Disclaimer: I don't own HTTYD

Chapter Four – At Fault

Word of Hiccup's death spread across Berk faster than wildfire. When the dragons learned that their saviours and Alphas in all but name had perished, they lifted their jaws to the sky and howled in keening grief. Soon the entire island was ringing with the mournful wails of dragons, and the racket had everyone else asking what on Midgard was the matter with them.

"They're grieving Hiccup and Toothless" Astrid told the villagers, even as she too kept her hands clamped over her ears to block out the terrible noise. She felt guilty for wanting them to stop, but wish it she did. Of course, once Astrid said that, everyone asked her the one question she didn't want to have to answer.

"How did Hiccup and Toothless die?"

Astrid turned to her friends and fellow riders. They were standing with her, but none of them wanted to be the ones to say it. Ruff and Tuff seemed to have closed themselves off altogether; she hadn't heard them speak a word since they discovered Hiccup's body. Fishlegs was still in tears, huddling close to Meatlug like she'd vanish if he let her go. Snotlout was tense and frowning.

"Didn't Snotlout say hunters killed them?"

"But they've fought hunters plenty of times!"

"Who could get the best of Hiccup and Toothless like that?"

"They'll be coming after us next!"

"Who? Their ghosts?"

"No, you idiot! The dragon hunters!"

They were working themselves up, Vikings and dragons alike; but in Stoick's absence, Spitelout put himself in charge. "Alright, you lot, pipe down!" he yelled at the Vikings. They stopped talking, but the dragons didn't stop roaring. "Argh – can any of you make the scaly beasties shut up?" he asked the riders. Before they could reply, or do anything, Skull Crusher let out an ear-splitting bellow.

The dragons fell silent. "…Right. That's that. Now, Astrid, I know you're very upset" he told her, in what he probably thought was a sympathetic tone. Instead it sounded patronising, and Astrid had to resist the urge to punch him. "But none of us were there. We just want to know what" –

"The only thing you need to know" Astrid cut in, "is that Hiccup is dead. If you knew how he died, you'd never sleep again. I'm going home. Come on, Stormfly." She beckoned to her dragon, and the crowd parted to let them pass. The other riders slunk off home as well, and the rest of the villagers retreated out of the rain. They hoped to have some answers soon.

As soon as he stepped inside his house, Snotlout found himself dragged into a tight hug by his mother. "Err…ma? You okay?" he asked, stiffly hugging her back. He glanced at his father, expecting a rebuke for this blatant show of un-Viking affection. One came, but it wasn't for him.

"Ach, come on, Bella, don't crowd the boy. He doesn't want your coddling."

"One of his friends has just died" Belladonna retorted, "have a little sympathy, for Freya's sake! That could have been our son not coming home."

"That wouldn't happen" Spitelout denied, shaking his head. Then he placed a hand on Snotlout's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Still, I am glad you're back in one piece, son" he admitted. The word 'piece' made Snotlout think of 'in pieces', and then of Hiccup's corpse – he shuddered. Bella, with her arms still wrapped around him, noticed immediately.

"What is it, Snotlout?" she asked at once, stepping back to look at him. He tried not to look too disappointed; he hadn't realised how much he'd wanted a hug until his ma gave him one. Maybe he could sneak another hug or two when his dad wasn't looking.

"Nothing, ma. It's just…y'know, with Hiccup…" he grimaced.

"Oh, of course", Bella clucked sympathetically, "gods, Stoick must be heartbroken. First Valka, and now Hiccup, the poor lad."

"Aye" Spitelout nodded gravely, "it's a terrible shame. Berk will never be the same without Hiccup, Odin welcome his soul. I take it his Night Fury has gone on to the other side as well, then?" he asked Snotlout, who began to nod, only to pause and frown slightly.

"Well…umm, the thing is, we only found Hiccup's body. All we found of Toothless was his harness and tail-fin, in the hunter's camp. What was left of it, anyway – they'd all disappeared when we got there. They shouldn't have left too long before we arrived, but when we searched for them it was…it was like they'd just vanished. But…the chief thinks they might have Toothless."

"And ye didn't keep searching for the dragon?"

"We did! But we couldn't – I mean, we had to…" Snotlout felt his shoulders hunching defensively. "Gods, this is bad. What am I saying? It's horrible, Hiccup's g-gone and Toothless…we don't even know for sure if he's alive or dead. I mean, he's a Night Fury, maybe one of the last ones…but he'd rather die than let Hiccup get hurt, and if Hiccup's dead and he knows it he might just, y'know…" Snotlout gestured vaguely, but there was no doubt what he meant.

Belladonna and her husband looked askance at each other; neither of them knew what to say to that. Everyone on Berk knew that Hiccup and Toothless were inseparable; it did seem likely, if Hiccup had been killed, that the dragon would pine away without him, if Toothless hadn't already died trying to save his rider. Bella quietly declared she would start cooking dinner, and left the room.

Once his wife was out of earshot, Spitelout decided to get some answers. Astrid hadn't been forthcoming, but he knew his son would be. "Listen, boyo" he said in a low voice, "why don't you tell your old man what you found out there? How did Hiccup actually die?"

Snotlout stiffened. "He…uh…l-like I said, before…hunters did it."

"Aye, I remember, but it seemed like Astrid was hidin' something. If Hiccup was killed, and there's a threat out there that might come to Berk…we have a right to know the truth. Don't you agree, son?" Spitelout pressed the issue.

"W-well, I guess, but – I don't think you wanna know, dad, it was…gruesome…"

"Of course I want ta know" his father said firmly, "or else I wouldn't be asking. We'll keep it just between the two of us. Come on, boyo – don't leave me waiting" he warned, getting impatient.

Snotlout winced at the set of his jaw and hastily answered, "Okay, okay, I'll tell you. But…but you gotta promise not to tell anyone" he insisted, resisting the urge to add 'please'.

"I promise. Swear on my mother's pyre."

"Okay", Snotlout breathed a sigh of relief. He kind of did want to tell someone, if only to get it off his chest. He still shuddered at the mere thought of what they'd… "Astrid f-found it first, the b-body. It was..." He took a deep breath and screwed his eyes shut. Just say it. Just get it out. "He'd…been decapitated."

Spitelout's eyes widened. He swore a colourful curse under his breath, one which had Snotlout blushing. "Y-yeah…it looked awful. But, uh, I mean, I wasn't affected, seeing it" he lied, puffing his chest out. He'd never tell his dad that he'd thrown up at the sight, and was likely going to have nightmares for ages after this. Snotlout decided that maybe he'd camp out with Hooky tonight…

"That's my boy. A Jorgenson isn't disturbed by dead bodies" his father declared…then he relented a little, adding "but it isn't pleasant, seeing the body of a fallen friend. Gods know I've had to do that in my time. The important thing", he told Snotlout firmly, "is to remember that he's in Valhalla now. Hmm. Who'd have thought the runt would earn a place there?" Spitelout murmured, more to himself than to his son.

Snotlout heard him anyway, and felt rather uncomfortable. Sure, Hiccup hadn't been a typical Viking warrior - he hadn't been a typical anything – but he'd proven himself. After all those years, he'd proven himself to the village and even, eventually, to Snotlout himself. At some point…he wasn't really sure when…it had changed to Snotlout trying to prove himself to Hiccup.

"Well…times change?" he shrugged, testing the waters. He didn't know if his dad would be cross at him for talking about something he clearly wasn't meant to acknowledge, or lecture him about how a place in Valhalla was really earned, or admit that Hiccup was worthy of it. Knowing his father, the last didn't seem entirely likely. Spitelout frowned, and Snotlout resisted the urge to cringe.

Finally, his dad nodded slowly, and Snotlout felt himself start to breathe again. "That they have" he agreed, "don't get me wrong, boyo; I'm not saying that Hiccup hasn't earned a place in Valhalla. He brought peace to Berk, after all. Oh, but things will change again, mark my words. There'll have to be a new heir, for one; and who knows? Perhaps we Jorgensons will finally have our reign in the sun, eh?" remarked Spitelout.

Great, now Snotlout felt even more uncomfortable. He'd never say it to his dad's face, but this just seemed seedy, talking about inheriting the chieftainship so soon after the true heir of Berk had died. Murdered his mind whispered, and Snotlout's fist clenched around the handle of his sword. He swore, if he ever got his hands on the cowards that did this… "Maybe we should uh, just let the dust settle before we do anything, ya know? It…it's only been a day."

"Och, aye. There's plenty o' time to mourn and move forward, but move forward we must. Don't let your ma coddle you for this" Spitelout warned, "she means well, I'm sure, but real Vikings like you and I don't need to be comforted in times of tragedy. We are the ones that stand strong, keep our grief to ourselves instead of bewailing it for all to hear. You're going to stay strong, aren't you? To honour Hiccup's memory, of course."

Snotlout sat up straighter, scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes to rid himself of any stray tear marks. "Yes, dad. I'll be strong for the other's sake."

"And for your own. Grief can get you killed. It clouds judgment. Speaking of which, there's something else I've been meaning to ask you about."

"Yeah, dad?"

"Why exactly did Hiccup and that dragon of his fly off to Thor knows where?" Spitelout asked. "It's pretty obvious he wasn't supposed to."

"Oh…well, uh, you know what he's…was like. Th-thought he knew everything, never listened to anyone – heh, kinda like Hookfang" Snotlout remarked, trying to make light of it. He ignored the voice in his head screaming too soon, disrespectful – like his dad said, they had to move forward. "Uh, Johann told us he'd heard there were Night Furies out there – in Myrkr – and Hiccup's always wanted to find more of Toothless' own kind, so I guess he figured it was worth the risk."

"I'll bet he's not thinking that now" Spitelout retorted. "Not that I don't believe you, boyo, but you got one part wrong. Hiccup didn't fly off to Thor knows where cos he thought it was worth it. No, he went because he thought he could get away with it. And why did he think that? Because Hiccup Haddock got away with everything. Even before he started being the 'Hero of Berk'. All because he was the Chief's son. I mean no disrespect, but if this had never happened, do you think Stoick would have done anything to punish him for flying off?"

Snotlout hesitated. He felt inexplicably bad about thinking it, but…his dad kind of had a point. Even when they were kids, Hiccup – the runt, the screw-up, useless – used to waste everyone's time and supplies with his stupid little projects, and he always got off with nothing more than a lecture from Stoick. Meanwhile, if Snotlout had broken a rule or caused any trouble the slightest bit, out came the rod.

That was good, though! If you did wrong, you deserved to be punished. How else would you learn? Some people – he wouldn't name any names – might say that punishing someone who already felt guilty was pointless and cruel. That it would just make them resentful. Sure, but what happened when they didn't feel guilty anymore? It was like his dad always said. If you let people get away with screwing up, they'll just screw up again.

Damn him, why did Hiccup have to go and get himself killed? Why couldn't they have just caught up with him in time, taken him back to Berk, so everything would just go back to normal? "Snotlout. Snotlout!"

"Huh?" Oh Thor, had his dad been talking to him?

"Welcome back" Spitelout remarked sarcastically. "I asked you a question, son. Weren't you listening?"

"Yes! Yeah, course I was. I uh, just thought it was rhetorical. Um…" he tried to remember what the question was. "I guess not. Stoick probably would have just been happy he was safe." The Chief hadn't spoken a word on the way back from Myrkr, and nobody had dared to say anything to him. A pall of unimaginable sorrow and anger had radiated from the man.

"Oh, for sure; but if that had happened, what would be stopping him from going off alone another time? Abandoning Berk, making poor Stoick abandon Berk to fly after him. It's a great and terrible shame that Hiccup is dead, no doubt about it. His loss will shake Berk to the core. But the sad truth is, though I hate to say it…if Hiccup had been obedient and stayed here where he belonged, this never would have happened" Spitelout declared, with a knowing look.

Technically, his dad wasn't wrong, but Snotlout still felt uncomfortable. "Uh, dad? You're…you're not saying you think he…deserved to get, uh..." Unconsciously, Snotlout's hand went to his throat. An image of Hiccup's lifeless, headless corpse flashed through his mind, and he had to suppress another shudder. Suddenly, he realised that he didn't want to sleep alone tonight. Move over, Hookfang.

"Of course I'm not" Spitelout huffed, as if offended. "I wouldn't wish such a shameful death on anyone, not even my worst enemy. All I'm saying, son, is that you should take a lesson away from this. Always listen to your elders. We know best, and disobeying could get you killed. And you don't want that, do you?"

"No!"

"That's my boy. I know you'd never fly off to Thor knows where without permission; I raised my son right" Spitelout smiled. The words unlike Stoick weren't spoken, but Snotlout somehow heard them anyway. "I'm hard on you because I care. Remember that." With those parting words, Snotlout left the room, leaving Snotlout with his thoughts. They all kept coming back to Hiccup. Stupid, reckless, irresponsible, spoiled Hiccup. Snotlout had to fight back tears.

Thor damn it. He missed him.

Hiccup – the real, living Hiccup – was discovering that trying to balance two pails on either end of a pole was indeed a lot harder on a ship than on land. He could feel they were moving astonishingly fast, and the waves buffeted the huge ship, which absorbed a lot of the force but not quite enough. He soon figured out it was easier not to lift the pails at all, but just sort of drag them along the floor.

Since Cuffer wasn't around to make sure he made the dragons wait, Hiccup forewent that excuse for 'training'. Denying the dragons their food, especially when they clearly weren't getting enough anyway, was just cruel. So he let them eat as soon as he'd managed to get the chum into the troughs. He hated that they were caged and forced to eat this slop; Hiccup wanted to escape, but he also wanted to rescue these dragons as well. They didn't deserve this.

As he fed them, Hiccup did his best to earn their trust. "I can understand you" he said over and over. "I'm not one of them. I'd never hurt a dragon. I'm a prisoner too." It seemed that Toothless had already spread the word that they were heart bound – the dragons kept asking if he was *the Swift-Wing's other half* and Toothless was the only dragon he could be the other half of – but he looked, and more importantly smelled like part of the hunter's ship.

They were suspicious. They were angry, frightened, and hopeless. The ones who had been captives for a long time didn't eat, at first, even after he told them it was okay. There were indeed four empty, open cages. From the other dragons he learned that sometimes, the hunters would drag out four of them onto the deck, harness them to chains, and make them tow the ship.

It explained what Cuffer meant when he said the missing dragons were having a fly, and what Hauke had meant when he said that humans couldn't drive the ship upwind. Dragons were strong, and could drive themselves into headwinds, but they'd still get exhausted. It made Hiccup's blood boil. Even if he couldn't understand the dragons now, and knew without doubt they were people, it would still sicken him to think of them being used as beasts of burden like this.

At last he made it to the far end of the ship, and the cage that held Toothless. *Hiccup!* he cried through the muzzle, sounding pleased to see him, and worried as well. Hiccup rushed over and dropped to his knees in front of the cage, reaching between the bars to stroke the dragon's head. "Oh, Toothless."

The Night Fury whine-growled, looking at Hiccup with sad eyes. *Are you okay? Have they hurt you?* he asked. Not wanting his friend to worry, Hiccup lied and answered "No, bud, I'm fine. Here – let me try and get this muzzle off you. I can't stand seeing you like this." Toothless had been muzzled before, but it was always with a band of leather to pin his mouth shut. This muzzle was made of thin bands of metal, locked in place at the back of his jaw.

Hiccup wished he had a lock-pick on him. He tried to use a fishbone instead. "I've got a plan" he murmured, "if I can just steal the keys to the cages, I can let all the dragons out at once. We'll blast our way up through the ship. Um, we might have to get someone to carry us" Hiccup said apologetically. The fishbone snapped, so he grabbed another and tried again.

"Or, if the dragons are being made to tow the ship; I don't want them to do that to you, but if they do then they'd have to let me fix your tail-fin, and maybe we could steal that in the chaos – Argh!" Hiccup cried in frustration as the bone snapped again. Note to self. Fishbones do not make good lockpicks.

*Don't worry about it* Toothless assured him. *I can still drink, and I can go without food for a while. Besides, none of the other dragons are muzzled, so they're bound to let you take this off me eventually* he reasoned. Toothless really really hoped this was true, because he hated the muzzle, but he didn't want Hiccup to worry. His rider had enough to worry about right now.

Reluctantly, Hiccup gave up on trying to get the muzzle off. "I have to go" he sighed, "but I'll be back tonight, I promise. I've been allowed", he rolled his eyes, "to sleep here with you." As long as I obey, he didn't add.

Tearing himself away from Toothless was incredibly difficult; it made his chest feel cold and tight, just as it had when the hunters first dragged him to the ship. He was beginning to realise that the feeling in his chest, which was warm and comforting when he was close to Toothless, cold and gaping when he had to leave him, was a manifestation of the heart bind. Hiccup didn't blame Toothless in the slightest, but it wasn't an entirely pleasant sensation when he left.

He still had the biscuit; the clothes he had to wear didn't have pockets, so Hiccup had wedged the disc of hard-baked dough beneath the makeshift belt. Once he'd taken the empty pails back up to the galley, Hiccup looked around for the pails that were meant for mucking out the cages. There was no sign of them, and he wasn't sure who to ask, or even if he ought to.

"You, boy!" a voice called; Hiccup looked up, and found one of the cooks eyeing him suspiciously. "What're you skulking around for?"

"I…I was looking for pails to muck the dragon cages out with…ma'am" Hiccup explained. He wasn't sure if she'd hit him the way Cuffer did, but the woman was wielding a ladle and he didn't fancy being whacked with it.

Her nose wrinkled up as if at a foul smell. "We wouldn't keep that here in the galley, would we? The buckets you want are down by the heads."

"Oh, right." Hiccup felt foolish; of course the heads – the latrines – of the ship would be a better place for pails normally filled with dragon dung than the galley. "I'll just…go there now. Um…thank you." He hurried off before he could embarrass himself further, and found his way to the heads simply by heading towards the bow. There he found two more pails and a shovel, but he wasn't allowed back into the galley with them, so he had to head for the stern.

Fortunately, most of the hunters seemed to be out on deck. Those that weren't marched towards him like they had no intention of giving way, even though he was struggling with a cumbersome cargo. So Hiccup had no choice but to stand aside, as the hunters shoved past him with annoyed huffs or grunts or the occasional, "Out of the way, whelp!"

At last, he made it to the pulley-cage at the stern of the ship, and lowered himself back down to the lower deck. Hiccup didn't really mind mucking out the cages; it wasn't like he hadn't done this back on Berk. A sudden wave of homesickness washed over him, which didn't help the queasiness he felt both from the swaying of the ship and the reek of the droppings.

Hastily, he stuffed the biscuit in his mouth again, partly to try and chew it enough to get some in his stomach, partly to fend off a wave of nausea, and partly so it didn't slip from his belt and end up in the dung. Eugh. Gripping the rock masquerading as something edible in his teeth, Hiccup shovelled heaps of faeces; much smaller than they'd normally be; into the pails and heaved them onto his shoulders. He took them back to the pulley-cage, and began hauling himself up towards the deck. So far, he supposed, it hadn't been too bad.

Of course, he should have known better than to think that, especially since it appeared the gods now hated him for some inexplicable reason. Hiccup emerged from the pulley cage in the aft of the ship to find the deck bustling with activity. Crewmen went to and fro, coiling ropes, pulling on lines. The sail was furled, and the wind was still blowing south. Then he saw the dragons.

There were four long chains, two at each corner of the stern and two behind the bow, that stretched taut up into the sky. Harnessed to the chains at the forecastle were two Nadders; at the stern were two of the large sail-backed dragons. There was a hunter on deck at the bottom of each chain. The one on the starboard side struck the chain with a heavy club; the shock rattled up the chain and jerked a long metal rod, making it strike against the dragon's flank. The dragon shrieked. Hiccup saw red, and moved without thinking.

He threw himself between the chain and the club, grabbing it with both hands and bracing himself. The wooden peg scraped against the deck and his arms felt like they were going to snap but he stopped the blow. The force reverberated through his own body, making Hiccup feel like he'd just run headfirst into a stone wall. The hunter scowled fiercely, and wrenched the club to the side, throwing Hiccup down onto the deck. Then he brought it crashing down.

"Aargh!" Hiccup rolled to his feet to dodge the blow and ran for it. Of course, on board ship there was nowhere to run to; the hunter cut off his route to the pulley cage and called out, and suddenly everyone on deck was after him. Hiccup dived behind some tied down barrels, only to have to scramble away from a hunter swinging a sword down on him.

The blade sank into the wood; Hiccup, running on pure adrenaline, shoved his shoulder into the man's sternum, making him grunt and loosen his grip on the handle. Hiccup's smaller hands slipped underneath and he used the momentum to wrench the sword out of the barrel – it hadn't gone in deep. He forced the first hunter back, and slashed the broadsword through the ropes holding down the barrels, so they tumbled across the deck and knocked into the rest.

Colourful curses and threats flew after him as Hiccup fled to the base of the mainmast, with no plan in mind except getting off the deck. He grabbed one rope and cut through another; ballast dropped, and Hiccup was yanked up, forced to drop the sword and cling on with both hands. His arms felt like they were being yanked out of their sockets and the rope burned his palms.

Flailing, he grabbed hold of the starboard yard and somehow managed to haul himself up. Sitting astride it, he looked down to find several hunters clambering up the rigging, with knives in their teeth and rage in their eyes. Alarmed, Hiccup looked up at the crow's nest, expecting to see a hunter aiming a crossbow at him, but instead the man was just staring at him with mouth agape.

Hiccup got his foot and the peg underneath him and crouched unsteadily on the spar. The stiff wind felt like it was going to whisk him off like a leaf and let him crash down onto the deck, or into the sea. Desperate, he looked around for some means of escape, but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide…Hiccup's eyes fell on the dragon. The chain was attached at the stern, but the dragon itself was level with, lower than, the mainmast. Well, since he was doing really stupid things anyway…

"Are you crazy?!" the hunter in the crow's nest yelled after him as he made a mad dash along the spar – normally, Hiccup would fall off a rounded, narrow perch like this in seconds, especially with a peg that was a rubbish substitute for his usual prosthetic, but desperation was one heck of a motivator. Keeping low so as not to get thrown from these precarious heights by the wind, Hiccup took a running leap right off the end of the spar, right onto the dragon.

Well, sort of. He more smacked into the Sail-Back's side, and his fingers scrabbled to cling to the harness as the dragon bellowed and tried to buck him off. "Don't, don't!" Hiccup cried, "I'm trying to help!" That awful metal rod struck the dragon's flank, and he roared again, jerking and nearly throwing off the strange human clinging to him. Hiccup grabbed the rod and yanked on it, bracing himself against the Sail-Back and trying to snap the rod.

He tugged and tugged with all his might, gripping the rod even as it jarred in his hands with each blow of the club against the chain. Finally, he could hold on no longer, and plunged down, screaming, the unforgivingly cold ocean beneath him…a heavy weight slammed into his side, knocking the breath out of him and sending him flying. The dragon had swooped down and batted him to safety.

Hiccup was flung out over the deck and kept falling, right onto the unforgivingly hard wood, rolling over and over until he finally stopped, bruised and dazed, against one of the barrels. Groaning, he struggled to get up – he should be able to shake this off, he'd had worse crashes – when hands grabbed him, hauled him upright, and dragged him forwards only to force him to his knees again.

Head still spinning, Hiccup looked up to find four people standing in front of him. Wait, no – he blinked – it was just two people, the grizzled hunter that Hauke had called Gunnhild, and Onarr. The first man was furious; the thrall just behind him looked at Hiccup as if his misfortune was a source of great joy.

"What in the name of the Allfather is going on here?!" Gunnhild demanded.

"It was the new thrall, Captain!" exclaimed the chain beater. "He just went mad, attacked me like some sorta rabid dog, then went runnin' about destroying stuff!" he lied. There were shouts of agreement from the crowd.

"I did not!" Hiccup protested, indignant. A deadly silence fell, and everyone stared at him. He winced. "I – I mean I did, technically, but I was just trying to help that dragon!"

In retrospect, he should have known that wasn't a good excuse. "The dragon? Why would I give a rat's arse about the dragon?" Gunnhild roared. "Just look at the mess you've made of my ship! Barrels everywhere, a mainsail line broken – and that!" He pointed, and the hunter keeping Hiccup down twisted him so he could see the pails full of dragon dung…that had spilled when he dropped them.

"It's not called the poop deck because it's meant to be covered by those creature's filth! Where in Thor's name is the quartermaster?" Gunnhild demanded. A hunter came forwards. Much to Hiccup's dismay, it was Cuffer. "Did I or did I not order you to watch the boy?"

"Aye, Captain!" Cuffer saluted.

"Then tell me why you didn't stop him from wrecking my ship and wasting our time!" Gunnhild yelled.

"I... I told him to behave whilst I went to perform my duties, Captain."

"You fool. He's not broken in yet! He can't be trusted on his own. You have your own duties, I understand. Next time, put someone else in charge of keeping the new thrall in line. If this happens again, I will hold he and you both responsible."

"Aye, Captain, understood" Cuffer saluted. He gave Hiccup a murderous look.

Beater volunteered, "I'll watch him, Captain, if you like. If he steps out of line again, I'll club 'im." He smacked the club against his palm in anticipation.

"If you hit him with that he'll get knocked out. Just strike him with your hand" Gunnhild ordered. He looked down at Hiccup with a glare of absolute contempt. "Here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna clean that shit up, and then you're gonna swab this deck on your hands and knees, aft to fore, until it's spotless. Spotless, do you hear me?! No shit stains, no blood stains, nothing! I don't want to see a speck of dirt on this deck when you're finished!"

The man's spittle flecked Hiccup's face. He turned and barked at Onarr, "You! Fetch him a brush, double time."

"Yes, master" replied Onarr, giving Hiccup a dirty look as he went.

Gunnhild leaned in and told him, "Rest assured, I will be telling your master of this. I'll let him decide how best to punish you for your insolence, thrall."

At a nod from the Captain, the crew let him up and returned to their work. Hiccup retreated to the pails, shadowed by a glaring Beater, and used the shovel to scrape most of the remains back into the pails. Then he heaved them over to the starboard side and dumped the contents overboard. Beater poked him with the club. When he looked up, the hunter grinned cruelly, and whacked the chain. The dragon roared, and Hiccup flinched. "Stop it!"

"Make me, brat." He struck the chain again. The sound of the rod striking the dragon cut right through Hiccup's core. That poor Sail-Back (that was what the one in the cage said his kind was called) was suffering and Hiccup's disastrous attempt to help had only made things worse.

He tied the pail handles to a rope at Beater's urging and lowered them into the ocean to be washed out by the waves. Onarr came with a rough scrubbing brush and threw it at his feet. "Onarr, wait!" Hiccup called as the young man made to leave. Onarr spun around and glared at him. "What is your problem with me?" Hiccup pressed. "What did I ever do to you?"

"You showed up" Onarr muttered bitterly. He marched up to Hiccup, invading his personal space. "Sig was my friend. We didn't have much, but we had each other. And now, because of you, he's dead."

"I'm sorry" he pleaded, "I never wanted anyone to die, I didn't mean for this to happen! But Hauke and his men are the ones who killed Sigurd, not me!"

"They wouldn't have if you hadn't shown up! Why did you even come to Myrkr?" Onarr demanded.

"I…I wanted to find more Night Furies" Hiccup replied. It seemed like more and more of a pathetic excuse.

"What a coincidence" Onarr glowered at him, "so did we." With that, he walked away, and Beater growled at Hiccup that if he didn't hurry up and retrieve the pails soon…he hauled them back to the deck, dunked the brush in and began scrubbing as hard as he could, feeling guilty, humiliated and so very homesick.