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Not ten minutes after Viggo left to meet a client, Ryker stalked into his brother's tent, eyes gleaming in dark anticipation, and Hiccup, who was already having a terrible day, knew at once that it was about to get much worse.
Hiccup glowered at Ryker as he approached, hoping his anger and defiance masked the panic surging inside of him. He resisted the urge to yank against his bonds — he sat on the floor, his back against one of the tent poles, arms pulled behind the pole and wrists shackled together — and snapped, "Viggo said to leave me alone."
Ryker sneered. "What my brother said was that he won't ransom you back to your father damaged." He snorted, clearly not a fan of Viggo's ransom etiquette. "So I won't leave any marks."
Hiccup's gut churned, fear enveloping every nerve, setting every part of him aflame with the need to run. But he couldn't run, couldn't fight, couldn't do anything to stop whatever was going to happen next. Ryker moved behind him, and Hiccup stiffened like he'd crossed paths with a territorial Flightmare as he felt the man's enormous hand clamp around one arm, right above the cuff. Ryker unlocked the manacle with a click, then hauled Hiccup to his feet and relocked it before he could even contemplate fighting back.
"I'm pretty sure Viggo's exact words were, 'Leave the boy alone while I am gone, Ryker. His ransom is worth more than your petty revenge,'" Hiccup pressed as Ryker shoved him out of the tent and into the blazing sunlight. Hiccup squinted, momentarily blinded by the dizzying brightness after so many hours in the dim tent.
"Maybe he said that," Ryker conceded. "But he won't be back for a while yet, and my men are bored. They need enrichment or they start fighting among themselves." He shoved Hiccup forward, toward the edge of the encampment, where a group of Hunters milled about beneath a towering, sprawling oak tree. A knot of dread formed in Hiccup's chest.
"Besides," Ryker continued, punctuating the word with another brutal shove that nearly introduced Hiccup's face to the ground, "what the boss don't know, the boss won't mind."
They reached the group of Hunters far too quickly for Hiccup's liking. "Look what I found, men," Ryker announced, pushing Hiccup to the ground in front of the Dragon Hunters. Eight men, including Ryker, encircled him, all of them at least ten times bigger than Hiccup and each with cruel eyes and expressions ranging from grim excitement to furious hatred.
"For us?" one of the Hunters grinned. "Ryker, you shouldn't have."
"Does Viggo know about this?" another asked, raising his hand as he spoke.
Ryker ignored the question, instead crouching in front of Hiccup. "Rope," he ordered, and a Hunter immediately placed a coil of thick, sturdy rope in Ryker's outstretched hand.
Hiccup tried to scramble backwards but hit the legs of a Hunter behind him. "Stay away from me," Hiccup snarled.
"Someone shut him up," Ryker snapped.
Hiccup opened his mouth to protest and choked instead as the Hunter whose legs he had bumped into leaned over him and forced a length of fabric between his teeth, tying it painfully tight at the back of his head. Hiccup let out a muffled shout, panting too fast through his nose, trying to stave off the waves of panic lapping at his toes.
"That's better," Ryker jeered. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time." He grabbed Hiccup's legs and forced them together, tying them securely above the knees, then tied another length of rope to the bonds. He passed the other end to one of his men, who in turn tossed it over a lower branch on the tall oak tree.
The dread coiling in Hiccup's chest blew itself into a maelstrom, panic pounding into him like great fat raindrops onto a roof, lightning jolting through him with every thundering heartbeat, surging with adrenaline and animal terror, the winds of foreboding beating, beating, beating against his resolve until it all but crumbled. He knew now what was going to happen, and he didn't want — he couldn't — but there was nothing he could do to stop it—
"The rules," Ryker bellowed over the rising chatter of his men. "Viggo does not want a mark on him. So play with him all you want, but no blood, no bruises. Especially his face."
Murmurs of discontent swelled, and for one breathless moment, Hiccup thought that the restrictions had put too much of a damper on their fun and that Ryker would take him back to the tent, but the protests quickly blew over.
"This shouldn't be too hard on you," Ryker mocked, leaning in so close Hiccup could smell his breath — to his surprise, it smelled like peppermint. "After all that dragon flying, you should be at home off the ground." He chuckled and stood up. "Hoist him up!"
Everything happened all too quickly after that: Pain and pressure above his knees as the rope was tugged, his head thudding softly onto the grass, tree roots bumping him, small rocks and twigs catching his clothes and nicking his skin as the Hunter pulled on the rope.
And then he left the ground. Pain screeched through his legs, unfurled in his hips, arced up his back. His heaving chest strained for air at the immediate weight on his lungs; he had to force himself to breathe slowly, deliberately through his nose. Gods, how long would it take for him to suffocate like this? For the weight of his other organs to crush his lungs?
And his head — oh, gods, his head! Hiccup tried to keep his eyes open but he couldn’t; nausea overwhelmed him at the disorienting upside-downness of it all, and if he lost control of his stomach while gagged, well… Suffice it to say, it wouldn't be pretty.
He was used to going upside down briefly when flying Toothless, but there was something markedly different about being hung upside down and dangled over the ground like a butchered animal. All the blood rushed to his head, weighing it down, dizzying him, his pulse thrumming fast, too fast, at his temple—
He swayed lightly. Laughter erupted around him. "Look at 'im!" one man crowed. "Like a fish on a line!"
"Pretty sad catch if you ask me!" Ryker chortled. "I'd throw it back if I were you!"
The Hunters howled, and if the blood wasn't already pooling in Hiccup's head, he knew his face would be burning in humiliation.
Hiccup did his best to focus on his breathing, in and out through his nose, nice and steady, rather than the Hunters' jibes, the pain lancing from his hips to his neck, the millstone that had made itself at home on his lungs, and the sickening lightheadedness. He didn't have much success.
Especially when he felt a large hand on his spine, pushing, and then he was swinging, pressure compounding in his joints, stomach roiling, breath shallow and panicked, head spinning…
Another set of hands found his chest and shoved him the other direction, and the men were laughing, Ryker the hardest of all. He heard more voices, more Hunters gathered around to watch this humiliation. Hiccup bit down on the fabric in his mouth as hard as he could, both in an attempt to quell the rising nausea and to bite back a groan of agony as the motion jarred his aching body.
Shove. "This is for sinking my cousin's ship."
Another push, his body swinging wildly, only to meet another pair of hands. "My buddy Olaf died in that last raid, you one-legged bastard!"
"You're lucky the boss wants you unharmed."
A dark chortle. "We all know why he wants that pretty face untouched. Almost can't say I blame 'im."
A thrill of alarm pulsed through Hiccup at the slimy quality of his tormentor's voice, barely able to understand the implications of his words through the haze of pain, sickness, and breathlessness but knowing instinctively that they were very bad.
"That's too far, Tyrm," Ryker's voice growled, and for a wild second, Hiccup thought Ryker was defending him. But then: "Gossip about your leader won't stand. Do it again and you'll be joining the brat up in this tree."
Come on up, Hiccup thought, near delirious with pain and so disoriented he could barely keep up with the swirling tempest of his thoughts. The more the merrier.
But Tyrm shut up and Hiccup's torment continued. Until—
"You… you crippled, murdering son of a bitch!" a new voice fairly howled, approaching from what Hiccup thought was his right (but could have just as easily been from up above with as addled as his senses were).
A ripple of unease passed over the gathered Hunters, and Hiccup risked opening his eyes just in time to see a great bear of a man storming toward him, and even the inverted world didn't keep Hiccup from clocking the raw rage radiating from him like Zippleback gas.
"Who told Agnar about this?" a Hunter murmured to one of his fellows.
Ryker placed himself firmly between Agnar and Hiccup's lightly swinging form. "Back off, Agnar. Viggo doesn't want him harmed."
"His Night Fury killed my brother!" Agnar snarled. Despite himself, guilt gnawed at Hiccup's insides. He could hear the man's grief in every syllable, melded so completely with his hatred and thirst for vengeance that it was nearly impossible to figure out where one ended and another began.
I'm sorry! Hiccup wanted to cry out. We try not to take lives! Toothless was just defending me!
And then all traces of guilt fled as Agnar side-stepped Ryker and barreled into Hiccup. It was how it must feel to be smashed into by a Catastrophic Quaken, Hiccup thought vaguely, pain building on pain. The force of Agnar's shove sent Hiccup careening, ropes creaking, too fast, right at the tree—
He hit it face-first, and pain exploded at the impact. He heard a crunch, and then blood flooded his nostrils, and now he couldn't breathe — his chest heaved — he choked on blood — gods, he was going to die, upside down, from a broken nose, suffocating on his own blood—
"Shit!" Hiccup couldn't even properly enjoy the panic in Ryker's voice; his vision had begun to flicker at the edges, his chest burned and he couldn't breathe. "Get Agnar under control! And cut the boy down — quick!"
Hiccup distantly felt his body jostle, heard the sawing of a knife against rope above the rushing in his ears. But then, another voice, barely contained fury painting every syllable: "What in the gods' name are you doing?"
Viggo.
The rope snapped, blood gurgled in Hiccup's broken nose as he tried in vain to get a single breath in, the world unraveled around him, darkness creeping in, and the last thing Hiccup saw before that darkness consumed him was Viggo Grimborn leaning over him, grim anger smoldering in his eyes, mouth moving, barking orders Hiccup couldn't hear. Hiccup felt himself being pulled upright, felt his airway clear the tiniest bit, managed a wet, labored breath through his nose and then—
When he woke up, he could breathe again, though it hurt to do so. Hurt his nose, hurt his chest.
Actually, every bit of him ached like he had been beaten. His hips, back, and neck protested even the slightest movement, so Hiccup settled for reaching up, very slowly, and feeling his nose. It felt too big for his face, badly swollen, so much that he couldn't tell if the break had disfigured it.
His feather light touch hurt so much that an involuntary whine escaped his lips. Which was how he realized he was no longer gagged. Had he been rescued? Was he back at the Edge? He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes, to confirm what he already knew.
"Ah. You're awake. How are you feeling, my dear?"
Hiccup's stomach clenched, his heart plummeting, the despair so potent it would have bowled him over had he been upright. Still, he pried his eyes open and turned his head to see Viggo sitting in a chair pulled far too close to his bedside and — oh gods. Was he in Viggo's bed? Pain be damned. Hiccup scrambled upright, heart pounding, panic twisting his insides into knots. He had to get up, had to get out of this bed, out of this tent, out of this camp—
A firm hand found his chest and pushed him down. It lingered, preventing him from rising, and only then did Hiccup realize that he wore only his thin tunic. Someone had taken off his armor! He began to struggle anew, but he had been so weakened by his ordeal that Viggo could easily pin him to the bed with just one hand.
"If you do not lie still, I will not hesitate to restrain you," Viggo said, a sharp edge to his voice.
Hiccup, panic brimming, forced himself to stop fighting. The only thing worse than waking up in Viggo Grimborn's bed was being chained to it. (The Hunter's comment about why Viggo wanted to keep his face intact slid through his mind like a giant, slimy eel.) Once he had settled, Viggo removed his hand and sat back. "How are you feeling?" he repeated calmly.
Hiccup didn't answer. Instead, he demanded, "What happened?"
Viggo sighed deeply; Hiccup couldn't tell if it was an act or if his enemy was truly this disturbed by this turn of events. "My brother thought he and his men could take their revenge and play with you without injuring you." He smiled tightly. "They were wrong. According to my sage, you have a broken nose, bruised ribs, and stretched ligaments and pulled muscles from the strain of being hung upside down by your legs. You nearly suffocated on your own blood."
Hiccup brought a hand up and rubbed his aching chest. "Yeah, I… I remember that." He was too much of a coward to ask about the fate of the man who had nearly killed him. The grief in Agnar's eyes would haunt Hiccup until the day he died.
"So what happens now?" he asked. "You said you won't ransom me back to my father damaged, so does that mean I'm free to go?"
Viggo smiled a smile that unsettled Hiccup to the core. "I'm afraid not. It just means I get to keep you longer as you heal." Hiccup froze, panic turning his blood to ice. "The good news is that your nose will heal normally. No lasting damage. No scars."
The smug satisfaction on Viggo's face and the gleam in his eyes almost made Hiccup wish there had been some lasting damage. Anything to keep Viggo from looking at him like that.
"My friends will find me. They'll come for me. Or I'll escape. Either way, you won't be 'keeping' me for long." Hiccup tried to channel all of his terror into defiance.
Viggo shrugged. "Perhaps." He leaned forward, eyes dark and glittering in the candlelight. "But in the meantime, you are mine."