Five.

Hiccup felt his entire body clench in terror as the steward of the whorehouse, Sundby, inspected him with cruel, triumphant eyes. His fist clenched. "I knew you'd be back, boy-and this time you'll never leave!" he menaced. Hiccup struggled against the grips holding him, his eyes wide with terror and tears starting in his gaze.

"N-no," he breathed pleadingly. "P-please…I-I c-can't d-do this…" Sundby fisted his hair and stared into the terrified face.

"I will break you, boy and then I will watch you beg to be ridden by our roughest clients!" he shouted. The boy cringed back into the man holding him, his body shuddering in fear. The man-Ack-looked very uncomfortable and he cast a questioning glance at Spitelout. The man was cold and oblivious but Snotlout was looking as uncomfortable: though he sneered at the smaller boy's weakness and wounds, he could see the terror was real and the threats were not ones he would want to face. He glanced up to Ack and gave a slight nod. The big Viking looked almost relieved as his grip loosened on the boy and Hiccup took his chance, kicking Sundby in the groin, breaking free and running.

Spitelout turned in rage on his son but Snotlout frowned back and marched from the whorehouse, leaving Sundby clutching at his abused assets and screaming for his thugs to go and track down the boy. The Heir to Berk strode down the hill, his angry father and fellow tribesman at his back. He felt safe but knew now the other boy wasn't. He wouldn't admit it to anyone but he knew now that what they had done was wrong.

When they arrived back, Stoick was on the boat and shouting for the boy. His face was frantic. He grabbed Snotlout as soon as he stepped off the gangplank. "Have you seen him? The boy-Hiccup? Where is he?" The Heir was taken aback.

"Er-er… he left," he lied automatically. "He-he said he had someone to see…" Stoick's face hardened and Snotlout back-pedalled.

"He has no one!" he snapped.

"Oh, that's what he told you?" Spitelout sneered. Stoick turned to him, his eyes narrowing.

"Brother?" he probed, his fists tightening.

"You know he was just using you?" Spitelout taunted him. "He's a body-slave, working as a whore…" Stoick took a breath and his voice was dangerously soft.

"I know," he said. "I saw him there. He escaped and I saw him beaten and dragged back. When I got back, he had been severely beaten and whipped. He was frightened. Then I heard him screaming. He was being raped, brother-and screaming every instant of the time. I couldn't leave him. I bought him. I promised that I would not hurt him!"

"Eh, he fooled you well…" Spitelout sneered.

"He was being assaulted!" Stoick shouted. "He was begging for help. I can tell a real plea from a fake! I promised him I would protect him." Spitelout froze. That actually made things worse. "What have you done?" the Chief snarled.

"Er…we took it back to get your money…" he stammered. Stoick gave a roar of fury.

"Do you know how many men I had to fight to get him OUT of there?" he snarled.

"Er…he did run away once we got him there!" Spitelout confessed as Snotlout and Ack shared a glance. Stoick rolled his eyes.

"So I fight my way out of there, buy the boy's freedom and promise him my protection and then you clowns kidnap him back there, GIVE him back to his abuser for nothing and lose him so every patron and henchman there is on his tail?" he asked with forced patience.

"Erm…yes?"

"Then get your asses up the hill and find that boy-or don't bother coming back at all!" the Chief roared and the three miscreants ran for it. Gobber walked up to his angry friend.

"I think I'll go looking as well," he offered mildly. "That lad has been badly hurt and if they get their hands on him, I dread to think what they'll do!" Stoick rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"He's done a fantastic job surviving three years since he was handed into slavery by his tribe," he told the blacksmith, "but he is all out of options. And courage. He couldn't cope in that place, Gobber-it would kill him. The steward would kill him. And I promised I would protect him." Gobber nodded.

"We'll protect him," he promised as the two friends walked into the night.

oOo

Hiccup felt the stitch stab his side and he whimpered. He was slowing and he was still a long way from any safety. He could barely run due to his injuries but he had used the element of surprise and gotten a few streets between himself and the whorehouse. But he had few places to go. He couldn't go to the docks, obviously-if the men had removed him, it had to be at Chief Stoick's command. He had seen the black-haired man talk at length with the Chief and he had clearly won the day. Hiccup honestly didn't know what he had done wrong but somehow, he had lost that wonderful, miraculous chance for a new life. He couldn't stay in the civilised areas because Sundby would find him with ease. So he had only one choice: the old town, the rackety warehouses and rotting houses clinging to the far waterfront. It was the haunts of dangerous, desperate and violent men that Hiccup avoided of necessity because they preyed on the weak. But he really was done for now: there was nowhere else. So he straightened up and headed down the hill and blinked in fear, before hesitantly stepping onto the rotting boards and entering the old town.

The boy limped slowly forward, every sense straining. He was cold and everything hurt. His stomach was hollow, his mouth dry and his heart felt broken. He kicked himself mentally: he had let every guard down as the big Viking came to see him and he had trusted him. He had dropped his guard, told the man his tale and he had allowed himself to hope when he had taken him from that place. His return had been the cruellest of jokes, a blow that he thought would shatter him. He lowered his head and took a shuddering breath.

A scrittering sound had his head snapping round and peering nervously into the darkness. Sharing the old town with rats wouldn't be so bad, right? It was the human rats that had him worried. But he could imagine Sundby's henchmen closing, their hands crushing his skinny arms and their laughs as their fists smacked into his flesh once more. He limped forward and paused: he felt dizzy. He hadn't eaten all day and had been given precious little water. And he had not even started to process the fact that he had been raped…

He froze and felt himself begin to shiver. It had been a dire mistake to start thinking because the moment he started to consider just what had happened to him, it became all he could think of. The images rushed back, the sights and sounds and smells. The feelings of utter powerlessness and shame, the threats, the eyes on him, looking with scorn and disgust. And the pain…oh, the pain. He turned and scrambled along the rotting walkways, arms flailing and eyes wide with tears streaking his battered face. He just kept running until he was finally faced with a blank wall. He stared around wildly until he found a small corner and collapsed there, his arms wrapped around his body and his face buried in his knees as he sobbed in utter misery.

He lost track of how long he stayed there, but he had run out of tears and had calmed to the odd hiccup and sniff when he could finally breathe and think once more. And he was feeling dreadfully cold when the scrape of a foot had him freezing, his shoulders hunched and arms tightening around his skinny frame. If it was his hunters, he was lost. And he didn't want to see his doom. But he still yelped as a hand grabbed his hair and wrenched his hair up-to face cold and cruel eyes. The fact they weren't the eyes of Sundby's henchmen gave him little reassurance as three rough looking men dragged the battered boy to his feet and pressed him against the rotting wall behind him.

"What have we got 'ere?" one said, his hand grabbing Hiccup's face and moving it to inspect him completely. "Little rat?" The second narrowed his eyes as Hiccup's frightened green gaze saw their short knives and calloused fists.

"Search the boy-he may have some goodies on him!" he hissed. And rough hands touched every part of him, fingers roughly probing his shape for money or anything of value. But all they found was a torn tunic stained with blood, a pair of stained leggings and some boots too small to be of any use to his attackers. And a battered, skinny body that had taken too much abuse recently. He just went rigid, his eyes wide and mouth closed in fear. Every intrusive touch brought images sleeting back through his vision as they pawed him, over and over. Finally, the men finished assaulting him and the first nuzzled his neck.

"There are goodies here," he murmured, his hand sliding down the boy's thin chest again, feeling the lad hyperventilate. "And you can make some good friends here," he whispered to the boy. Hiccup blinked and tears trickled down his cheeks.

"Don't need any more," he gasped. Any like you, he added silently. He shook his head.

"Do you want the guard to know you're an escaped slave?" the second man sneered. He had felt the brand through the thin tunic. Hiccup swallowed and looked at him in a silent plea. He shook his head again.

"So you can be nice to us or we hand you over," the man hissed. Hiccup struggled.

"No!" he said suddenly. "You don't want to deal with the guards any more than I do!" The man's dark eyes narrowed.

"Clever boy!" he sneered and slapped Hiccup. "But we don't want your sass, boy! And if you won't play nice, then we'll play nasty!" Then suddenly, all three men were hitting and punching him. They allowed him to drop to the ground and he curled up, trying to protect himself as the thuds of boots hitting his body sounded in the little alley. He bit his lips to stop himself from crying out, knowing that would enrage them further. Suddenly, they pulled away.

"Get out of here!" the first man shouted and the battered boy scrambled to his feet, whimpering and stumbling as he desperately ran away from the men. Where wasn't the question: away was all that was important. Wildly, he ran, his feet slipping on the slimy boards. He heard footsteps behind him and he flinched, running as fast as he could until he broke through the edge of the old town and found himself in the docks once more. He staggered to a halt, suddenly uncertain what he could do. A large Viking slammed into him and he collapsed with a groan.

"Gettout the way!" he roared and the boy cringed-and then he heard the cries.

"There he is!"

"Get him!"

He stared in fear at the sound of those voices: those were the men he feared. He staggered up, his breaths so fast that he could barely get any air in. Then he turned and ran along the docks, his small shape weaving between the Vikings and sailors. He gasped for air: he was almost unable to walk any further. And then he found himself facing an empty mooring: he was trapped. He swallowed as Sundby's men stopped, cutting him from the main walkway. He turned to them and his face paled further. He swallowed.

"H-hey guys," he offered in a small, terrified voice. "N-nice night…"

"You really don't learn, do yer, boy?" the first man snarled. He advanced a pace. "Sundby is very angry at you." Hiccup gave an inward groan.

"He-he's always angry," he managed. The second man closed on him.

"You kicked him in a personal place," he sneered. "So he's gonna get a very personal revenge." Hiccup whimpered.

"I-I am a free-free man," he protested. "I-I was bought in front of witnesses and Sundby has no-no…"

A hand closed around his throat, choking off his protests and he clawed at the hands, his eyes wide with terror.

"I'm gonna enjoy watching what he does with you," the first man said, his eyes menacing. Hiccup struggled pitifully and his eyes burned with tears again. He mouthed the word 'please' but he knew there was no chance of clemency. He was thrown into the grasp of the second man and he was secured, still writhing and fighting until a series of blows to his face knocked the fight out of him. He lifted his head blearily as he was hauled back to the main walkway-and then they stopped.

"I think you should put him down," Gobber said, his eyes glinting. He brandished his hook. The henchmen gave a nasty grin.

"Get out of our way, Hook-hand!" the second sneered. "This little slave is ours!" The blacksmith gave a mild look.

"Really? I thought he belonged to Stoick the Vast?" he said and his voice hardened. "You know-him?" And he grinned as the Chief stepped heavily forward, his hand on his sword. Gobber leaned forward and gave a very nasty grin as his friend walked alongside and the two Berkians faced the henchmen. Their eyes swivelled up to inspect the Chief, who had handily beaten them previously. Gobber was edging forward, his hook raised and ready and no longer anything to joke about. "I suggest you might need all your hands," he said, staring at the second man and he urgently let Hiccup go. Gobber grabbed him quickly, pulling the boy against his side. He could feel Hiccup trembling. Stoick glared at the men and jerked his head.

"GO!" he snapped. The men stared at him for a second-then ran for it. The Chief glared after them for a moment, but made no move to chase: he didn't need to capture them, just frighten them off. Then he walked heavily towards the trembling boy and stopped by the shivering shape. Hiccup lifted his frightened green eyes and bit on his lower lip. He wouldn't let himself be hurt again, wouldn't trust him if it meant being cast aside once more. He had dropped his defences and had been repaid by betrayal and abuse. The Chief dropped to one knee and stared eye to eye with the lad. "Hiccup?" he said gently. "Where did you go?"

"I-I didn't go anywhere," he said thickly. He could taste blood in his mouth and his vision was still spinning.

"They told me what they did," Stoick said softly. "I never ordered this. I took you from there because you asked for my help. I am going to take you home-to Berk. And you are under my protection, Hiccup. Please, believe me-I will protect you."

Hiccup started and then it hit him: the man hadn't had anything to do with his removal. The black-haired man hadn't won the argument-so he had defied the Chief anyway-and condemned Hiccup... Stoick didn't want him to go. He was going to keep his promise. He had come back for him.

He burst into tears. Gobber stared down on him in surprise as the boy pressed his hands to his face and sobbed, his thin body shuddering with grief and shock. He forced himself to recall the boy had already had a busy day. Stoick, though, knew how badly the boy had suffered and he gently opened his arms and leaned closer to the boy.

"I promised to protect you," he said gently. Hiccup looked up and saw the honest concern in his eyes-and this time, he flung himself against the big man's chest, his head buried in his neck and arms wrapped tightly around the huge man. Stoick gently wrapped his arms around the slight shape, tight enough to make him feel protected but gentle enough to not hurt his wounds. Hiccup clung to him for a long time, until he finally caught his breath and felt secure enough to lift his head and offer a crooked smile.

"Thank you, sir," he managed. His green eyes were still shy and wary but his pale face, bruised and battered, was very slightly hopeful. "And-and thank you for coming to rescue me." He lifted his head. "You too, Gobber," he said calmly. The blacksmith nodded.

"Polite boy yer got there, Stoick!" he commented. "But we're out here and I'd rather be back on the ship, if yer get my meaning." The Chief nodded and rose carefully to his feet, his hand resting lightly on the boy's shoulders. Hiccup tensed for a short second before allowing himself to feel protected by the touch. He gave a slight smile as the Chief led them back to the ship.

The others were there when they got back and the boy's smile vanished, his shoulders hunching and eyes widening with fear. Stoick could feel his breathing accelerate as he stopped. The Chief tightened his grip on the shoulders, ignoring the slight hiss of pain as he grabbed his whip-gashes and steered him onto the deck. Spitelout looked angry and his eyes promised an unpleasant time for the boy, but Snotlout appeared uncomfortable. Stoick glared at them both and pointedly pulled the boy closer to him.

"Let me make this VERY CLEAR," he said sternly. "Hiccup here is under my protection. He will go back to Berk as a free man, not a slave. He will be treated with respect and that is FINAL! DO we all UNDERSTAND?" The men mumbled acquiescence and the Chief turned his baleful glare to the rest of the crew. There was vigorous mumbling and nodding of heads: no one wanted to annoy the Chief. Then Stoick grabbed the boy and led him down to a small cabin that he had been granted as Chief. Usually, he slept with the men but he was concerned for the boy so he entered and Hiccup followed-and then froze. His throat bobbed and his eyes widened. Stoick gestured to the bed.

"I-I am grateful, sir, but…" Hiccup began in a choked voice, his eyes burning again. The Chief cut him off.

"You will sleep here, in the warm and away from the men," he commented sternly. "I will stay upstairs with Gobber and the men. You need warmth and protection-and food, I see. I'll fetch you a bite: we're all hungry!" The boy swallowed.

"I can't sleep here!" he said in an appalled voice. Stoick frowned. "You're the CHIEF! I can't steal your bed!" The Chief scowled at the boy and he gave a shamed whimper. "You spared me from…a horrible fate. You rescued me twice. And I can't repay you by stealing your bed!" Stoick stared down at the boy and folded his arms.

"If I sleep in here, the men will assume that I am having you," he said gruffly. Hiccup sighed.

"If you sleep with the men, then so do I," he argued quietly. "I'm already having real problems with acceptance from them. I can't disrespect you so, sir." Stoick stared at the boy. Then he nodded.

"So we both sleep on the deck, in the cold," he said. Hiccup gave a wan smile.

"I can guarantee it will be better than the whorehouse," he murmured.

After a meal of roast pork, fresh bread and mead, the crew-except the assigned watchman-curled in their various spots. The meal had been awkward for Hiccup, sitting quietly by Gobber and listening. No one cast him anything other than an unfriendly glare and he kept his head down, ravenously wolfing his food like the starving wretch he was. Stoick had been debating with Spitelout, Ack, Gobber and Haaland and the boy had been aware that the other boy-Snotlout-was eyeing him calculatingly. Hiccup felt uncomfortable and inspected his mug furiously-until Stoick leaned across and pressed another chunk of pork in his hand.

"Eat!" he commanded. "You're nothing but skin and bone!" The boy gave a slight, embarrassed smile and tore into the food, his stomach filling quickly. Snotlout leaned towards his father and gave a snide comment. The man gave a cruel smile and Hiccup shuddered: he knew he should try to steer clear of them. But now, the crew were looking for the spots to sleep.

There was actually a shelter, a low awning that shielded the prow for Stoick and the Elders. Hiccup watched the Chief take his place and grab a blanket and he watched as the other men took their own places. And then he blinked, his head swinging around for an unoccupied space. At the far end, close to the gangplank and any intruder, there was a gap. No blankets were left and the aching and bruised boy gave a sigh, then wearily turned and began to limp to the only gap. But the Chief looked up and saw the boy painfully drag himself away. He sat up sharply.

"Hiccup!" he called. The boy turned like a shot, his green eyes alarmed. He wondered what he had done wrong now and he dipped his head, his auburn hair falling across his suddenly anxious face.

"Sir?" he murmured. His teeth were beginning to chatter. Stoick beckoned him closer and held up a blanket.

"There's room here," he said gently. "You did promise you ate little and took up less space. You seem to deliver on both counts, lad." Self-consciously, the boy came closer, his steps halting. He could see Snotlout and Spitelout glare hatefully at the ragged slave, being asked to share a coveted place by the Chief. He swallowed and tried to step over but Snotlout managed to trip him and he slammed into the deck with a loud thud and a gasp of pain. He breathed heavily and painfully levered himself to his hands and knees. Stoick sat up and watched the boy painfully collapse to the deck, curling up and wrapping his arms around his abused shape. The boy looked pale and the Chief had to remind himself that the boy had been raped, only a few hours earlier. He had a lot of injuries to deal with. He leaned forward and gently tucked the blanket around the little shape, curled tightly just by his feet.

"Th-thank you, sir," Hiccup murmured, his eyes closing exhaustedly. Stoick lay down, a smile tilting his lips.

"Sleep well, son," he murmured.