Broken and bloodied, Hiccup is paraded through the burned ruins of his country.
He has seen dragon fire. He has felt dragon fire. But even dragon fire's destruction cannot match the smoldering, man-made fires that consumed his kingdom.
From his position in the procession, he can see the remains of his people. They huddle by the edges of the road and in the tree-line like refugees of a war-torn land. Meeting their eyes, he can see their suffering. He tries to instill courage in them with his glances, but they only offer him a look of pity before lowering their eyes to the dirt.
Hobbled and trapped as he is, he can do nothing to inspire them. Perhaps, he thinks sadly, that is very reason Queen Hofferson has kept him alive.
Imprisoned by her, the breaking of his spirit can be made into a spectacle to break the spirit of his people. Had he been slain in battle, his Hooligans would have risen up in his honor, raising their swords in the futile defense of a dead man's honor.
The wagon lurches, throwing Hiccup forward. Wrists bound behind his back, he is unable to catch himself and he hits the floor with a dull thud. His head rings and he can hear the laughter of the soldiers from above.
He can do nothing to nurse his ego or save his people.
xXx
Hauled from the wagon and thrown over the shoulder of a soldier, Hiccup feels more like a sack of grain than a prisoner of war.
To the surprise of his captors, he doesn't fight. Instead, he takes in the view of his homeland as they carry him toward the docks. After all, it may be the last time he ever sees it and he wants to remember the wind moving through the trees and the glistening sand of his beaches.
The king of dragons, born for the sky and not the sea, is imprisoned in the belly of a warship.
The journey to the Eastlands is long, Hiccup knows this.
Locked away in his cell, his stomach turns with each wave that bashes against the hull of the ship. It feels as though the Great West Ocean and Sea of Suffering do not want the King of the Wilderwest to leave his archipelago. Their attempts are in vain, however, as the warship slices through the waves and presses ever forward.
He is given nothing to settle his stomach, though the daily rations of bread and water help ease the churning inside of him.
In his cell, time means little. The only indications he has are the changing of the guards and the sliver of light that hits his cell when the ocean is at peace.
Above his cage, a porthole allows in the smell of ocean air and when the sea is calm, a glimpse of the sky. The open-air calls to him, but grounded in every sense of the vile word, he can do little but yearn for the feeling of wind in his hair and scales beneath his hands. It's the cruelest injustice he's faced in the war to date.
The guards that stand outside his cell speak on his fate once they reach the Eastlands. They take bets on the number of days he has left.
Stubborn and prideful, Hiccup refuses to let their words shake him. He keeps his eyes toward the porthole and waits to see the sky.
xXx
In the nights, he calls for his wings. Screeching in that too-Night-Fury-to-be-human way, he seeks his Dragon-Brother. The guards view him as a demon.
Hiccup receives no response from his Dragon-Brother, but he knows his wings are alive. He would feel it in his bones and in his soul and in everything that is him if his Dragon-Brother had been lost to the war.
At nights, he calls for his wings.
But not this night. He hears the guards whispering of the queen's visitation and he hears her steps as she draws closer to his cage. Slowing his breathing, he pretends to be asleep. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, and she must believe his ruse because she leans down to study him curiously.
With cold eyes, she watches him. Her long blonde hair falls around her shoulders unrestrained, and through his lashes, Hiccup watches her and thinks that she could be beautiful if hatred and death did not follow her like shadows.
"Has he called for his dragon?" She whispers to her guards.
"Not tonight, Your Grace." They respond.
"Is it true he speaks their language?" She asks, and Hiccup thinks he can hear in awe in her voice.
"It's true. I've heard himself," One guard replies.
"It's…unnatural," Another adds.
"It's wonderful," Astrid corrects. "He will train dragons for my army. With his help, we will finally take back everything that was stolen from us."
"And if he won't help?" A guard asks.
"Then he will die."
When she leaves, he calls for his Dragon-Brother.
xXx
Days pass and Hiccup is carted across the sea like a prize jewel to be sold in a faraway bazaar.
The warship, finally, finds its home in the docks of the Eastland and Hiccup is brought onto land for the first time in weeks. Land—even foreign land—gives him hope. Land means open sky and dragons. It means resistance and survival and freedom.
Given his prosthetic, but restrained by two guards, Hiccup is led in the Queen's cavalcade. He stumbles through the streets of the Eastland's capital city, taking in the sight of the tall, stone buildings and the jeering faces of its people. In the distance, Queen Hofferson's fortress home looms in. Beneath its shadow, the queen rides on a horse of solid white.
She holds her head high, basking in the praise of her people as the war party files ever closer to its home. At her horse's feet, flowers are thrown and in the air, songs are carried from ear to ear.
Children point and mock at Hiccup, but they fall silent and stare in awe at his dragons.
Deadly Nadders, the conquering queen's favorite, are brought, caged and muzzled, on carts pulled by horses. The dragons hold their heads as though they are not prisoners. They brandish the spines on their tails, hissing beneath the muzzles and swinging their thorny crowns.
Behind the Deadly Nadders, a platoon of soldiers surrounds a single age.
Inside, a black dragon paces. Taking a single step, the dragon turns his body, tail curled around his legs, and steps in the other direction. His eyes, slits of black against green, glare out into the throng of people. Mouth bound by a muzzle, he cannot roar a challenge to the false queen's authority. He searches for his Viking-Brother.
Over the soldiers and the Nadders, Hiccup's eyes meet Toothless's and their world settles.
Toothless smiles, gummy and pink, behind the harsh metal of his muzzle and it feels Hiccup's heart with the happiest mixture of pride and relief.
If Toothless is still alive then all can still be well. With his fire and his wings, they can take back what was lost.
Hiccup stands straighter, posture befitting the king he is.
It is then, that Hiccup fortifies his mettle and swears to his gods—though he does not know if they can hear him in this foreign land.
He is a dragon. And dragons do not bow for conquerors.
Hiccup swears this to himself and his Dragon-Brother.
He swears they will touch the sky again.