Chapter Text
It took them three days to find Johann's base. Three days of lingering in the sleaziest pubs in the Northern Markets, of clandestine meetings with the kind of nefarious, underhanded merchants they would normally have nothing to do with. Three days of bribing, cajoling, threatening, following false lead after false lead before they finally, finally marked the actual real location of the actual real underground base on their maps.
Stoick had gotten their T-mail (he'd been getting concerned, anyway, because of their unusual lack of correspondence and had been considering taking a trip to the Edge to check on things). He joined them on the third day, and possibly his furious, enormous, imposing presence gave the slimy little trader they'd been dealing with the push he'd needed to actually hold up his end of the bargain.
And even then they couldn't just barge in after Hiccup, dragons blazing — according to Astrid, at least. Snotlout wanted to do just that, to have Hookfang flame up and barbecue every Hunter in their path until he found Hiccup and got him out.
But he had been given no say in the matter because Astrid blamed him for Hiccup giving himself up to Johann, Krogan, and Viggo. Probably because he'd known about it, even accompanied Hiccup down to the beach, and hadn't put a stop to it. Which was true, but Snotlout knew deep down that he'd done the right thing, even if he hated himself for it. The only thing. And that Hiccup's choice hadn't been madness, or a death wish, or even an over-inflated hero complex, like everyone else seemed to think. It had been brave. Selfless. Desperate.
If they had been there, if they had seen the stark terror in Hiccup's eyes, the way his hands trembled, the way his breath stuttered. The way he'd flinched when Viggo touched him. If they had seen the scared resignation on his face as the Hunters took him away, chained and gagged and utterly helpless but determined to be brave, to save his friends…
If they had seen all of that, they wouldn't be so pissed at Hiccup for surrendering himself, and Snotlout for letting him. Though he knew that underneath their anger ran a potent undercurrent of fear. Fear that there would be no coming back from this. That Hiccup had been wrong, that his captors wanted him dead more than they did alive. That this time, there would be no one to rescue, just a broken body to recover.
Snotlout knew their fears, because they were his, too.
It took another two days to plan their rescue, which would be complicated by the fact that Astrid, the leader of the riders in Hiccup's absence, was out of commission with a concussion and a broken arm. And they were down a dragon, because Stormfly had a broken wing. The Nadder could fly short distances, slowly, with her splint, but she was in no shape for a rescue mission.
Astrid wanted more than anything to charge into battle anyway, debilitating headaches and broken bones be damned, but Stoick had talked her down. In her condition, she would be more of a hindrance than a help. They'd have to worry about protecting her and Hiccup once they found him. The Chief would lead the mission to rescue his son.
But Astrid refused to stay back on the Edge. During their scouting missions, they'd discovered a small island about five miles from the base, and they had decided to use that as a meeting spot in case they got separated. Astrid would only stay behind if she could wait on that island so that she'd know at once when they came back with Hiccup.
None of them liked the idea of Astrid and Stormfly hanging around the island, waiting for them to return, but she'd been immovable. Even concussed and with a broken arm, she could defend herself just fine, she insisted. And besides, the island was uninhabited by all but a small handful of Terrible Terrors, and well out of the way of normal Hunter and Flyer activity. And she'd have Stormfly to protect her.
So they'd agreed. It wasn't like she'd given them any other choice.
In the end, Hiccup was in their enemies' hands for six days before they rescued him. Six days didn't sound very long, usually. Snotlout had attended parties that lasted longer.
But for Hiccup… Snotlout had been watching when Hiccup gave himself up to Viggo. He'd seen the hungry, possessive gleam in Viggo's eyes. He'd watched, sickened, as Viggo ran his fingers slowly, intimately down Hiccup's face. He'd tasted Hiccup's fear like blood in his mouth, acrid and metallic. And he also knew how much Johann hated Hiccup. How brutal and sadistic Krogan was, and how much he'd delighted in tormenting Hiccup during the whole bounty fiasco.
Six days, in the grand scheme of things, was not a long time.
But even one day in Viggo, Johann, and Krogan's clutches could be enough to unravel Hiccup, tear him apart from the inside out. Snotlout's nightmares swam with all the horrific things his captors could be doing to him. And six days of that torture?
Gods, six days was forever.
They split into two teams. Stoick and the twins would fly in first, laying cover fire, drawing the attention of the Flyers on guard. Then Snotlout on Toothless, Fishlegs on Meatlug, and Hookfang would use the chaos as a shield and get inside the base and start the search for Hiccup. Stoick, Ruff, and Tuff would follow once they'd taken out the guards.
They would take no prisoners.
Snotlout knew the chief wanted more than anything to go after Hiccup himself, but it would be much harder for Skullcrusher, iridescent and enormous as he was, to sneak through the battle and into the base. So Snotlout was put in charge of the initial search. Fishlegs would accompany him not because he and his dragon were particularly stealthy, but because Meatlug was immune to Dragon Root and Fishlegs, as a healer, would be able to address any immediate injuries when they found Hiccup.
"I'm trusting you, Snotlout," Stoick had said, his eyes harder than stone. "That's your leader, the future chief, and your cousin in there. You stick to the plan, you do not let your anger get the better of you, you do not put anything — not even revenge — over getting Hiccup out safely if you find him. Do you understand me?"
Snotlout's stomach had done an uncomfortable somersault; resentment welled up inside of him. Didn't Stoick know that Snotlout knew the stakes? For Thor's sake, Snotlout was the one who had watched Viggo drag Hiccup away! No one, no one, wanted Hiccup back more than he did!
He pushed the bitterness aside and nodded. "I won't let you down, Chief."
In his mind's eye, Snotlout saw Hiccup, hand outstretched, tears in his eyes, terror painting every breath. See you soon? he said, unable to keep the desperation out of his voice. Gods, he'd been terrified. And who knew what they'd done to him these past six days?
Who knew if he was even still alive?
Snotlout scrubbed a hand over his face and squared his shoulders. "Get it together, Jorgensen," he ordered.
And they set their plan into motion.
They got in mostly undetected. They'd had to take down a few Hunters and Flyers who had come running at the sound of the attack, but between Toothless's precision plasma blasts, Meatlug's lava bursts, and Hookfang's gouts of fire, they didn't stand a chance.
The base was a labyrinthine underground hive of connected tunnels and caverns, some manmade and some natural. It took Snotlout and Fishlegs ages to find the cells — only to discover that Hiccup wasn't there. Just a line of empty cages. One was filthy, with an unchanged chamber pot shoved in one corner, three manacles on chains bolted to the floor, and a threadbare, bloodstained blanket that was more holes than fabric bunched on the floor. Toothless stepped inside, sniffed the blanket, and groaned in despair.
Oh gods, thought Snotlout, his heart hammering, his breath hitching. We're too late. He's dead.
A hand touched his shoulder and Snotlout nearly jumped out of his skin. Fishlegs. His eyes were bright, his lips set in a firm line, but he seemed calm. Collected. Pretty much the exact opposite of Snotlout right now. How the tables had turned, and Snotlout didn't like it one bit. His head spun; he felt like he had slipped into an alternate archipelago. Or maybe everything had just been thrown off balance when Hiccup had been taken.
"Just because he's not in here doesn't mean he's… that he's… gone," Fishlegs finished lamely. "They could be keeping him somewhere else, they could have taken him for questioning." Snotlout glanced at Toothless, whose tail twitched frenetically, all fury and feral determination, and Snotlout steeled his resolve. Fishlegs hadn't given up on Hiccup. Toothless sure as Hel hadn't. And neither would Snotlout.
See you soon? Hiccup had asked.
See ya soon, Snotlout thought grimly. We're coming.
They would never find Hiccup at this rate. It had been at least twenty minutes, and the sounds of the fight up above hadn't let up, which meant that Stoick and the twins still hadn't made it down. Given the conspicuous lack of bad guys in the base (they'd only met three or four, and had dispatched them easily), Snotlout figured most of the Hunters and Flyers had joined the fray. And since they hadn't seen a sign of Viggo, Krogan, or Johann, it was possible that they were up there, too.
So, on the one hand, great! Snotlout and his team could wander the halls to their hearts' content. On the other hand, Stoick and the twins had to be vastly outnumbered. Best case scenario, they wouldn't be able to join the search for some time. Worst case scenario, they would have to retreat, and Snotlout, Fishlegs, their dragons, and Toothless would be on their own.
"We're never gonna find him like this," Snotlout complained. "This place is huge." Toothless warbled in agreement (at least, Snotlout thought it was agreement; he didn't speak Night Fury).
"We'll find him," Fishlegs said, a bit desperately. "We just have to keep looking!"
"We have to split up," Snotlout said. "You, Toothless, and Hookfang turn right at the next fork. Meatlug and I will go left. That way, if one of us finds Hiccup, we can use our dragon call to alert our dragons, and we can get the Hel out of here."
He didn't really want the Gronkle as a companion, but they needed a way to communicate and find each other if they found Hiccup. And as good as it would be to have a Night Fury at his side, protecting him, Snotlout knew Fishlegs would need that protection more. He was strong but slow, and in the confines of these underground tunnels, he'd be far less maneuverable. So Snotlout figured Fishlegs would need the actually useful dragons as backup.
Mildly disgusted with himself, Snotlout wondered when he'd become so thoughtful, especially concerning Fishface, but immediately, Hiccup's pale face, trembling hands, and glittering eyes appeared in his mind's eye. Yep, watching Hiccup's sacrifice probably had something to do with it.
Fishlegs shifted anxiously from foot to foot. Beside him, Meatlug whined and pawed the ground. Hookfang scoffed. Toothless alone seemed keen on the change of plans; he chuffed and nudged Fishlegs from behind, urging him to move. Fishlegs stumbled, but didn't give in.
"You heard the chief," he said. "Stick to the plan."
"Yeah?" Snotlout snapped. "Tell that to the Hunters and Flyers! There's way more than that lying bastard said there'd be." (He was going to kill their trader informant if they got out of here alive.) "They're not sticking to the plan. Stoick and the twins could be up there forever. And with us all searching in one group, we'll never find Hiccup before they're overwhelmed or forced to retreat."
"Yeah, but—"
"Fishlegs, we don't have a choice," Snotlout growled. "Stoick also said he was trusting me to bring Hiccup back."
"But—"
"I watched it all, Fishlegs," Snotlout interrupted. "Gods, if you had seen how scared Hiccup was, you'd know, maybe you'd understand. He didn't want to do this, man. He didn't want to give himself up. He did it to protect us, all of us, and I let him because it was his own damn choice to make. And I'm not leaving this stupid maze without him, so we're going to split up, and we're going to do it now, and you don't have to be happy about it. But I'm making the call here."
To his surprise, Fishlegs didn't argue. He gazed at Snotlout with something akin to respect — how weird was that? Maybe they really were in an alternate archipelago — and nodded. "Okay," he said. "We split up."
Snotlout lost track of how many rooms and caverns he checked, Meatlug clomping along behind him. Gods, why did that dragon have to be so loud? It didn't have a single stealthy bone in its abnormally bulbous body. She did clobber a couple of Hunters they ran into with her tail, though, so she got some points back for that.
They had just worked their way through the barracks, all empty, and now appeared to be in the living quarters of the big bads themselves. The room they'd just checked had to be Johann's — an enormous bed, plusher than anything Snotlout had ever seen before, strange curios from all over decorating the carved stone walls. Furs and pelts from animals Snotlout had never seen — orange with black stripes, tan with black spots, black and white stripe. And the overwhelming scent of exotic spices filled the otherwise stagnant, underground air.
The next room could only be Krogan's. It was simple, utilitarian, impermanent. The bed didn't even look slept in, and the only other furniture was a large chest. Snotlout checked it, just in case the bastard had shoved Hiccup in there, but all he found were a bunch of correspondences.
Snotlout hastily scanned a few, but they weren't written in any language he recognized, so he grabbed a few scrolls and stuck them in Meatlug's saddle bag. Maybe Gothi or someone would be able to translate. Maybe whoever Krogan was talking to was his mysterious employer. At any rate, he figured Hiccup would be glad to get his hands on any clues to the shadowy figure Krogan, Johann, and now Viggo worked for.
"Come on, Meatlug," Snotlout snapped as the Gronkle waddled in his wake. "The next room is the last one in this wing, and it's gotta be Viggo's. We'll have to turn around and try another direction if Hiccup—"
His words died in his throat. "Oh my gods," he whispered, his eyes landing on the half-naked, bruised and bloodied figure lying limp on the bed — chained to the bed. "Hiccup."
He wouldn't have recognized the prisoner as his cousin if not for the unruly mop of auburn hair. Hiccup lay on his side on top of the plush furs, curled in on himself with his back to Snotlout. His spine roped down his back, clearly visible just beneath the bare skin, even with the added layers of grime, blood, and bruises. Snotlout had no idea if he was conscious or not, but — thank Odin — he was alive. Snotlout could see his battered shoulders — gods, what were those bruises, long and thin and overlapping each other in a grotesque rainbow of black, red and yellow?
Snotlout wanted nothing more than to run in, grab Hiccup, and get the Hel out, but he needed to call Hookfang first, get his dragon, Fishlegs, and Toothless on their way here. One thing that he hadn't considered about this plan was that he would also be revealing his location to any Hunter or Flyer who heard his Monstrous Nightmare call. But too late to change plans now. He'd just have to improvise.
"Okay, Meatlug," he said, we're going to backtrack to the barracks, and I'm going to call the others from there so I don't give away my exact position. You're gonna wait there, keep watch for any bad guys, and show Fishlegs where Hiccup is when he finds you, okay?"
Meatlug growled enthusiastically and wagged her tail. "Okay, let's do this." He glanced back over at his cousin's still, broken form and swallowed heavily. "I'll be right back, Hiccup," he promised. "And then I'm gonna get you home."
When Snotlout returned, Hiccup was still curled in a protective ball on the bed, but he'd turned over. And — gods — how bad he looked from the back was nothing compared to the front view. For one horrifying second, Snotlout thought Hiccup had died in the short time he'd been gone, because his eyes were open but blank, staring straight ahead, into nothing. Staring through Snotlout. But then he blinked, and the ice in Snotlout's chest melted the tiniest bit.
As quietly as possible, Snotlout slipped into the room and shut the door behind him. The room was smaller than Johann's and Krogan's but filled to the brim with scavenged opulence. Snotlout knew that when they'd defeated the Dragon Hunters and supposedly killed both Grimborns, Viggo had lost most of his wealth. What the riders hadn't plundered had probably been absorbed by Johann and his shadowy employer.
And so the furs, the ornate desk, the intricately carved chest, the enormous, filigreed wardrobe on the far wall, the elegant bed, at first glance may have implied wealth and abundance. But when he looked closer, he saw that none of these items were in the best condition, shabby, worn, damaged, like Viggo was clinging on to the appearance of prosperity while in actuality he was fully dependent upon the mercies and riches of his new business partners and the man they worked for.
But Snotlout didn't give a flying yak about what state Viggo's possessions were in, so after a cursory glance, he darted across the room and fell to his knees beside the bed in front of Hiccup. And gods did Hiccup look even worse up close.
His wrists were manacled in front of him, a chain looped through the center of the cuffs and attached to one of the posts at the head of the bed. He'd obviously been restrained for a long time, maybe even the whole time he'd been a prisoner, because the manacles had rubbed his wrists raw. His right one looked like it might be infected where the metal had cut into his skin. His right leg was chained to the right foot post, and his left leg was missing.
Injuries in various stages of healing littered Hiccup’s torso. Some looked less than a day old. Open, shallow cuts along his ribs meant to cause pain without incurring too much blood loss. More of those long, thin bruises on his stomach and chest. A burn the size of Snotlout's fist marred the skin in the center of Hiccup's chest, raw and shiny and blistered. Something seemed off about it, but in the low, guttering torchlight, Snotlout couldn't see it well enough to figure out what, exactly, so he filed it away for later. There were bruises on his ribs that could only be from fists and feet.
And scattered along Hiccup's shoulders and neck were what Snotlout thought at first were more burns. But when he peered closer, he saw with a sick flip of his stomach that they were bruises — precise, contained, lurid bruises in all shades of red, black, blue, and green. Snotlout recognized those bruises; he'd always given Hiccup shit about them whenever Astrid got carried away and left one on his neck. Love bites, they were called. But these… these were violent, angry marks, the bruising so intense, so deep, that Snotlout knew immediately that love had nothing to do with them. Lust, possession, sure, but love…
And — gods gods gods — if Viggo had done this to Hiccup, had left these kinds of marks on his body, what else had he done? What other marks had he left? What kinds of marks that could not be seen but that could hurt Hiccup more deeply than all his injuries combined?
This. This was what Snotlout's darkest nightmares had been about, that Viggo, with his possessive looks and wandering hands, would lose any remaining fragments of civility that he still possessed, and take anything and everything he wanted from Hiccup. He'd tried to convince himself that it wouldn't happen, that even Viggo wasn't that depraved and heartless, but the evidence was damning: Hiccup chained to Viggo's bed, eyes wide open but otherwise unresponsive; his half-clothed state; the marks littering his neck and shoulders…
Snotlout catalogued all this in a matter of seconds, his eyes darting over Hiccup's broken body, terrified that they'd broken his spirit too. And then he spoke, trying to keep his voice calm and even and reassuring, even though Hiccup didn't even act like he heard him.
"Hey, Hiccup, I told you we were coming for you." Hiccup just blinked, his gaze still a million miles away. Snotlout cleared his throat, trying to clear the lump that had formed, trying to force back the rising tide of tears. "Your dad's here, and Toothless… We're all here for you, except Astrid. She wanted to come, but she's still recovering, and we knew you'd kill us if she got hurt worse trying to rescue you with a broken arm and a concussion…" Hiccup blinked again, but a bit of awareness seeped back into his eyes.
Emboldened, Snotlout moved closer, reaching towards the manacles around Hiccup's wrists. Fresh horror nearly bowled him over when he saw that the little finger and the middle finger on Hiccup's left hand were swollen and bent unnaturally. They’d broken three fingers on his right hand, too.
He blinked back tears and focused on the task at hand. "Hey, look," he said, "I'm just gonna take a quick look at these cuffs, see if I can pick them before Fishlegs, Hooky, and Toothless get here so we can just get the Hel outta—"
But the second Snotlout's fingers brushed Hiccup's skin, Hiccup went from almost catatonic to feral dragon. "Don't touch me!" he snarled, wrenching his bound hands away from Snotlout. Wheezing in pain, he clawed himself to a sitting position and scrambled clumsily away from Snotlout, using his one leg to scoot to the opposite end of the bed, as far as the chains would allow. And still he strained against the bonds, and Snotlout winced as fresh blood welled around the biting metal.
"Get away from me," Hiccup panted, his eyes fever-bright, his cheeks flushed, his whole body trembling uncontrollably. His voice was hoarse and raw, like he'd been screaming — and judging by the state of his body, he had been, probably a lot — and panic flooded every syllable.
"Okay, okay," Snotlout said softly, raising both hands placatingly in the air. Come on, Hookfang, where are you? he thought desperately. This would be a whole lot easier with Toothless here to calm Hiccup down. "I won't touch you. But it's me, Hiccup. It's Snotlout. I told you I'd see you soon, remember?"
For a moment, Hiccup just stared, wild-eyed, skittish, terrified. Then he blinked. Blinked again. He stopped yanking on his bonds but still didn't come any closer. "Snotlout?" he repeated, his voice small and weak and filled with a strange, tentative hope that made Snotlout want to curl up right there on the floor and sob. "It's… it's really you?"
"Of course it's me, you muttonhead," Snotlout answered, his voice thick. "I told you we'd be busting you out."
Looking at Hiccup now, Snotlout wondered how far away that night on the beach was for him. After all he'd been through, had he forgotten how earnestly Snotlout had vowed to come after him? Had he forgotten the way his cousin had pulled him into an embrace? Did he ever go over and over that moment when he gave himself up, wondering if he could have done anything different? Wishing he'd done something different? Or had his days blended together into an indistinct blur of pain and fear? Did he resent them for taking so long to find him?
"I'm sorry it took so long to get to you," Snotlout blurted. "We—"
But Hiccup cut him off, the ghost of a smile lurking at one corner of his mouth. "You're really here," he said, like he couldn't quite believe it was true. A tear rolled down his cheek; his entire body sagged with relief. "Oh, thank the gods, you're here!"
"Yeah, we're here," Snotlout agreed, casting an anxious glance over his shoulder at the closed door. Still no sign of the others. Had Hookfang not heard his call? Or had something happened to them? Snotlout's gut twisted in fear, but he pushed it away. He had to focus on Hiccup right now. "And we're gonna get you home, but first, you've gotta let me take a look at those manacles."
Hiccup's breathing hitched, and Snotlout thought that Hiccup was going to freak out again. But slowly, Hiccup got his breathing under control and scooted marginally closer to Snotlout. "Okay," he whispered, like letting Snotlout touch him was the most difficult and terrifying decision he'd ever had to make, "okay."
Hiccup let Snotlout examine the locks without any more freak-outs, but his whole body was rigid and he'd whimper whenever Snotlout accidentally made contact with his skin. Snotlout wasn't as good at lock-picking as the twins, but he'd gotten better, especially when he had the right tools (which he did now, thank Thor). So he was able to work and talk at the same time.
"Toothless is here," he told Hiccup again, because he wasn't entirely sure if Hiccup had fully registered it the first time he'd said it. "He's with Fishlegs and Hookfang." At Hiccup's confused look, Snotlout explained, "I figured it would make more sense to switch dragons so we could use our dragon calls to alert each other when one of us found you."
"Wow," said Hiccup, and he sounded so impressed that Snotlout looked up from his task. He could hardly stand to look at Hiccup's face — a broken nose, one eye completely swollen shut, bruises and cuts and fresh blood mingling with old, dried blood. Gods, he really hoped he got to take out Viggo himself. "That's actually… really smart."
"Always the tone of surprise," Snotlout muttered, but pride welled up inside of him. The manacles finally clicked open, and Snotlout did a mental victory dance and moved to the cuff around Hiccup's ankle. "Anyway, Hiccup, Fishlegs is gonna want to know everything they did to you so he can treat you."
Hiccup's whole body went rigid again. "I'll be okay," he said stiffly. "I just need some time to rest and recover. I don't wanna talk about it. I just want to go home."
"Dude, have you seen yourself—?"
"Just leave it, Snotlout," Hiccup snapped. "Are you almost done?"
Snotlout wasn't offended by Hiccup's sharp tone; he found himself more worried than anything. Everything about Hiccup seemed off in a way that Snotlout couldn't quite put his finger on. He exuded a frazzled energy that made Snotlout want to claw his own skin off. There was something fragile about him, something broken, something wrong. He was so far removed from the strong, brave, scared leader he'd been on that beach, about to surrender himself to Viggo…
"Almost," Snotlout said. And with a click, the cuff sprang open. Snotlout tossed them aside with a clatter of chains. He eyed Hiccup's missing leg, and noticed for the first time that the cut-off hem of his pants leg was stained with blood. He couldn't see the stump itself, but he had a sickening hunch that cuts and burns and bruises covered it, too. Bile rose in his throat. "Uh, Hiccup, you do realize that I'm going to have to carry you out of here, right? Because you don't have your leg, and even if you did, you're not in any shape—"
"I know what shape I'm in," Hiccup said tersely. "And I'm aware. Can you just… just give me a minute?"
"My dear Hiccup," a slimy voice oozed from the doorway behind them. "Take all the time you need."
Snotlout didn't know how Viggo had gotten past Meatlug, and right now, he didn't care. The only thing that mattered was that the man who had done unspeakable things to Hiccup now stood silhouetted in the doorway, and that Hiccup had frozen where he slumped on the bed, chest heaving in panic, eyes filling with tears.
Snotlout planted himself firmly between Viggo and Hiccup, drawing his axe. "What the Hel did you do to him?" he snarled.
Viggo had the audacity to look politely shocked. "Me?" he asked mildly. "Why, Snotlout, the damage you see on poor Hiccup's body was not my doing. No, Johann delighted in inflicting the myriad of cuts and the whip marks on his back — most of the blood is his doing, I believe. And Krogan is responsible for the broken fingers and ribs, and most of the bruises. Note the long, slender ones. He spent a good half-hour beating Hiccup with a thin metal rod not unlike the connecting rod our dear Hiccup uses in his flying gear."
White-hot rage surged in Snotlout's body like a Scauldron's spray. He gripped the handle of his axe so tightly his knuckles blanched, and nausea churned in his gut.
"And the burn?" Snotlout demanded.
"Oh, now, I will admit that the brand was my doing. I had to stake my claim, as it were."
The boiling rage solidified into ice, cold and hard and sick, freezing his heart.
Oh my gods. He'd thought something had looked off about that burn, but he'd been more focused on getting Hiccup out than examining it more closely. He resisted the urge to look back at Hiccup, whose breaths had gotten shallower, more unsteady. Terrified. Because if he took his eyes off Viggo, even for a second, the man could strike.
"You're a monster," Snotlout growled. "He surrendered himself willingly to you, he did everything you asked, and you branded him like livestock. You tortured him—"
"Again," Viggo interrupted. "Most of that was not my doing."
"Yeah, I'm sure that's why Hiccup is scared to death of you. You didn't do anything to hurt him but brand your crest into his skin!"
Viggo took another step forward. He still hadn't drawn his weapon, but Snotlout knew how fast he was, knew how dangerous he could be even without a sword, and he hefted his axe a little higher. "Stay back," he ordered.
Viggo stopped, then leaned to the right and peered around Snotlout. "Is he always this ornery?" he asked Hiccup conversationally.
"Shut up!" Snotlout shouted, taking a step forward himself. "Just shut up, you asshole! Don't you dare look at him, don't you talk to him!"
"My, my," Viggo drawled, his good eye flashing with venom. "Something has really riled you up, hasn't it, Snotlout?"
"I saw the bruises—"
"Krogan's work," Viggo said with a careless wave of his hand.
"Not those. The other ones. The… the bites." Behind him, he heard Hiccup's breath hitch.
Viggo smiled, a terrible, oily thing that made Snotlout's skin crawl. "I'm surprised you recognized them for what they were, to be honest."
Snotlout ignored him. "You can't stand here and tell me you didn't hurt him when you left those marks on him!" he yelled. "When you— when you—"
Viggo's eyes flashed. "Krogan and Johann got their fun. It was only fair that I got mine, too. Besides, I tried to make it a pleasant experience for both of us, but as usual, Hiccup refused to cooperate and made things much more difficult for himself. Isn't that right, my dear?"
A choked sob from behind him had Snotlout shaking with rage. "You will never touch him again, you bastard."
Viggo chuckled. "By all means, Snotlout. Take me out. Save your leader, carry him home. But I can promise you that even if you do escape with him, he will carry what happened here with him for the rest of his days."
The fury boiled over. With a shout, Snotlout surged forward, axe arcing toward Viggo's head.
At the last second, Viggo dodged and drew his sword. Which he promptly set on fire. The bastard had copied Hiccup's flaming sword idea. Snotlout let loose another furious yell and charged again, but Viggo neatly blocked the blow. That sword had to be made of Gronkle Iron; there was no other way it would be able to stop the momentum of Snotlout's axe.
Viggo fought with a lazy, unaffected manner that only fueled the fire of Snotlout's rage. He was a fantastic sword fighter, but beyond that, he seemed to anticipate every one of Snotlout's moves. Snotlout was quickly forced to go on the defensive, focusing entirely on keeping his body between Viggo and Hiccup. If Viggo got ahold of Hiccup, used him as a shield…
Viggo lunged to the right, and Snotlout bellowed in defiance, throwing himself to intercept — but like lightning, Viggo tossed his sword from his right hand to his left and left a searing line of fire on Snotlout's side. Snotlout roared in pain. No blood soaked into his clothes; the sword must have cauterized it even as it sliced. So he was hurting, but wouldn't bleed out. He'd take it.
But he was tiring. Viggo slashed his arm. Snotlout stumbled. And the more exhausted Snotlout got, the angrier he became, and the clumsier and more erratic his moves got. From behind him, Hiccup tore himself out of his panic just enough to call out, "G-get out of here, Snotlout. Leave me."
Snotlout snorted. "Shut up, Hiccup," he snapped.
A second passed. "Slow down, then," Hiccup advised, his voice so hoarse and quiet Snotlout could barely hear it over the sounds of the fight. "You make — you make mistakes when you're angry."
And Snotlout remembered Stoick's words. Don't let your anger take control of you. And gods-damnit, that's exactly what he had done! Stoick was right, Hiccup was right. He needed to calm down, slow down, stop letting his righteous fury at Viggo control the way he fought.
Between parries, he took a deep breath. He pushed aside his thirst for revenge, his absolute hatred of Viggo Grimborn and Traitor Johann and Krogan. He reminded himself that he had one goal: Get Hiccup out safe.
And he launched back into offensive mode, his mind clear for the first time in six days. He fought like a man possessed, but not by anger or vengeance, but with purpose.
The fight didn't last long after that. He pressed Viggo back, his every strike cool and calculated. He didn't let Viggo gain any quarter, cut him off at every pass. His Gronkle Iron axe was light in his hands; it moved with precision, blocking Viggo's attacks effortlessly.
And then he knocked the flaming sword out of Viggo's hand. It skittered across the room, disappeared under the bed, still ignited, and flickered there like an ominous campfire. Well, that couldn't be good. Snotlout needed to finish this. Now.
Viggo met Snotlout's eyes, and for the first time, real fear was on his face. "You won't kill me," he said.
"Won't I?" Snotlout snarled. Without further ado, he embedded the axe into Viggo's chest. Only after the light had gone from Viggo's eyes did Snotlout let him fall to the floor. Snotlout wrenched the axe free with a grunt. He didn't clean it; he figured any Hunters or Flyers they met on their way out would think twice about attacking a man with a bloody axe slung over his shoulder.
"Snotlout!"
Snotlout spun around at Hiccup's cry and cursed. The flaming sword must have landed against the far-left foot post, because fire was now creeping up it slowly. One of the furs on the bed had caught fire too. The fire wouldn't make it far underground, surrounded on all sides by stone, but the smoke it produced was black and acrid. Hiccup covered his nose and mouth with his arm and coughed as the smoke grew thick around him.
"Okay, shit, we gotta go!" Snotlout said. He sprinted to Hiccup. "I'm going to have to pick you up," he warned. "Which means I'll have to touch you."
"Yeah—" Hiccup coughed, then grabbed his ribs with a grimace. "I kinda — kinda figured." Despite his attempt at levity, fear radiated from him.
"You're safe," Snotlout soothed as he lifted Hiccup into his arms like a swooning damsel. Hiccup was rigid in his arms, every muscle taut with panic. "I gotcha, Hiccup. Just breathe."
It turned out that Viggo hadn't slipped past Meatlug at all. According to Hiccup, there was a door hidden behind a tapestry at the end of the living quarters hallway — what Snotlout had assumed was a dead end. That's how Viggo had snuck up on them.
Halfway to the barracks, Snotlout heard a sound that made his heart leap. The triumphant screech of a Night Fury! Toothless — he could probably smell Hiccup from up ahead!
And sure enough, a second later, Toothless pelted around the next corner, chest heaving, nostrils flaring, alarm and relief warring in his big green eyes.
"Toothless!" Hiccup half-sobbed, half-laughed, squirming weakly in Snotlout's arms. Snotlout gently sat Hiccup down on the ground against the wall, and he immediately disappeared under a wall of elated, frantic, wriggling Night Fury.
"Be careful, Toothless," Snotlout chided. "He's really hurt."
He didn't have to worry, though. He never had to worry about Toothless being too rough with Hiccup. And sure enough, a second later, Toothless had somehow managed to wedge himself between Hiccup's back and the wall, and he'd curled in a protective ring around his rider. Hiccup laughed and cried and clung to his neck as the dragon gently bathed his blood-matted hair and tear-and-blood streaked face.
Snotlout scoffed at the mushy display and turned away, not because he hated to see it — it was the best thing he'd seen in a while, actually — but because scoffing at Hiccup and his lovey-dovey dragon cuddles was normal for him, and the gods knew he needed something normal right now.
A few seconds later, Meatlug trotted around the corner with Fishlegs and Hookfang right behind.
"Freaking finally!" Snotlout shouted at Hookfang. "What the Hel took you guys so long?!" Hookfang scuttled to his rider's side, the clack of his claws echoing in the stone corridor. He snorted steam in Snotlout's face. "Yeah, yeah," Snotlout said, secretly pleased at the open sign of affection. "I missed you too, buddy."
"One of the rooms we checked was filled with Hunters," Fishlegs panted as he caught up with the dragons, and Snotlout noticed that he ran with a limp, and that he had a nasty cut on his right arm. His eyes lit up as they landed on Hiccup. "Oh my Thor! You found him! Is he okay? Is he alive?"
Hiccup chuckled weakly from within his Toothless cocoon. "Yeah, Fishlegs," he croaked. "I'm alive."
"Barely," Snotlout corrected. "Fishlegs, it's bad."
Fishlegs's expression darkened. "Anything urgent? Or do you think I can examine him after we get out of here? The fighting up top has stopped, and we met a lot more Hunters and Flyers on our way to you guys, so I'm guessing that Stoick and the twins were forced to retreat." He didn't voice the other alternative, that they'd been cut down or captured, because it didn't bear thinking about.
Snotlout hesitated. "I think he's okay to move, but you need to treat him, like, as soon as possible."
Fishlegs nodded. "Okay, guys, let's get out of here. There are more of Johann's men down here than before, but they're no match for us."
Fishlegs was right — they easily blasted through the remaining Hunters and Flyers guarding the exit and soon took to the skies. Smoke curled lazily in the air, a stark contrast to half-dozen riderless Singetails swarming in a panic. To Snotlout's immense relief, one of those riderless Singetails was a Titanwing. And, scanning the Flyer and Hunter bodies littering the ground below, he saw the Titanwing's rider spread-eagled on the ground, empty eyes staring sightlessly up at them. Thank Thor, Krogan was dead. No sign of Johann, dead or alive, but two out of three wasn't bad.
Snotlout flew Toothless, with Hiccup slumped, half-conscious, in front of him. They flew slowly, trying not to jar Hiccup's many injuries, but even so, Hiccup groaned at even the slightest bump or dip. Once they'd evened out and were on course for the meeting spot, Snotlout leaned over and groped around in Toothless's saddle bag, trusting the Night Fury to alert him if there were any issues.
"What're you doing?" Hiccup grumbled tiredly. His whole body radiated pain and exhaustion; the adrenaline of the escape had worn off for both of them, leaving them shaky, tired, and weak. Snotlout felt his cuts and burns with every shift of his body, and bending over hurt like Hel. But he did it anyway.
"Do you have a spare tunic or blanket or something in here? I figure you'd want to cover up before we meet up with everyone else."
"Oh," Hiccup said, sounding shocked that Snotlout was proactively being considerate. Don't get used to it, dude. "Uh, yeah. Thanks. There should be a thin blanket at the bottom." He shivered. "It's cold up here anyway."
"You're skin and bones," Snotlout observed, grunting in pain as he strained to reach the dumb blanket Hiccup had shoved at the very bottom of the bed. His fingers brushed the corner of it; it didn't feel very soft and probably wouldn't feel great against Hiccup's burns, cuts, and bruises, but it would be better than him freezing to death up here. "No wonder you're cold. Did they feed you, like, at all?"
Hiccup shook his head. "Not much." Below them, Toothless growled his disapproval.
Snotlout grumbled about that for a bit while he carefully extricated the blanket from beneath all of Hiccup's other crap. "We really need to work on your packing skills," he griped.
"My packing skills are fine," Hiccup retorted. "Big stuff like blankets on the bottom."
"But you've got, like, five spyglasses in here! What do you need five spyglasses for? You've only got two eyes!"
Hiccup huffed out a weak laugh, and Snotlout's heart swelled. Okay. At least some of the old Hiccup humor was still in there. Good to know. "Just give me the damn blanket, Jorgensen."
Snotlout draped it carefully over Hiccup's emaciated shoulders, and they spent the rest of the flight in silence.
"We're here!" Snotlout jumped, jolting Hiccup and eliciting a groan. Toothless turned his head and growled in warning, his pupils slits. "Sorry, sorry," Snotlout said, putting his hands in the air. "I just forgot Fishface was here, that's all." Toothless narrowed his eyes and turned back around. I've got my eye on you, his expression said.
"So business as usual?" Fishlegs remarked dryly. He glanced at Hiccup, who Snotlout was pretty sure had finally passed out. "The island's just below. How's he doing?"
"He just spent six days being tortured, Fishlegs, how do you think he's doing?"
Fishlegs flinched, but Snotlout didn't have it in him to feel bad. Ask stupid questions, and all that. "Meatlug and I are gonna fly down ahead of you guys," Fishlegs said, his voice small. "Check on Astrid and Stormfly, see if anyone else made it back. Let them know we're gonna be here a while so I can take care of the worst of Hiccup's injuries."
Snotlout nodded curtly, then glanced ahead at his dragon, who flew a few meters in front of them. "Hooky, you staying with us or going with them?"
Hookfang snorted and dove after Fishlegs and Meatlug.
"He's just tired," Snotlout said to Toothless and an unconscious Hiccup. "It's nothing personal." Neither one of them answered. "Okay, Toothless," Snotlout said. "Can you take us down nice and slow?"
Toothless chuffed and cast a very judgmental glare over his shoulder. Snotlout rolled his eyes. The attitude on this dragon! Like rider, like dragon, he supposed.
Gods, what he wouldn't give for a little of Hiccup's attitude right now.
He kept Hiccup steady as Toothless descended, so slowly and smoothly Snotlout could barely tell they were losing altitude. "Just a little longer, Hiccup," he whispered, the weight of everything pressing in on him from all sides, his chest too tight to take a full breath, his throat stinging with the threat of tears. "Fishlegs will fix you up, and you'll be back on your feet — foot — in no time."
But who's going to fix him up on the inside? a nasty voice in the back of Snotlout's mind sneered. Who's going to fix the hurt and the fear and the terrible violation? Who's going to put Hiccup back together again?
I don't know, Snotlout thought miserably. Maybe nobody can.
And then the tears did fall, and he could do nothing to stop them. He held Hiccup's limp, broken body gently in his arms as the little island grew closer and closer, and he cried. Below him, Toothless keened, their misery and fear mingling and mixing into a grim melody of broken unknowns.