This.

This is more so the treatment I expected when I was first found. Being locked in a bird cage, too small and weak to fight back.

Even if I was feeling at my very best, it wouldn't have done much good. Maybe I could have had enough sense to bite the kidnappers finger, making them cringe and drop me, and then I could have made enough fuss to wake up Heather or Astrid. They'd take down the assailant, do a double check, and then we'd all go back to bed and sleep soundly until morning.

Sadly, that was not the case. I spent that first day sleeping, and yesterday I spent most of it sitting in the little furry nest I made atop the "war table", watching Astrid and Heather, and occasionally Dagur, spar with the defenders. At least that's what I remember, I kept dozing off every now and then, apparently.

Now, my comfortable furry bed was traded for cold metal bars and a heavy lock. Well, heavy for me. And the afternoon sun was blocked out by the dense burlap covering my cage.

My captor said little, only that she held nothing personal against me, but given the options, I was the easiest choice. There was a price to be paid, and she would ensure it was covered in full, one way or another. Meaning I was the bait.

I couldn't say where we were, either. The rough waters rocking the boat we had previously taken were traded for solid ground and constant noise of shady and desperate deals. Rare finds from distant coasts, authentic armor of legendary warriors, fine dragons captured this morning, and all suitable for whatever the buyer fancies. It all just began to blur together into a gritted and gruff cacophony of desperate and downright foul negotiations.

It was oddly soothing.

My eyes closed tiredly as another negotiation on price and authenticity turned into a fist fight, when a looming figure made my already shady prison a hair darker. Quickly shying away from the glaring light that came in unexpectedly from the lifted curtain.

I was obviously not what he was expecting to find in the bird cage, his bright blue eyes blinking in a subtle confusion. The only really stunning feature I could make of him once my vision cleared. Other than that, he was an average looking young man, with pale brows to match the few pale locks poking from under the helmet he wore. A firm jaw, square chin, and a crooked nose. From what I could see of the armor he looked like a Dragon Hunter, but there was no emblem or symbol showing his loyalty, and the quality seemed slightly off for a usual hunter lacky.

"No peeking!" Scolded my captor, smacking him on the arm. Not that it did much since he didn't even flinch, only casting a sideways glance in her general direction. "That's the Chief of Berk's personal pet."

Gag. I don't know what she's trying to pull, but she definitely made my skin crawl.

"Really." He sent me a dubious look. I did my best, under the intense stare, to shake my head boldly. Sticking my nose in the air while crossing my arms with a forced humph. Hoping to show my utter disgust at the idea of her words.

It did not go as intended.

He seemed to glean that my indignant refusal meant that I did know the chief. The look in his eyes shifting to one of interest, letting out a single breathy huff of amusement that made my stomach drop.

Please don't let this bite me in the butt.

"Yes." My curtain dropped once again. "And it's not for sale."

I have got to stop digging my own grave. It's already deep enough as is.

"However," my captor directed him out of my view, their silhouettes abandoning the canvas. "If you're looking to upgrade your weaponry, I do have some items in excellent condition. The favoured and personal armory of Dagur the Deranged himself."

"Ha!" He barked. "No one 'ere is stupid enough to mess with Dagur. You'll find no buyers 'ere, missy."

And with that, I heard his heavy form walk off into the crowd. So that's who she's got it out for. Her funeral.

She tried to pawn off the infamous Berserkers weapons with no luck. No one wanted to risk being caught with anything remotely linked to Dagur. And who would blame them. He was not a person to take lightly, even on the best of days.

So there I sat, passing away the last hour listening to her try again and again, and fail every time. Instead, I tried to tune her out and focus in on other merchants that were close by. It made me think of a very dramatic episode of Pawn Stars, but with more violence and shouting.

"The prized shield of Lagertha, great Shield-Maiden to Ragnar. Guaranteed to bring victory in future battles."

"You dare to disrespect the Valkyrie, Lagertha, with this half-assed shield you pull off your own ship?! The paint is still wet!"

"I won't go more than ten. If it's even still breathing."

"I lost half my men to capture this beast! It took our entire stores of dragon root to bring it down! It still lives, but I need at least eighty to replace what this dragon cost me!"

"A fine choice. And since I'm in such a good mood, I'll even throw in this barrel of salted cod. Fresh from yesterday. It may not replace the chief's lost son, but it may help to know you have a friend south of your boarders."

"Right, well, thank you. Starkard, you and Ug take this back to the ship and see how the repairs are going."

"Aye, sir."

A couple of heavy grunts followed from the stall beside us. That's the fourth successful trade I've heard from this seller, but this is the first time he's offered extra. Must be in a hurry to get rid of his wears. And from what I've heard so far from this place, I can only guess why he wouldn't want to stick around.

"See what else you can trade off. It will be a long trek back home, but I'd rather not show up empty-handed and with a half-sunk ship. It will be hard enough to face Chief Eret without his son."

Wait, could that be?

"I'm going to see if I can barter for some pitch. Once you've got all you can trade for, go back to the ship."

"Yes, sir."

I could only make out incredibly fuzzy blobs moving about outside. The burlap was certainly thick, but if you strained just enough, you could get a very vague, and I mean vague, idea of movement at least.

"Oh, and Teeny, keep an eye on No-Name. I don't need him starting another fight."

"Oi, that wasn't my fault!"

"No, but because you kept it going, we lost a good deal of netting."

He let out one final grumble of protest but said nothing else.

Maybe if I could get their attention, I could get some kind of word out to the others of where I am. If I can't get them to take me with them, that is. And it's not like another opportunity like this is going to come my way any time soon. I don't even know if Eret is still looking for his ship or crew. They seem to think he's dead, so they probably haven't gone to look for him. But if it gets me away from her and out of this cage, I'm sure I can persuade them to go looking. Wishful thinking at its best.

The odds of even getting their attention are slim, but luckily for me, it looks like they might be headed my way.

"Forgive me, gentlemen. I couldn't help but overhear your plight. It's never easy when a father loses a son, let alone a chief losing an heir. What I have may not help much to ease the pain, but perhaps something might catch your eye to help soften the blow."

Please don't scare them off, you little witch. You're a terrible sales woman.

"We don't need any weapons."

No, nononono, don't walk away yet.

"Well, I also heard you're a bit low on netting. I have two decent fishing nets here I'm willing to throw in to the deal, and I'll even down the original cost on whatever catches your fancy."

"We do need the nets. I make no promises to a deal, but show me what you've got."

"Of course, of course. Please, take your time."

Yes, please.

"Don't move."

Another muttered grumble, maybe five feet in front of me. So close. It's now or never.

"Hey. Hey!" Hopefully I'm loud enough. I mean, no one's told me yet to speak up, but I also don't want to gain her attention either. "He's alive! Eret's alive! I've seen him, I swear!"

"Oi, Teeny. D'ya here–"

"Leave it alone. Remember that one odd fellow we came across a few years back? Had a strange bird that sounded just like a man. A strangled one, but still, said proper words an' everything. That thing gave me the creeps, so just leave it be."

"Yes, I found the poor thing struggling in the water. It's pretty weak right now, but with a bit of rest, it should be good to sell."

Don't even think about it, psycho.

"Do you have any bolts for this crossbow?"

"Indeed I do. About twenty."

Don't listen to them, please. Let curiosity get the better of you.

There was a sound of shuffling, some hesitation, but there he was. His shadow edging closer.

The curtain shifted slightly, like a child trying not to get caught, but I could see another familiar face. Sort of. Eret's crew had a few seconds of screen-time with the odd line, but he was definitely one of them. The fur-trimmed clothing, the toque like hat, and the tattoo on his chin. I have no idea what they symbolize or mean, but that was the for-sure that these were the right guys.

He stared at me with a sort of dopey curiosity while I got as close as my prison bars would let me, so only he could hear what I had to say.

"Those markings, on your chin. I've seen them before." He touched his chin subconsciously, his eyes widening slightly when I did my best to mimic Eret's pattern. At least I know I've got his full attention. "I swear he's alive. I was just with him not three days ago. He's with allies and friends. He's saved my life and I owe him greatly for it." He continued to stare, blinking slowly as I tried to speak clearly but quickly. "Last I saw him was on the Isle of Defenders, about five hours nor–um, actually I couldn't tell you which direction, all I know is I was rocking in a boat for about five hours."

"And here are the nets, as promised. I do wish you luck in breaking the terrible news. And may the gods grant you fair seas along the way home."

"Come on, No-Name. Let's go."

I'm out of time.

"He is alive. And when you find him, tell him Spore needs help. Again."

He remained quietly stunned, until he got a solid smack upside the head, making him drop the burlap.

And that was it. My window was closed.

"I told you to leave it be. Now let's go."

All I can do now is hope. From the sounds of it, this guy No-Name wasn't one the rest of the crew took too seriously. But maybe he would sound crazy enough that they'd investigate his words just to humor him. Only to find out he was right and then someone would come and help me.

It is a long shot, but it's still a shot.

Right?

Did they even know I was missing?

Surely Dagur must have noticed his weapons were missing, at least. He would want those back, right? So as long as I stay here with her and what she still has of his, then I should be found. I don't know what her plan is, aside from selling off Dagur's stuff, but how exactly I fit into that plan, I have no idea. Was I really worth enough to them that they'd go out of their way to get me back? I haven't known them that long. And sure, I helped a little, but I've been more of a hinderence than anything.

And even if they did find me, where would I go? These guys can't just take care of me forever. I can't fight, I can't care for livestock or fields or children, I can't cook or clean or help build houses or boats. By sheer luck alone have I managed to survive this long. But unless there is a secret community of other tiny people living around here to show me how to manage the world as is, I'm useless.

Maybe they shouldn't even bother.

"Ah, back again. I thought you weren't stupid enough to mess with Dagur."

"I'm not. But my friend 'ere 'as an interest in your caged bird and its connection with Berk's young Chief."

Start playing the funeral march, I'm dead.

"And what interest is that?"

"What interest is yours with Dagur?"

The third voice was notably smoother than the others, and the way he spoke held more of a refined air to it. The best way to describe him is that he sounds like a charming snake.

There was a long and heavy pause as she weighed the pros and cons, what she should and shouldn't say to these men.

"He took everything from me." She answered bitterly. "Taking his most valued possessions is only a start. And the little bird is going to ensure my life stays in tact until I have what I want."

"And what is that?"

"To return the favour."

Great.

"And what of your interest with Chief Hiccup?"

"And old rivalry. I set out to help him in his quest for dragon knowledge and unifying peace, and he turned on me."

I think Hiccup has made more enemies than friends throughout his life.

"And what of you? How do you play into all of this? Are you his nurse-maid or something?"

"You see these lot 'ere? An' there? Some are down at the docks, an' others scouting the seas, an' some atop the 'ill there, keeping a vigilant watch. All of 'em are my men. And they don't care 'ose throat they 'ave to cut so long as I say the word, missy. You're on my territory 'ere. Be grateful you're still standing."

The world around me shook as she was shoved into her stand, I'm guessing? I haven't seen her set up, but I'm close enough to feel the interactions with it.

"Charming."

Maybe if I play dead I–no, they'll probably feed me to a dragon or something. Just don't look at them and don't say anything. Then I can't screw myself even further.

"He was a general under Johanne." I could feel her straighten up the goods as this smooth talker explained on behalf of his friend. "Everyone thought Johanne was quite resourceful. But Haftr here was the true dealer of information and master of strategy. A real Vikingr. When he found out about the last lens he set out to retrieve it. Only, he did not expect Dagur to still be on the isle of Defenders." There was a low growling hiss that followed, as if cursing at the name. But it sounded too animalistic to be one of them.

"So as it seems, we have been brought together by the norns." He continued. "Apparently, Hiccup showed up not long after the scrimmish and is no doubt involved by now, knowing his curious nature. It would appear we could all be of use to each other. I get the lens back for Haftr, he helps you with your quest for vengeance, and you help me get a hold of the Chief of Berk. It's brilliant!"

"And how do you propose that?"

"If I may first see this bird. To get an idea of what has such a hold on the young lad. My friend here was a bit curious in the description."

His voice matched his looks. Charming with a hint of devilish. I won't lie, he wasn't bad looking, and the smug twitch on his lips said he knew it too. Well-groomed blond hair pulled back neatly, with a nicely trimmed beard ending in a point. Peering over his shoulder was a terrible terror that looked just as proud and narcissistic as his owner.

I couldn't help it. His stare held such an intensity that I felt even smaller than I already was. So I backed into the farthest corner of the cage and buried my face in my knees.

I just want to go home.

"It is a strange creature indeed, Hiccup certainly does have a soft spot for the weak and defenseless. But how can you be so sure he values it enough to risk anything? You'd have done better to have taken his general."

"I watched her bring the chief to his knees with one hit. In order to get vengeance, I need to be alive to see it through." I could feel her eyes on me, but I shrank further into myself. "They seem to have some attachment to it. Although I don't know why. It has no magic or any sort of charm. It doesn't bring them luck or good fortune. And yet, they're willing to risk a lot for it."

There was a quick approach of heavy footsteps accompanied by labored breathing. Someone was in a hurry to reach our little group, and by the harsh whispering that followed, I could only guess it was one of Haftr's lackies giving him an urgent report.

"I believe we can make this work. Harald Forkbeard, at your service. And this is Leopold." The dragon squawked proudly.

"Ravna"

"It would seem the deranged's sister is 'ere, down on the docks."

"Heather." She hissed.

"But she's not alone.Two of my men say 'er companion is familiar, and 'e seems to 'ave connections with the crew you sold Dagur's crossbow to."

"Well, let's not keep them waiting. After all, we don't need them tearing this place apart when we know exactly what they're searching for."

Warships, fishing boats, merchant vessals, rowboats, and everything in between crowded every available spot in the port while leaving just enough room for a speedy getaway. Shields and flags bearing tribe symbols from all across the archipelago, and each crew just as colorful as their ships.

The boat they took wasn't much too impressive in comparison, but that was the point. To not draw unwanted attention.

But Heather was making it a bit more difficult than Eret would have liked.

"Just keep your head low and do as I say. These people are not the smartest lot, but they're quick point a swo–"

"I have had dealings here before, you know."

"What's the matter, trapper? Can't take orders from a kid?"

"No, but Astrid informed me that you're well known around here and not well liked. And if you go in charging as you are right now, we won't make it off of the docks."

He finished tying off the mooring line, securing their spot before facing Heather's firey glare.

"Look," he cut her off just as she was about to bite back, "we can both agree we need to get in and out as smoothly as possible. And it's not that you can't handle yourself, but your reputation here is one that will paint a target on your back the whole island could see. So we both have to keep our heads low, but you'll have to suck it up and stick with me so I don't have to bring back a corpse."

Heather held her stare but growled a heavy sigh of reluctant agreement. Arms crossed, she managed to stay in step of the longer strides of her companion as they started making their way down the docks.

"Now, I think it would be best if we asked around for any rare and valuable creatures." Eret cast a glance to make sure they were on the same page. When she offered no retort, he took it as a yes. "It may be our best bet of finding any leads if they're still here. And even if they're not, maybe someone knows where they went."

It was so crowded you couldn't help but bump shoulders with three people every ten steps. Everyone double-checking their purchases each time should some petty thief take advantage of the opportunity.

"That does sound like a solid start, if nothing else." Heather was shoved rather roughly into Eret's side, and it took all her strength to not cuss out the passer-by. She didn't remember it being this hard to keep a low profile. But then again, she was often alone. She was outnumbered when the idea was brought forth. Offering to go it alone, yet despite her protests she was forced to take Eret with her. Even Astrid encouraged the idea, arguing that his experience and former alliances might be useful.

The sooner they get this over with the better, she thought. She needed to hit something.

He pulled her close, keeping an arm around her shoulders so she wouldn't get swept up in the crowd. She tensed but kept moving, bitting her tongue and breathing deeply. One man he brushed past was not having a good day as he called profanities after them. Eret did his best to ignore him as the man continued to call after him.

"And if anyone looks too familiar, let me know so we can keep a wide berth."

"I don't think I'm the one they'll recognize." She jerked her thumb back as the man continued to call out Eret's name.

He placed one hand on the hilt of his sword, expecting to find an enraged pirate wanting some sort of apology. He was not expecting to be bear hugged with such a force he nearly toppled over.

"Blessed Thor's great hammer! You are alive!"

"Hoark?" The name coming out more as a garggled choke from Eret's breathless embrace. Heather let loose a quiet chortle when he was lifted off the docks in the happy reunion. "Wha–" an overwhelming sense of relief washed over him at the sight of his crew and ship two docks over. "I–well, you're alive as well. I wasn't sure what happened to you after I was captured. I checked all our usual spots but found no trace of you or my ship."

"What's left of it." His smile thinned a bit upon closer inspection of his weather worn vessal. "To be honest, we were sure you were dead. If not by Drago's hand, then by those dragon riders. And we prepared to head back to tell your father. But here you are! Odinn be praised, the chief's son lives another day and so shall we!"

"What!?" Eret's crew finally took notice of the young woman hovering nearby, staring at them in disbelief. "You? You're the son of a chief? Oh, that poor man." She stood firm, even with several large men staring down at her coldly. Her comment not well received, but she didn't care what they thought or who he was or claimed to be. This reunion only added to her sour mood for reasons she couldn't explain.

They were interrupted by one of Eret's crew pulling another more irritated mate in their direction, raving about how he had been right.

"I told you he was alive. She told me he was, and there he is! But you never listen!" Eret's brows furrowed when they came within the circle, Teeny shoving off the shorter man, exasperated at his pestering.

"Who told you?"

"Some talking bird up in the markets."

No-Name glared at his crew mate, answering the question when he righted himself.

"There was this tiny woman in a cage, said she'd been with you a few days ago and that you were alive. She said to tell you that Spoor needs your help again."

He closed the gap, ensuring to gain the shorter man's attention. Eret had originally been given command of the ship out of respect, if not for himself, then for his father. No one ever voiced a complaint with the arrangement, which made him lean towards the latter. But it didn't really matter, for when he spoke, he knew they listened.

"Where did you see her?"

"Uh–the fi-fifth stall on the right, across from Eggar." Teeny answered for him, looking at his commander with some concern as he didn't deny No-Name's claim but rather encouraged it.

Eret thought for a moment, looking from his ship to his crew to Heather. He cast a suspicious glance around the port before approaching his first mate firmly, pulling him in closely and whispering lowly in his ear. Hoark was unsure but nodded nonetheless, Erets expression leaving no room for arguments but some assurance, so he gathered the crew to carry out his orders.

"Let's go." He nudged Heather forwards, following the path that led windingly up the cliffside towards the market. She didn't even have time to question him when a scrawny rat like man armed to the teeth stood in their way.

"And where are you off to in such a hurry?" His eyes darting between them, landing on Eret's sword when his hand settled back on the hilt. A wild grin stretched across his thin face, making him look even more like a diseased vermin. "We'd like to have a word with you. You come without a fuss, and we show you she's alive. Try anything funny, and we send you back to your friends on your little boat, in tiny pieces."

He pointed out his fellow thugs scattered about the area, sending pointed and watchful stares their way. Within two seconds he whipped out a stiletto, seemingly from thin air, picking under his overgrown fingernails as he waited for their response. They knew well enough they were outnumbered, Eret's knuckles turning white as he tried to think of a way to get the upper hand. Heather was counting and trying to keep track of their surrounding opponents while keeping a reluctant eye on the man before them. He would haunt her dreams for the next few nights, his smile sending an unnerving chill down her spine.

It was a tense half minute, and a difficult decision made resentfully, but they eased off. Eret let go of the hilt, hands resting at his side, while Heather relaxed her stance. With a flashy show, the rat-like man stowed his knife and turned on his heel to lead the way. They passed the markets, shielded by their guides fellow thugs, preventing any chance of running.

The island wasn't very big, but it had plenty of secret hideaways. Ducking between a cluster of cedar trees, they found themselves in a small opening that backed against the jutting stones of the islands peak.

At the opposite end of the clearing stood one young woman and two men. The man on the left was well groomed, his clothes in top condition, and his sword set perfectly at his side. He stood tall, even if he was the shortest of the three, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he looked them over. The terrible terror on his shoulder squawking anxiously at their arrival but was soothed quickly by his companion.

The young woman next to him looked wild by comparison. Her mousey brown hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions with the odd braid running here and there. Her shoulders were tense as she clenched her fists, stalking in place, letting out a low growl when she spotted Heather.

The third man was rather average looking, fitting the appearance of any other soldier. Tall, broad, strong enough break boulders. His face was unreadable, but his stance said enough to not try his patience. His bright blue eyes sizing up their visitors with a single blink.

"Heather, my dear, it has been too long."

"What do you want, Harald?"

"A-ha, straight to the point as usual." He lost none of his charm, keeping a warm smile on his face. "What's unusual is that you are not traveling alone, good for you. Finally found someone you can tolerate, eh?"

Heather tried to let it pass, but her lips curled into a disgusted sneer instinctually. Harald looked between the two, tapping his chin thoughtfully as he looked Eret over.

"Ah‐you'll have to forgive me, but your name's slipped my mind. I do remember you though, back from the war camps. A big help there..." He paused, gesturing for Eret to introduce himself. He scrunched his nose, grinding his jaw to keep from biting back. They knew what he was doing, they also knew they had no choice but to play along. For the moment.

"Eret."

"That's it. Eret, Son of Eret. One of Drago's prized trappers. After all, you were the only one who got a second chance." Haralds playful tone turning slightly cold. "And look what you've done with it. You've gone soft, Hiccup can do that to you after a time. If not for his Nightfury and his armada of dragons, Berk would have fallen with Stoic."

"And you'll never be anything more than pig shit." Heather snapped. "Where is she?"

His playful smirk vanished into a pout when Haftr stooped him from his rebuttal, Haralds little game going on long enough in his opinion and getting them nowhere. He called to the rat-like man who brought over the covered cage.

And there she was, the scruff of her tunic pinched between his fingers. It was a firm yet gentle hold, but awkward as well. She fought to keep herself from choking as the collar caught her throat.

"Such a fascinating thing. Truly–"

"I'm going to break your jaw if you keep talking!"

"She's got her brother's manners, as well as his temper."

"Should I know you?" Heather ground out. Ravna was enjoying rustling her feathers, Eret gripped her shoulder to keep her from pouncing across the clearing.

"We'll only ask once more. What do you want, Harald?"

Millies' position switched now held in a painfully clenched fist.

"Careful, her life depends on you."

"It's not going to work, bastard. You know we all hate you, right? You are as good as de–AHH!" Millie cried out a string of profanities as the hand that held her clenched tighter.

Eret grappling Heather as she lunged forward, keeping her in place no matter how much she squirmed. Ravna drew her short sword, ready to take her on and start settling the score. But much to her growing annoyance, Harald reached his arm out before her, stopping her as well.

"Let go of me! I'm going to wring his scrawny little neck! You black-hearted cowardly son of a–"

"Heather, stop it! You're only killing her faster." He tried to sound calm, and he managed it barely. She tried to argue that he was killing her by holding her back, that she could take them. Millie cried out sharply, making it all click into Heather's head, and she all but collapsed in his hold.

There was no trick, no clever way out of this. It was just the two of them against a gang of cut-throats who had nothing to lose. Even Eret would be reluctant to admit he would be overpowered and unable to win this fight.

"There we are. Feels good to get it out of your system now, doesn't it?" Haralds charming grin returning. Haftr released his grip, seeing as they were willing to work on their terms, he gently placed Millie back in the cage.

"Tell Hiccup we'll return what was stolen if he does the same. He must bring the lens here by tomorrow evening, or else she never sees the next sunrise."

"I am not giving it back! You said you would help me ge-hmph." Hafter clamped a hand over her mouth as Ravna turned on Harald.

"We're done 'ere. See 'em to the docks."

Several thugs came out of the bushes to guide them back the way they came. They had expected some difficulty when the set out on this quest, but they weren't prepared for this. Harald had teamed up again, but with people neither of them could recognize.

Heather remained stubborn, refusing to look away as she glowered at them. Eret had to practically carry her back. His jaw tense. It was clear the second man had some higher connections, most likely the leader of these thugs. And it irritated him to know that even if he took down this lot here, the whole island would swamp them before they could go back, grab Millie, and get out.

So they trudged down the path, down to the docks and into their little boat, the rat-like man shoving them off with a signature grin. Heather chucked a small bucket, hitting him square on the nose. His pained cry bringing some smug satisfaction. But her smile vanished as quickly as it came as she thought of how to relay this unexpected and troubling demand.

At least Eret felt the same way she did. For the first time she was actually comforted by his presence. And the look on his face matching her thoughts to a tee.

They had no idea what they were going up against.