Seasick

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A/N I'm sooooo sorry I haven't updated in a while. Thank you everyone for being so patient. This chapter isn't that long, but I had to give you something, so here you are! Enjoy!

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The boat rocked back and forth as you pulled away from Berk. You lay on the ground looking up at the window from your cell. The wooden floor smelled terrible and rotten, and the rocking. You felt sick.

There was a window in your cell near the top. From your point of view, you could see a few dragons flying around and smoke. Over the waves crashing into the ship, you could hear screams.

Despite everything that had happened, all you could think about was your child. You were going to give birth any day now, and Hiccup didn't even know where you were. He thought you were safely at another island, waiting for him to come get you. Instead, you were here. On an outcast ship sailing away. No one knew you got taken.

Tears slid down your face, but you didn't make a sound. There were some footsteps outside your cell, but they passed. The thumping soon faded into nothing but the rolling sea again.

You sat up slightly and looked at your arm. It continued to bleed, your clothes had dried blood on them. You managed to rip apart of your coat sleeve off to use as a bandage. Using your teeth, you tied it tightly, stopping the blood.

Footsteps came back down the hallway and stopped outside your door. You turned your head slightly and saw one of the outcasts staring back. He looked a little drunk, and held a bottle in his hand which was almost empty. He gripped at the bars to keep himself balanced as the ship moved, it clearly didn't help that he wasn't sober.

"We-we are g-going to kill you." He laughed a little and stumbled backwards, dropping the bottle in the process. It rolled on the floor lazily, the drunken Viking not even noticing it missing. He stumbled away, laughing and hiccuping. Your gazed went to the bottle, watching it roll back and forth.

You conjured up all your strength and crawled toward the bottle. When it rolled close enough to the bars, you reached out and grabbed it. Some of the whiskey that the Viking didn't finish came out the top and left your hand sticky. You smelled the inside of the bottle, almost wishing you could drink yourself drunk. That way the pain would be less. It would go away.

You gritted your teeth and poured the rest of it on the deck floor just outside your cell. You pulled the bottle through the bars and set it to the side for later. Then you peered out into the hallway. There were a few torches that were burning brightly to light the hallway. Some chucks of coal were littering the floor right below them. Carefully, you stuck your arm through the bars. You could just barley reach it, pushing yourself against the bars until it hurt, but you finally managed to get a small chunk. The coal was still hot and burned your fingers slightly, but you held on, pulling it toward you.

Once it was safely in the cell, you pulled you hand back and blew on it. Your teeth gritted slightly as you held your burnt hand close to your chest. When the pain subsided, you looked to see a black burn on your palm and at the tips of your fingers. That didn't matter though, now all you need was paper and something to seal the bottle. It was your only way to contact Hiccup, if he even got the bottle.

You hand felt at your boot, the place you kept your small knife. It wasn't enough to take on all the outcasts here, but it would do in a pinch. Best to keep it hidden, even if it wouldn't do much harm. Your hand found the knife, and a smile crossed your lips. In fact, you almost laughed out loud. They hadn't even checked you for weapons. Not that you had a problem with that. You flicked it open and started to cut a thin piece of the wall out.

After a couple failed attempts and a few cut fingers, you finally had a jagged piece of wood that would work for writing. You took the charcoal and carefully wrote,

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