneered. "You can't say you weren't entertained by the fight that Hiccup Haddock put up," Hiccup glared. So they were acting like it had been fun, all that pain and violence? He remembered Krogan's anger when he had tried to call for help, Johann's displeased tone when they had finally beaten him into submission. They had come expecting an easy fight and he had done everything humanly possible to give them the opposite, even if he was the one worse for wear. But what was done was done.

"What about the others? You haven't hurt the other Riders?" he asked – because he couldn't deny his worry. He desperately hoped that the others were safe. He wondered how long Astrid had stayed up waiting before she had figured out something was wrong, whether she had gone out to search just in time to watch him be dragged onto the ship or whether he was long gone by the time his absence became worrisome. He knew that knowing wouldn't change anything, yet he still found himself wanting to know.

"I think you'll find that we'll be the ones asking the questions now, boy," Johann replied, the evil glee on his face replaced by a determined scowl once again. They weren't messing around. But neither was he.

"I'm not telling you anything," he replied simply, letting a hint of hatred slip into his voice.

"Look at yourself, Hiccup. You can't possibly think you're in much of a position for bargaining," Krogan said smoothly, an ever so slight smirk on his face as he scanned the Rider's figure. "I don't think it will even be hard to get you to scream," But Hiccup was not deterred.

"Try me," he glowered. Krogan chuckled slightly.

"You heard the boy," Johann said dismissively, ambling to the corner of the cell where he leaned against the wall, looking bored. Krogan's smirk, on the other hand, probably couldn't get much wider.

"Very well," he said, walking closer to Hiccup, who braced himself. If he was honest with himself, he didn't know how long he would be able to stop himself screaming. But he would try anyway.

Five slaps to the face, a slice across his cheek, a kick to the groin, a blow to the gut and a punch to the shoulder. That's what it took to break his silence. Hiccup knew from the moment Krogan aimed for his bandaged wounds that his time of quiet grunts had come to an end. His cries of pain bounced along the walls, probably alerting the whole ship to his torture. But he refused to utter a word about the Edge's defences, the location of the lenses or the King of Dragons.

Eventually, they left him. While they gathered their weapons, cleaned their blades and locked the cell door behind them, Hiccup lay motionless on the floor, too injured to find his position comfortable but too exhausted to move. So he let sleep take him.

That was the start of his monotonous but agonising routine. They came back once a day. The questions varied from time to time. That was when he knew the Riders had made a move. Sometimes Krogan asked him about their strategy, other times about a dragon or the Dragon Eye, but most often about the defences on the Edge or Berk. It was clear the Hunters intended on ransacking their base for their lenses and attacking the Riders at every possible moment to hinder their pursuits for the King of Dragons. But every time the answer was the same. And every time they made him pay for it.

A different question was a good thing. Even though the other Riders had never made it as far as to rescue him, the knowledge that they were trying, that they were hindering the Hunters and Flyers was reassuring. A pain in his chest had slowly developed throughout his time in his cell, the pain of missing his friends, his dragon and his dad. A different question was a much-needed encouragement. A different weapon, however, was a bad thing. There were a few times when Krogan had treated him the same way he treated the Singetails – with whips. Those were the memorable times, the ones that kept him up at night because he couldn't get comfortable or because his own screams kept ringing in his ears. The other interrogations started to morph into one big blurry, painful mess of a memory. That was when he started marking each day on the wall. How much time had passed before that first scratch, he couldn't be sure.

What he did know, was that there were seven scratches on the wall the first time they didn't come. It was the first day he didn't get a single beating or question asked. He thought Johann had decided to give him a break. Probably just borrowed time to "think his options over". But then they didn't come back the next day either. Or the next. Or the next. His only human contact became the grumpy Flyer who delivered his food and water and emptied the pot in the corner of the cell.

That was when the real torture started.

There were eleven scratches on the wall the day Hiccup was awoken to a massive commotion down the corridor. Hunters danced past his cell, sloshing mugs full of mead as they went, laughing as if Thor himself had come down and told them the funniest joke to ever exist. But then he saw what some of the men were passing between them and his heart plummeted straight to his stomach.

Two necklaces with dragon teeth as pendants. They could have been anyone's. Except Hiccup knew the moment he saw them that they belonged to the twins.

How was that possible? The twins never changed clothes or accessories, they had worn those pendants for as long as he could remember, back when they were five-year-olds messing around on Berk. The pendants weren't necessarily valuable, they had been scavenged after a dragon attack when Snotlout had found a couple of Monstrous Nightmare teeth on the ground – in surprisingly good condition. He had proudly presented them to the group, thinking it would make him seem cooler. But the twins had stolen them and made them into necklaces. They had worn them ever since, not so much as a trophy of conquest against dragons but against Snotlout.

So why did the Hunters now clutch them like precious loot? It wasn't much of a reward for a successful battle or capture. Unless… no. That wasn't possible. The Hunters were bluffing, they had to be. He couldn't believe for a second that the pendants could now be handed down as trophies, not for theft but for murder…

Hiccup shook himself out of his thoughts. It wasn't worth entertaining the idea if it was obviously just manipulation. He would focus on something else to take his mind off it, something like… escaping.

Later that night, Hiccup was thrown back into his cell, head aching, exhausted and a bola wrapped around his body. It took him until sunrise to wriggle out of the mess of ropes and boulders that rendered him immobile and when he had finally managed to free himself, he scratched another mark on the wall and crumpled into a discouraged heap. He finally fell asleep as the sun started its trek from the horizon to the sky and even when he woke up again as the sun was setting, he didn't bother moving.

There were thirteen scratches on the wall when the next party seemed to have been planned outside his cell. He tried his best to ignore them as they tossed around a belt buckle that looked uncannily like Snotlout's. It wasn't though. He knew it wasn't. So he sat with his back facing the dragon-proof gate and watched the clouds slowly move across the sky outside.

The next day the same thing happened. This time with what looked like Fishlegs' helmet. Hiccup scoffed. They could have got that anywhere. Fishlegs wasn't the only Ingerman to have that helmet.

After that followed silence for a few days. Hiccup suspected in relief that Krogan and Johann had given up. The Hunters must have reported his scepticism. He smirked. Woe to those who thought he was gullible enough to fall for something like that.

There were sixteen scratches on the wall on the day when everything changed. The Hunters came parading down his corridor once again and once again, he tried to ignore them. He sat with his back to the party again, reminiscing about his happy memories from home. That was what he thought of when he felt weak and empty. That was what kept him hoping. He prided himself with not having given up after what he thought had to be about three weeks being Johann's prisoner. Today he was remembering that time when he woke up after defeating the Red Death to find a whole new Berk. He remembered the smile on his dad's face, Toothless helping him limp forward on his new prosthetic. Oh, and Astrid kissing him…

He was startled out of his daydream when one of the Hunters threw something into his cell. He jumped, causing a few people behind him to laugh. But then he saw what had been thrown in and felt the blood drain away from his face.

It was Astrid's betrothal necklace.

Anyone could have found two Monstrous Nightmare teeth and strung them up as pendants. Snotlout's belt buckle wasn't anything special and could easily be forged or bought on a market. There were enough Ingermans around for one of the tribe's helmets to somehow find its way into the Hunters' possession.

But this, this was different. This wasn't just something to be found at the Northern Markets or in a trader's latest stock. This had been handed down from generations. It was practically unique, or at the very least extremely rare. They couldn't… Astrid…

Something inside him crumbled as he scrambled to reach the pendant that lay on the floor in the middle of the cell. This couldn't be possible. It couldn't be. But the possibility now invaded his thoughts. What if the Hunters hadn't been bluffing? What if, all along, he'd watched on without remorse as they partied after killing his friends one by one? And if the Hunters had killed the Riders, they had probably also laid siege on Berk. What remained of the island he called home? What remained of any of the allies that had supported him in the war against Johann's growing empire and the race to find the King of Dragons?

Had Johann found the King of Dragons? Was that why Johann and Krogan hadn't come to interrogate him in days? He wasn't needed anymore. His information was worthless. Because the war was already over. He'd lost. With Johann in control of the dragons, it didn't matter that one teenager was sitting lonely in a cell on a docked ship. What did any of that matter?

Lost in his thoughts, Hiccup didn't notice when a few Hunters pointed and laughed at his distraught state. Nor did he notice when they hurried off, looking satisfied and slightly proud of themselves. Nor did he care as the tears started to well up and tumble over his cheeks to splash onto the floor. He didn't care when the sobs racked his chest like his heart was physically breaking, nor as he curled up into a ball, clutching the betrothal necklace as if it were about to be yanked from his grip. He hyperventilated and broke out into a sweat until he was so exhausted and thirsty that all he could do was gulp down his remaining water ration and fall into restless, nightmare-filled sleep.

He dreamt of Astrid and the Riders that night. He dreamt that the Edge was on fire, that Berk was on fire and that there was nothing he could do. Astrid screamed his name, threw the betrothal necklace out to sea in despair and one of the Flyers caught it as he flew past, before the Singetail he was riding shot a blast at her feet, throwing her backwards and knocking her out. Her face was blackened and distorted, blood and tears streaming down it. Somewhere, Toothless was roaring in distress, but he couldn't see him, couldn't help as flames engulfed his vision and he screamed.

When his eyes shot open, he was sweating all over, panting as daylight streamed into his cell. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't real but the problem was that it could be. His friends could have given up on him weeks ago. They could have been fighting for their lives out there and Hiccup wouldn't have had a clue, stuck here in his cell.

When he had calmed down enough to take a few bites from his flavourless gruel, he didn't return to his daydreams. There was nothing happy about those daydreams now, nothing hopeful. So he stared blankly at the wall and waited for the day to slowly pass.

Johann and Krogan came to visit him the next day, after another tormented night's sleep. But their questions fell on deaf ears. Hiccup did nothing but stare blankly ahead of him, response-less. It hurt but he didn't scream. His clothes and skin gained new tears and wounds but he didn't react. Nor did he notice the desperate tone in his interrogation, how frustrated and almost panicked his captors seemed to become as simply sat there, taking blow after blow.

When they left, he continued to sit in thought. What a victory-less triumph. He had won. He hadn't said anything, he hadn't cracked. He had endured weeks of interrogations and torture. But what did he have to show for it? These four walls and the knowledge that outside, the war was lost. Somewhere far away, Berk lay in a heap of fire and rubble, his Riders and betrothed were gone and Johann had everything he needed to become the most powerful man of the seas.

During that first fight that had led to his capture, he had fought long and hard until there wasn't a scrap of energy or consciousness left in him. Because he knew that his Riders, Astrid and Toothless were waiting for him. He fought for them.

But no one was waiting for him anymore.