Breaking Point 20

The island was on fire and the Hunters were hurrying to put the fires out but Viggo barely paid in it any mind. His body hurt; the plasma blast from the Nightfury having thrown him nearly across the small island and leaving first and second degree burns all along one side of his body, his armor saving him from a more fatal injury. But even that was only a numb recognition in the back of his mind as he staggered and stumbled across the uneven ground. The riders were gone and had stolen Henryk from him. They had stolen his consort and would no doubt destroy all his hard work. He gazed off in the direction they had gone, barely able to make out the specks of their fleeing forms. Even that seemed like a secondary thought, a problem for later that could be resolved in the very near future. Now he had a more pressing matter, something that couldn't be fixed. He knew it yet he still struggled on, his body shaking, knees wobbly and his right shoulder slumped with no feeling in that arm. He waved off the men who tried to assist him as he made his way to the crumbled body left dumped on a low hill.

He fell to his knees once he reached Ryker, a low unnatural whine escaping him as cooling blood soaked into his trousers. Nonetheless he rolled his brother's body onto its back and stared at the horrid bloodstained stomach where a wide gash still seeped precious blood. Viggo knew a killing blow when he saw it. The angle alone told the tail. The Hooligan chief knew what he was doing when he struck down Ryker. There was no mistaking the man's intentions.

Another whine escaped Viggo was he placed his older brother's head on his lap and bent over him, opening sobbing at Ryker's loss. All they ever had were each other and now he was alone and while they didn't always travel together, Viggo was not used to being alone. It was one of the many reasons he had wanted Hiccup so bad. The boy was so different from any he had dealt with before. Yes, he was far more stubborn than any Viking before him, able to handle high levels of pain that even a grown man couldn't, and he spoke to dragons. He was utterly brilliant. Everything Viggo ever wanted. Ryker had given him the boy, had broken him and helped make him into something better, make him into Henryk. He was all Viggo had left and he was going to get him back. Ryker would want that. He would want Henryk back with the Hunters where he belonged. As soon as their dead were honored and sent to Valhalla that was exactly what Viggo was going to do. He would go to Berk and take what belonged to him and kill any, man or dragon, that got in his way.

. . .

The riders flew towards Berk for hours, hoping to get as far from the Hunters as possible. The entire time Hiccup lay still in his father's arms, not waking even once. He barely moved and drew only shallow breathes. Stoick's worry grew by the moment and after four hours and hundreds of miles he finally signaled for the riders to descend to the nearest island. One by one the dragons landed and the riders went to work setting up a temporary camp and shelter for Hiccup. It was all automatic, a way to keep busy and not disturb their chief as he carried his son across the camp and sat under a tree and out of the hot sun. Despite the heat Hiccup's flesh felt cold and Stoick removed his cloak to wrap around the boy's lithe form.

Upon closer inspection Stoick was relieved to learn that Hiccup hadn't lost nearly as much weight as he first surmised. If couldn't have been more than five pounds but Hiccup had always been a thin boy, only a hundred and twenty some pounds so even five pounds seemed like far too much for someone his size to lose but it wasn't from malnutrition. His skin tone was a healthy sun kissed tan no doubt caused by his months at sea and the fact that rather than wearing his usually long armed tunic he now wore a sleeveless black shirt that hugged his slim form and were tucked into his trousers rather than hanging over them. There was no yellow when Stoick checked the boy's eyes just glazed over dull emerald. The dark bags under his eyes were no doubt caused by stress. The hair kept throwing Stoick off. Hiccup had never been one to grow his hair all out, usually only letting it getting to his shoulders. If it weren't the shagging bangs flopping in his eyes like usual Stoick wouldn't have recognized him at all. These Hunters had been very attentive to keeping the back of his hair short but left a little of his front the same. Oddly enough the strange dragon ear cuff also made a big difference in Hiccup's looks. When the boy was young and trying to fit in with the other kids he had asked to have his ear pierced like some of the warriors. It was mainly because his older cousin Snotlout was getting his ear pierced for his thirteenth birthday and for a time Hiccup wanting to be just like him, not unusual for a nine year old, until the ring had been caught on something during a dragon raid and ripped out. After that Hiccup had never asked again. So it was a little surprising to see such a thing on his son now.

His large finger moved over it. It was beautiful, very intricately designed and definitely something Hiccup would collect if only because the dragon looked very similar to a Nightfury but it also held a hidden meaning and while Stoick had never taken part in the slave trade he knew a mark when he saw one. He felt around the back for the little pins holding it in place.

"Don't," Dagur suddenly said, surprising Stoick. He had almost forgotten the young Berserker chief had tagged along with them with his sister. Stoick's eyes narrowed as he looked at the young man who stood nervously a dozen feet or so away from him. "He treasured it. He went almost feral when I suggested removing it," Dagur explained, rubbing one arm nervously as he stared at Hiccup's limp form. There was a guilty look on his face that Stoick had never seen before.

For a moment the two chiefs stared at each other. "What happened, Dagur?" Stoick demanded, keeping his rage in check as he held his son protectively in his arms. "What did you get my son into?"

Dagur looked away, a frown tugging his lips downward as Toothless snarled at him in passing. The Nightfury glared at him in obvious anger as he lumbered toward Stoick and Hiccup. He would have been there sooner had Stoick not instructed him to help Astrid and the others gather fish while Stoick gave Hiccup an initial examination. Now he stretched on under the tree and stayed perfectly still as Stoick lay Hiccup next to him then waited a few minutes longer as the man took quick stock of any injuries the boy may have suffered. Every mark and wound they found were old, maybe by weeks or months. Scars lined his back; lash marks from a whip adorn his back and hips in thin raised white lines. The fingers of his right hand had similar marks and signs of having been broken. The prosthetic foot was not the one he normally wore but some new invention from the child's brilliant mind.

Stoick would have ventured further but he feared he might find evidence of rape like that Hunter taunted instead he looked to Dagur for answers. "Who did this?" he demanded, his hands fisting to keep the shaking at bay.

Dagur didn't look at him but out to see as if expecting the Hunters to appear at any moment. He shook his head, his bottom lip sucked in and seemingly at war with himself. He wasn't used to having to answer to other people and he didn't like it one bit but this was Hiccup's father, a man whom he respected even if he never said it. After all it took someone very remarkable to bring up a boy as special as Hiccup. Yeah, he may have made remarks about killing Stoick the Vast to insure Hiccup became chief – and he would do it in a heartbeat if Hiccup ever asked him to – but he still held Stoick in the highest regard. "That oaf you killed, Ryker, he did that. He tortured Hiccup from day one. Methods I've never seen before. You'll find burn marks on the bottom of his foot from electrical shocks. I've never seen anyone go through what he did and not break. Grown men three times his size would have broken faster…I would have broken faster," he admitted, disgusted just acknowledging such weakness. "But not him. He fought. He kept fighting until he couldn't anymore and then Henryk was created."

"Who's Henryk?" Stoick asked, perplexed by how open Dagur was being.

Dagur met his gaze before glancing down at Hiccup's unconscious form. "You've already encountered him and I've no doubt he'll be rearing his head soon enough." He turned and walked away to where his two remaining Berserkers waited for him. Heather had gone back to gather Savage and Vog when he had noticed them tied to a sea stack and left to drawn. Windshear had destroyed the ship to trap the Hunters on the island before racing after the riders and transferring them to another dragon and rider who was willing to give them a lift. It was not an easy alliance but the Hooligans were not about to let them die. They mingled together, Savage doting over Dagur like a worried hen and the young chieftain brushing him off, wanting to be left alone.

They only stayed on the island a few short hours, enough time for the dragons and riders to rest and eat before packing up and continuing on to Berk. They flew four to five hours at a time before landing on other islands to rest and eat. Savage and Vog were dropped off on a passing Berserker ship upon Dagur's request. He officially surrendered to Stoick on the condition that the two men were released, not really caring where they were dropped off as long as it was either a Berserker ship or a Peaceable one, and for him to serve his time in a Berkian cell as oppose to the Outcasts or Darkheart. Heather took Savage and Vog to the first Berserker ship she saw. A fishing boat that posed no threat and was days away from their island.

Hiccup didn't wake up the entire time. He was in a self-induced coma. Every time the riders stopped to rest Stoick made soup and carefully feed the broth to his son, cradling his boy in his arms as he held the wood cup to Hiccup's lips, hoping beyond hope that he would open his eyes. This was almost as heart wrenching as the search had been for the boy and as awful as when he had been in a coma after losing the lower half of his left leg in the battle with the Red Death.

When night came and the riders and dragons were too tired to continue flying, Stoick would curl up next to his boy, keeping him tucked against his chest while Toothless and Skullcrusher slept on either side of them, keeping an eye on Dagur and the ocean, both extremely protective of the unconscious youth.

It took nearly a week before they finally reached Berk. Dagur was thrown in a cell to await trial for his part in what happened to Hiccup. Stoick still hadn't gotten the full story out of him but it was something he would worry about later. While Dagur was imprisoned Stoick took Hiccup directly to Gothi for her opinion on how to help his son and to see just how bad things were. He was not expecting the analyze she gave him after a very thorough and rather evasive examination. The list of ailments was staggering.

Poorly healed lacerations that should have been stitched but were left open to heal naturally. All the fingers on his right hand had been broken out pulled out of place only to be reset but not wrapped or allowed to heal properly. Torn tissue in his throat and anal cavity that nearly sent Stoick in such a rage that he would have stormed the prison and killed Dagur had Gobber not been there to hold him back. And while all those were devastating to learn the worse came when the old woman scribbled the final diagnosis in the dirt floor of her hut.

Hiccup's mind was broken.

The boy lying on the cot was not Stoick's Hiccup, not anymore but was a shadow of his former self. Stoick was beside himself as he remembered Dagur's warning. There was no telling who would wake up when the boy gained consciousness, Hiccup or this Henryk character. So they prepared, moving Hiccup to his childhood room, hoping that the familiar place would help keep him calm, especially with Toothless at his side almost every minute of the day. Healing herbs and scented candles created by Gothi were lit in hopes of drawing Hiccup out of the coma and bringing him back to consciousness. It didn't take long.

Stoick was startled out of his thoughts as sat at the table with Gobber drinking a pint of mead and trying to wrap his mind around his son's condition and how to go about helping the boy once he awoke when a scream rattled throughout the hut. His tankard fell from his hand and he darted for the stairs before Gobber had a chance to utter a word, taking them two at a time. Hiccup was sitting up in bed, his eyes wide and wild as Toothless nudged at his side trying to comfort him and the little white Snowfury that had tailed the dragon riders all the way home, rubbed at his side. They boy didn't seem to notice either of them and Stoick had to gently shoo both dragons away to reach his son.

"Hiccup! Hiccup, it's alright, son, it's alright," Stoick assured, a little stunned that Toothless's presence hadn't calmed the youth and fearing that maybe he was dealing with the other personality. He cupped his son's face in his large hands and tried to sooth him. "You're home, son, you're home. You're safe."

"Dad? DAD!" the boy screamed, tears streaking down his cheeks.

"I'm here, son. I'm here, Hiccup. You're safe."

The screaming stopped but for a long time those bright green eyes stared at Stoick blankly. Then a long blink and another before his eyes finally cleared and he looked up at his father in confusion. "Dad?" he murmured sleepily. He blinked again as if slowly waking up.

"Yes," Stoick breathed, relief filling him as he brushed the boy's bangs out of his eyes. "I'm here."

Confusion and hurt filled the boy's eyes. "Where were you? Why didn't you come for me?" he asked, his voice broken and more tears spilling down his cheeks.

"No Hiccup, I'm here. I did come for you. You're home now," his father explained, soothingly brushing a hand over his head. "You're home, son."

Hiccup stared up at him for a long time as if just realizing Stoick was actually sitting on the edge of his bed. He gave a little sob before throwing himself against his father's chest, his arms wrapping tightly around Stoick's torso. "What took you so long?" he cried, sobbing uncontrollably into his father's chest.

Stoick held him tightly, wanting to tell his son how much he tried, what lengths he had gone to but he couldn't. They felt like nothing, as if he hadn't done a thing and finding Hiccup had ended up being pure luck and in truth it was. Had they not spotted the battle on the island they may never have found Hiccup even with the sample of Dagur scent. He didn't tell Hiccup how helpless he felt. They were things the boy was in no condition to hear. No, he held his son and let him cry until he was all cried out, thankful for Toothless who pressed against Hiccup's side and the little Snowfury who pressed against his other side. And when Hiccup was done crying Stoick held him like he used to when he was just a tiny boy and rocked him, promising everything would be okay and swearing to never let another bad thing happened to him every again. It was a promise no parent could keep but one he would attempt to no matter what, even if it meant never letting his son out of his sight and appointing a new heir to lead the tribe and protect his son should anything ever happened to him.