It's been a week since I got thrown into this cell. I somehow hate it more than I did that first day. You can't really breathe in here without gagging. I guess it's good that Alvy's made it a point to not give me any food. I'd probably hurl if my stomach wasn't empty. I've thrown up bile about four times now, but that's mostly been a combination of the foul smell and him trying to punch out a lung. Every day, he comes in here and spills blood. Every evening, he spills something else. Frankly, I prefer the days even though I come out of them looking worse. It makes me think of fights, so there's familiarity there. The nights…I've never had anything like those. The only frame of reference is Alvin. I should most likely eat something. I've heard meat is good for when you're losing blood and most of mine is on the floor. I'm tired. I can't sleep. Alvin doesn't have a normal sleep schedule, so he comes to get me when he's awake and bored. There's this one Outcast prisoner who won't shut the hell up too. If he were in my reach, I'd snap his neck. It's not just him. There aren't a lot of prisoners, but they keep mocking me. They know better than to act like they'll get a go, but they laugh after Alvin leaves. Sometimes, they say I'm just pretending to not like when he visits. Do they not see all the blood in my cell? Anyone I like being with isn't going to attack me before, after, or during the process. It fills me with so much rage. I hate being mocked. Whenever I think I might finally get some sleep, one of them bangs on the wall and starts screaming. I don't know why they're screaming. They're not the ones getting tortured on a daily basis. Oh, here comes Alvin again. Wonder what he'll do to me this time. He's smiling at me with his rotten teeth. To my surprise, he hasn't unlocked the cell door yet. He's outside, staring at me like I'm on display.

"You look tired," Alvin tells me.

"Funny, I didn't notice," I tell him back.

I don't think Alvin gets my sarcasm. Or maybe he does and just doesn't like it. There's a glare on his face, but it's quickly being replaced by a smirk.

"You're never getting out of this place. How does it feel to lose your tribe?"

"I didn't lose anything."

"You've lost everything: Your status, freedom, dignity…innocence if anyone could ever assume you had some."

I'm red again. I swear, this is going to be my natural color soon. He's not wrong, but I'll never admit that to him. Still, as he stands past the cell bars, I doubt he needs me to tell him that. I can see the ropes in his hands. I'm about to be restrained again. It's night, so I know what that means. He's given his afternoon lashings. Alvin has some of his vikings enter the cell and hold my arms behind my back. I could probably take them one-on-one, but there are a lot and I'm not at my strongest. Alvin's walking behind me and tying the ropes to my wrists, keeping them behind me.

Alvin doesn't say anything and leaves with the other Outcasts. Now, I'm confused. Why restrain me for nothing? I walk over to the bars to see what he's doing and he's at the entrance of the prison. My heart stops for a moment when I see who enters. I know these vikings. Not personally or anything, but I've been to their homes to take weapons and I'm not exactly the type of viking others like doing business deals with. I'm pretty sure I didn't pay them. Kinda wish I did now. I can't hear them, but they're talking with Alvin. I back away from the bars, hoping in vain that they don't see me even though I'm undoubtedly why they're here. How did Alvin even find them? Does he have an entire checklist of people who hate me?

"I brought some friends, Dagur," he tells me.

I just glare back at him. I have nothing to say. He's unlocking the cell door and the vikings enter.

"Well, well," one of the vikings says. "Look how the mighty have fallen."

"Nice scar," another one says. "Looks like it must've hurt."

By now, they're all in the cell and it's closed. I'm trapped in here with eleven vikings who want me dead. I realize my mistake. I shouldn't have stolen from them…not without killing them too. Leaving loose ends is dangerous. Next viking I get something from, I'll kill right afterwards. A big one attacks me first, but the others join in almost immediately. He lunges and I could side-step him. Unfortunately, there's nowhere to go. The cell's not that big to begin with. As soon as I move to the left, there are a set of arms waiting to grab me. Alone, this viking wouldn't be an issue to overpower, but I still am not able to defend myself without sacrificing my vikings. One of the others starts punching me in the stomach while another gets my face.

An additional issue of my fatigue is that it made me miss the fact that they have weapons. One uses a mace and clubs me on the side of the head. I'm dizzy. Everything is blurry and I feel a nice amount of blood pouring out of my head. Hope that won't be a problem. I try to get back up, but someone uses an ax to slash my back. This sends me forward into another viking and his grip is a lot stronger than the first guy's. I'm being pushed into the floor and a barrage of kicks come. They're getting me in the side, back, front, head, and face. A large percentage are targeting my ribs and in the same spot. They're not just bruised this time, some are breaking. I can hear them and it might be causing internal bleeding. I'm going to kill these guys when I get out of here. I'm going to wipe out each one of their villages for what they've done. No one treats Dagur the Deranged like this.

The kicks continue coming. It's like all their rage is being let out now. I'm coughing up blood and trying to find a time to stand and move away, but it doesn't exist. Finally, it's starting to lessen up, but that doesn't mean they are. Instead of kicks, they're using their weapons now. I take a mace to the side. It goes in a bit further, its sharp edges cutting my flesh. It moves to dig directly into my gut and I curl over. Well, I would if the one viking wasn't keeping me still. That stupid ax is being lifted again and slices my left shoulder. Great. More blood is being lost. I don't think I have much left. I think Alvin can tell too because I see him entering.

"That's enough for now," he tells them to my relief.

I'm ready for them to go back to whatever hell hole they came out of. Only, they don't leave and neither does Alvin.

"It's my turn," he says, making my spirits drop. "You believe you could do better without the ropes. Let's see."

Alvin comes over and cuts the ropes off my wrists, making sure to cut my arms on the way up.

"Fight me," he challenges. "I won't hold the Berserkers accountable."

I don't believe him.

"Fight me or I will kill them."

I can't risk it. I feel like I can barely stand, but that's not going to stop me. I spit out some blood and use all my strength to stand. I manage to block his punch, but I can only move fast enough to stop the first one. Another one connects with my head and dislocates my jaw. A blade goes through my left boot and I grunt in agony. I punch Alvin across the jaw and he spits out teeth. That's how you punch someone! Only problem is that my head is still spinning so much from the blows that there are a bunch of Alvins everywhere as if one isn't bad enough. I can't tell which one is real until he removes the sword from my foot and slashes the palm of my hand with it.

It's as if he knows my head is fuzzy because he's targeting it now. He's slashing my sides, but he's punching and kicking at my head. Most of them land. They wouldn't have if I could be sure he was the real Alvin, but as I dodge an attack, another hits me. For a second, I feel like he's punched my sight out and another punch to the stomach confirms my worries about there being more than one broken rib. I start coughing up blood again and can't make it stop or even slow down. That nausea from the smells isn't helping either, so I'm pretty much just on my hands and knees throwing up life juice now. Alvin's not a patient man and doesn't wait for it to stop before he kicks me into a wall. I don't think I can beat him. I finally have a chance to escape and I can't take it. He takes another handful of my hair and pulls it out, but I can barely even feel that now.

What I can feel is Alvin bringing down all his weight on my right leg, breaking it. I yell out and know he's laughing because of it, but it came out before I could stop it. Part of me regrets saying I'd take the other Berserkers' punishment, but what type of chief would I be if I left them to his mercy? There might not be much I can do, but I can do this. I can still try to fight. Using sheer force of will, I stop spitting up blood and grab Alvin's leg the next time he tries to kick. I manage to pull him down so that he falls and hits his head on the ground. I guess this makes it so that it isn't fun for him anymore. Alvin gestures for the big one to hold me back and he raises a sword to my chest.

He lifts my shirt and slices my chest. More blood is dripping onto the floor now. He kicks me between the legs and I would fall if I weren't still being held upright. Alvin gestures for me to be let go and I do slump forward. He catches me and pulls me close.

"I can make that feel better."

I push back from Alvin and elbow him across the face. He's glaring at me now and headbutts me. He's got a thick skull and it feels like mine just split. I doubt he'd be able to win so easily if I had food and hadn't just been jumped by eleven strong vikings. He's a major cheater in everything he does. The cut on my chest is deep–too deep. I can't fight him and keep that from bleeding out. I'm clutching at the gash, but I still bite his hand when it comes up to my face. He pulls back his hand and snarls before punching me across the cheek. Abruptly, he smiles.

"It'll cauterize the wound," he offers.

He puts a torch to my skin, letting the flames lick me. I can feel the skin blistering, but I just try to keep my expression the same. It's so hot, but that's keeping it from bleeding a lot. I'll live…yay.

"Remember, whether you're restrained or not, you're my prisoner," he says threateningly. You'll never win or have power. I'll do whatever I want to do with you and you'll accept that. Do you accept that?"

I spit blood in his face and he punches me again in mine. It sends me further back than I thought it would and I look up at him as he storms over, looking like a furious dragon. Whatever look I have on my face is enough for Alvin to feel satisfied that he's done a good job. He comes back over and grabs my arms, keeping them at my sides. Laying down, he's on top of me and that disgusting mouth is coming towards mine again. Before he gets close enough for me to bite his tongue off, he stops.

"If you do anything, I'll either kill your men or my Outcasts will."

He knew what I was planning. Here comes the contact again. It's longer than it has been in the past. Objectively speaking, someone might consider this more passionate, but I'd consider it him proving a point. There are vikings around us, I'm not even restrained, but he's still having his way. It's a play to prove his dominance. He stops and his hand goes back to its favorite location. This has become one of my least favorite parts of it because it's him pretending like it's for my benefit when he really just likes how mortified it makes me feel.

Alvin comes close to my ear. "I'm tired of your silence and glaring. I want a real reaction out of you."

I won't give that to him and he takes it out on me by doing more than he usually would.

"Do it or they die," he tells me.

Why does he keep having to pull that card? Can't I have some shred of dignity?

"Oh," I say so quietly that I'm almost not even sure if I said it.

Alvin's still going and he heard me. He's smirking.

"Louder."

I just glare at him for a little bit. "Why are you doing this? Don't you have a tribe of vikings to lead? I get it. You're in charge. I won't question it."

I don't even know why I'm asking this. It's not like I can reason with him, but I feel like I have to try. That's all I've got.

"I'm not fighting you," I say, feeling something inside of me snapping. "Can't I just quietly deal with this?"

Alvin appears to consider my words for a moment before shaking his head. "You see, Dagur, you still think you're in charge. Otherwise, you wouldn't even ask me that question. Now, if you want your people to live, moan for me from now on."

I glance at the other vikings in the cell, then close my eyes. After a sigh, I give him what he wants. I have to keep my eyes closed so that I don't see him or the others. It's letting me think I'm somewhere else. I don't know where I am, but it's somewhere without them–without Alvin. As much as I wish otherwise, some of the noises are more authentic than the others. It's like a malfunction of the body where it disagrees with my mind.

"I knew you liked this," he says.

What I'd give for my ax right now. He must be satisfied with this because he just stopped.

"Time for me to feel nice now," he informs me.

That means it's time for me to be on my stomach. It still hurts as much as it did the first time. He's going longer with this too. I feel a kiss on my neck and cheek as if that false sweetness is enough to make up for what else is going on. He can't even be consistent with that. He's also clawing my shoulder, scraping away skin, and stabbing me in the side. I bite down on my tongue and consider just biting it off so that I bleed out. I've been starved, crunched, kicked, punched, bludgeoned, sliced, stabbed, burned, and violated. I want it to end. I want all this to end. Thor, make it stop! I can't take this anymore! I want to go back home and lead my people. But above all that, I want revenge for being put in this awful place.

My throat hurts in a way that isn't just caused by dehydration. I feel something different today. Alvin is…breaking me and not just physically. I don't feel as hopeful anymore about escaping. How can I? Every time I try to work out to build muscle, he comes in and attacks me. I can't even heal from an injury before he makes a new one or worsens the other one. I'm so scared of not being able to mentally prepare for what's about to happen at night that I don't sleep. I get no food at any point of the day and I haven't had any water either since I've been here. He's breaking my spirits and that's dangerous. I can't let him do that. If he does, then he does win. My pride, I can give up. My spirit, I can't. I know what I have to do.

"I won't put up anymore of a fight," I say quietly. "You win."

A few tears fall down my cheek and Alvin notices them. He stops and just sits on me.

"You won't argue, have any snarky comebacks, or try to fight even if the restraints are off?"

"I won't. There's no point."

To test this, Alvin turns my head to the side so that he can see me. His other hand is running up my back and cups my face, but I don't flinch. I don't even scowl when he brings his face close, but I want to. I want to slap his hand away, break it, and feed him his own bones. I want to kick and yell until his ears bleed and his brain explodes. I want to run away as far as I can from him and bring my Great Uncle Haggard back from Valhalla with his army of a thousand to make him pay for what he's done; however, I don't do any of that. When I feel him, I even kiss back. Alvin stops after a moment and grins, pulling me up to my feet even though I really am in no shape to stand. He can tell and has me lean against him. It takes everything inside of me to not look disgusted by the idea.

"Bow down," he instructs.

Calmly but not gracefully due to the injuries, I get to my knees. Alvin puts a hand on the top of my messy hair and then lifts my chin so that our eyes can meet.

"Are you going to be a good boy from now on?"

I nod and he doesn't seem satisfied.

"I want to hear it."

"I'll be good," I say.

Alvin smiles and I can see something familiar in his eyes. It's the same look I saw when he thought he had the upper hand with the Skrill. I'm lulling him into a false sense of security. He's going to trust me. By the time I'm done, he'll never be able to imagine me trying to escape.

"Glad to hear," he tells me, bringing his face close again.

I think he's going in for another one, but he stops an inch away. Another test. I passed it since I didn't flinch. Alvin gets up and brings the other vikings with him. I see their faces again and some look amused by what they've seen whereas others look like I've just disgraced every viking to ever live. What do they know? I'm doing what I have to do. They leave the prison, but he returns with a small cup of water and a roll of mostly moldy bread.

"You've earned yourself some food tonight," he says. "Keep this up, and I might even give you some bread that's not moldy sometimes."

I smile and it works because it's genuine. Alvin leaves me and I look at the cup of water. I don't recognize the viking in the reflection. There are bags under his eyes, his hair looks as crazy as everyone always said he was, and an ugly scar is covering half of his face. Who is that guy? Is this what being in here a week has done? I get closer to get a better look at my eyes. They're the same. Good. I can still see that spark which has never let me give up in the past even when things seemed pointless. I'm not that changed. I'm not broken. I drink some of the water, letting it quench my dry throat. The rest I use to clean my wounds even though there's really not much here. Then, I begin eating around the fuzzy spots on the bread. My smile is still on my face because I know what this means. It means it won't be as bad for me here. I'm getting out. I'll build up my strength. There's nothing he can do to stop me. I'm breaking out of this Thor-forsaken place and I'm taking my revenge on everyone, then returning home as the Berserker chief I was born to be and anything I have to do is worth that. Hope you'll be ready with the welcoming party, Hiccup.