I Own Nothing

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To my guest reviewers:

To my first guest who reviewed Sept. 8, you shall see more of both sides now

To my second guest who reviewed Sept. 8, if any Night Fury names seem Roman, it was unintentional, and I think Chapter 33 will dispel some of that impression. On the other hand, I actually think it's not a bad idea if the Night Furies were unknowingly influenced by the Romans.

To my third guest, who reviewed Sept. 9, I want this story done too. I'm inching my way to the finish line, but I'll get there. As for Toothless's parents, as far as I'm concerned, they're dead. I've already dealt with one parent who miraculously survived decades of absence (Valka), and to feature it a second time in the same story would be too monstrous of a coincidence and raise a million questions that would detract from the current conflict.

Chapter 32

In Captivity

The day after Viggo Grimborn and his flagship returned to Grimmige Festung the ship carrying Hognose's party returned. Viggo watched from a window. He saw most of the crew lumber and stagger off the ship, none of them looking too pleased to be back. He saw no need to go down to them and waited for Hognose to report in person. Heather followed him.

"We made it!" Hognose groaned wearily.

"So I see."

"Wot a voyage. Ran inta storm after storm. Even wid 'Eather's dragon pullin' we couldn't go too fast. Pick any given minute an' 'alf the crew was sick."

"But we didn't come back empty handed, sir!" Heather cut in, "We caught Snotlout's Nightmare. He's locked up down below."

"Nightmares will fetch a good price when business resumes its proper course, but I was hoping for more," Viggo said.

"Oh we got more," laughed Hognose. Viggo turned and saw Ryker helping Astrid Hofferson walk towards them.

"Well, well, well," Viggo said softly, "this is something more,"

Astrid was a wreck. Disheveled all over, pale, and unsteady on her legs. It did not help that she had sets of manacles on both her legs and hands. But despite her poor physical appearance her gaze burned as hotly as ever with anger.

"Did you find anyone else?" Viggo asked.

They shook their heads. "Her Nadder flew off, and as for Hiccup, Snotlout, and the Night Fury, we never even saw any of them. We don't even know if Hiccup was there at all."

Viggo studied Astrid's face. "All right. Search her—not you, Hognose. Ryker, you search her,"

"We did that before we sailed," Heather interrupted.

"Ryker, search her,"

"Ain't ya gonna ask 'er where Useless is?"

Viggo looked at Hognose impatiently. "No." Astrid had been on a boat for weeks. She probably could not tell them where Hiccup was now even if she wanted to. So he opted to save himself the trouble of asking.

Astrid had so many retorts she could make but she deemed it wiser to keep her mouth shut for the moment. Ryker patted her down from head to toe but found nothing.

"Very well. Ryker, secure her in your quarters."

"Wot?"

"You have some objection, Hognose?"

Now Astrid laughed contemptuously. "Of course he does! He'd rather I was in his quarters! He'd have already tried to rape me several times if he hadn't been so seasick he couldn't even stand up! It's lucky for him that he couldn't!"

"Yeah, you might have thrown up on him," Heather said snidely, "you got pretty sick yourself during the voyage,"

Viggo felt his impatience mounting. "Ryker, she will be locked in your quarters and no one is to touch her—at all."

"Why not?" Hognose demanded, "After that miser-ible trip, ah deserve sometin' fer my sufferin'!"

"Are you suggesting I do not reward you enough, Hognose?" Viggo asked icily. Hognose paled and shook his head. "Good. Go find a brothel if you're that desperate for a woman's body, but never question my orders again. Ryker, I'll speak with you alone after you've secured her."

Ryker's room was about as sparse and lacking in personality as a room could ever look. Some prison cells had more distinctive features. There was an old desk, a chest, a bed, a chair, and a few possessions, like clothes and weapons strewn about on them.

"Living the life of luxury, aren't you?" Astrid sniggered.

"Well you see, lass, we hunters don't get to stay in one place for too long." he retorted as he pulled her over to one wall which had iron rings imbedded in it. He wound her chains through the rings and locked them. "There. Don't even think about trying to escape. Even a dragon can't pull these rings free—we've tested them. We've also tested these." He held up a sword.

Astrid was not impressed. "It's a typical mass-produced broadsword. I've seen plenty of superior models. My husband's a blacksmith, you know,"

"Ah, but this is no ordinary sword," he held it closer to her, half threateningly, half playfully. "See the sheen? That's a mixture of venoms from Nadders, Vorpents, Adderwings, and Scauldrons, which we brew and then coat the blade in. All that's left is to get it into the bloodstream. Even if I gave you the merest cut, you'd die within 20 minutes. And that's just what I'll do if you give me trouble. Viggo wants you as a hostage, but we've got plenty of those already. We can always dispense with one." He put the sword down and bowed exaggeratedly. "Well, 'milady', is there anything else I can get for you?"

"Any pears? I've been wanting ever since I got caught."

Ryker frowned. "Pears? Fruit? Ugh, that stuff's disgusting."

"Obviously I'm not going to get any,"

"You'll be lucky if you get a slice of bread once a day!" he spat, cuffing her on the head. He stomped out and slammed the door behind him. "Ugh, fruit! Give me a slab of meat any day." He went back to where his brother was waiting. "She wanted fruit, Viggo! Can you imagine?"

"Certain types prevent scurvy," Viggo said smoothly, "but of course, she won't be getting any. And I don't want her to know where her mother is,"

"Are ya sure? It would upset her if she knew,"

"So will not knowing at all. Be very careful around her, brother. I don't want to give her any opportunity to learn anything or to escape. That was the main reason why I won't let Hognose have intercourse with her."

Ryker scratched his head, "You think in the excitement of the moment that boy might let something slip?"

"Or he will do something careless and she will use it to her advantage. I know you can control your impulses better,"

"Don't worry, Viggo, she ain't getting loose,"

"You'd better prove those aren't just words. And don't let anyone else have access to her, especially Heather," Viggo added.

"I understand the reasons, but don't you think Heather's truly one of us now?"

Viggo looked exasperated, as if tired of having to explain things to inferior intellects, "Draccus was one of us too, remember? Nobody sees her."

Fishlegs was kneeling in front of King Sweyn and getting tired of being on his knees as the King mulled matters over.

"I do owe you a favor, and I would very much like to help my friend Hiccup, but unfortunately, there's a problem, Fishlegs."

Fishlegs could practically feel his morale drop. "T—there is, your majesty?"

"Yes. Can you read Latin? No? Well then, I will read it for you." The King produced a scroll and read "'His Holiness, Pope Alexander II, gives full approval to Viggo Grimborn and his efforts to rid Europe of the vicious and heathen Vikings and their satanic mounts, dragons. Viggo Grimborn has the authority of the Papacy to deal with them as he pleases. Anyone who attempts to hinder this effort to save the settlements of the True Faith will be excommunicated.' Signed by the Pope and stamped with his personal seal. You known what excommunication is, don't you? It means a soul is cast from the Church and will never enter the Kingdom of God. They will be condemned to an eternity in purgatory."

Fishlegs whistled. He knew enough about Christianity to know that was bad.

"Exactly. It is among the worst punishments the Church can use. You must understand, while I have quarreled with the Church sometimes, I can't push matters too far or else I will never enter Heaven. And being an excommunicated King won't be exactly popular with my subjects either." He added dryly.

"But can't an excommunication be reversed?" Fishlegs asked desperately.

"Certainly it can, but there's never a guarantee that will happen. And this edict will scare away other Christians from helping you."

"Viggo played this beautifully," Fishlegs muttered. "But wait a minute—Viggo's not a Christian! He's—all right, I don't know what God he believes in—but he's not doing any of this to spread the word of any God, he's doing this to get revenge on Berk and spread his dragon hunting business so he can make a fortune! He's certainly not looking after the Pope's best interests! Anything can be put in a letter!"

"True…and I don't doubt you're right, but that's not what His Holiness the Pope will believe. Most likely Viggo sent a letter to Rome with all kinds of promises and Holy phrases. Alexander cannot exactly say 'no' to someone who claims they are spreading the word of God and protecting the God-fearing from heathens and heretics. And I have to add, Vikings have been raiding honest Christian villages for centuries. Nobody in Rome cares much about the safety of a Viking Tribe."

Fishlegs felt helpless as a fish in a net. "So there's no chance of you helping me, then?"

"Well…I would not say that," the King struggled to his feet, picked up his staff, and limped towards Fishlegs. Fishlegs was relieved to be able to stand up again, though he kept his head bowed. "If Viggo can convince the Pope one way, it's always possible to convince him the other way too, especially if Viggo fails to deliver on his promises."

"That doesn't help us much," Fishlegs mumbled.

"And if you were able to cause Viggo's downfall and showed you were a force to be reckoned with, I imagine Alexander would back away from extremes. He is old and ill, from what I hear. It's possible if you showed your military might he, or possibly his successor, would be willing to leave you alone if you left him alone."

"That's just what Hiccup wants! Berk hasn't raided a Christian settlement in decades!" That was because there were no Christian settlements near enough for a short voyage and nobody had dared make a longer one because of the dragon attacks.

"Unfortunately, I cannot give you military aid when Rome is on Viggo's side. However…there is a way around this. You see, in his message Alexander also says 'it has come to the attention of the Bishops of Rome that there are certain realms who have taken to following the heathen in allowing satanic dragons to dwell among them. This practice must end at once.' In other words, they know now that Denmark and other places co-exist with dragons and want us to get rid of our dragons." He sighed. "That is a hard order. I have grown very fond of my Nightmare Hildebrand—almost as fond as I am of his namesake. I certainly would not want to just turn him loose into the wilderness. However, since I am ordered to get rid of every dragon in Denmark and since you need help…"

Fishlegs understood and he threw himself at the King's feet crying "thank you!" over and over.

"Careful! Don't touch my bad leg!" the King groaned. "As I was saying, tell me where you want these dragons to go, and I will see to the details. But there is a condition,"

"Name it!"

"If I can get Rome to change their minds about the excommunication threats, I want my dragons back."

Fishlegs gave him all the assurances and thanks a King could possibly want.

The black clouds had not lifted by any means, but at last Fishlegs could see a ray of hope that was built on more than just conjuncture and speculation.

Ryker rose early, as was his custom, ate a quick breakfast and went to see his brother.

"The plan is to launch a massive spring campaign," Viggo told him, "every dragon we possess is being forced to breathe into the Dragon Eye as we speak. When the spring comes, we will make for the locations we find, capturing every dragon we come across."

"Excellent," Ryker grinned.

"The prisoner has been kept confined and ignorant?"

"Perfectly. She only leaves twice a day to use the outhouse, and never talks to anyone."

"Good. With Berk out of the way and the Pope supporting us, every Viking tribe and Christian Kingdom will be buying from us. And I am making a new investment to update and improve our equipment. We will have the finest hunting fleet in existence. I have even been wondering, brother, perhaps we should consider having our own dragon riders. We had Adoncia, after all, and put her to good use, and now we have Heather, but perhaps if we had an entire flock of them…of course, we shall need more dragons first. Then we can pick out the choicest specimens."

"And what about the Dragon King? If he returns—"

"When he returns, brother, for I have no doubt he will. Then it's quite simple: he will come for his wife, and we will kill him on sight. If he brings an army, we will wipe it out. Oh yes, the Meat Heads and two other tribes have declared their allegiance to us—out of fear, of course—and I have ordered them to bring their men here as fast as possible. Our home will be well protected—and yet—" he looked away to hide his concerned expression. "And yet all the odds seemed to be with Bludvist and he still lost. We should not take any chances or let him take the initiative. Ryker, go with Heather and that Razorwhip and search for him. Don't return until after five days have passed and be ready to set out again, unless you find him."

Ryker was not really surprised to be sent off so unexpectedly. "But what about Astrid? Somebody will have to watch her and feed her while I'm gone."

"I'll see to it." Viggo's slave could attend to her few needs, and if she remained chained and the door remained locked nobody would bother her.

Astrid had made virtually no sound when Ryker told her he was leaving with Heather. He made a point of emphasizing who he was going with, and he was glad to see her fighting back tears. Once he had left, however, she quickly brushed them aside, waited a few hours, and then pulled her legs towards her hands so she could reach the bottom of her skirt.

These days she had 3 picklocks hidden about her. One was in her shoulder pads, which had been taken away. Another was hidden in a boot, and the third was in a small slit at the end of her leather skirt. There were similar slits sewn in symmetrical patterns around the skirt so the one containing the picklock did not seem out of the ordinary. With a bit of effort she brought the skirt close and managed to feed her fingers into the slit and pull out her means of escape. After that it was easy to pick the locks and free herself. But she had no intention of leaving yet. Oh no, she was going to gather information.

She quickly went over to the old desk and rifled through the drawers. She soon found an old journal. Most of it was entries concerning dragons they had caught, their weight, location, and dates. Most of it was also almost illegible. Obviously Ryker was not the best writer in the world, and that was saying something, because Astrid was not the most literate. Still, a few things caught her eye. One was a sketch of a map and a poorly scrawled note next to it that said "remember: gold now to Barren Is." She committed the map to memory and then hurried back to chain herself to the wall again. She would look around again later, many more times if she could, but first she wanted to make certain of the slave woman's routine. Her findings might not amount to much, but they would be more pieces of information they might use to their advantage if and when Hiccup returned. And if he had not given some signal of his return within another two weeks, or maybe less, if she could wait no longer, she had a plan of her own she would put into action.

As she sat she thought back to that day on the island when she had seen Heather with those hunters.

Her first thought was that Heather had been tracking those hunters and had come to join her fight against them. And then Heather had pointed her axe at Astrid's throat.

"I think you'd better surrender," she had said. Astrid had felt like a bucket of icy water had been dumped on her, and she felt even worse when they started fighting. Yet almost from the beginning Astrid could tell Heather was holding back. As they dueled, in between shouting threats, Heather quickly and quietly explained that she had been sent by Mala to spy on Viggo. She then said that if she brought someone like Astrid to the hunters it would secure her position and assure them of her loyalty, which would allow her access to more information.

Astrid understood the point at once but at first wanted nothing to do with this. She did not like the idea of being a captive. Yet the fact remained those hunters were there and were after Hiccup. If she was their prisoner she could help mislead them and their comrades and lure them away from Hiccup. She also saw that she could be a spy herself if she let them take her. It was a very dangerous, possibly foolish and potentially deadly plan, but in the short time they had had available she made up her mind to take the risk.

The only problem was how to tell Hiccup about it, and Stormfly was the obvious solution. She and Windshear had been fighting as well, though their fight had been less staged, at least from Stormfly's point of view. The Nadder had initially been flatly opposed to Heather's plan and leaving Astrid.

Astrid reflected on the differences between the Hunters and the Riders. Those hunters were so ignorant of what dragons were like they had made a huge mistake: they never once thought it strange that Astrid's own dragon, one of her best friends and an odd mixture of sister, daughter, and mother to her, would just fly away when her human was in trouble. She grinned to herself, knowing that any Berkian would instantly have guessed something was up. Those hunters probably assumed dragons only cared for themselves and saved themselves at the first given opportunity.

The essence of the plan was to return with Heather. Hiccup would learn about this from Stormfly and follow at once. He would likely gather their forces and come up with a plan of his own. So, Astrid and Heather would likely snoop around for a week or two, and then escape to rejoin their tribes. Or, depending on what Hiccup was planning, they might stay where they were as insiders. It was just possible they might be able to kill or capture Viggo.

So far the plan had gone decently, though she was completely ignorant of what was going on beyond the fortress, and she hated this ignorance.

She heard a sound and looked up. A drab woman was unlocking the door and bringing in a few slices of bread. She dropped them unceremoniously on the floor. "Here,"

"Charming," Astrid said dryly. She sounded more like Hiccup than herself, but she knew sarcasm would annoy her captors more, and that annoyance might get them to spill a secret or two. "Can I count on such luxury every meal?"

"When you actually get them!" the woman laughed harshly, "a few slices in the morning, a few in the afternoon, and a few at night."

"And no pears, I imagine," she grumbled. She still had that craving for some reason.

"Who do you think you are: a King's mistress?" she snorted. "Here's your bread, now shut up and eat it!"

"Are you this rude to Viggo?" Astrid asked, genuinely curious, "I can't imagine he'd put up with you if you were,"

"Oh he thinks he'll break me into a submissive little slave, but he won't." the woman said dismissively.

"Does he do that to all his people?"

The woman shrugged and left.

Heather and Ryker had had a miserable time flying around looking in vain for Hiccup, and within two days they would have happily turned around if not for the fear of displeasing Viggo.

Then on their third day out they found Gronkle tracks in the snow of one island. Due to the bad weather they went on foot. When they came upon a fallen tree Heather slipped under it and Windshear hopped over easily, but Ryker had to work to get over, and he declined any offers of help. So Heather went ahead a ways, laughing quietly.

"Manly hunters don't need a woman's aid to climb over a tree, huh? Evidently it's manly to waste time and energy instead of grabbing a woman's hand for a few moments. Hah!" she looked around. The trail kept going on past a very large boulder. Heather advanced cautiously, and then she spotted Fishlegs Ingerman peering over the top of the boulder.

For a moment he looked shocked. Then he smiled and was plainly about to leap down and join her. Heather at once made every signal she could think of to tell him to stay put. He reacted in confusion but obeyed her. Heather then returned to Ryker, who had finally gotten over the tree.

"Well? What did you find?"

She shrugged. "The trail continues a ways and then stops. The dragon must've flown off."

He looked up at the sky. "If that thing lives here it'll be back. If not, there's no point in going further. Either way, we might as well camp here for the night. We can use that tree to help prop the shelters on."

"Sure," Heather said nonchalantly. "I'll take the first watch,"

Later that night she told Ryker she was going to patrol the area. He had no desire to join her, as he was the one under a nice thick blanket. For her part, she was glad for the chance to move around, because it was freezing. It was a clear night, with a million stars and not one cloud visible. Even in the darkness she could see her breath.

She carefully found her way to the boulder from earlier that day. Fishlegs emerged from hiding a few minutes later. She made a sign to keep his voice down.

"What are you doing here?"

"I could say the same to you," she said.

Fishlegs eyed her warily. "Why is Ryker Grimborn with you?"

Heather was shocked. She had expected him to explain things at once, yet he was clearly not certain if he should trust her. Was this a price she had to pay for spying? "Fish, it's not what you think. I'm not a hunter; I'm just spying on them—and I didn't just tell you that, got it? You've got to believe me; I'm on your side!"

Fishlegs gave in almost at once. "I saw Ryker so I had Meatlug set a trail for him—"

"I wondered about that. I couldn't believe you'd be so stupid you'd let her leave footprints in the snow,"

"Yes, that was deliberate, but after I saw you I wiped it out. So have you heard anything? Where's Hiccup? Where are Astrid and Snotlout and the Twins?"

Heather frowned. "They're not with you?"

"No."

"I'd have thought you'd be the first one Hiccup would contact once he got back."

"He'd have contacted Astrid first." Fishlegs replied, "Of course, she went with him so they're probably still together,"

"Actually…" Heather quickly explained what she and Astrid had done. Fishlegs was amazed and very confused.

"What's going on here then? What's the plan? I'm going around getting dragons so we can save the tribe and now—"

Heather frowned. "Save the tribe?"

"You don't know?" Now it was his turn to explain what had happened. Heather was horrified by his news.

"I had no idea…I knew Viggo was up to something, but this…"

"I know. Oh, what are we going to do? Wait—I know!" He suddenly grabbed her arm, "We've got dragons now, we can get Astrid back and she'll help us lead an attack on Viggo—let's go now!"

"Fish, that fortress is marble. Dragon fire can't penetrate it. We'd be cut down and gain nothing."

Fishlegs let go of her and clenched his hands. "I'm not good at this kinda thing, Heather! I don't know what to do! I don't know where my tribe's gone, our allies won't help without guarantees, Astrid's caught, you're spying, all the other riders are gone and maybe dead, I'm no good at leading people, and I don't—"

"Fishlegs," Heather said sharply, "Times like these show us who we really are and what we're made of. Are you going to let this pressure destroy you or are you going to rise to the occasion?" She put a hand on his shoulder, "I have every faith that you'll rise to it. But I need to get back or Ryker will be suspicious."

"Right but—what should I do?"

"Find a safe place to hide these dragons you mentioned, and wait 10 days. If you haven't heard from me or anyone else you trust by then, do what you think is best."

Fishlegs nodded grimly. He was glad to finally receive some orders. "I'll come here every day at sunset and wait. If you get the chance, come and we'll talk more."

She gave him the name of an island. "That's where the Defenders are. Get in touch with them; they'll help you."

"What if Hiccup's dead?" Fishlegs asked hoarsely, "What do we do then?"

"We'll have to get along without him," she said grimly. "I have to go now, before Ryker starts looking for me,"

Fishlegs wanted to talk a lot longer with her, to hammer out a long term plan and try and help her any way he could, but he knew she was right to walk away.

Heather wanted to talk a lot longer with him, to hammer out a long term plan and try and give him all the reassurances she could, but she knew she had to head back.

Winter nights on a deserted island were cold, but in some respects spending them in a marble castle were even worse. At Grimmige Festung, high up on a fjord and exposed to ocean and inland winds, which wailed like ghosts through the cold black passageways and over the slippery ramparts, guards shivered miserably and counted down the seconds until they could go off duty and get into a flea ridden bed with a damp rag for a blanket.

Way down below in the cells, where the night had been just as cold as it had been for those up above and even more miserable and hopeless, lay Greta Hofferson, a mere shell of her former self. Not that she really was aware of it or really cared. Time had little meaning these days in these cells, where people did nothing but sit and seethe, hope, or despair. Most of them had no real hope now. They all knew once the spring came they would probably be shipped off to slavery like the rest of their tribe had been. That was assuming they survived that long. Such were the thoughts of the despairing.

And then there were those who were angry. Those who wanted to break out somehow and storm the castle and slaughter Viggo and all his people like pigs. Such fire was slowly dying in some and growing hotter in others. And such fires were starting to turn towards Hiccup.

When Viggo had given them the speech to justify his actions and make him look like a selfless martyr nobody had believed him for a minute at the time. But as more time passed and nothing improved their situation, people began to wonder what Hiccup was doing and why he had not come to help them yet. After all, he had saved his father, Astrid, and the Jorgensons within a few days of hearing about it, and at the time they were largely his enemies; surely he would come quickly to save his own tribe? Yet he had not. Nobody knew why. Some came up with genuine reasons, but in their depressed state most of the Vikings were not interested in excuses and were starting to assume the worst.

For her part, Greta Hofferson was clinging to every shred of hope she could find. She did not believe Hiccup or Astrid had abandoned them, but that actually brought her more unease, not comfort. She knew that if something was preventing Hiccup or Astrid from coming to help, then something horrible had happened to them, and she was worried sick for their safety. She had lost count of how many times she had prayed to the Gods. And she had no idea that, on that very night, her daughter was somewhere less than 50 meters above her.

Astrid was having a hard time as well. Though she was indoors and safe from the winds, the marble walls hardly kept her warm, and her chained limbs made it difficult to get comfortable. The chains were about as long as her legs were, so she had some freedom of movement and could sit and stand up if she desired to, but even so, sleeping in chains was never pleasant. The chains were just as cold as everything else was. At times it felt as if ice was being held against her skin. She had a blanket but it was little use on such a bitter night as this. She was also feeling a bit nauseated again, which was starting to worry her. She had initially put it down to the rough voyage which had made virtually everyone sick, but she should have recovered from that by now.

The creaking of the door caught her attention. Someone pushed it opened and she tensed up. Hognose entered the room.

"Oh, yer awake?"

"You sound disappointed," she said suspiciously.

"Ya look cold," he remarked.

"And you look like you want to warm me," she growled, "I'm warning you, Hognose, touch me and it'll be the last thing you ever do. And if that's not warning enough for you, you're even dumber than Dogsbreath was. Besides, didn't Viggo tell you to leave me alone?"

He clenched his fists and ground his teeth. "Wot 'e don't know won't 'urt me. An' ah've waited enough!" he lunged at her. With one hand he grabbed her face so he could kiss it, while the other tried to tug her shirt off. Astrid kicked him in the leg repeatedly, so he pressed her against the wall. He was so excited that when she put an arm around his neck he thought she was giving in. That was a fatal assumption. With her arm and the chain it was attached to around his neck she started squeezing with every ounce of her strength. His eyes widened and his hands tried to pry off the grip around his throat, but it was too late to do him any good. She squeezed harder. His limbs flapped and jerked about and his face began to change color. She squeezed harder. Her own heart was beating faster, as if to compensate for the decrease in Hognose's. He tried one last grab but she gritted her teeth together and squeezed even harder.

Dagur the Deranged was passing down the corridor by Ryker's room when he heard a strange noise coming from within. He went in to take a look and saw Astrid push the limp form of Hognose onto the floor.

"He tried to rape me," she panted, "And if you're here for that reason too, you'll be next to go!"

Dagur cocked his head. "That won't be necessary." He slowly approached her. "Here, we don't want you getting more attention from the boss peoples. I'll take care of poor little Hognose. Nobody will know truth a thing about the tonight."

"Why should you care?" Astrid demanded.

Dagur just smiled. Yet even when he smiled for pleasant reasons he still carried a wicked look about him.

And the next morning Viggo was informed that Dagur had been woken up that night by an intruder. He had instinctively grabbed a knife and attacked the person, only to discover too late it was Hognose, who had been filling his pockets with Dagur's more valuable possessions. Knowing the sort of person Hognose was nobody doubted he had been robbing Dagur, and knowing what sort of person Dagur was nobody doubted he had been the one to kill Hognose. And nobody really cared all that much. Viggo simply told his people, "And that is what happens to those who indulge in dishonest business." They all understood the implication he was making. Hognose was unceremoniously cast into a shallow grave dug in the hard cold earth and that was the end of it.

As for Astrid, she did not get a wink of sleep that night after killing Hognose but did not feel tired in the slightest.

She did not really regret killing Hognose. He had been warned enough times not to touch her and he had ignored it. She asked herself if this was what her father would have done, and in this case she knew it was. In fact, strangling Hognose was an act of kindness compared to what her father would likely have done if he was still alive. Hiccup would have probably done the same thing too. She wondered if he had felt this way when he had killed Adoncia. Still, she could not deny that strangling him had shaken her. Her main consolation was that at least Hognose had not actually succeeded in his intentions.

But it was Dagur's actions that left her the most perplexed. What on earth had prompted him to do that? Whose side was he really on? She wished she knew. Heck, she wondered if Dagur himself actually knew, or did he just side with whomever he pleased depending on the mood he was in?

She felt sick again, and half-wished she had thrown up on Hognose before killing him. This nausea was really starting to get on her nerves and worry her. What was wrong with her? She was in excellent shape and had not had a serious illness in years, so what was going on now? Had she picked up some disease while down in the south?

She suddenly looked down at her stomach. The fragments came together to form a whole and her eyes widened. "Oh my gosh!" she gasped, "I'm pregnant!"