.

Chapter 03: Freak

(Hiccup)

Trickling water drops chimed at different distances, producing a vague impression of music to his ears. Apart from that, the place was eerily silent.

Hiccup was lying prone on some floor, its surface pressed cold and hard on his face and hands. Slowly regaining more of his senses, he opened his eyes to the sight of a dark, rocky wall. Faint daylight seemed to pour in from some cracks in the stone above; it was past noon.

Hiccup tried to get up, but his vision spun badly and his body refused to obey. Where was he? He was probably not dead, unless Valhalla was merely a damp cave underground.

No, hiccups don't go to Valhalla, remember? This must be Helheim. But still… it's just a cave.

Then, it dawned on him.

The prison caves.

He was definitely not dead; good news perhaps, but not good enough for him to cheer. He had been thrown into one of the cells built in the intricate network of caves beneath the village. Such cells were rarely used, for Berk didn't hold prisoners very often, nor did Berkians keep slaves, yet here he was, a prisoner in his own village.

His head was throbbing, and it wasn't long before he managed to recall why. Everything came back to him in one massive wave: Astrid, the arena, the Monstrous Nightmare, the painful knock of his skull on the floor, and then a Night Fury…

"Tooth- ...less!" He grunted; his voice was hoarse. "Toothless!" He finally managed to yell, and he could hear the shout travel through the tunnels and back. The surge of panic in his chest enabled his body, and he crawled towards the iron bars that kept him captive. He shook them back and forth, but the gate had been locked.

"Little Hiccup?" A man's voice answered Hiccup's call. It was gentler and milder than most manly voices on Berk, but Hiccup still failed to recognize its source, until Bucket appeared from the passage of the tunnel that connected the prison cells to the rest of the caves.

Bucket was one of the more peculiar people of the village, to say the least of it. Blond-haired and muscular, not only was he one of the tallest Vikings to have ever held an axe, he was also one of the most naturally talented fighters, despite, rumour had it, having lost half of his brain in an accident, along with the more common left hand. That was why the man always wore an iron bucket on his head, or so people said: 'to keep the other half of his brain from falling out.'

No one knew for sure. The man was certainly a bit dim-witted. In fact, Bucket was notoriously easy to fool. His unfortunate reputation was not aided by his far too gentle and caring manners, as well as his uncanny artistic ability for painting shields. And yet, in spite of such reputation, the man had been tasked to guard to the one, lone prisoner.

Hiccup did not consider making use of the man's mental weakness to escape. There was nowhere for him to go without Toothless.

"Bucket! Where's Toothless?" Hiccup asked hastily, fighting the dreadful feeling in his stomach.

The tall man stared at him with a preoccupied look. "What is less?"

"The dragon! The Night Fury. What-"

"Oooh!" Bucket cut in eagerly. "The Night Fury came! In daylight! It was scary black! Ya should 'ave seen!"

"I know," Hiccup shot back impatiently, "I was there. Now where is it? What happened to it?!" Having a conversation with Bucket was a gruelling task.

"The Night Fury came…" Bucket said, then froze in thought for a few endless moments, "beat up the Nightmare… Then, they chained the Night Fury. Oh, yes! They took the Night Fury in bigger cells below! It was so exciting! But scary! Did you not see?"

Hiccup sighed with a mixture of exasperation and relief. At least Toothless had not been killed; some more good news, but again not enough to calm his mind. He'd have much rather liked Toothless to have escaped unscathed, though it was already a miracle that, from the entirety of the Berkian population, no axes had hit the target. The most likely explanation was that everyone believed the honor to kill the rare beast belonged solely to the chief, or some immediate relative.

"No, Bucket, I couldn't see. I was unconscious. Anything else? What's happening outside? Where is everyone?"

Bucket hummed thoughtfully, then froze once more. Hiccup had asked too many questions at once; the poor dolt had a hard time processing information.

"Chief Stoick," Bucket began, "he is meeting with the council. He said he will come after… Is something wrong little Hiccup?" Despite the limited brain faculties, Bucket's gentle eyes picked up on Hiccup's expression of dread at the mention of his father.

"No, it's fine. Go back to your post," Hiccup sighed, and Bucket trotted back happily towards the main gate, further down the corridor.

Hiccup sat on the cold floor, contemplating how badly he had screwed up. Even by his most optimistic calculations, his future looked grim. He wished he could go back to being unconscious, but he didn't want to damage his brain any further. No matter how bad things were, he didn't want to end up like Bucket. His head was already throbbing painfully, and the hair at the back of his skull was still slightly wet with blood.

Daylight slowly purpled into dusk, and though his cell became darker, Hiccup could not sleep. His heart wouldn't stop punching his chest angrily at the thought of what was to come. On the one side, he wanted it to be over quickly, but on the other, he did not want to face his father.

When a sound of steps signalled the chief's arrival, Hiccup was left with no choice but to clench his fists and open his eyes. His gut cramped with dread, and his heart was in his throat when he looked up.

Stoick was angry. It wasn't easy to tell sometimes; the huge man looked that way almost every day of the week. As his son, however, Hiccup had learnt to read his facial expressions well, and the man that stood before him today was exceptionally and utterly enraged. Hiccup wasn't usually afraid of his father, the man had never harmed him, at least not intentionally, but, this time, Hiccup was glad to find himself inside a sturdy cell. It felt safer, if only a little.

"On your feet," Stoick said curtly.

Hiccup complied, averting his eyes from his father's dour glare across the iron bars. He feared what he was going to see on the man's face. Disappointment, he was quite used to. This time, however, Hiccup had delved into uncharted territory. He could no longer sense his father behind that glare. Before him now stood only the mighty chief of Berk, stripped of all lenience, confronting a traitor.

"So everything in your dragon fights has been a trick. It was all a lie." The man hissed through gritted teeth. Though his voice was steady, there was spite in every word.

Hiccup did not respond. His throat was tight.

"I spoke with the Hofferson girl. Astrid. She told me everything." Stoick paused, expecting some reaction perhaps. "I understand you befriended and harboured an enemy of the tribe, probably the deadliest of them all. Do you deny it?"

Hiccup kept his eyes firmly on the floor.

"You know what this means, don't you?"

When Hiccup said nothing, Stoick replied to his own question with grim clarity: "Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third…"

Hiccup had never heard his father address him with his full title, and his heart skipped a few too many beats in his chest. He looked up then; his mouth hung open, but he dared not interrupt.

"...under normal circumstances, your sentence should be that of a lifetime in exile. But," Stoick paused to breathe and sigh, "after a heated discussion with the council, it has been agreed that, as future heir to the Hooligan Tribe, you will be spared banishment. So, for the sake of your mother's memory, Hiccup, I'm going to give you one chance. One last and only chance."

Hiccup nearly choked at his attempt to swallow. Stoick had mentioned his late wife, a topic that, Hiccup knew all too well, his father never brought up.

"You will spend the night in this prison to atone for your betrayal, and, in the morning, we will hold a trial with all of Berk as witness. In the arena, you will kill the Night Fury yourself, proving that you are not a traitor, and finally earning your status as a true Viking. You will then apologize to the whole village for this grave misunderstanding, for that's what it will be considered from now on. Astrid promised me not to speak to anyone else of what happened in the forest, so you get off more lightly than you deserve."

Stoick's voice then changed to a mixture between imperious and preoccupied: "Is everything I said clear?"

'Kill the Night Fury.' The words echoed in Hiccup's mind. This could not be happening, yet the constant throbbing in his head dispelled the hope that this was all a bad dream. A nightmare so dreadful, even his own extravagant mind would have been unable to hatch.

He wants me to kill Toothless?!

"No..." Hiccup murmured at first. "No... no! Father, I can't! Please! I beg you! I messed up. I should have told you, I know, but he's my friend!"

"The dragon?! A friend?!" Stoick was finally shouting. "Gods help us… Believe me Hiccup, if you weren't my only son, I would be punching your sick ideas about associating with those mindless beasts right out of your head! Of all the irresponsible things you-"

"They are not mindless beasts!" Hiccup managed to interject in a fit of panic. "If I tell Toothless something, he can understand me! I can show you! He even came to protect me! Please, father, just give him a chance!" Hiccup's hands had gripped the iron bars that separated them.

"Don't be ridiculous! Even dogs can understand and obey if trained, but they don't attack our village in mass, stealing our food, burning our houses, killing our families! All these things are going to become your responsibility one day! Do you not realize this is a war?! What are you going to do? Will you side with them? Will you have your people starve by offering the fruits of their hard work to the dragons each year? Are you so willing to lovingly pet one of the beasts that killed your mother?!"

Hiccup opened his mouth to reply, but found no ready answers. Was what he had done that wrong? Were his actions an insult to his mother's memory? Was he really a traitor? Hiccup had pointedly avoided thinking about the war all this time. He had always preferred to forget all about it as soon as the raids stopped in the fall. Could he have been that foolish?

What if he could promise to try and stop the war by befriending every dragon like he had Toothless? Would his father believe him? Was it even possible? Hiccup was sure he could tame the few captive dragons in the arena, for he had almost done it already when fighting them. But, all of them? Whilst raiding? Was his father going to even listen to that kind of proposal?

Hiccup recalled the man's face that very morning in the arena, and the answer became obvious. It was no use. Possible or not, Stoick would never allow it. The only thing left for Hiccup to do was try to protect his friend. Toothless did not deserve to die. It was not fair. The Night Fury was no longer a danger. How was he going to save him?

With his eyes on his feet to hide the tears, Hiccup sniffed, murmuring: "But Toothless is a good dragon."

Stoick groaned, but before he could speak, Hiccup carried on, pursing his bottom lip to suppress the trembling of his jaw.

"Father, please... If you ever cared for me, at all, the way a father cares for a son, then let me go away with Toothless. I'm fine with exile. You'll never have to see me again; we'll leave Berk, and never come back. I promise! Just don't hurt him!" Warms tears finally ran down his cheeks.

Hiccup wasn't used to grovelling. He had always faced his scoldings with calm wit and sarcasm, but he had never had much to lose before. To make matters worse, his head was pounding with pain.

"No," Stoick the Vast said flatly. "Here's what's going to happen. If you don't want me to tie you to a mast and sail you off to Thor-knows-where, to rot till the end of your days, then you will kill that dragon tomorrow, you will keep your ass on Berk, and do your fucking duty, FOR ONCE IN YOUR FUCKING LIFE!"

Stoick waited for the echo of his shouts to die down. "And then we'll never speak of this again."

Letting out something between a wail and a groan, Hiccup fell on his knees; his shaky hands still held a grip on the bars of his cell. With the last of his hope crushed by his father's words, he could no longer fend off the misery he felt. Between sobs, he only managed to breathlessly whisper: "Please… pleaaase…"

"This is my final word." With that, Stoick turned, and stomped his way out.

Ignoring his injury, Hiccup hammered his head against the iron railing, hoping the pain would replace his grief with anger. It worked for a time, giving his heart a sense of relief. Yet when he realized his anger was actually targeted at none other than himself, he broke down, wailing hopelessly, his forehead wedged between the two iron bars. Hiccuping spasms started to punctuate his weeping, echoing in the cave's corridors. If Bucket was still there, he did not come to comfort him.

It was a long while before Hiccup became too tired to cry. By the time the tears stopped, his eyes had gotten red and puffy, his nose runny and messy, and his body was depleted of all strength. Hiccup lay on the cold floor with a sickly moan. He shivered, turning his empty gaze towards the same dark wall that had welcomed him at the eve of this dreadful nightmare.

It's all my fault. Why couldn't I just kill him when I found him in the woods?

Hiccup resumed counting his blunders of the day, like he often did; a habit induced by his father's frequent rebukes. The result was disheartening. This whole day had been chock full of careless, avoidable mistakes; the most grave one of all, letting Astrid catch up to him on dragonback, and on a Night Fury at that. His clumsiness had finally prompted his greatest failure. It was to be expected, for he always screwed up, endangering those around him and himself. Essentially, his whole life had been a screw-up.

A hiccup.

He puffed out a weak chuckle at the irony of it. He had befriended his own enemy. He had then doomed his only friend, all the while betraying his own people. Maybe he just secretly hated himself, and harboured an unconscious death wish. Hiccup had never considered taking his own life, but there had been days when he had distantly contemplated the scary notion. And yet, he was surprised to find that this day wasn't one of them. Though very aware of his imminent fate, there was still an anchor to his sanity, a responsibility, and it was most likely lying in a cage much like his own, in the deeper caves below. It made things suddenly clearer.

He was not going to take the Night Fury's life to save his own. He had already betrayed his village, he was not going to betray his only friend as well. He was going to face exile, and, inexperienced as he was, it was probably going to kill him. He accepted it, and found solace in the idea that he and Toothless were either both going to live together, or, more likely, they were both going to die, if not together, then at least not a long time apart.

Unless some god decides to intervene. Loki? Might you be the one? A traitor could use your help here...

With feebly renewed strength, Hiccup rose. He crawled beside the entrance of his cell, where someone had left two buckets. One was made of iron, and it was empty. The other was wooden, and filled with water.

Another shiver slid down Hiccup's spine when he dipped his hands into the second one, cupping the cool water in his palms. He drank, realizing how thirsty he was. He then washed the dried tears off his face, and wiped himself with the front of his green tunic.

He finally sat in the darkest corner of his cell, with his forehead on his knees and his hands in his hair, his back touching the cold, damp wall. He tried to curl into the smallest ball he could, so, with any luck, he'd manage to implode and disappear from the world. The thought gave him some comfort as he waited.

It wasn't long before a sound of steps echoed through the corridor again. They were lighter this time. Hiccup looked up, resting his chin on his knees, expecting to see anyone but her.

Astrid was standing outside his cell. Her armor had been recovered, much to Hiccup's disappointment, and her arms were folded sternly under the still developing curves of her chest. Her expression, however, was a new one, less aggressive perhaps, and more... sympathetic? Was she pitying him?

Now?! After what she did to me?

She did look troubled, as if hoping for him to initiate the conversation. There was no way that was going to happen. Hiccup only looked at her, trying to scowl, and probably failing.

"I'm sorry, alright?" Astrid blurted out in a single breath. The apology surprised Hiccup; the following statements, however, not so much: "I was angry because I realized you cheated to beat me, but I don't care about that anymore. You must understand that I did the right thing. It's for the best. The chief has given you another chance. You can prove yourself again by killing the Night Fury. You even get to be the first one ever. Hiccup, you should be grateful."

Grateful?! That's Astrid for you: proud and arrogant, and damn beautiful too, even when clad in metal… What is wrong with me?

"I'd much rather be exiled than harm Toothless." Hiccup said matter-of-factly.

He wanted to blame her for everything. He wanted to yell at her, to make her feel guilty, but he couldn't bring himself to do any of that, no matter how hard he wished to hate her.

"I know it's almost summer Hiccup," she went on, ignoring his words, "but even so, exile alone… You could die out there!" She sounded sincerely concerned, which only aggravated Hiccup.

"Then I'll do just that," he answered curtly.

"Hiccup, be reasonable. It's a dragon. A Night Fury, but still a dragon."

"Go away, Astrid." Hiccup breathed out, almost pleadingly. He knew where the conversation was going.

"If not for your own sake, do it for the village. You have a responsibility as heir. If the chief's only son is banished, it could damage Berk! What if that muttonhead Snotlout becomes chief?"

Astrid was relentless, she wasn't going to leave him in peace, and Hiccup was not in the mood for it now. Although he had secretly enjoyed having her yell or scowl at him sometimes (after all, being noticed by Astrid, even in a negative way, was always considered a privilege by any of the boys), this was not one of those times. Not with his only friend's life on the line, and the prospect of death by exile for himself.

Who let her in? Where is Bucket when you need him? Hiccup wondered, then answered dryly: "I don't see how that's my problem."

"You can't be serious."

"I am," he shot back. "Nobody even listened to what I said in the arena today. All of a sudden, I was no more than a traitor. And you might have forgotten, but before dragon training everyone kept treating me like I was some freak of nature. I had to cheat to get someone to respect me. I know how things work here, and I get it, nobody really cares about hiccups. Not that I mind at this point, but why should I now care for a village that has never truly cared for me?"

"Ne- never cared?!" Astrid bellowed. "You are the chief's son! You've always had the best food, house, clothing... everything! You even have your own room! Even at the forge! You spoiled little…" She grunted. "And what about all the times your stupid inventions destroyed other people's stuff? You never had to pay for it yourself! You just had to apologize, for Thor's sake! Sometimes not even that! You've always had it the easiest of us all! Now you also want a dragon-pet?! Give me a break!"

"Toothless is not a pet!" Hiccup barked. "He is my friend!"

Astrid squinted, dumbfounded. Like Stoick, she was incapable of digesting that notion. "A friend?! Gods, Hiccup, did you hit your head?!"

"I did hit my head, actually." Hiccup admitted, reaching with one hand at the back of his skull to check if he was still bleeding.

"Don't try to be funny, Hiccup!"

"What's funny about hitting one's head?" Hiccup replied. As it often happened, flippancy was his only available weapon. There was no other way for him to deal with crazed yelling Vikings. Brawling was not an option, and yelling could only take him so far, no thanks to his still too childish voice.

Astrid grunted again. "You are impossible! You are willing to betray your own home, and face exile just to save a monster that's going to die anyway!"

Listening to her insulting Toothless made Hiccup momentarily forget this was Astrid Hofferson he was talking to, the Astrid that made his heartbeat double. Awkwardly, without raising his voice, but hoping to convey contempt with as much vinegar as he could muster, Hiccup murmured: "Piss off, Astrid."

At that, the girl straightened her shoulders, looking astonished, and, maybe, even a little hurt. Swearing had never been Hiccup's habit. The words felt strange in his mouth, but they gave him an uneasy, yet satisfactory feeling. His outburst also had the pleasant effect of shutting Astrid up for good.

The silence didn't last. A metallic rattling announced the arrival of somebody else from the main gate.

Oh, great. More visitors.

"There's no use talking to this lunatic," Astrid's growled, sounding fazed and frustrated as she made her way towards the exit.

Hiccup's eyes followed her, understanding she was talking to the person approaching from the gate. He then saw Fishlegs, who stepped warily in front of his cell, whilst Astrid left the prison caves, slamming the rusty iron bars behind her. Fishlegs jumped at the sound, before noticing the prisoner.

"Hi, Hiccup."

"Hey, Fishlegs," Hiccup answered without as much enthusiasm, before lowering his forehead to his knees. "Have you come to lecture me too?"

"No, I... I just wanted to talk."

Hiccup raised his head with a distrustful look. "You've barely talked to me for years," he complained. After his outburst with Astrid, yelling at others seemed so much easier. And, no matter how unfair it felt in Fishlegs' case, it still gave Hiccup a strange sense of satisfaction. "Before I became good in the arena, you kept avoiding me like some disease-ridden beast so you could be friends with Snotlout and the others. What could we possibly have to say now?"

"Yeah…" Fishlegs mumbled, "sorry about that, I-"

"Look," Hiccup cut in, "I'm not in the mood. Leave me alone."

"I just need to ask you a few questions."

Hiccup's eyes widened incredulously. Was that why Fishlegs had finally found the courage to talk to him? Was Hiccup some kind of freak-show? An exotic beast, caged and put on display for the crowds to admire with curiosity and disgust?

"Oh, so it's interrogation time," Hiccup said bitingly. "How nice. 'Say, Fishlegs, how should we torture our prisoner?' 'Oh I don't know Tuffnut. Maybe we should have Snotlout punch him in the stomach. Maybe get Ruffnut to set his hair on fire. Or, we can just throw him in the freezing river on his birthday. Yes! That will make him talk! So then he will finally tell us why he betrayed the village!"

Hiccup screamed the last few words, producing a loud echo in the cavernous prison. He regretted it immediately, hissing when his bruised head resumed throbbing with pain.

Hiccup's theatrics did not deter Fishlegs for long. After an awkward silence, the large kid went on: "I'm sorry, but..." he looked once again at his surroundings, as if to make sure they were alone. "I just need to know: how did you tame the Night Fury? Can you tame other dragons too? Can you tell it when to fire? How did you do it? Does it really let you fly on it?"

Hiccup sighed the last remnants of his anger away. He no longer had the energy for it. "So you heard, huh?" He asked back when he realized that Fishlegs too, much like Astrid, a proper Viking, was going to be relentless.

"I… kinda. People are talking."

Hiccup sighed again. There was a look of expectant wonder in Fishlegs' eyes, which made Hiccup feel slightly warmer towards the husky blond youth. Fishlegs seemed more interested in the dragon, rather than the actual betrayal of their Viking laws. Yet Hiccup was in no mood to narrate his story. The experience was one he had shared with his best friend, and, despite Fishlegs being by far the least callous of his peers, Hiccup didn't feel like opening up to him. He was still one of them. He did not deserve to know.

"Why do you even care?"

"Come on, Hiccup, I need to know! There's no such thing in Bork's Book of Dragons. You have to tell me!"

Hiccup studied Fishlegs' eyes. The excitement in the large boy's voice made him wonder if he had actually misunderstood him all along. Fishlegs had always been curious about dragons, and always the avid student of dragon-facts, but everyone thought that his scholarly approach to the subject still had the very Viking purpose of making a better dragon killer. Maybe he was truly interested in the creatures themselves. Maybe he had some redeeming qualities after all.

A faint glimmer of hope nested itself deep within Hiccup's mind, but the circumstances made it stay unnoticed. Hiccup was still in a cage, trapped, hated, waiting to attend his best friend's execution, before being banished forever.

"You don't need to know, Fishlegs. As you can see, it doesn't end well for those who do." Hiccup gestured to his own small figure in the shadows, then hugged his legs to his chest again.

A metallic clashing of the main gate made the bigger kid jump for a second time. Torchlight filled the dark corridor, and Fishlegs was not supposed to be there.