*Notice! This chapter will be undergoing some pretty heavy editing in the very near future. I've decided that I kind of hate time skips, so I'm going to be reworking more flow into it to remedy that. There won't be any major changes to the plot obviously. Just a fair bit more information to fill in the gaps. Check back soon to read the new version :)*
Update: This chapter has now been rewritten! I urge any old readers to please take a moment and read through the new version. To any new readers just now stopping by, well then... Enjoy! :D
_
The journey from Petriana to Rome was a long one, especially at land speed. The distance greater than seemed possible, even by boat. They had been sailing for weeks! Surely they were going to arrive at the edge of the world soon. Although, the young man now known as Scáth Rothaí was quickly discovering that the world was far larger than his people had ever imagined it could be. The mountains, plains, and ocean stretching out in every direction farther than the eye could see, even when those eyes were seated on the back of a dragon.
After a relatively short trek over land, the group had boarded a vast ship anchored by the coast that was as unlike those of Hiccup's homeland as dragons were unlike rabbits. Instead of a simple wooden vessel built for transporting men or goods, this was more like a floating Hall. The huge multilevel beast sporting several tiers of oars protruding from the hull, canvas sails dyed a rich purple, and golden statues scattered throughout. The combination of excessive opulence and armed guards prominently displaying the wealth and might of the ship's owner; at least on the surface. While the covered cabins of the upper floor boasted silken curtains and wide, flat beds with strange stuffed mattresses, pillows, and soft fabric coverings, the bowels of the ship were as cramped and dirty as a neglected stable.
As honoured guests, Hiccup and Toothless were given lodgings on the upper decks alongside the emperor and his council. The pair taking to the sky many times throughout the voyage in order to hunt for Toothless, as well as to survey their new surroundings; much to the delight of those on board below. Hadrian often summoning the boys to his private chamber to share meals during the evenings. Meals consisting of foods that Hiccup had never even heard of. Some of them delicious, while others were clearly more of an acquired taste. One particular item, a salty sauce of fermented fish guts they called Garum, seemed to be in almost every dish, and neither Hiccup or Toothless were overly fond of it. Still, not wanting to be rude, Hiccup ate a little of everything that was brought before him.
Sometimes they would dine with the courtiers, and other times as just the two of them along with a translator. The men each lounging on their own lectus as the black dragon basked on the covered deck just outside the room. The emperor leant back on brightly coloured silken pillows and asking a constant stream of questions about the Northerners. Listening avidly to Hiccup's tales while a parade of 'slaves' (a completely new term to Hiccup) brought each course in on shining silver platters and waited on their every whim. The older man chuckling and smiling at Hiccup's occasional frustration as he tried to describe his culture in a way that the others might be able to understand. Hadrian's never ending curiosity making Hiccup begin to feel more like a hired Bard than a hired soldier.
The deeper they sailed into southern waters, the hotter the weather became. The air growing more humid with each passing day, and Hiccup began to long for lighter garments. The thick linen of his top sticking to his clammy skin and the heavy leather of his boots making his feet sweat and peel. After sailing through a narrow passage apparently known as Fretum Gaditanum, or the Strait of Cadiz, Hiccup began to see greater signs of civilization along the shore. The raw coastlines, quaint villages, and green forests giving way to bustling port cities. Each seeming to contain more people than the last.
Unable to contain his enthusiasm at these overwhelming new sights, Hiccup and Hadrian finally began to speak about this land. Hiccup excitedly describing the new and incredible things he had seen that day, and asking Hadrian what they were. Sometimes gesticulating wildly in his exuberance, which always made the older man laugh. "If you think these cities are beautiful young Scáth, just wait until you see Rome herself," Hadrian offered with a chuckle one night. The two of them relaxing alone after a meal, with only the translator nearby. "She will take your breath away."
As he spoke, Hadrian reached across to place a hand on Hiccup's leg. Meeting the boy's green eyes with a warm smile as he gently squeezed the slender thigh. Thumb brushing across the overly sensitive inner curve and an odd achy shiver ran up Hiccup's spine in response. Something about the gesture made Hiccup's stomach clench uncomfortably, and he froze like a frightened rabbit as he gazed back at Hadrian in confusion. Too stunned to even think about seeking out the man's intent in his thoughts. Toothless, clearly sensing Hiccup's distress, promptly raised his head to glare at the emperor with tightly slit pupils. A low growl rumbling pointedly from his throat.
Likely not wanting to be murdered on his own boat by an angry night fury, Hadrian quickly removed his hand and changed the subject, but not before Hiccup caught the shadow of something unfamiliar in the man's brown eyes. Something that Hiccup only recognized, and resolved to watch out for, days after the fact. Hadrian's wishes soon becoming painfully apparent, both in his thoughts as well as in each wandering glance or conspicuous touch. If Scáth proved willing, this man would happily take more from the naive young Viking than simply his aid on the battlefield. For a child who had grown up shunned and alone, this was Hiccup's first true taste of sexual attention, and he couldn't say that he particularly enjoyed it. Nor did he enjoy the way that everyone else seemed to neither notice, nor care that it was happening.
Thankfully, Toothless' presence, Hiccup's calm wit, and a touch of magical persuasion all helped to keep Hadrian at bay without losing his favour. Despite Hiccup's initial fear, he was also well aware that the emperor had just unknowingly taught him a very valuable lesson about the darker sides of humanity. Throughout the following months this would only be expanded upon. The wonderful veil of innocence slowly but surely getting ripped from the young man's eyes. The world was not the simple and straightforward one he had been raised to believe in. There were no scaly monsters of the sea or sky here in the south to assign blame to. There were only monstrous people, and those were not so easily recognized among the crowds.
Hadrian had not been lying about Rome though. The city truly was incredible. As Hiccup and Toothless lumbered alongside the procession, the dragon's wings folded tight to his sides and creating a protective barrier around his rider, Hiccup found his head whipping from side to side in wonder. Marvelling at both the beautiful architecture and the mass of people. Strange people dressed in everything from dirty rags to fine silks and speaking so many different languages he didn't think he would ever make sense of it. The warm air positively humming with a constant and indiscernible buzz of noise that pressed in on him from every side. He must have been crazy to willingly leave the comfortably familiar and start anew in this... Mess!
There was no other word for it, really. Admittedly the city appeared to be well laid out in a simple and efficient grid, but that mattered little. The streets were so crowded with a mixture of people and animals that one could probably still step outside their door and be lost instantly; and it was so loud. The people seemed only capable of shouting here. Either hawking their wares in the roadside stalls, or calling to friends over the din. The noisy chaos combining with the heat headache that was already pulsing behind Hiccup's eyes, and making him long for a quiet and cool place to lay down.
In all fairness, these people seemed just as awestruck by him as he was by them. Hiccup and Toothless glancing around in mild amusement at all the startled faces, pointing fingers, and mutterings that were directed towards the two of them. Small children squealing in both excitement and fear as their anxious parents tugged them back from the savage looking black beast following behind the emperor. Hadrian's glee at his people's reactions clearly written across his face. The ruler even turning around to grin at Hiccup briefly from his spot atop the shoulders of four slaves. Shaded from the scorching sun and lounging on an odd gilded bed thing known as a litter.
The palace was another shock for Hiccup. After the overwhelming crowd, the massive stretch of mostly empty garden and courtyard beyond the gated and guarded walls seemed unreasonable. The children had nowhere to play outside these walls, but there was so much space in here. Surely Hadrian could spare some to share with his people. Stoick had always taught his son that those lucky enough to have excess were expected to help out the less fortunate. Apparently being in charge in Rome meant that you got to keep everything for yourself. Something that Hiccup didn't think he would ever agree with, no matter how long he spent here.
Hadrian had offered Hiccup a place in the palace, but Hiccup had politely refused. He may not be romantically experienced in the slightest, but he was well practiced with unwanted attention of other sorts. If Hiccup had learned anything from his awful childhood, it was that the best way to avoid trouble was to avoid the people that caused it. Hadrian had been visibly disappointed, but eventually agreed on the condition that the young boy stay close by. Soon after, Scáth was offered room in a decently sized and rather fancy apartment just beyond the palace walls. Hadrian's continued favour allowing the boy to occupy the entire eastern corner of the three story stone building, rather than simply one level. The other families that had been dwelling here likely evicted without reason by order of the emperor.
This arrangement granted Toothless the ease of being able to come and go as he pleased from the upper balcony, while Hiccup was free to tinker with magic in his second floor workshop without fear of discovery. It also served to teach Hiccup yet another valuable lesson about humanity. Power was not necessarily attached to monetary wealth or political status. True power came from possessing an item that someone else desired. Be it sex, land, or skills, all proved to be equally useful bargaining chips if used correctly. As such, the boy quickly learned to use Hadrian's sexual urges against him in order to gain privileges. Discretely dangling himself before the lusty man like a carrot before a hungry mule.
Through his connections with the palace, Hiccup received unprecedented access to the Universities and Libraries throughout the vast city. His income was hefty, and the bath and pleasure houses were at his disposal on the Emperor's coin whenever he had need. Private tutors were supplied by Hadrian himself to help Hiccup with his Latin and Greek language lessons, and his battle training was carried out by the Imperial Guard. Many were understandably jealous of the special treatment and tried to take out their anger on the small boy, but Eret had taught Hiccup well. Between his skill with a sword, and his fire breathing night fury friend, most of the men quickly decided it was best to leave 'Scáth Rothaí' alone. Providing one more lesson for Hiccup on the immense power of fear.
Somehow, Hiccup found the heat even harder to muddle through than the unwelcome sexual advances and confusing politics. Accustomed to the colder and wetter weather of the north, he found it difficult to adjust to the higher temperatures and typically drier climate. Seeming to suffer from near constant headaches and nose bleeds for the first few weeks. Then the humidity would climb and it felt as if Hiccup's sunburnt skin might actually melt right off his bones. Just getting out of bed every day becoming a struggle, as he fought against the overwhelming fatigue that kept trying to consume him. Sharpshot fussing over Hiccup each time. Bringing cool cloths and fanning his little wings over the boy's overheated skin when the heat sickness was at its worst.
Toothless and Sharpshot, on the other hand, loved this weather. Their body temperature seeming to regulate itself much better than their human's did. Both of them seeking out patches of particularity bright sunlight to curl up in, much like oversized cats. Hiccup would often retreat into his workshop instead, where the concealing curtains also helped to block out some of the blistering sunlight. Using those first few weeks to build Toothless a fully functioning prosthetic fin to replace the restrictive pedal controlled one. Hoping to give his friend back at least a little of what he had so cruelly stolen from him over a year ago.
At first, Roman culture had been difficult to get used to. The language, both written and spoken, was drastically different than his own, and the complex social structure was difficult to navigate. The ways of the people unexpectedly violent, cruel, and seedy. Gratification seemed to be the name of the game here. By the time someone realized what they wanted, someone else had already figured out a way to profit from it. You wanted slaves, you could buy some. You wanted sex, you could buy that too. You wanted to see blood, you just needed enough coin for tickets.
The first time that Hadrian had invited Hiccup to accompany him to the Colosseum, it had been an odd experience. Seated up in the cubiculum, or the Imperial Box, he had been placed to Hadrian's right side. An overly prestigious position, and one that Hiccup knew full well the senators hated to see him in. Hadrian's wife Sabina, a lovely looking woman with a rather cold disposition, clearly hated it as well. Seated to her husband's left, she kept shooting rude glances down her nose at Hiccup every time Hadrian would touch or speak to him. Hiccup could only grimace and shrug apologetically in return. It was common knowledge around the courts that Hadrian and Sabina's marriage was not a love match by any stretch, and much of their problems seemed to stem from Hadrian's sexual preferences. As the current recipient, if not reciprocator, of the older man's affections, Hiccup couldn't help feeling just a little guilty about it.
Once the games had begun though, Hiccup had been completely distracted from his own discomfort. He had been expecting something more like acting or storytelling; not true violence and bloodshed, but he had been wrong. These men, and even some women, were actually fighting for the entertainment of others. It seemed insane! Yet, once again, no one else seemed bothered by the monstrosity of it. In fact, these enslaved 'Gladiators' who were often captured enemy warriors, actually gained some small vestiges of status back depending on how good of a show they put on. The people lusting after them and placing bets on them, while the owner's reaped all the real profits of their pain. What sort of place was this?!
Almost equally as shocking was the sheer number of brothels that existed within the city limits. According to Roman society, women were better seen and not heard. Serving as little more than someone to bare your offspring, or to marry for her family connections. They were not meant to be loved. As such, there were upscale pleasure houses where wealthy men paid good money to have their needs catered to by someone other than their wife. There were also the poverty stricken whorehouses in the poorer districts where struggling women with no other means of income sold their bodies just to survive. Disgusted by this injustice, Hiccup spent most of his time in his home workshop instead, or hunkered down in a library somewhere pouring over scrolls and tomes.
It was during one of these stints in the sprawling Library of Trajan's Forums that he discovered the scrolls of magic. How they had gotten there Hiccup would never know, although apparently many works were relocated from the fire damaged Library of Alexandria. Likely they had originally been a spoil of war from some ancient or conquered land. To Hiccup's complete surprise, along with some 'lighter' magics, the works contained several rather dark spells that were most likely long forgotten, forbidden, or both. All of them written down in various ancient languages taught to him by Bríghid during his time in Briton. Hiccup seriously doubted anyone here could read them, or even knew what they were for that matter. If they had, the scrolls would surely not have been left out in the open and tended to so carelessly. As such, Hiccup promptly relocated them to his private apartments for study and safe keeping.
It took a few months, but eventually Hiccup did grow accustomed to both his new surroundings and his new identity. By the midwinter time of Saturnalia, he was fully immersed in his new world. At nearly 17 years, he was now Scáth Rothaí. The mysterious Dragon Master from the North, and hired mercenary for the Empire with near-hero status. Gone was the old Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III. The runt of Berk, and most un-Vikingly Viking to ever try to swing an axe. Instead of hiding somewhere to avoid getting bullied, he spent these week long festivities drinking, feasting, and making mischief with the other soldiers like a young man without care.
Soon after the celebrations were over however, Scáth was finally heading out to assist the Legionnaires as they restored order to a nearby Province. That very first raid proving more challenging than the young man had anticipated. Having never truly fought humans before, he was ill prepared for the utter brutality his species possessed. Scáth had always thought of himself as more of a pacifist by nature too, so he was also hesitant to hurt the invaders. Clearly sensing this weakness, the brutes had moved in. One of them delivering a debilitating axe blow to Scáth's abdomen that would likely have been fatal if Toothless had not raced him back to Rome. The offending man's blood still dripping from the dragon's jaws as they landed in the palace courtyard to a chorus of alarmed shouts.
Hadrian had been furious when he learned of Scáth's injury. Threatening to execute the commanding officer for letting it happen, and assigning his own physicians to the wounded young man. The emperor himself sitting by Scáth's bedside both day and night as the boy battled through waves of wracking fever and unconsciousness. Rubbing paste of poppy over Scáth's gums to help ease his pain before dropping a tender kiss on the boy's parched lips. Fretting hands pressing cool cloths to the boy's sweaty brow and chest. Toothless only allowing Hadrian this relatively harmless measure of physical contact because he was too concerned about his rider's health. The black dragon remaining firmly curled up at Scáth's side and diligently cleaning the festering wound like a mother would to a hatchling.
In the end, the constant care along with the healing qualities of night fury saliva eventually both proved their worth. Much quicker than anyone could believe possible, Scáth's fever broke and his strength began to return. Another day later, and Scáth was back on his feet. Leaving the palace as quickly as he reasonably could once the lead physician had given him the all clear, much to Hadrian's dismay once again. Trying to shake off the unfortunately vivid memory of Hadrian's mouth on his as he added two more valuable lessons to his ever growing list for survival. Firstly, weakness in this world was tantamount to suicide. Secondly, if he was going to be a soldier, he needed to properly equip himself for the job; both mentally and physically.
As soon as he was home, Scáth healed the last of his wound with magic to prevent it reopening or scarring. Then he immediately took to his workshop yet again. Trading in his short sword and replacing it with a retractable one that sported a much longer blade. The entire thing folding down to the size of the hilt for ease. The design alone was ingenious, and the men openly marvelled at it during training. Never one to settle though, Scáth continued to improve upon it. Strengthening the thin weapon with spells to make it nearly indestructible and enchanting the blade to never lose its razor-sharp edges. Unfortunately, in a land without magic, this was the most he could get away with before he started drawing unnecessary attention to himself.
Once he was satisfied with the durability and function, Scáth then also built a cistern into the hilt that coated the blade with a combustible oil as it extended. This oil could then be lit by a sparking device in the guard, causing the sword to burst into flame yet remain undamaged. Scáth having specifically picked an oil that burned at a low enough temperature to avoid altering the iron. This addition granted the blade its name of 'Inferno', but it was honestly more for intimidation than anything else. Though the flames were certainly more than hot enough to burn a human, Scáth preferred not to use it for that purpose if he could avoid it. Human flesh smelled awful while it was burning.
Along with his new sword, Scáth had also begun to work on a set of functional leather armour. Curing and shaping thick layers of oxhide into stiff pads to protect his shoulders. Others designed for his torso and forearms were stacked, glued, and then hammered to add flexibility. Thin steel throwing knives tucked into easy-to-reach slots hidden within the leather bracers. The whole thing coated in a black paste made from a combination of crushed night fury scales and saliva. It was durable, fireproof, but most importantly, it was light. Much lighter than the Roman armour that Scáth had initially been offered, which had proven too cumbersome and awkward to fly with.
By the second raid, Scáth and Toothless were both far better prepared. Scáth even discovering, much to his surprise, that he was not the pacifist he had always believed himself to be. The thought of hurting dragons still made his stomach turn of course, but apparently killing people came much easier to him. It wasn't like he was murdering the innocent, after all. These were barbarians that looted, burnt down homes, and abused helpless women and children. It was kill or be killed out here anyways, and Scáth had no intention of dying. It wasn't until after the rush of battle wore off that the reality of his actions finally hit.
The nights had been the toughest part. His mind caught in a swirl of chaotic nightmares that left him thrashing in his bed. The faces of his victims flashing through his dreams, and he would awake in a cold sweat. Linens tangled around his legs and his chest heaving as he gasped for air. Sometimes stumbling out of bed to race to the latrine bucket. Other times barely getting his head clear of the mattress before emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor. Toothless nuzzling against his back and hair in worry as he tried to comfort his rider as best he could.
It was during this trying time that Scáth became a man. Spurred on by the advice of his fellow soldiers, the young man finally visited one of the pleasure houses in the upper district. The others had claimed that it was the most enjoyable way to distract yourself after the horrors of battle. Although his first time had been sloppy, filled with nervously fumbling energy, and over much too quickly, it was admittedly pretty enjoyable. Well, for him at least. He hadn't wanted to check her mind for confirmation, but Scáth was pretty sure the lady hadn't found the experience anywhere near as pleasant as he had. One thing was for sure though, the feeling of her warm touch had been much preferable to the uncomfortable shivers caused by Hadrian's wandering hands or eyes.
Still, Scáth couldn't pretend that the act of sex actually eased the torment of his reoccurring nightmares. It just kept him awake while he was doing it, so he supposed in that way the men were partially right. No matter how good it felt at the time though, it also felt horribly wrong afterwards. He was simply using these women like one would a strong drink after a bad day, and it wasn't fair to them. Sure they were offered substantial compensation in return, but Scáth had been taught to worship women as warriors, mothers, and goddesses. Not use them like a crutch to escape his problems. What would Astrid think if she could see him simply taking his turn between the sheets with a shared woman now?
He could practically see her lovely face twisting into a furious scowl before him as he envisioned her fist coming around for his jaw. His mind flinched instinctively at the impending agony, and that was that. From then on, Scáth vowed to stay away from the brothels, keep his letters carefully vague when it came to personal topics, and just hope to the gods that Astrid never heard about any of it. Not that his sex life was of any real concern to Astrid, but still… Better safe than sorry. With that in mind, Scáth took to the Libraries and Lecture Halls instead. Relegating sex back to its 'traditional' place of a pleasurable pastime carried out at home, hopefully with a woman who actually desired him in return. Discovering to his relief that the hours of study served to occupy his weary mind far better than the brothels ever had anyways.
Shortly after his 17th birthday, the growth spurt he never expected to have finally kicked in. It felt like Scáth was having to adjust or replace his armour every other week. There was nothing to be done for it though. He just kept growing! Instead of simply replacing his current armour with a larger version though, he decided to use this as an opportunity to improve on the design with each new set. It took until he was nearly 18, but eventually his black suit was finally perfect. Close fitting, and with designated spots for everything he needed to carry. Inferno now strapped to his thigh while extra oil cartridges slipped into snug leather loops below it. The stiff protective panel on his chest sporting leather and steel clips to secure his bowstring in place during flight.
Compartments everywhere now concealed more of the slender throwing knives. These narrow blades were designed to sink through gaps in armour and then be removed easily, yet tough enough to hold an edge. As the Romans had always been oddly uncomfortable with his left-handed ways, Scáth had also taken the time to learn how to fight equally well with both right and left with any weapon. Due to this, he now wore sturdy leather gauntlets on both arms that served triple purpose. For protection when using his bow, to keep his hands unharmed while Inferno was lit, and to carry more knives.
Eventually he fashioned a full helmet for himself too. Made from black leather and polished steel to match his armour, it was designed to cover his whole head with only cutout slits for eyes. Leaving nothing of his face aside from the bright green orbs visible. Serving to give his slender frame a much more imposing presence when he was on the battlefield instead of on his dragon, as well as greatly reducing the amount of blood and gore that got on his face and in his mouth during a fight. Mostly though, it protected him from wind while flying with Toothless. The only decoration he wore was a small red insignia of a stylized night fury on his chest. This symbol taking the place of the eagle that adorned the standard Roman armour.
Scáth had realized quite early on that the Roman Empire covered a vast expanse of land containing many different peoples and cultures. Most taken by force during the time of previous emperors. As it turns out, not all of them were happy with the emperor's enforced rule. When facing these disgruntled citizens, the lack of clear ties to the Empire on his gear marked Scáth out as a foreigner himself. Most of them taking this to mean that if they left the 'Dragon Master' alone, he would in turn permit them to live. A belief that was generally proven true in many cases.
Thankfully, most campaigns that he had been sent on consisted of tramping down small scale uprisings in the Provinces before they could become full scale rebellions. Usually without too much bloodshed, thanks to Scáth and Toothless. A full grown night fury was enough to scare most rebels into surrender. Not to mention that Scáth had begun to acquire a rather fearsome reputation of his own on the battlefield. Remembering clearly his disgust at the Colosseum, Scáth outright refused to take rebel warriors as prisoners. He just couldn't stand the thought of capturing proud men, only to condemn them to fighting for sport later. Better that his enemies die an honourable death by his hand, than be turned into puppets for those who wish to play at being gods.
There had been some unpleasant battles of course, where Scath's presence alone was not enough to win the day. Mostly when invading tribes had broken through the borders and reached a larger townsite. These fights had been bloody. Days or even weeks of heavy fighting leaving scars on both the land and the people. Many of the invaders were skilled and brutal. The Roman Legions were well outfitted, well organized, and equally as brutal. Still, the horrible acts committed by these barbarians (yes, he knew he used to be one) on the common folk made Scáth feel as if he was fighting on the right side. The side of intellect and order; the side of good.
In the last couple years he had witnessed men having their eyes and hands removed with rusty blades. Left blind and helpless as newborn babes for the scavengers to devour. He had watched as a soldier's tongue was cut out before the brutes sewed his mouth shut. All while he screamed and choked on his own blood. Unfortunately head hunting did occur on both sides, as well as smatterings of ritual blood drinking just to round everything off. Both of which usually never failed to make Scáth's stomach lurch with disgust, even if he recognized them for the fear tactics they truly were. These rebellions had to be crushed by any means necessary though if peace was to be maintained and citizens protected throughout the empire. Of course, it didn't hurt that Hadrian's purse still paid Scáth handsomely for his aid in these matters either…
Unfortunately, his money was not the only thing that Hadrian still wanted to give Scáth. The emperor had never truly lost hope that the young Northerner might finally warm to him, but he was at least more restrained with his affections these days. Still showering favour on the now tall and handsome young man, but opting to keep his wandering hands to himself for a change. Especially once it became avidly clear that Scáth's desires ran strictly towards the so-called 'gentler' sex. That blanket description of womenfolk always making Scáth laugh as he thought of Astrid and Ruffnut. Both of those ladies would likely castrate you with a rusty knife if you dared try to 'put them in their place'.
Over time, the others within the court began to view the mercenary soldier a little differently as well. He was no longer just some scrawny kid that rode a dragon and was Hadrian's current favourite. He was a competent and valuable soldier with a reputation for efficient brutality and a plethora of notches on both his sword and his belt. The necessarily discreet, but still speculated and whispered about, trysts he had with various upper class ladies also making it less and less likely that he was actually the Emperor's plaything. In fact, many of the men now began to envy Scáth for a very different reason. Seeing him as a rogue who didn't play by the rules, and had no need for the brothels because he was already plenty taken care of and the view was always changing.
When he was honest with himself, Scáth couldn't really say whether Rome had changed him or not. Perhaps this place had simply served to bring out the darker beast lying dormant within. It was true that his doorstep rarely bore the same set of dainty feet more than a few times, and each of them were here by there own choice. The women of high status Scáth bedded these days were certainly willing participants in their own depravity. His matured looks, sharply chiseled jawline, and dangerous aura drew them in like moths, and he gave them what they wanted before pushing them back out. Sending them away before they could get too attached. Of course, this meant Scáth was still using them. It was just in a very different way now, and the feeling tended to be mutual.
When he wasn't secretly pleasuring the senators' wives and daughters behind closed doors or out killing for money, Scáth could often be found in the Lecture Halls. Using his remaining free time to hone his mastery of the empire's languages and his skills in debate. Dabbling into geography, geometry, music, literature, and even philosophy now. His desire for knowledge seemingly just as insatiable as his libido. He rarely attended lectures on mythology though, as he was not bound to the religions of this land and had little bother for them. Besides, Scáth's own abilities with magic (which had grown considerably under his self-guided study) had given him reason to doubt the existence of gods. Powerful magical users, sure. Indestructible gods controlling destiny through sheer will, unlikely.
He was still managing to compose letters to Astrid and Gobber in amongst everything else though, but they were nowhere near as numerous as he would have liked. Partly because he was busy, but mostly because he just felt so awful asking Sharpshot to fly across the world just to deliver pieces of parchment for him. Wanting to cram as much as possible into each one, he always made sure to include drawings. Mostly of the beautiful buildings and arches around the city, as well as the bustling markets. Things that were difficult to describe in words, as his friends had nothing similar enough to compare them to. Scáth still vividly remembered his own initial struggles to comprehend this place, even when he was looking right at it.
Judging by Astrid's return letters, she and Gobber had managed to keep Stoick from finding a way to Dragon Island. Though with raids occurring more frequently, they were not sure how long this could last. At least Toothless had ensured Scáth that the humans were essentially searching for a bone needle in a stack of hay. Claiming that it was highly unlikely any other than a dragon would ever be able to find the island after entering Helheim's Gate. The ships would simply get lost and disoriented in the fog. That did help ease Scáth's mind somewhat.
No matter what was happening in his world though, Scath's mind always ended up straying right back to Astrid. Even when he was actively trying not to think of her. So it was that when he found himself in a workshop making a new type of metal, he started to think he might get her something. The men here were melting different types of unknown minerals and iron ores together in a crucible. The end result being an extremely strong and flexible sword with a beautiful pattern like flowing waves winding through it that reminded Scáth of the ocean, and perhaps a little of Astrid's eyes. Making up his mind on the spot, he commissioned an axe blade and paid the men handsomely with some of the amber he still had leftover from Melody Island.
After the axe head was completed, Scáth built a handle out of the finest piece of thyine wood money could buy. It was thought to be a magical wood and should, therefore, carry the enchantments better than any other. Into the handle he carved blessing runes for luck and prosperity mixed in with Celtic knots. The blade carrying an assortment of spells he had either learned from Bríghid or found in the discovered scrolls. The ancient and powerful runes etched into the metal itself, and concealed within more twining knots.
Some of the more minor ones were similar to Inferno, and merely kept the edge ever sharp and unaffected by time or use. A few simply acted like discreet warding spells and would alert Scáth if Astrid was in danger. Those were mostly for his sake, as Astrid was a warrior and could fight her way out of most trouble without his help. The remaining runes held much more potent magic though. Spells that would only activate if Astrid was in mortal peril and these she would certainly notice, along with everyone else around her. The runes bursting to life with his glowing green magic as they surrounded her with a sort of misdirection shield that should protect her from just about anything, aside from someone either highly skilled in the arcane or immune to it. Both of which Astrid was unlikely to encounter within the Barbaric Archipelago.
He had also made her a small and seemingly decorative necklace that was enchanted to grow warm whenever she thought about him. Much like the silent wards in her axe, the spell was subtle, but undeniably powerful in its own way. It was both inappropriate and a tad dangerous to carry such blatantly magical items in the superstitious Archipelago, but Scáth honestly cared little about that. So what if someone saw the axe glowing as long as it saved her life. He also knew that he had no right to give her such gifts. They only communicated through letters and were barely friends at most. The axe alone was beyond a betrothal gift, but Scáth hoped she would accept it anyways.
Of course Scáth was not fooling himself with romantic notions. Though the necklace baring his insignia could certainly be misconstrued as him staking a claim on her, it really wasn't meant to be. He just wanted someone to remember the small boy from the forge that he was before the world darkened him. Her blushing butterfly kiss in the cove feeling like the physical embodiment of the glorious innocence he had left behind that night. Everything had changed so drastically after that. Though it had only been three years since that night, he felt as if he had aged so much more than that. Would Astrid even like the man he was becoming?
Scáth had just carefully packaged the necklace back up after looking it over again. His body now sitting at his workshop desk perusing his stolen magic scrolls, but his mind far away in another land across the sea. That was when he heard a knock on the door of his apartments. Shoving the scrolls back into a warded drawer with a muttered curse, he strolled downstairs to answer it. Finding a young messenger from the palace standing anxiously on the other side.
Apparently Scáth and his dragon were needed up at the Imperial Guard immediately. The small boy eyeing up the mercenary nervously as he informed Scáth that he was to come prepared for battle. "Figures," Scáth grumbled loudly as he rolled his eyes and passed the boy a piece of silver for his troubles. A lopsided smirk twisting his lips briefly as he watched the youth promptly scamper back towards the safety of the palace gates with barely a nod of thanks in return. All the while wondering if this empire ever experienced a moment of true peace.
*
The druidess sat quietly, meditating. She was alone in the centre of the stone circle. Though she appeared to be lost to the energies around her, she was actually listening carefully to the night. She was waiting. The vision had shown her that it would be here and she had come to the circle alone every night since for three days past.
Suddenly she heard the sound that she had been waiting for. The flutter of soft wings gliding through the darkness and a strong presence growing nearer. Opening her eyes, she saw a shiny black raven perched on the stone nearest her. One beady onyx eye fixed intently upon her face.
"Good evening Huginn. I have been expecting you to arrive for some time. I was sure the Allfather had been alerted to the bonding and would begin the search. I must tell you that the one you search for is indeed on Midgard, but you are late. He has travelled to the south and has been living in the midst of a great empire there. I am afraid it will be harder for Ilweran to locate him. Though perhaps not, since dragons are much more rare in the south lands."
She then sent the image of Hiccup and his night fury from her mind to the raven's. "He may look different now. It has been over two years since I last saw him and he was only a boy then. He goes by the name of Scáth Rothaí now. This may make him easier to find."
The raven rustled its wings and nodded once before taking off into the night to relay the message. Her work completed, Bríghid made her way slowly back to the village. The times were changing and the path of destiny was beginning to reveal itself. Perhaps now she would finally be able to go home.
*
Scáth had just finished putting on his armour and strapping on his assorted weapons when Toothless finally landed on the top floor balcony. The dragon had taken a detour over the barracks and had seen an enormous battalion readying itself to leave. Unfortunately it did not look like this was to be another minor skirmish. Sighing, Scáth grabbed his helmet and headed down to the street again before stopping to cast the wards. Sealing his home against any other than himself, Sharpshot, or Toothless, before flying up to meet the Guard.
Arriving in the midst of the soldiers, he quickly located the captain and got the run down. Apparently a man named Simon bar Kokhba had united the Jewish population of the Province of Judea. There had already been two other wars in this region, so when news arrived that Quintus Tineius Rufus (the provincial governor of Judea) had failed to prevent another uprising, the emperor was furious. Reinforcements had been sent to aid the garrison stationed in the province, but it was not enough. Kokhba had now managed to establish an independent state after several small victories over the Roman forces.
This was the last straw for Hadrian. The emperor ordered a full force to march on Judea under the command of General Sextus Julius Severus. They were to restore order to the province by removing the Jewish threat indefinitely. Spirits had been high when they had departed the city, as the men were convinced they could already taste victory on the air. By now though the men had been marching for days under the blistering sun, and the initial adrenaline euphoria had begun to taper off somewhat. Scáth and Toothless often choosing to rest through the day instead. Easily catching up to the legions at night when it was cooler.
The already large army was joined along the route by even more men from around the empire. Bringing their number to six full legions. This was going to be a blood bath. Scáth used the days alone to prepare himself mentally for what he would have to do and see, while the army marched on through the baking sands. When they finally reached Judea it was to find a province in ruin and a well prepared army. These were no ram-shackle rebel forces, but a trained battalion of at least 200,000; maybe more. Some were probably even ex-legionnaires, with all the training that came along with that status.
Apparently they were more than ready to cast off their forced fealty to the emperor. To mark this point, the rebels had placed the heads of Roman officers on stakes at the border to act as a welcoming party. Vacant, glassy eyes and rotting, infested flesh feeling like a glimpse into the future. Many more would die here before this was over.
"Well, this should be fun," came Toothless' dry voice in his head. Causing Scáth to laugh out loud. Instantly thankful that they weren't near enough for any of the Romans to hear him. They already thought he was scary enough without the dark battlefield humour.
_
Our hero has been keeping busy. Seems the Roman Empire is more than he expected. Is it more than you expected? This chapter now paints his first two years in Rome with a relatively broad brush, while still giving us some detailed glimpses into what he's had to go through and the way it has served to shape him. He's done some inventing, learned some important things, and he's also now ventured into the seedier sides of life. Sex and violence, Rome was known for its excesses of both after all.
On that note, anyone that knows anything about ancient rulers (and even some more modern ones), or looked up Hadrian in particular, should not be overly shocked by what they read here. I had initially been planning to drop these truth bombs by way of flashbacks in the third book, but I like them better out in the open like this. (That, and I'm finding during editing/writing that I really, really dislike time skips. Blergh...!) To put it simply, a heck of a lot of powerful men throughout history have had an unfortunate liking for adolescent boys. Emperor Hadrian was a particularly notable one, and his previous love interest Antinous (111 AD - 130 AD) died just a couple years previous to Hiccup's arrival. If you did your research before the edit, you may have already been able to figure out what would happen when a new and innocent young boy with a cute face arrived in his court. If not, well, here it is in full colour. No, it's not nice, but neither is the world most of the time.
After all this, it's not really surprising that we are already seeing hints of the way life experience is beginning to change Hiccup. I would like to note that he and Astrid are pen-pals at most. He had a huge crush on her in Berk, but he has seen more of the world now. Whatever they had in that one moment is now a fond memory of what may have been. He is not that little boy anymore. The types of horrors he has witnessed have frankly left him with nightmares and the desperate desire to find distractions. At least he hasn't turned to drink.
As for the next two years... Well, I did promise blood...
*For those that might be worried: No, Hadrian never had his way with Hiccup. Toothless would never allow that to happen. Lol