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Hiccup is shoved, face-first, back into his cage, and he glares over his shoulder up at the violent guard. “Fuck you,” he spits, his words slightly disjointed, and the guard scowls, kicking him in the back before leaving with a grumble and a roll of his eyes.
Astrid gasps as Hiccup falls to the ground, struggling to stand up with her hands tied behind her back. “You idiot,” she hisses. “Why in Thor’s name did you provoke him?”
“Ow,” Hiccup groans, and she can’t help but feel bad for him. Nobody will come to save them for at least three days, because this wasn’t the plan. As fair as anybody else knows, they’re on a “romantic retreat” meticulously planned by Fishlegs, when in actuality they’re trapped in separate dragon-proof cages. So Astrid waits for the dragons around them to stop screeching, and says to Hiccup, who’s still trying to catch his breath, “We need to find a way to get out of here.”
“Oh, thanks,” he gasps. “I didn’t- I didn’t think ’f that.”
Astrid opens her mouth to retort, and then decides against it, sliding down the bars of her cage. “Did you tell them anything?”
“No… I don’t think,” Hiccup says after a moment. Astrid narrows her eyes, not that he can see her. “What do you mean, you don’t think?”
“I… I don’t r’member.”
“Did they drug you?!” she gasps, and Hiccup doesn’t answer. “Hiccup? Answer me. Did they- did they give you something?”
“I’m just… I’m jus’ so tired, Astrid. C’n I sleep?”
“No,” she insists. “You need to stay awake, Hiccup. What- do you know what they gave you?”
“Who?”
Shit, fuck, if she could just touch him to at least make sure he wasn’t poisoned or something, just drugged- “Viggo and Ryker.”
“Huh,” Hiccup says slowly. “Viggo… and Ryker.”
Astrid grits her teeth, feeling tears in her eyes. “Yes, Viggo and Ryker. Do you know what they gave you?”
“No… I don’t know.”
“Okay,” Astrid says, trying not to panic. If it’s just a drug- and she’s going to assume it is, for her own sake- it should wear off in a few hours, and Hiccup will be okay.
“I’m sorry,” Hiccup says suddenly. “I’m… sorry. Terribly… sorry, dear.”
“It’s okay,” she replies, choosing to ignore his odd speech patterns for now, and she can’t touch him and it’s so unfair. “It’s okay, Hiccup, don’t apologise. It’s not your fault.”
“’M not apologising,” he says absently. “I’m seeing how it… how it feels.”
“… What?”
“He kept saying t’ me, before I wen’ to sleep. Terribly sorry, dear. Mm.” He tries to reach behind him, and Astrid tries not to cry. “You went to sleep?”
“We’re gonna die,” he says. “He said we’re… gonna die, Ast. I don’ wanna die.”
“We’re not going to die, babe. I promise, okay?” She can’t promise that. “I’ll get us out of here somehow.”
“Hold my hand,” Hiccup pleads, ignoring her reassurances. “If we’re gonna die, I- I wanna hold your hand.”
Astrid sighs shakily. “I can’t.”
“I wan’ to hold your hand,” he says desperately, “please, lemme hold your hand. Please-”
“Hiccup, I can’t reach your hand,” Astrid sobs. “I can’t reach your hand, babe. I’m so sorry.”
Hiccup falls asleep after ten minutes of increasingly incoherent begging, but Astrid can’t. She keeps watching him through blurry eyes. She keeps periodically glancing at the sky for the sign of any dragon. She keeps listening for the sound of a Night Fury, she keeps hoping, and in her heart of hearts, she knows it’s hopeless.
There’s nothing left.