A/N: Sweet jabeebus, this chapter was something of an arse-kicker. I couldn't figure out where to end it, I kept getting hung up on trying to picture the dragons in my head and it was driving me nuts. It should be noted that I have never read the books (though I plan on it if I can find them), the How to Train Your Dragon wiki was not as helpful as I'd hoped and I'm definitely no artist. All the dragons that Hiccup will encounter are canon to the universe, but outside of the six that are seen in the movie, I've got nothing to go off of for the others. So I had to make stuff up. Probably way off the mark too.

Disclaimer: Quite unfortunately, I do not own How to Train Your Dragon. That honor belongs to Dreamworks and Cressida Cowell. But I own my evil Saxon characters! Yay!

Valkyrie

Chapter Four: The Dragon Compound

Hiccup slept hard that night, exhaustion claiming him so fast that he woke up with no real memory of falling asleep in the first place. It was like he had simply blinked and the whole night passed him by. He hated it when that happened. It always made him feel like he had gotten no sleep at all. If he went around deliberately ignoring the fact that he felt slightly more chipper than he had the night before, that is.

He wrapped his arms a little tighter around his head to block out the dim light that filtering in. Actually, he felt a great deal more chipper now than he had this time yesterday. It was amazing what a full night of uninterrupted sleep could do for a person.

That didn't mean, however, that he wanted to get up and start moving about right away. He was perfectly content to stay laying down a little while longer and indulge in the fact that the ground was not moving all over the place. He didn't feel any throes of nausea and there was no loud shouting disturbing the peace and quiet. For a moment, he could pretend that he was back home, sleeping on the floor instead of his bed.

Of course, the lack of a saliva-coated morning wake up call in the form of a tongue belonging to a certain Night Fury who wanted a brisk morning flight before breakfast rather murdered the illusion.

Hiccup didn't even get to enjoy the momentary amnesia where he completely forgot his situation. No, the fact that he had been captured by Saxons sat quite prominently at the forefront of his mind from the second he had returned to consciousness. He didn't see how he could possibly forget. Swimming around right up there with that knowledge were the stories about the Saxons that the village elders liked to tell when they had nothing else to talk about.

The Saxons had spent a good three decades or so conducting raids on the Vikings in order to get revenge for past transgressions. They burnt down entire villages and ran off with the women and children they had caught unawares, making a rather severe dent in the overall population. The village elders always quoted those decades as being the worst years. Dragon raids had been at their highest peak and there simply hadn't been enough Vikings to hold off both the Saxons and the dragons at the same time. Particularly when the Saxons chose to conduct their raids exactly when the dragons were making their moves on the livestock.

Sometimes, when telling these stories, the elders would look at Hiccup like he was a godsend. He had eventually learned that the very last Saxon raid had occurred shortly after his birth and for a while, it was assumed that he would grow to be a great warrior and a magnificent Viking.

At least until reality had set in.

It was also the raid his mother had died in.

Arguably, the correct term was "disappeared", seeing as she had simply vanished into the heat of the battle and didn't come back out of it (again, according to Gobber). But the Saxons always killed their captives. Maybe the they tossed their captives onto the boats first and went a ways out to sea before doing the deed. Or chucked them overboard and let the unforgiving ocean do the job for them. Or maybe they took them back home for a nice, cheery public execution and made a spectacle out of it.

But they always killed.

Hiccup just happened to be an exception to the rule. Because they needed him to tame their dragons.

Taming dragons, hah! The notion was laughable, because you couldn't tame a dragon. There was just no way. It was impossible. You could train a dragon, yes. They weren't completely adverse to harnesses and saddles and a rider to boot. In fact, they appeared to enjoy it more than the human did, though some found the idea of saddles and harnesses to be very irritating.

But to try and tame a dragon in every known definition of the word? That would be like- Well, it would be like trying to tame Astrid. Hiccup certainly couldn't tame Astrid. She'd separate his head from the rest of his body with that humongous axe of hers if he so much as thought about it. Toothless was his friend just like Astrid was his friend. You couldn't tame your friends.

The Saxons are completely mental. They have to be. Hiccup thought, raising his head. He wiped a night's worth of grit from his eyes and slowly started to pick himself up off the hard-packed dirt that was masquerading at the ground. His left knee gave an ungainly wobble and he automatically shifted his weight to his right leg. He had never slept (actually properly slept) with the prosthetic still attached and it was probably not the best of ideas. It made his leg unusually sore and stiff.

He stretched uncomfortably, shaking off the stiffness from all the muscles across his back and limbs. He must have been so dead asleep that he had just lain in one position all night. It certainly felt like it.

Mid-morning light shone down into the hollowed-out hill. Hiccup looked up to see where it was coming from. It turned out he was right about the top of the hill being hacked off. Replacing the hill's crest was a grid-work of thick wooden beams. The sky was a pale, robin's egg blue, dusted by the high-flying cirrus clouds. The gaps in the grid-work looked big enough for him to slip through, provided he ever found a way to reach them. It had to be a good thirty or forty feet over his head.

"How long did it take them to do this?" he wondered, stepping away from the doors where he had slept all night. Years to accomplish, he imagined, but to prevent the entire hillside from simply collapsing inwards must have been a great feat. He didn't seen any immediate reinforcements like pillars or support struts along the walls, but they had to be around. The mead hall back home was still standing because of the architectural design, but the Saxons might have hollowed this entire hill out by hand.

"And why... is this so familiar?"

There was a prickling, nagging thought in the back of his mind that he had seen all this before. Or some of it. It was still very familiar; he couldn't shake that thought. The tang of iron was heavy on the air. He could almost taste it on the back of his tongue. Other smells that nearly set off his gag reflex. And warm air... Warm air brushed rhythmically across his neck, ruffling his hair.

Hiccup cringed. No, this was familiar. This was so familiar- It couldn't possibly-!

In retrospect, he shouldn't have turned around so fast. Not without knowing exactly what was breathing down the back of his neck. As it was, he pivoted around without thinking and found himself staring straight into the gleaming yellow orbs of a Monstrous Nightmare. The dragon's eyes narrowed and it delivered a thunderous roar that would shake even the most stalwart Viking to the bone.

"Aaaahh!" Hiccup sprang away like a frightened rabbit, tripping over his feet. Eyes fixated on the those very long, very sharp teeth shining in the indirect light, his fingers scrabbled for the knife that should have been on his belt. He faltered when he didn't find it, but he didn't need it. There was a set of thick iron bars between himself and the dragon.

Not that the knife would have served him any good even if the bars hadn't been there. The Saxons had relieved him of any weapons some time ago. There wasn't a single blade on his person, but the Nightmare was still growling at him as though it fully expected him to run screaming at it and brandishing an axe or sword or some other dangerous, pointy implement. The dragon eyed him ferociously with a hint of suspicion and then moved back from the bars, puffing black smoke from its nostrils. It looked quite satisfied with itself.

Letting out a slow breath, Hiccup backed up another step to get a better look at the iron bars that had prevented his untimely death. They looked thick and sturdy. He almost reached out to grab them and give them an experimental shake, but he knew that if he even stuck so much as a finger between the bars, the dragon wouldn't hesitate to bite it off.

Nonetheless, it was obvious that the bars were fully capable of withstanding an attack from a large, vicious dragon like the Monstrous Nightmare.

Correction: from two Monstrous Nightmares.

A second Nightmare was lurking behind the first, lingering in the shadows towards the back of the cage. It was eyeing Hiccup less ferociously than its companion, but the way it was looking at him implied that it was waiting for him to do something interesting. When it noticed that he was staring, the dragon deliberately shifted around until its back was to the Viking.

"Huh... Guess I shouldn't expect you to like me." Hiccup scratched at his neck. He glanced back to the first Monstrous Nightmare, not quite making eye contact. The dragon still hadn't looked away from the trespassing human. It didn't trust him. It didn't have any reason to. A person who trusted their dragons didn't lock them up in hollowed-out hills.

"I'm sorry." the Viking teen said quietly. "I wish there was something I could do-"

He was cut off by the short, crackling sound that he had only heard from the Hideous Zippleback. Hiccup jumped and looked around quickly. His eyes landed on the dragon in question.

In the neighboring cage, there were two heads bobbing around the bars, each bumping the other out of the way in a manner that reminded Hiccup very strongly of Ruffnut and Tuffnut. Two sets of pale yellow eyes were peering almost curiously at him. The Zippleback's heads chattered and crackled some more and to Hiccup's surprise, the Monstrous Nightmare threw an angry growl in the twin-headed dragon's direction, snorting out a small plume of black smoke. Undeterred, the Zippleback continued the chattering and crackling expectantly.

A sudden and extremely loud, bird-like warble from behind him had Hiccup slapping his hands over his ears, more out of surprise from the noise and not from the volume. He spun about, coming face-to-face with a new cage and an even newer dragon that he was not certain he had ever seen before.

This dragon looked somehow light and extremely fragile; like the gods had plucked clouds from the sky and molded them together into the shape of a dragon. It had a thin, twisting, serpentine body; gauzy, nearly translucent wings folded to its baby-blue scales. It was almost insubstantial, as if it would blow away in a stiff breeze, never to be seen again. In fact, it didn't even seem to be touching the ground. It taloned paws rested just inches above the dirt floor. Wide eyes of a rather lovely shade of turquoise regarded the Viking with innocent curiosity, rather than with the angry distrust still blazing from the Monstrous Nightmare.

The wispy dragon warbled again, but in a softer tone. As if that was the cue, the hollowed-out hill suddenly came alive with chatters and chirps, growls and hisses, grunts and snorts. Shocked, Hiccup turned slowly on the spot, seeing the rest of the cavern properly for the first time. There were more cages, each filled with more than one dragon. Jewel-bright eyes glittered in the dim shadows and claws scritched on the iron bars. More dragons and he didn't recognize half of them.

"Odin's beard..." Hiccup breathed. "It's like a dragon jail in here!"

He wasn't sure if he should be awed or disgusted. This was the way the Saxons were treating their dragons! No wonder they weren't having any success with training! The dragons were being treated like- Well, treated like sheep! The conditions were positively deplorable! The place smelled like piss and probably looked worse when the shadows were gone!

He moved from the cages containing the Nightmares and the wispy dragon, but he didn't get very far before a familiar, chittering growl stopped him. He automatically looked down, fully expecting to see a Terrible Terror hanging around his feet, hoping for a handout. But there wasn't one there. Instead, there was a small cage, about three foot by three foot in width and two feet in height. Hiccup carefully kneeled down, mindful not to get too close. Inside the small cage were three Terrible Terrors.

Anger surged through him, the poisonous kind that festered indefinitely. The three Terrors looked miserable in that cramped little cage. They could barely spread their wings without hitting each other, which undoubtedly caused the other two to snap at the offender.

And he especially didn't like how they recoiled from him, cramming themselves into the furthest corner, as far from him as they could get.

Hiccup was on his feet and moving back towards the door before he realized it. He faintly remembered seeing a wooden chest the previous night and his memories proved true. The chest was right by the door, right where he remembered. He threw the lid off and started digging through a mess of ropes and leather harnesses. There were candles and candlesticks; a small box of flint and tinder, parchment and sticks of charcoal. He threw it all aside, but he couldn't find what he wanted. There had to be something - a hammer - something heavy and metal - something he could use to break that cage open - anything!

And finally, at the bottom was a large hammer. A blacksmith's hammer to boot. He hefted it with a grin. This would do perfectly.

The hammer in hand, Hiccup marched back over to the Terrors' cage. The small dragons pushed themselves away from him again and he heard a rising chorus of growls from the rest of the dragons. Ignoring that and every single eye that turned his way, the Viking kneeled once more beside the cage and put the hammer down for the moment. He ran his hands along the surface of the metal sheet that was the cage's top, felt around the corners and rapped his knuckles on the points he knew would be the weakest. Being a blacksmith's apprentice had its perks. Or maybe Ketelbern didn't know his trade as well as he thought. He had not reinforced the corners. A couple of well-placed blows (maybe a dozen in Hiccup's case) ought to do it.

"Sorry about this." he said to the Terrors as he slowly flipped the cage onto its side. The three Terrors scrabbled with their claws at the cage's bottom and growled their displeasure at him as they came to rest on the bars that now made up the new floor.

Hiccup picked up the hammer again (the adjacent cage of Zipplebacks - three, he now counted - let out warning growls, no longer curious of him but wary). He straddled the cage between his knees to hold it steady.

"Stay down and don't move." he told the Terrors. "I don't want you getting hurt."

He didn't know if they actually understood him or not, but they hunkered down in a little pile of wings and tails as he lifted the heavy hammer and took aim.

The first blow was jarring and it rattled through his knees and all the way up his spine. His very bones were going to be vibrating after this. The hammer didn't even make a dent in the metal, but Hiccup hadn't been anticipating success on the first try. There was a reason he left the big stuff to Gobber.

He aimed the hammer with precision, taking the time to line up his shot before swinging away. Each blow rang hollowly through the hill, creating a dull ringing in his ears in short order. He tried to ignore the Terrible Terrors flinching every time the hammer landed. There was one with a green streak running the length of its spine, from the top of its head right down to the tip of its tail. It didn't so much as flinch as it did snarl and scrape its claws on the bars, glaring at him with large orange eyes.

Hiccup had to put the hammer down and sit himself down after he had managed just about a dozen hits. He just didn't have the muscles to sustain a steady pace with a hammer this big and he could feel himself shaking. Or maybe that was just his imagination. The cage had vibrated something fierce with each blow and he had felt every single one of them shaking his skull.

He looked down at the cage and frowned at his progress, or lack thereof, more appropriately. He had managed to bang open a hole that was barely a half an inch wide. It didn't look like he'd be getting any further without proper tools that he wasn't going to be able to get his hands on.

"If I could just sneak out of here long enough..." he said to himself, glancing over his shoulder to the door. No doubt it was chained and bolted on the other side. No sneaking out for him.

At the sound of his voice, the green-streaked Terror started growling again; a curiously high-pitched and slightly squeaky sound. It was definitely the least pleased with all the noise he had been making and it seemed equally displeased with him talking. Irritated, the small dragon reared back and with a hiss, shot a small glob of fire at him. It spattered harmlessly against the bars.

Heating them up.

Hit by an idea, Hiccup jumped to his feet and resumed straddling the cage with his knees. He picked up the hammer again and went to raise it like he was going to strike. He deliberately hesitated and looked down at the green-streaked Terror, hoping it would take the bait and make this work. He swung the hammer all the way back and then slammed it into the corner of the cage.

All three dragons jumped and the green-streaked one puffed out an angry fireball. It impacted with the torn corner and Hiccup swung the hammer hard at the break. He was rewarded by the sound of peeling metal. The irritated Terror shot another glob of fire in the Viking teen's direction. Hiccup took a few more hard whacks at the metal before to cooled past the point of being manageable. He wedged the head of the hammer into the hole and push it just a little wider.

Feeling accomplished, he stood back and admired his handiwork. He had managed to crack open a hole of about seven inches. Terrible Terrors were flexible little buggers who could find their way into and out of the smallest spaces imaginable. This wasn't much of an obstacle for them.

"Alright, your turn." he said cheerfully, shifting the cage back to its original position.

The green-streaked Terror was the boldest. It broke away from the other two and clambered up to the new hole, sniffing around it cautiously. Orange eyes suddenly snapped over to Hiccup, who had taken a seat on the floor a few feet away. He had shoved the hammer out of reach - so that it would be very obvious of he tried to get it - and sat in the most neutral position he could think of. He was sitting with his knees up and ankles crossed, his arms wrapped around his legs and fingers laced together. His hands stayed where they could be seen. He hoped that he cut an unimposing figure (he always did, but now moreso than ever).

Finally, the Terrible Terror folded its wings down to its belly and squeezed itself out of the cage, followed quickly by its fellows. Hiccup held out one hand very slowly, his palm flat and facing up. The green-streaked Terror cocked its head like it didn't quite know what to make of the proffered hand and made a bubbly growl that sounded more comical than threatening. It edged forward but as if crossing an invisible line, it suddenly skittered back and proceeded to do a nervous sort of dance back and forth.

Hiccup kept his hand out, his head down and his eyes focused on his knees. What had applied to Toothless also applied to other dragons. They considered it a threat if you stared directly at them while trying to make contact. He just see the Terror shifting nervously on the other side of the invisible line. At what sounded like an encouraging growl from the Monstrous Nightmare, the Terrible Terror made up its mind, darted forward and bit down on his hand.

Terrible Terrors had teeth. They weren't big teeth; just sharp little triangles that were best suited for tearing away the soft flesh of a raw fish in small bites. They were not particularly noticeable either, but the point was, they had teeth.

Hiccup didn't scream or jerk his hand away or try to bat the Terror off. In fact, he was very proud of his lack of reaction. He flinched and his eyes started to tear up as the dragon's jaws tightened around his hand, but he didn't do anything else. He didn't want to hurt the dragon.

"Let go." he requested quietly. His fingers were starting to tremble as he repeatedly forced his hand to relax. It was nearly impossible. No one relaxed when they had incisors shoved into their flesh, no matter how small "Let go. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not one of them!"

Maybe the Terror really did understand him, because its eyes went from narrow and angry to wide and slightly frightened. It abruptly disengaged its teeth, looking very thoroughly confused. Then it backed away, back across that invisible line, all the while making little whining noises to itself.

Hiccup had to say that he had never seen a dragon look so bewildered before. Like it couldn't figure out why he hadn't reacted to its attack.

"Because I'm not like that." he replied, shrugging, remembering his inability to prove to Toothless that he was a proper Viking. "I guess I never was."

The teen examined the bite. It was a half moon of bloody indents on either side of his hand. It hurt, but it didn't look too bad. He would have to be careful about using his hand until he could find something to wrap it up with.

The other two Terrible Terrors shuffled forward until they were level with their fellow. Hiccup brought his bleeding hand to his chest, wincing when all three Terrors flinched back. He heard warning rumbles from the other dragons, but Hiccup just lowered his other hand all the way to the floor, palm up.

Once more, it was the green-streaked Terror who moved first, though without the encouragement from the Monstrous Nightmare this time. It scuttled up to the proffered hand again, stretching out its neck and this time, taking a few tentative sniffs rather than a bite out of his flesh. Hiccup wished he had some meat or fish to give as a peace offering, more so the Terror wouldn't be tempted to taste-test his other hand.

He sucked in a slow breath and held it as the small dragon extended its head across his palm. He crooked one finger, reached up just slightly and started scratching the dragon's chin. To his delight, he got the predicted response; a little puddle happy dragon goo. The Terrible Terror began to purr, its eyes half-closed in pleasure. When Hiccup felt bold enough to use four of his fingers to scratch the dragon's chin, the Terror practically melted into the Viking's hand.

"Not so terrible now, are you." Hiccup joked, smiling and pleased that he had managed to earn at least one dragon's trust. One down, only- Quite a few left to go. "And I'm not so scary."

Just when it seemed that he had made some progress, the doors banged open and all the dragons retreated into the shadows of their cages. The Terrors scrambled to hide and the two people that Hiccup hoped that he wouldn't see today stormed inside.

"Well? Have you started yet?" Lord Cynerīc demanded, striding toward the Viking with long purposeful steps. He was wearing a darker colored tunic today with a high collar and a leather vest cinched over it. Ketelbern followed several paces behind, large and menacing as usual. His arms were streaked with soot and the blacksmith's apron was still tied to his person.

Hiccup got to his feet very quickly. The moment he was upright, three small bodies hit the back of his legs and stayed there. The Terrible Terrors had chosen to use him as their cover. Strange considering that less than a few moments ago, they had been growling and wary and didn't trust him, but they trusted the Saxons even less.

"Making friends, are we?" the Saxon lord asked condescendingly, glaring down at the three small dragons. The green-streaked Terror arched its back and growled. Stay away! Stay away! it seemed to be saying. It had spread it wings protectively over the other two.

"Hardly. I'll be lucky if the bigger ones don't use me for a toothpick." Hiccup said sarcastically. "What are you doing to these dragons that makes them scared of people?"

"That's none of your business so don't ask questions." Lord Cynerīc waved a hand dismissively. "What is your business is when you're going to start taming these damn dragons. I want to see it. Have you started yet?"

"No... I haven't been awake very long." the Viking pointed out.

"Good, then we haven't missed anything." Lord Cynerīc said this to Ketelbern. He turned back to Hiccup. "How long before can we take the dragons into battle?"

At first, Hiccup thought he had heard wrong.

"B-Battle?... You said 'battle', right?"

"Of course I did." Lord Cynerīc nodded. "What else did you think we were going to use the dragons for? Fun and games?" He sneered. "They're fire-breathing lizards with nasty tempers. I need to make use of that if I'm going to do anything about those uppity Romans-"

He paused mid-sentence, gave Hiccup a meaningful look, and carefully added: "And the Vikings, naturally."

"Wait..." Hiccup was really doubting that he was hearing this right. If he was, it was madness. "You want me - a Viking; descendant of the same people who used to trash your villages - to train your dragons - just so you can go and wipe out my tribe?"

"I do love poetic justice." Lord Cynerīc said with a fond, but still mocking smile.

"And if I don't train your dragons?" Hiccup prompted.

Lord Cynerīc heaved a thoughtful sigh. "Well, I suppose I can't kill you. That wouldn't get me anywhere." he commented. "Though I suppose there's nothing wrong with torturing you until you've told me the secret. Ketelbern, show me again how painful hot metal is."

In response, Ketelbern hiked up a trouser leg. On his muscular calf was a stark white burn scar. Hiccup figured it was less than a year old because it was still remarkably detailed. Ketelbern had evidently been making a blade, perhaps a sword. The central ridge and the point stood out clearly against the tanned skin. The burn appeared to have healed cleanly, but to make that stark of an impression meant that the fire had to have been incredibly hot.

"Took months to heal. Thought they were going to have cut a chunk out of my skin." the blacksmith growled. He canted a thick eyebrow. "You ever smelled burning flesh before?"

"Yeah. When my own leg was on fire." Hiccup replied, tapping his metal foot on the ground. That smell was one of the few things he remembered after being whacked on the head by the Queen Dragon's bulbous tail. And he wasn't going to forget it.

"You ever smelled it everyday? When hot metal brands are being applied to your skin every hour, turning it so red and raw you don't think it'll ever heal?" Ketelbern went on, untying the leather apron. He shucked it off and his tunic followed shortly thereafter. Stamped into the skin of his back was a plethora of raised burn scars that, from a distance, looked like the two-headed eagle on the flag of the Holy Roman Empire.

"This is what the Romans do to traitors and runaways." Lord Cynerīc said, gesturing to heavy scarring. "Everyone thought Ketelbern here was going to die; the burns were so terrible and he wasn't much older than you at the time."

A lump rose in Hiccup's throat and he nervously swallowed it down.

"I'm no expert on torture - never been tortured, you see - but Ketelbern's an artist." the Saxon lord went on indolently while the blacksmith replaced his tunic. "I'm sure, if you're not going to cooperate, he could burn something into your skin. Slowly. Inch. By. Inch."

Hiccup grimaced. His own hands and forearms were flecked with tiny scars from the sparks that flew off the metal he was trying to shape. He was so used to the stinging that he barely noticed until the end of the day when he usually doused his arms in water to wash the soot off. Occupational hazard of being a blacksmith; he was sure Gobber had more scar tissue on his arms than actual skin.

As for his missing foot... Well, he could only remember the smell, not the pain.

"Keeping that in mind, little savage," Lord Cynerīc prompted. "Are you willing to cooperate with us, or not?"

Hiccup was torn. He wanted to say 'no', just because that was an option. He wanted to dare the Saxons to haul him away and do their worst to him. But he would worry, every day - not about himself, but what would happen to the dragons.

What would happen to the dragons if he wasn't the person taking care of them?