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Abuse was something all too familiar to Eret.
It was something that made his skin crawl and heart pound, all while feeling his breath caught in the grasps of his throat as he thought of his past life.
Drago Bludvist was a man who lived up to his cruel name, not just by his dragons but by the endless ways of pain he used to enforce his leadership on his trappers.
Eret would call himself lucky. Sure, he carried the weight of each inflicted scar that littered his skin, but there were many other trappers who ended up with much worse than what he had.
Berk seemed like a dream, a safe haven free of the darkness he had become accustomed to. He knew of the island's more violent past with dragons, but it never seemed to echo through its now dragon loving people.
Like Eret’s past did as he slept.
He didn’t expect anyone on this small island to understand the pains of tyranny that still seeped through his scars. Hiccup was a selfless leader who would gladly give his life for his people, and though Eret never witnessed it, he had heard that Stoik the Vast was just as honorable. Over the while he had lived there, he had been relieved that he had never heard of anyone who shared similar scars to him..
That is until the day he saw Snotlout’s.
Eret hadn’t meant to stumble upon the man. He found himself struggling to sleep that night without the usual nightmares of his past. He decided to take a hike around the island to clear his mind.
It had been a fairly hot summer morning as he began to stroll through the village, The air was so dense with a steaming humidity that it could probably be sliced with an axe, and it caused his clothes and furs to stick to him comfortably. Eret pondered for a moment if he should go for a fly as his legs began to already guide him to the dragon pens. Scullcrusher would probably like to stretch his wings, and the cooler air that rested through the clouds sounded amazing in the rare heated weather like this. They’d be back before the rest of the village would be awake.
Approaching the dragon pen, Eret noticed the door already open and a quiet sound of steps echoing inside. He was surprised to find someone up as well this early. Quietly he approached the entrance.
Snotlout stood along the wooden flooring as he gently brushed and scrubbed at a sleeping Hookfang’s scales. A few paces from his feet, his tunic laid in a messy bundle. Considering the ungodly weather, Eret wasn’t surprised. What did surprise him though, was when he glanced at long scarring along the man’s back.
Lashes , Eret immediately concluded. He had seen markings like those too many times and under Drago’s rulings, and even bore a few on his own back. They scattered his friend’s back in various directions. While some seemed to be newly healed, while others seemed much older...
Someone had whipped him, and it hadn’t been only once.
The thought twisted Eret’s stomach in all the wrong ways. He had to look away. Absently, his hand lightly touched where his furs covered a memory that branded into his mind. He took a step inside, only to regret it as a loud scream of floorboards echoed into the room.
Upon hearing the creek, the Viking across from him quickly spun around to grab his tunic and cover his back. “E-Eret, hey..” For a moment, wide eyes blue eyes stared fearfully back at Eret, an expression that was completely foreign to the stubborn and hot-headed Viking he had always known, and just as quickly as it came, before it shifted away.
“Sorry,” Eret apologized as he cautiously watched the shorter man slip his tunic back over his head. “I didn’t think anyone would be up this early.”
“Yeah, me neither…” He heard Snotlout mutter under his breath.
An eerie silence followed as Eret crept to where Scullcrusher slept, still keeping Snotlout close in his peripheral vision. He didn't know how to address the situation. Life as a dragon trapper had been every man for himself. Anyone had gotten injured on the job or, worse, failed to meet Drago’s requests, would be left alone and comforted by no one..
Eret vividly remembered the burning pain from the time he failed Drago, and the days he spent alone as it healed…
Unlike the rest of the snoring dragons in the building, Skullcrusher was awake and alert as Eret came near.
“Trouble sleeping, too?” Eret asked as he lightly brushed his hand along the side of the dragon's head. The rumblehorn gave a stern grunt in response, and Eret wondered for a moment if his dragon ever had nightmares as well. “Well, How about we go for a little morning fly? What do you think?” Skullcrusher’s head perked up, and a small joy seemed to spark in his eyes. Eret’s smiled.
Snotlout was now seated on the wooden floor. His head rested softly against Hookfang’s sleeping form as he stared at the ceiling in deep thought. Eret wanted asked him about what he saw. He wanted to tell his friend that he was not alone, that he, too, knew the amount of pains each scar could hold, but the fear of Snotlout running away from him as soon as he told him he saw the markings that littered his back caused the words to fall short.
He would have to approach this slowly.
Eret steadily guided Scullcrusher towards the building’s entrance before approaching Snotlout. Upon hearing the man’s nearing footsteps, the Viking snapped out of his trance. Eret could see the caution Snotlout tried to hide in his eyes, but he didn’t voice it to him.
“Since most of the village is still asleep, Skullcrush and I are going to go for a flight.” Eret began. ”Would you and Hookfang want to come?”
There was a short moment of wariness as Snotlout hesitated, and Eret was worried that he would decline. However, the shorter soon stood up and gently began to nudge his dragon awake.
“Sure, why not.”
The air was cool and crisp as they flew, a stark contrast to the humid morning air back on land. The rising sun over the sea below made the rolling water shimmer.
The original tension between the two males gradually eased as they fell into a lighthearted conversation. Talks like these had slowly become more common between them, and Eret had come to enjoy them whenever he could.
Sometimes they would talk about frivolous things such as food or different dragons they’ve spotted around the island. Other times, Snotlout would tell stories of his past adventures with his fellow dragon riders. His eyes would always light up when this topic came around, causing a warm feeling to spread in Erie’s chest.
This time was no different. However, the usual feeling Eret felt was lost as he found his mind continuing to linger. He couldn't help but drift away to what he just a few hours ago. He quickly forced himself to focus back on the conversation at hand. He would address that later.
They continued to fly for another hour or so until they found a small rocky island for their dragons to rest on before turning back. Eret sat along its edge, feeling the chilly ocean spray mist over his face.
A sudden rustle of cloth brushed past his ears, and he turned his head as Snotlout sat next to him. For a moment, time seemed to halt as they sat in a thoughtful silence.
Eret turned his head to the man next to him. Snotlout’s brows were furrowed, and hiscolded into tight fists. All the calm the two had built during the ride suddenly vanished from then.
They both knew the would that would come next.
“What happened to your back?” Eret didn’t mean for the words to fall out so blunt, but the question had already been too long on his mind for comfort. Whoever hurt Snotlout was going to severely regret it.
Snotlout’s shoulders instantly tensed, and for a moment, Eret almost wished he hadn’t asked. The Viking’s eyes held the same raw fear Eret witnessed for a moment earlier that morning.
Snotlout shook his head, as if he was shaking away an old memory, but his eyes remained dead set on the sea in front of him. “It was my own fault.” He spoke at a concerningly soft volume and gave a shrug Eret knew was clearly forced.
“Snotlout, please…” Eret begged.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
Eret’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”
Snotlout’s eyes shifted towards the other man. For a moment, he opened his mouth to speak, and his voice nearly cracked as he did. “Because you’re perfect. Everyone in Berk either wants you or wants to be you. How would you even know what this feels like?”
A dull anger rushed through him for a moment, because he did understand. He had spent a long part of his life tattered and bruised. He was far from perfect.
“You’re not the only one with hidden marks, you know,” Eret snapped. In a swift moment, Eret reached a hand to the neck of his shirt and pulled it down. The darkened red of the branding contested horrifically against his skin, making Eret’s gut twist in disgust. He hated to look at it. The last time he showed the scar to anyone else was to prove a point to Hiccup. “You forgot I used to work for Drago Bludvist.”
Snotlout’s eyes widened, and Eret’s anger instantly extinguished when regret flashed in the other’s expression. Of course Snotlout wouldn’t have known. Not even Hiccup knew all the horrors he had experienced as Drago’s dragon trapper.
Eret kept his face to the ground, and the grip on his top loosed a bit. He nearly jumped at the unexpect hand towards him. Snotlout fingers traced the branding lightly, as if any pressure placed on it would burn it’s owner again. The gentleness of it made Eret heart skip a beat for a moment.
Their eyes locked, and upon realizing what he was doing, Snotlout quickly snapped out of his trance in a small panic. He spun his gaze to the sea, once again locking his eyes on the crashing waves. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Eret shrugged. He removed his hand from his top and placed his palms behind him on the chilling stone the two sat on. Leaning back, he shifted his weight to his hands and looked to the sky. “It was a long time ago.” It felt like an eternity since he had joined the dragon riders.
“What happened—I mean, you don’t have to say if you don’t wanna.”
If he had had this conversation with anyone else, Eret would have probably stayed silent, but there was something about the short man that seemed to calm him. The feeling made no sense to him, but it comforted him all in the same.
He told him everything that happened.
He told him how it had been the first time he was ordered by Drago to trap a dragon. He was younger and less experienced, a trait that already marked him as disposable, so he knew he had to prove his worth.
He hesitated.
He saw the look of fear in the dragon’s eyes; a fear that reflected his own darkened worries. The trap was set but he never activated it. He was frozen in front of the creature and was unable to hear the shouts of his crew mates over his own emotions.
There was a sudden growl and squall, and the dragon attacked in their best self defense. Eret managed to dodge the flames and tail whips that followed, but a few of his crewmen weren’t so lucky.
Seven men injured and no dragon. The news spread to Drago as soon they arrived empty handed, and Eret was greeted with a branding iron seated in Drago’s hand as he climbed aboard the waiting ship.
“Where is my dragon, Eret?”
“I-it got away, b-but it won’t happen again. I swear!”
The one armed man shifted slowly to a nearby dragon and ordered a low flame. He rolled the iron over the dragon’s fire until the metal glowed a bright orange.
“We’ll make sure of that.”
Eret was suddenly held down by other crewmen. He couldn’t hear his own screams as the heated iron hit his skin. The pain felt like it lasted an eternity, and when the metal was finally lifted from his chest, his knees felt weak as he fell to the ground.
It had been the first and last time he had failed Drago, and he had sworn to himself from then on that he would never hesitate to trap a dragon again.
But some promises were made to be broken...
Snotlout’s wide eyed expression seemed to shift throughout as he listened to every word.
Eret only realized by the time he finished his story that the Viking’s fingers had gradually become intertwined tightly with his own. Eret’s eyes widened for a second, but he soon relaxed and gently brushed his thumb over the other man’s knuckles. Never had he felt so close to another than in that moment.
The two were silent as they let the moment sink in. The gentle roll of waves continues to rumble in front of them.
“It was my dad.” Snotlout bursted out. “I’m just never good enough, and sometimes I mess up so bad...He gets so disappointed and angry about it he...he...” The sentence was never finished, but Eret knew enough.
Eret gently squeezed the hand he held. “He will never hurt you again.” It was a promise, something he didn’t say lightly.
Snotlout stared at him, shocked, his eyes watering in emotion. Neither knew which one moved first, but the embrace that happened next made both their hearts flood with comfort and relief.
Eret smiled as he tightened his arms around Snotlout.
They both had scars that marked their painful pasts.
But in that moment, all scars were forgotten.