Exile

You are an escaped slave

Twenty Eight.

In the forge, Hiccup was quiet and withdrawn, working deftly but stiffly. He was having difficulty processing everything that had happened: his violent and terrifying encounter with the Trapper on the ship, his discovery of the Dragon Arena and the games where dragons were killed for sport. He shivered recalling the anxiety as he freed the dragons and the sense of achievement he had garnered from letting them fly away. And the fear as they had been hunted and he had been caught. He stopped: he felt his stomach turn at the irony that the Trappers had caught and beaten him for supposedly attempting to rape Astrid when he was the one who had been brutally assaulted himself. He shuddered: he knew he could never harm anyone the way he had been so hurt.

Harald didn't comment on the bruises but the boy could tell his master was becoming suspicious. The girls hadn't brought any lunch and Hiccup felt his stomach ache with emptiness as well as with depression that his slips the previous day had made Harald suspect him as a danger to his daughters. His stomach rumbled: he hadn't eaten anything in the morning or the previous night and he was starting to feel sick with hunger but he forced himself to pound away at the hammer he was making, the clangs loud in the forge. Sweat dripped from his face and he had to pause, feeling dizzy. Suddenly, Harald grabbed his shoulder as he swayed and sat the boy down on a stool, his head between his knees.

"Take a break, Valkan," he said sternly as the boy resisted. Hiccup struggled desperately, feeling as if he was being pinned down. He was beginning to hyperventilate and he managed to push Harald's hands off him, sitting up and backing away.

"I-I'm good," he panted, his eyes wide with fear. "I just-just skipped breakfast." Harald stared at him and realised his decision to keep his daughters away from the unsettling apprentice had robbed him of his midday meal. He sighed, then turned to his own meal, packed by the girls before he had come to work and tore the bread in half, handing it to the trembling boy.

"Eat, lad," he said gruffly. "You look half-starved." Hiccup's cheeks flared with embarrassment and he warily accepted the food.

"Thanks," he managed and bit urgently into the bread. It was gritty and fairly tasteless but he was ravenous and it helped fill his aching stomach. Harald stared at him.

"You'd feel less dizzy if you took your tunic off, lad," he suggested, staring at the bright red and sweaty face. Hiccup looked alarmed.

"I-I'm good," he mumbled, chewing.

"You never even roll up your sleeves," Harald noted. Hiccup flinched.

"I...erm...get really self-conscious," he muttered unconvincingly. "I was teased all through my life for being the runt...And I don't feel the heat really..." Harald scowled: the boy was a poor liar.

"Valkan-what are you hiding?" he demanded. Hiccup hunched up and his green eyes widened in anxiety but then a voice sounded at the hatch. Hiccup's head snapped round in shock.

"Excuse me?" Harald gave the boy a 'this conversation isn't over' look that he had seen all too often from his father and turned to the customer: a beautiful young woman with sun-bright golden hair braided tightly, stunning azure eyes and a stern Viking expression. The smith came forward with a smile.

"Can I help?" he asked and she nodded.

"I am looking for someone," she admitted. "A boy my age. So high..." and she indicated Hiccup's height, "with dark red hair, green eyes, freckles, one leg and looking a bit the worse for wear." Harald frowned.

"Why are you looking for him?" he asked. She sighed.

"I'm worried for him," she admitted. "He's my friend and he ran away. He'd been badly treated and he left me behind..." Harald stared at her.