It didn't take too long for the cat to discard the cotton ball.
Hiccup had been moved to an actual cell in a makeshift dungeon in the heart of the island. Carved from stone, its walls covered in wooden planks, their bars made from scrap metal that had been welded randomly. It reminded Hiccup of the Outcast dungeons. Back then, he didn't have to worry about excessive scheming from a mastermind. Everything seemed more straightforward back then. The battles, the grudges, the motives... And strangely, he wished he could go back to that simpler time despite Alvin the Treacherous' relentless surprise attacks on Berk and Dagur the Deranged's hysterical obsession to kill him because he'd lied. There had been more damage, but at least there was a simplicity about it.
Revenge.
Viggo was like nothing he'd ever seen. Hiccup wasn't even sure vengeance was in the Hunter's vocabulary. He didn't hold grudges or history with his enemies. He conquered. That was all. He was a businessman. And those were another human species entirely. There was no barbarity to it. Only profit. It was only about growing richer. Bigger. Stronger. To take control. And abuse it. Maybe Viggo had been taught to see the world through a conqueror's eyes. Or maybe he'd been born to take and never give back. As far as Hiccup knew, the Dragon Riders were Viggo's only enemy. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe there were resisting forces out there he hadn't been able to destroy. Maybe he'd struck a truce instead. Maybe he'd just moved on and decided to leave be what he couldn't take. Hiccup wondered how much longer of a problem he'd be now that he was at the Dragon Hunter's mercy.
The low whine of his cell door dragged him out of his pondering. Viggo walked into his cell, closing the gate behind him. Hiccup didn't budge. He sat across the room, arms resting atop his knees while he glared at his captor. Viggo didn't speak and shoved a cloth-wrapped package at his feet. Hiccup could smell the herring without unwrapping the meal.
"What did you put in that?" asked Hiccup, refusing to touch the fish meat. He didn't have an appetite either way. He could go on days without eating. Whether it was because he was bent over a new project in his hut and forgot to eat for several days or because he was held temporarily captive and starved, Hiccup had grown used to skipping multiple meals.
"Eat it; don't eat it," said Viggo as he rose from his crouch, sighing. "You're already down here. What do I have to drug you for?"
Whether he'd already grown bored or unimpressed with him, Hiccup didn't care. Viggo turned and left, closing the gate behind him before disappearing among the shadows that ran down the corridors of the improvised dungeon. Hiccup had watched him go. He's watched him exit and shut the gate. He hadn't locked it. Hiccup had seen the soldiers that had escorted him lock the cell's door before leaving and he'd taken note of the locking mechanism, wondering if he should give it a try at picking it. Viggo hadn't locked his cell door.
Hiccup paused.
Viggo couldn't be that incautious, could he? There was no way.
He felt his wrist where the shackles had been rubbing against his skin. Viggo had removed them and hadn't put them back on for precaution. He was unbound in an unlocked cell with no guards posted nearby. He could hear the distant clamour and occasional snarl of a dragon somewhere, the noisy background offering a sound blanket for him to walk away unheard. Every advantage was at his disposition to escape. Hiccup pushed himself up after examining the circumstances. Should he take it?
But something didn't sit right.
He walked across the room, cautiously. He pushed the gate, the low whine of its hinges more than unnerving. Hiccup watched as it bounced back, shrieking as it came back and kissed the latch. Should he run? Voices taunted him in his head.
Eyes on the price.
Hiccup hesitated. He pressed his hand against the bar again, pushing it open once more. He froze.
It's a trap.
Don't leave the cell.
His heart pounded in his chest, the rapid rhythmic beat deafening as haunting voices took over his mind.
You forget to observe...
... and act recklessly.
Hiccup cursed.
Viggo was a player. This was nothing but another game.
Hiccup stayed still by the gate. He stared at the illusion of freedom just a few paces away. His opponent needed him to reply to his move if he wanted to carry on with the next. He knew Viggo was waiting. Waiting like a hunter for its prey to take the bait.
Just another game.
But Hiccup refused to play.
He grabbed the bars again and brought the gate to him, clicking it into the latch. He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the filthy metal.
Patience. Hiccup could practice that.
The problem was that he didn't have time.
...
When Viggo came back again, he didn't look displeased or surprised that his prisoner was still in his cell. Hiccup met his gaze defiantly when he saw the smirk dancing over the Hunter's lips.
"Your friends were spotted roaming around my playground earlier today," said Viggo as if such information could be useful to his survival. Viggo lifted his chin, edging closer to the gate while Hiccup remained across, quiet. "You know what that means, don't you?"
"It won't work," said Hiccup, knowing his tactic all too well.
"Why wouldn't it?" countered Viggo. "Your friends are already following the clues laid out for them. It's only a matter of time before they get here."
Time.
He was running out of that. Hiccup couldn't say he'd made much use of his time. He tried getting into Viggo's head, trying to understand his method of thinking. He knew time was of the essence. And he knew Hiccup didn't have time to 'patience' his way out of this scheme. He wasn't using him for information. He was using him as bait. He knew he'd want to act. The escape opportunities were nothing but temptations laid out before him to prove a point. Despite all that, Hiccup still didn't know how to react to his play.
Viggo swung the gate open, an unnecessary aggressivity to it. Hiccup snapped to attention and rose to his feet too fast. He hissed at his injuries, bringing his hand over his stomach. Viggo walked like a large feline, eyes on its adversary.
"And when they do get here," he continued, snarling. "My Hunters will be waiting for them. And in the very near future, you and your Dragon Riders will be nothing but a distant memory..."
Hiccup stood his ground as Viggo came closer and laid a hand over his shoulder, squeezing painfully before effectively punching him directly in the wound of his abdomen. Hiccup doubled over with a cry, falling hard on his knees. Viggo's expression remained cold, his eyes empty as he swung his foot against his stab wound. Hiccup couldn't breathe. His core tensed painfully, banishing the air from his lungs. The side of his face pressed against the cold gravel while he held his bleeding abdomen. He felt the warm liquid seeping between his fingers. His body screamed like an animal being slaughtered. Viggo towered over him, looking down at the Rider, eyes devoid of all emotion.
"What's your next move, Hiccup?" asked Viggo, his voice low and hoarse. Hiccup groaned from the ground, the strong, deep-throated sound escaping his mouth involuntarily from the pressure of his suffering. He couldn't reply. His mind was blurred. "You can't run. My guards will catch you. And even if you reach that point, you can't hide. You'll bleed out." Hiccup couldn't tell how much blood he was losing. Everything was growing blurry. Viggo's voice sounded distant despite his proximity. "And you know damn well you can't play your own game. Patience is not an option for you. You will die here."
Hiccup felt like he was standing in the middle of a canyon, every word spoken echoing back to him. He tried holding on while his body throbbed. Every instinct was telling him to run, hide, fight. His primary instincts. Viggo didn't seem to have those. What was it Viggo had said?
Prisoners are easier to handle when they're past trying to kill their captors and more concerned with their own survival.
Hiccup gripped the gravel from the ground, his hand balling into a fist as fury overtook him, a natural emotional reaction from physical pain. He threw his hand, letting the dust and gravel fly to Viggo's face. The Hunter backed off, growling at the attempt. Hiccup harrumphed in reply, his hands bloody with his own blood.
"So this is your grand plan, huh?" he huffed, remaining where he was. There was no point in getting up. Viggo would just force him back into submission. "Lead the others here and kill us?"
Viggo chuckled a few paces away. "If I wanted you dead, you would be," he said, some kind of anger behind the words. "Not that it wouldn't be... justified. You stand in the way of everything – my hunting, my shores – with your misguided beliefs of a Viking and dragon utopia. And for what? Peace? Peace is such a fragile thing..." Hiccup held his glare, angry. Viggo chuckled. "Oh, Hiccup, don't look at me like that. You're chasing an impossible dream. You know that as much as anyone. I'm simply... helping you see that better." He turned his back on him. A Hunter had appeared at the gate, attentive. Viggo nodded his way to report.
"Sir, we have a visual on the Dragon Riders," said the soldier and Hiccup felt his heart slow down even more.
"Good," said Viggo, turning around to meet the Rider's wild eyes, his smirk infuriating. "Let's get this over with."