A/N: Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence

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Thirty One: We want you home

Outcast Island jutted up from the grey sea, the jagged outline familiar and harsh. There were no forests or bushes to soften the hard edges of the barren land, little water and a horrible climate: it was no wonder that the island had been ceded to the Outcasts. But the seastacks barely protected the harbour and the Berkian fleet glided quietly through the mists towards the moorings. All the fighters had clasped their weapons tighter: no one believed the Outcasts would give up without a fight.

Stoick gave a brusque gesture and Gobber nodded, waving to the next ship in line. All of the fighters had come, even Mildew, though no one had been happy at his miserable. corrosive presence. He had been complaining non-stop that this was an insult, that they should be rushing off to rescue the boy when the village had been attacked-but Gobber, Ivar Hofferson and even Spitelout had pointed out that no one had asked him to come.

Astrid and the other teens were tense as well, for they had come for their friend…well, she and Fishlegs had. The twins were there because they were still sore at Snotlout for destroying their home and his lack of remorse and because there was the prospect of a fight and some destruction. It was crazy and stupid which had twins written all over it, in fact. And Astrid felt guilt wrack her that she hadn't had a chance to give Hiccup more lessons so that maybe, he could have held out longer against Alvin so he would not have made the choice he had to. A choice she was proud he had made because it was brave and honourable-two things few of the Hooligans credited the young outsider with being. She twirled her axe in her hand and tightened her grip. Somehow, they would get him back.

The Berkian ships curled their course round and headed into the harbour, hearing explosions and seeing purple flashes destroying the catapults. There was no fire on the attacking ships: in fact, they seemed almost completely unnoticed and the warriors wondered what was happening. And then, a sleek black shape soared overhead, wings flapping desperately and sagging to its left as it rocketed on a decaying flight, losing height and vanishing beyond the few ragged sea stacks before it finally vanished. Astrid thought she heard a despairing roar and a loud splash…and then nothing…

But they were at at the harbour and their ships headed to the moorings. The warriors ducked down, raised their weapons and prepared, knowing once they landed, all Helheim would break loose. So the attackers drew in breath, tensed and then smashed into the docks of Outcast Island.

oOo

Hiccup had stopped screaming by the tenth blow, his sounds reduced to pitiful moans as the crack of the whip continue to sound. Each vicious blow sprayed his blood from his lacerated body and Alvin gave an approving laugh at the sight.

"Not so defiant are yer now, 'Iccup?" he roared and the crowd of Outcasts all cheered at the sight of the skinny boy being tortured. Hiccup's head slumped forward against the hard wood of the post and he clawed at unconsciousness desperately. He could feel the hot blood running down his skin as he was torn to pieces by the whip and he wondered briefly if being raped by Alvin wouldn't have been less painful. But this, at least, wasn't so abhorrent psychologically, if not physically.

Another blow landed and he gave a low moan. It really was all he could do: there was no strength left. His body felt on fire and even breathing hurt. All he could hear was the crowd of Outcast guards that Alvin had rounded up, baying for his blood and he chewed hard on his split lip. Alvin had given him a real pasting before he had decided not to kill him outright and Hiccup wished he had just finished the job. And seeing Toothless fall after that brief magical moment of hope had been crushing. He could see no way out of his torment now as the whip hit again and he felt himself sag. He was losing his senses now and he wondered if he would ever open his eyes again.

He wished he could have thanked Stoick in person.

But the next blow never fell. There were shouts and the sounds of movement. Outcasts were running, there were the sounds of metal clanging on metal. Battle? He blinked slowly. His senses were still slipping and he wondered if Alvin would kill him before he left. But the sounds of steps faded and he sagged, the pressure on his arms horrific, tearing at his rent back. He moaned and chewed against his lip again. Then he heard steps approaching and he screwed his eyes shut, praying it would be quick.

oOo

Through the chaos of battle, Astrid and the others had headed around and up, straight into the village to try to find Hiccup, knowing he would be locked up. The Outcasts were all mobilised and there were no guards, but not knowing their way around had them at a severe disadvantage. But Astrid had headed on, eyes scanning for some way through-and eventually, they had found a door to the square.

When the teens emerged into the village square, they stopped, shocked. There was a skinny shape hanging from whipping post, his wrists tied to the top of the post and his shape slumped against the wood, his feet barely touching the ground. His back was covered in blood, still soaking into his leggings and sprayed around his feet. There was dried blood on the back of his leggings and Astrid closed her eyes in sympathy and understanding. The boy's messy auburn hair covered his face and his head was bowed, pressed against the post. She wasn't sure if he was still breathing.

She motioned to the twins and Fishlegs to form a perimeter and she ran forward, her heart in her mouth. But the boy gave a frightened flinch and tried to jerk away from her: it was little more than a twitch and a low moan. She paused and leaned close.

"Hiccup!" she called in a low voice. He stopped moving. There was a shuddering breath.

"As…trid?" His voice was wrecked, barely a hoarse breath as he fought to respond. She gave a sobbing breath.

"Oh Thor-what have they done to you?" she gasped.

"Help…me…" he breathed, not answering. He took a shuddering breath and whined in pain. Astrid glanced at her friends.

"Fishlegs-help hold him up," she asked, "Tuff, Ruff-keep us safe." The largest of the teens reached up and grasped Hiccup's wrists as Astrid lifted her axe and deftly sliced through the chains, freeing the battered boy. Hiccup's legs folded and only Fishleg's strong grasp held him up. Astrid darted round and worriedly stared into his face, bone white under the bruises, his green eyes so bleary from pain and despair that he could barely focus. She gasped, seeing the horrible bruises on his face and body, the slump of his brutalised body that showed he was broken. She clasped his face in her hands and leaned close.

"Hiccup-stay with me," she said urgently. "We've come to rescue you."

"M-me?" he breathed. "W-why?" She stared into his face and gently shook him. He moaned.

"Because you are one of us," she told him gently. "And the Chief wants you home." His eyes flicked up and he blinked.

"H-home?" he breathed. She nodded and pulled an arm around her shoulders. "Can you walk?" He dropped his head.

"N-no…" he admitted in a shamed voice. She nodded to Ruff and the two dragged Hiccup along between them, moving fast down the slope towards the harbour and the sounds of fighting. Fishlegs looked worried.

"I'm not sure we can get through the battles to the ships," he hissed. Astrid frowned.

"We have to!" she said as Outcasts rushed them. She glanced at Ruff and they ran for it, the bloody shape dragged between them. Fishlegs reached over and slung Hiccup over his shoulder and then they all ran for it. Hiccup groaned as he was jostled but couldn't manage any more as they skirted the ferocious battles. And then he stiffened as he heard furious roar. His hand clutched at the husky boy's arm.

"Chief's here?" he mumbled and Fishlegs slowed.

"What?"

"Chief's here?" Hiccup gasped. Fishlegs nodded, still jogging along.

"Mildew…traitor…" Hiccup gasped urgently. Fishlegs ground to a halt and then looked ahead.

"ASTRID!" he shouted. "ASTRID!" The girl snapped her head round and then skidded to a halt, running lightly back, a look of real concern on her face.

"Fishlegs? What is it? Is he…?" she asked urgently. Hiccup looked up into her face.

"Mildew…traitor..." he breathed. "Working…Alvin. Kill Stoick…" The young Shield Maiden rested a gentle hand on his cheek.

"You're sure?" she asked and he nodded.

"Protect…Chief…" he breathed.

"I promise," she said firmly and then looked up at her friends. "Get him safely to the ships I'll meet you there." Ruff stared at her.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To warn the Chief!"

oOo

Stoick was furious, his axe and sword carving through the Outcasts and heading for Alvin. The huge Outcast turned to face his enemy and gave a nasty laugh.

"'Ello, Stoick!" he sneered. "'Ave yer come for the boy?" Stoick took another step closer and his face was filled with rage. "I've already 'ad 'im. Sorry to disappoint you but 'e's not much of a bed slave. You didn't teach 'im much. I 'ad to break him in myself and he really needed the other times to teach 'im 'is place!" Stoick's face locked.

"Alvin, what part of hostage do you not understand?" he growled.

"Stoick, we knew he was just given to me for me to beat and fuck," the Outcast said simply. "Snotlout made sure I knew the score. Does the boy mean something to you? 'E may not be completely ruined but 'e's gettin' there. And I broke him, Stoick. So remember that every time you look at 'im. Think of me riding his scrawny body every time you hear see him walk. Think of me fucking his mouth every time you hear him talk. He is utterly worthless now. Do you want 'im back or are yer goin' to just leave 'im 'ere for me to finish off?"

"I gave my word," Stoick said furiously and lunged at Alvin. He drove the Outcast back and saw, in the corner of his eye, the teens sneaking back to the ship, a bloody shape draped over Fishleg's burly shoulder. He slammed Alvin aside and nodded to his men, signalling they had done what they set out to do. But as the Hooligans all sprinted back towards the docks, the Outcast Chief scrambled up, his two axes clanging as he raced forward and the Hooligan Chief could barely scramble his own defences back up to parry the hail of blows aimed at his head.

"I branded 'im! I 'ad 'im! He's mine-and no matter what yer say, 'e's my property-and I can demand 'im back at any time. That's the law, Stoick!" he shouted. "And when I branded him, I made him Outcast! None o' you pious Hooligans can 'ave anything ter do with 'im! So yer wastin' yer time!" Stoick parried a blow and shoved the big man back, his fist glancing his face.

"He saved my life-and I owe him every chance to free him!" the Chief said. Alvin began to chuckle.

"Maybe yer should check all yer men agree wi' you!" he sneered and Stoick sensed someone behind him, ducking a blow from Mildew's staff.

"I told yer I wouldn't stand fer all this nonsense, Stoick!" the old man sneered. "This is all yer own fault. Being so stupid over a shamed slut of a boy! He's in the right place 'ere-and outcast. It's all 'e's good for-and with him being branded Outcast property, he had no right to even step in the village!"

"Mildew…" Stoick got no further as Alvin grabbed him from behind. Wrestling and writhing, Stoick found Mildew approaching him menacingly.

"Yer no longer fit ter be Chief, Stoick!" Mildew yelled. "And when yer gone, someone better will take yer place. Someone who respects our traditions and ways!" Leering hatefully, he lifted his sword. And then he jerked, eyes widening and the sword and staff dropping from nerveless hands. He dropped to his knees and then pitched onto his face, an axe sticking out of his back, the handle scorched and leather bindings new and crudely finished. Astrid put a foot on Mildew's back and wrenched her axe out, nodding to her Chief as he head-butted Alvin and knocked the man backwards. Swiftly, the girl tossed the axe to Stoick and without even hesitating, the Chief dropped to a knee and slashed round with the blade, carving the Outcast's throat open.

Blood spraying, Alvin took one last step back as Stoick swung the axe once more and beheaded the man. He stood still, breathing hard as he watched the body crash to the floor and then turned back to the girl.

"That's a fine axe, lass," he complimented her, avoiding the obvious question.

"Hiccup rebuilt it for me, sir," she reported. Leaning forward to grasp his own axe and sword, he looked into her eyes.

"Is he alive?" he asked gruffly.

"Just," she confirmed and he nodded.

"Time to go-and leave these men a reminder that crossing Stoick the Vast carries a high price!" The Chief walked back to the ships with Astrid running ahead, giving the signal to set the traps they had laid. Catapults fired from their ships and suddenly the entire Outcast fleet was sudden ablaze as the Hooligans pushed away, their valuable cargo already loaded on the flagship. A handful of the warriors had been authorised to loot any food or supplies they could to replace what had been taken as well as the prisoner they had come to retrieve. Stoick glared at the remaining Outcasts across the widening sea between them and then turned back to the teens. Hiccup had been dropped onto a couple of blankets and was lying, barely conscious and soaked in blood.

Stoick glanced back as the Hooligan longships pulled out to the open sea, looking for interception and pursuit but the seas were clear and the catapults in the cliffs overlooking the approaches were blasted and burning-but not from from the Hooligans' attack, since his men had never made it that far. Stoick had decided to make the Outcasts pay in terms of weakening their defences and offensive capability-so now they had no catapults and no ships. They wouldn't be bothering Berk any time soon. Going a satisfied nod, he checked again then murmured a few words to the navigator and his men, checking they were unharmed and congratulating them on their bravery. There were proud acknowledgements of the praise and some playful banter flung between the men, partly fuelled by relief as well as triumph. Finally, satisfied the men knew his gratitude and pride in them, Stoick turned to the boy.

Hiccup was still, wrapped in the blankets loosely with Astrid seated at his side, gently bathing his battered face. His eyes were closed and he was breathing shallowly. Fishlegs was watching worriedly, fishing in his pouch and offering her a cream he had been given by Gothi for the boy. The twins stood back, both looking proud that they had been chosen to help rescue the boy. Both had minor scrapes from the Outcasts they had fought through to get the boy safely back to the ships. The Chief nodded his approval them slowly knelt by the patient.

"How is he?" he asked gruffly, his eyes searching Astrid's face and reading concern.

"Badly hurt, sir," she reported. "He was tied to a whipping post, fresh wounds across his back. It looked like it was in progress when we arrived. And he…he's got lots of other wounds." Her intense blue gaze was pitying. Stoick gently leaned forward and peered at the swollen and bruised face, the blood on the boy's lip and nose giving an inkling of his travails. Then he hesitantly reached out and gently stroked the blood-matted auburn hair. Hiccup gave a slight flinch.

"Hiccup?" The Chief's tone was gentle and concerned. "Son?" The boy gave a low whine of pain, his bruised eyes flickering as he wearily forced them open.

"Th-thank…you…" Hiccup grunted. Stoick blinked. "F-for coming…" His voice was so hoarse, so weak that the Chief had to lean very close to catch his words.

"Oh, Hiccup," he sighed. "How could you imagine I wouldn't?" The boy rocked his head slightly to inspect the big man looming over him. And he found he wasn't afraid of him, no matter that he was so huge, his outline so similar to Alvin's.

"No," Hiccup breathed, his throat raw from screaming. "You-you shouldn't." He blinked blearily. "Not-not w-worth it." Stoick cautiously lifted the blanket and peered at the scrawny, huddled body. Hiccup's chest and abdomen were smudged with horrible purple bruises, the shapes of boots and fists imprinted on his white, slightly freckled skin. The hideous scars of his new Outcast slave brand mocked the Chief and he winced. There were purple bruises around his wrists, on his neck and, of course, over his battered face. The Chief gently ran his fingers through the dishevelled hair.

"Why?"

"S-spoke Alvin?" Hiccup asked and then his eyes saw the truth. He looked away, his eyes furiously inspecting the blanket beneath him. Stoick leaned over and saw the writhing wounds of the whip and the scarlet blood soaking his back and leggings.

"I heard a man who hates me taunting me," the Chief said distantly. "He wanted to hurt me. And he hurt you to do that. I am so-so sorry"

"Hurt…me…" Hiccup confirmed. A tear slid down his bruised face and he made no move to swipe it away.

"Did they…did he…?" Stoick asked him gruffly and the boy seemed to shrink into himself, his thin arms wrapping over his battered body and his chin tucking into his chest.

"Yes." The word was toneless, a dead rasp. The boy's shoulders started to gently jerk and he pulled away from the Chief's touch. Stoick stared down at the little shape, the skinny boy…young man, really…who had been abused and shamed and brutalised in such a personal and devastating way. A way he knew would earn him the disgust and scorn of every member of the Tribe. Alvin's hateful words ran through his mind and his mind treacherously conjured up the image, of the naked boy on his hands and knees, the huge Outcast kneeling behind him, his hands on Hiccup's hips, his hips pounding forward into the skinny body before him. His image had Alvin's face contorted in a look of lust and triumph and Hiccup…enjoying the encounter, his eyes closed and mouth open as he gasped in pleasure as they rutted. He blinked and averted his eyes, thrusting the image aside. That wasn't the Hiccup he knew. It was a lie, designed to hurt them both. And it had almost succeeded…except Stoick knew the young man too well.

But Alvin's other act had harmed the boy more and he would need to seek advice on how to deal with that. Until then…he would have to act properly. Mildew's words echoed through his memory and he wondered how many other of his people thought the same as the treacherous old man. And while he knew what he would do would hurt the boy-in the short term-if he could find a way around this, he could save him.

But it would go against everything he had said and promised. He just hoped that Hiccup would one day understand and forgive him.

Wordlessly, he flipped the blanket over the abused shape and rose to his feet. Astrid looked up at him in shock.

"Sir?" she asked.

"Tend to his wounds, please," he said briskly. "I need to consult with the navigator. And the Council." And then he walked away.