Work Text:
Hiccup stared down at the blank piece of parchment on the table before him, heart pounding and stomach twisting. "I'm sorry," he said, somehow managing to keep his voice steady despite the unease curdling in his gut. "You want me to what?"
"You heard me, Master Hiccup," Johann snarled, tightening his grip on Hiccup's right wrist and pushing the arm slightly higher up his back. Hiccup couldn't stop a sharp inhale as pain lanced from his wrist to his shoulder. Johann's satisfied chuckle rode on the wings of the warm breath ghosting the back of his prisoner's neck.
Motion to the left caught the corner of Hiccup's eye; with a flick of Johann's wrist, a wickedly sharp dagger appeared from his sleeve. Panic flared and Hiccup tried to twist away from the approaching weapon, but Johann's fingers squeezed his wrist so tightly that pain sparked to his elbow and his fingers started to go numb.
The razor edge of the knife, warm from Johann's body heat, kissed the delicate skin of Hiccup's throat. Breath caught in his chest and terror screamed through him, freezing his blood and stalling his heart as the knife bit, so sharp he hardly felt the skin break. He did feel the droplet of blood trickle down his neck and nestle in the hollow of his throat, and his heart slammed back into motion, fast and desperate and loud, his pulse the beat of war drums in his ears. He wanted to bolt out of the chair he'd been forced into, shove the table away, and run. But they had taken his prosthetic leg and chained his right ankle to a table leg.
"Fear," Johann purred, drawing the knife back just enough to give Hiccup a sliver of breathing room, though it didn't make breathing any easier: The terror had a strangling grip on his lungs. "That is more like it." His voice hardened to Gronkle Iron. "Pick up the quill. Now, or you'll be writing with your own blood instead of ink."
Bastard, Hiccup thought, anger burning fast and hot enough to cut through the panic. He drew in a shaky breath and snapped, "If you want a ransom note, Johann, you can write it yourself."
This time, when Johann twisted his arm, Hiccup couldn't hold back a cry of pain. "Ah, but you see, Hiccup, it will be much more meaningful if it is written in your hand. Much more personal, you understand, to create a greater sense of urgency. Perhaps it will light a fire beneath your obnoxious little friends, remind them just what is at stake if they do not agree to my terms."
"Great job explaining exactly why I d-don't want to write it," Hiccup snarked, his heart beating frenetically in his chest. Johann hadn't let up his grip on Hiccup's arm (if anything, he'd tightened it), and he felt the hot premonition of tears press behind his eyes at the pain shooting from wrist to shoulder.
"You have five seconds to pick up the quill," Johann snarled. "I imagine it will be much more difficult to focus through the pain of a broken arm."
A droplet of sweat inched its way down from Hiccup's temple. He knew Johann wasn't bluffing — in fact, he was probably eager to break Hiccup's arm, to cause him as much pain as possible. And a broken arm, even if it wasn't his dominant one, would make any potential escape much more difficult. As much as Hiccup hated the prospect of conceding ground to Johann, he had to do the smart thing here, focus on self-preservation instead of his pride.
His left hand shook as he picked up the quill and dipped it into the ink.
"Impressive," Johann remarked wryly. "It seems you do have the ability to obey a simple command, after all. Pity. I was rather looking forward to your screams."
Hiccup's skin swarmed with invisible spiders and he only just managed to repress a full-body shudder. He chose not to address Johann's chilling commentary and instead asked, "Anything in particular you want this to say? Are you a fan of the classics? Bring me the Dragon Eye lenses or he dies? Or are you looking for something more original?"
Pain flared, this time in his neck as the dagger bit once more, nestling back into the same small cut it had left and digging in the tiniest bit deeper.
"Your friends may find your rambling tongue and incessant sarcasm endearing, Master Hiccup, but I do not. You would do well to remember that."
You're one to talk about rambling tongues, Hiccup wanted to snap back, but the knife at his throat provided the incentive to hold his quiet.
After a moment, Johann released the pressure on the knife. "Good, Hiccup." The invisible spiders grew agitated and crawled along Hiccup's spine, summoning gooseflesh in their wake. "It seems you can keep your mouth shut as well if you are properly motivated." Hiccup could hear the smirk in Johann's voice. "I will be sure to remember that."
"Just — just tell me what you want me to write, Johann," Hiccup said, his voice strained with a humiliating cocktail of fear and pain.
And Johann did.
The more he spoke, the more Hiccup's skin crawled, until it was positively writhing. He tried not to let his terror show, but he could not control the tremor in his hand — his horror written in shaky runes for Johann to plainly see. Nausea bubbled in his gut, and he had to strain to hear Johann's dictation over the blood rushing and pulse pounding in his ears.
Salutations, Dragon Riders.
You are currently in possession of something that I very much desire, and I am afraid that I will not rest until it is back in my hands. Fortunately, I am in the possession of something that you hold dear, and although he is a thorn in my side and a plague upon my life, I shall not be returning him until you give me what I want.
In three days' time, I, accompanied by a host of Dragon Flyers and a fleet of Hunter ships, will be docked on the east side of Torg Island (see enclosed map). I expect you to send one person and dragon with all of the Dragon Eye lenses you have to meet me there. If you follow my instructions to the letter, I will release Hiccup Haddock and let you leave in peace.
If, however, you do not bring the lenses, or I see more than one rider and dragon, I will retreat and begin return Hiccup to you at a later date… piece by piece.
For every time you do not obey my instructions, for every ruse, I will carve out another part of your beloved heir and have it delivered to your doorstep. I will start with a finger or two. If you still refuse to cooperate, I will take the hand. Next, an ear. Surely, at this point, you will have gotten the message, but if not, I will take an eye, and then I will carve his tongue right out of his mouth. (Or perhaps I shall start with the tongue; it would be a great reprieve to silence him for good.)
Arrive by sunset, or Hiccup will lose far more than the contents of this package.
Bile rose in Hiccup's throat as Johann finally stopped talking; the quill shivered, stalled over the parchment. He had not been able to hold back the tears as he was forced to list all the horrific ways Johann planned to torture him, and several drops littered the parchment, smudging the runes slightly.
"Wh-what contents?" Hiccup managed past the fear closing his throat and freezing his lungs. "What are you — what are you t-talking about?"
Johann didn't answer. Instead, he leaned forward over Hiccup's shoulder, putting agonizing pressure on Hiccup's twisted arm, his stupid mustache tickling Hiccup's cheek, and inspected the note. "Word for word," he said approvingly, and Hiccup's turmoil was so great that he could not summon his usual anger at the smugness lacing Johann's voice. "And I must commend you on the addition of the tear stains, Master Hiccup. An excellent bit of added urgency. Well done.”
"Johann, what are y-you—"
Hiccup broke off with a shout; in one swift movement, Johann released Hiccup's arm — painful pins and needles raced up and down the aching limb — and closed his fingers around the braids at the back of Hiccup's hair, yanking hard. Hiccup's head snapped back and pain arced across his scalp.
"I have despised these ridiculous braids from the moment I saw them," Johann said, voice dripping with malice. "Almost as much as I despise the one-legged menace they are attached to."
Hiccup bit back a whimper as Johann pulled harder, straining Hiccup's neck back at an unnatural angle. Johann's knife retreated from his throat, and moments later, Hiccup felt the blade slicing through the braids at his scalp. Johann cut so close that Hiccup could feel the flat of the knife moving against his skin; the knife slipped and the edge scored a burning, shallow line into his head. Hiccup grimaced but forced himself not to struggle; he couldn't afford to jar a knife so close to his neck.
Fresh dread poured over Hiccup's body like icy water, freezing his blood. He had no doubt that the cut hadn't been an accident. Johann was far too skilled with a knife for that. No, that had been intentional, malicious. If Johann was already so impatient to draw blood, what was to say that he wouldn't get bored waiting for the exchange and decide to get a head start on his threats?
But no — Hiccup couldn't think like that, couldn't let that fear take hold. Surely, Johann would wait and see if the riders brought the lenses. He had to honor his end of the bargain; he couldn’t afford not to.
Johann released Hiccup's hair — Hiccup's stiff neck screamed as he navigated his head in to a more natural position — and circled around to the opposite side of the table, though he did not sit. He lifted his hand: Between his fingers he twirled both of Hiccup's braids, the auburn locks appearing almost black in the low candlelight. Something deep inside of Hiccup's chest wrenched at the sight of his hair, the braids that Astrid had re-woven just this morning, in his enemy's hands. And while a distant part of him understood that he should be thankful that it was only hair, the violation of having any part of himself forcibly cut away made his terror-frozen body burn with humiliation.
Hiccup watched in silence as Johann laid the braids on the parchment. Hiccup stared at them with a detached kind of horror before dragging his eyes back up to Johann, who towered over him, leering.
"What do you think, Hiccup?" Johann asked after a long, charged beat. "Will this be enough to convince your friends to bring me my lenses?"
A war raged in Hiccup's mind; Johann couldn't get the lenses, the price for dragon kind would be too steep. But Hiccup had never felt fear as potent as he did in this moment, with Johann's twisted plans for him on the table before him, a malignant promise written in Hiccup's own hand. He couldn't begin to fathom the torment that awaited him, and a small part of him, one that he hated and clung to in equal measure, wanted the trade to go smoothly. They could recover the lenses later.
Hiccup tried to push the fear down, but it dug its claws in, clinging to him mercilessly. He licked his dry lips and stammered, "Th-they won't do it."
Johann chuckled, cold and humorless. "You best hope they do, boy. If not, you will soon be missing much more than a leg."
Hiccup blanched, stomach churning, sweat beading his brow, body trembling. He couldn't offer a snarky retort, he couldn't say anything, he couldn't even think past the panic.
Johann stroked his beard in thought. "Perhaps you are right," he mused. "Perhaps they need a bit more motivation."
Hiccup forced himself to speak, though his voice shook so much he couldn't be sure Johann understood him. "Tha-that's not—"
He broke off, breath coming in short, fast pants, as Johann's free hand shot out and grabbed his left wrist in a crushing grip. Fire sparked in the joint, dragging a pained whine from Hiccup's lips. Before he could blink, Johann brought the knife to Hiccup’s hand and sliced into his palm, cutting deep. He hummed contentedly at his captive’s strangled cry.
Hiccup ground his teeth together and curled his fingers defensively around the wound, watching through blurred vision as blood seeped between the fingers and pattered like tears onto the parchment below. Johann put the knife on the desk and used his other hand to pry Hiccup's fingers open — Hiccup gasped — then flipped Hiccup's hand over and pressed the wound to the ransom note, just below the final paragraph, where Johann would sign his name. Hiccup struggled, panting, but his movements were weak and sluggish.
After a moment, Johann released him, and Hiccup curled his arm close to his chest, squeezing his right hand around his left, trying to stem the flow. It hurt enough to draw more tears from his eyes, and did little more than make both palms slick with blood, but it was the best he could do.
"That's better," Johann decided, admiring the dots and streak of red, stark against light parchment and black ink.
Fuck you, Hiccup thought, but his mouth wouldn't fit around the words, and his voice refused to engage, choked out by sheer terror.
Johann turned the parchment to face himself, then picked up the quill, dipped it, and wrote his name beside Hiccup's bloody mark, his runes strangely curved and unreasonably elegant. "I must get this message to my courier at once," he said. "I'll have a guard take you back to your cell. Use your time there wisely, Master Hiccup," he advised, "and pray to the gods that your friends take my ultimatum seriously. If not, well. I believe you are now intimately aware of what will happen to you if they do not."
He swept out of the room, leaving Hiccup in the throes of war with himself. They're smart, he thought desperately. Smarter than Johann. They'll find a way to get me away from him without giving up the lenses.
But rising up inside of him was the unswerving knowledge that his friends, as much as they wanted to protect dragons and keep the lenses out of enemy hands, would not take that risk. They'd reason with themselves, justify that they could get the lenses back another day, when Hiccup was safe. Hiccup was their leader, the heir of Berk, their future. Their friend. The second they saw Hiccup's braids and blood and his shaky, tear-blotted handwriting, the decision would be made for them.
They'd make the trade, no tricks, no fuss. Johann, who could not afford the repercussions if he did not hold up his end of the bargain, would release Hiccup to them. Hiccup would go back to the Edge, be back where he belonged with Toothless and his friends. He would escape the unthinkable torture Johann had planned for him, though he knew the threats he had been forced to write would follow him until the day he died.
And maybe they would be able to get the lenses back one day.
But maybe they wouldn't. Maybe Johann would find the King of Dragons. Maybe he would wreak unprecedented devastation upon dragons across the archipelago and beyond.
Maybe they would lose the war.
If that happened, Hiccup would never forgive himself. Especially since he couldn't shake that voice in the back of his mind that wouldn't stop pleading, Do it, give it to them, don't let him take anything else from me, I can't do this, I can't—
He tried to tamp it out, but it grew ever louder, echoing his weakness and failure in the dark, terrified caverns of his mind.
In three days' time, Johann would have the lenses and Hiccup would be free. But if it came at the cost of the dragons? Gods.
He knew at his core that what he thought or wished had no bearing on what his friends would do, nor what the outcome of this nightmare would be. If his friends chose to abide by Johann's demands — which they would, he had no doubt — then Hiccup could do nothing to stop him. And the fact that there was a part of him that didn't want to stop them even if he could also didn't change anything.
What would happen would happen, and they would deal with it as it did, fighting, as always, for dragons, their home, each other. And maybe — maybe Hiccup would be able to see this, believe it, past the self-loathing and guilt. Eventually.
But in this moment, he had not the strength nor the will to fight as hopelessness and panic and a grotesque parade of what-ifs wrapped his heart and body in heavy chains and dragged him to their depths.
His heart thrummed wildly to the staccato beat of blood dripping onto a cold stone floor, and he fought a losing battle to keep his head above a rising sea of despair.