Previously, on Fly to Live:

Having lost count of the days he spent alone as a street urchin in the slums of Tinas low, desperate, hungry, and with no conceivable way to save his friend, Hiccup decides to put his life on the line and reveal himself as the rider of the dragon that has likely been captured by the authority of this city.

At first, not speaking his language, the patrols of the city watch do not understand him, so Hiccup resorts to shouting, making as much of a scene as possible. After an entire morning of repeatedly beating him and kicking him away from the high city, thinking him a mere thief or a disturbance, the armored guards finally decide to capture him.

Chapter 29: A Fair Offer

(Hiccup)

Toothless was alive. He had to be.

Hiccup had not been able to see or talk to him, but, for the smallest instant, through all that stone, he had felt him. Or so he had thought. He could not be certain, yet the sudden hope was so great, that Hiccup forgot to care about his own fate as the armored guards dragged him through the castle's intricate undercrofts…

...until they began stripping him.

Then, embarrassment surged through him like a flame. Hiccup had never been properly immodest, as any Viking ought to be. It had taken him months to feel comfortable without clothes before Toothless, a dragon and a friend, and that had come as his own choice; a rare moment of confidence, maybe even boldness. It had felt liberating then. Now, without any choice on the matter, not so much, for the men in charge did not understand him as he pleaded to at least let him keep his smallclothes.

His hunger, the pain of his cuts and bruises, his sore throat, his fear, were all momentarily cast aside as the men removed the last of his old, rain-soaked garments. They were clearly not doing it for fear of him catching a cold, which was reason enough for Hiccup to fear the worst.

Fortunately, in those guards' minds was a different, more ordinary purpose. They merely searched him, yet they did so meticulously, even in places of his anatomy that Hiccup had never even considered as possible hidden pockets.

They were not entirely graceless at performing the offensive procedure, though Hiccup's shame and bafflement probably helped to dull the pain of it. To them, it seemed, this was all routine.

The embarrassment over the whole ordeal disappeared as if by magic, the instant they began tying him to what, to Hiccup's good eyes for machinery, looked without a doubt like a torture device.

A wave of dizziness washed over him. He had not expected torture. Questioning? Sure. Imprisonment? Most likely. Death? In the worst case scenario, perhaps. But not torture.

He would have squirmed, but he was far too weak, too battered, and, even if that hadn't been the case, he would have still been unable to muster enough strength against those men. While they were not nearly as strong as Gobber, or Stoick, or Spitelout, all of whom could lift him from the ground with mere fingers (or, in Gobber's case, a hook), they were still much too strong for Hiccup's flimsy arms.

As the men casually clasped the cold shackles around his wrists and ankles, spreading his bare limbs apart, something in Hiccup's mind began to leave. His vision blurred. The sudden horror of his fate took over, a fear unlike anything he had ever felt. Or had he? There was a memory. Something recent. A dream…?

"Toothless…" Hiccup murmured, the treasured name leaving his lips like a chant.

He had thought his mind had broken in the streets of Tinas low. He had been wrong. He was truly going insane now, like Bjartmar the Mad, who yelled at chickens all around Berk, even when they weren't there. Hiccup did not mind. It was better this way. Perhaps he was mad already.

I talk to a Night Fury, don't I? Maybe I've been a madman all along.

He allowed the strange sensation to take over him, hoping it would soften the pain of whatever they were going to do to him. He felt as if flying, leaving his body, but he was always there, cold and hungry, and very much naked.

The two guards chatted idly before him, sometimes arguing in that foreign language, sometimes chuckling. An unclear amount of time later, more men gathered in the grim chamber.

On impulse, Hiccup writhed and twisted, hoping to cover himself, but the chains would not budge, so he resorted to avoiding the men's faces. If he did not look at them, maybe they would not look at him.

Then, a hand under his chin forced his attention up to one of them. Though he tried to repress it, a frightened gasp escaped his throat.

Through the haze in his eyes, he looked at the long-haired man. Was he the king of this land? Hiccup glanced at the others. He thought he recognized a face, but he could not be sure. Was he really going insane? He felt distant, dizzy, but still somehow lucid in his own mind, as if inside a dream over which he had no control.

Maybe this is what insanity is like.

Had the torture begun? He would have surely been able to tell if it had. He could not have gone that mad, could he? How long had he been hanging from that cross?

The men exchanged words amongst themselves. Questions were asked of him. Some were shouted, others spoken with incredulity. Some he understood, some he tried to answer, hoping to postpone the pain; most were in languages he had never heard. Finding a moment of clarity, Hiccup asked about Toothless. Or, at least, he thought he did, but they never seemed to hear his own questions.

Words kept echoing in his ears: Kadal, dragon, spy, mission, Viking, war…

There was only one thing Hiccup understood during the whole thing: they had been expecting him to be someone else, from somewhere else entirely. That was probably why, when Hiccup muttered a similar half-lie about his origins to the one he had told… who was it? He had recently told someone about leaving Balheim with a brother, but Hiccup could not recall whom, or when. He nonetheless blurted out that lie again, accounting for the Night Fury instead of a human brother, and the questions slowly died down.

The rest became a blur. Hiccup let his eyes close. He nodded drowsily, but the iron shackles on his wrists had started to blister his skin, and the pain did not let him truly fall asleep. He could still hear voices, murmurs, then whispers. Then, for a long while, silence. Filling the vaulted room was only the sound of dancing flames upon the torches lining the walls.

Was it over? Would they let him see Toothless now? Were they not going to hurt him? His wrists burned, the bruises from his beatings throbbed, but that was hardly the torture he had feared. Against his better judgement, Hiccup dared to feel grateful.

Then, a female voice spoke. It was not directed at him, but Hiccup still opened his eyes and peered through the hair on his face to make sure his ears had been wrong. Alas, his ears still worked fine. A middle-aged woman had entered the chamber. She wore a grey shawl around her head and chin, and she was holding a shallow basin under one arm.

Hiccup instinctively rattled his chains, attempting to cover himself once again. But, again, he could not move, and thus remained at full display.

Soon enough, the chamber was abuzz once more. The two guards returned, followed, much to Hiccup's alarm, by a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, who joined the older one. She was carrying a mug, a tin pitcher, a blanket, and another bundle. Behind her came also two dark-haired boys of about ten years, helpers perhaps, hauling two buckets of steaming water each.

Hiccup lowered his head as much as his neck would allow, pretending to be unconscious. At least they would not fully see his face. He was startled back up, however, when the two guards unchained him from the cross-shaped contraption.

Hiccup's legs buckled under his own weight, and the two guards had to keep him upright by his armpits. He still found the strength to cover his groin with his hands as they led him to sit upon a table, which was merely part of another torture device.

Relief washed over him when the younger woman wrapped her blanket around him. While still plenty afraid and confused, it was mostly because of his embarrassment that Hiccup forgot to thank her. He did however thank Thor when she left, followed by the two boys, who had finished emptying the steaming buckets into the wooden basin.

Only the two guards and the shawled woman remained. She was filling the mug from the pitcher. That done, she handed the mug to him.

Hiccup took it with unsteady hands. Careful not to lift his blanket, he smelled the contents, and, without further consideration, drank in huge manic gulps, trying not to spill a drop from around his lips, but failing.

Thickly honeyed water trailed his chin and dripped onto his blanket. He then stared at the pitcher again, hoping for more. The woman took his empty mug. Instead of refilling it, however, she gave him the whole pitcher.

Hiccup emptied it as well, then sucked the rim. The void in his belly yielded slightly, the water quenched his thirst, and the honey gave him enough energy to clear his head and sight, whilst also softening the soreness in his throat. He was still hungry, but he could at least think somewhat clearly once more.

"Evi, arè," the woman said, nodding towards the basin.

Obviously, Hiccup did not understand.

She gestured with a hand at the basin, but Hiccup failed to understand again. The two guards stepped forward then, grabbed him, led him to the basin, and tried to pry his blanket off. Hiccup held onto it, unwilling to part with it.

Somehow, the woman noticed this, and, in an unexpected display of grace, shooed the guards away. They did not obey, yet she insisted, giving some explanation in that strange southern language. The guards then rolled their eyes, one snorted, and both finally went to stand just outside the vaulted chamber, exchanging idle banter.

While one pair of stranger's eyes were better than three, they were still too many for Hiccup's comfort. He nonetheless obeyed the woman, part of him craving the warmth of the water. He covered himself with his hands, gave his blanket back, and stepped into the shallow basin, standing upright.

The heat stung his feet and spread in a wave of gooseprickles up through his whole body. He closed his eyes, but reopened them the moment the woman started scrubbing him harshly with a wet, soapy cloth.

"I- I can do it… by myself," he complained, startled, but the woman paid him no heed. She scrubbed hard and purposefully.

Why was she washing him? Though Hiccup had stopped smelling himself a while ago, he knew he was filthy, but was this really necessary?

A dreadful thought occurred to him then. Was this a tradition for those who were bound for execution? A last drink and a last wash, so he would not die dirty and on an empty stomach, just as they used to do at home with sacrificial animals every nine years?

A sense of doom fell suddenly over him, panic bringing the cold back into his bones, the kind of panic that sets in when you realize your time has come, when you know you are moments away from certain death, and there's nothing you can do to go back. The same feeling that, as Hiccup sometimes thought, any fish probably had, the instant it became aware of the hook inside its mouth, or the net around its fins.

'I can always die tomorrow,' he had been telling himself ever since losing Toothless. The phrase had given him a strange sense of comfort, enough to keep him walking, enough to go on living. Yet, he now realized, it was only a comforting thought when 'tomorrow' was not today.

He wanted to flee. He eyed the blanket, then looked at the woman scrubbing the filth off his skin, and then stared at the stone passages that led away from the chamber. Would he be able to make it?

No... He closed his eyes. Toothless is still here.

Only that morning, he had renewed his vow to never abandon his friend. He had vowed to stop being a coward, to stop running away.

It will soon be a year since I left Berk. I can't keep doing this forever.

Hiccup took a deep, shuddering breath, steeled his nerves, and opened his eyes.

What good is a life of endless flying, if you can never land?

The woman finished her awkward job, unwilling to be thorough about it, much to Hiccup's relief. The water had turned brown anyway. Hiccup's body was still nowhere near clean yet, just enough to reveal the full extent of his recent bruises, but at least most of the foul stench of the slums had been removed.

Simple linen and wool garments were then handed to him, as well as a new pair of leather slippers. Hiccup wore everything hastily, trying not to stumble.

White and tan-colored, they were not particularly rich clothes, but they were still cleaner and newer than anything Hiccup had worn in months, and, after being naked before so many strangers, they gave Hiccup a comfort and a confidence he had not expected to ever feel again.

Hiccup was led away from the chamber by the two guards. They did not drag him harshly as before, merely steered him through the tunnels and up the multitude of stairs, balancing him every time he tripped. He wanted to ask them about what would happen to him, about Toothless, but he already knew they could not understand him.

Once they had climbed all the stairs, Hiccup's steps became more solemn. His knees were weak, but at least they no longer gave out. His heart beat in strange, abnormal ways. He still half-expected to be led outside, where a crowd was going to cheer and jeer at him, waiting for his head to be chopped off, as was customary during Viking executions. Not that Hiccup had witnessed many.

Under Stoick the Vast, executions on Berk had almost become history, a punishment that only the most barbaric or populous villages could afford to practice. On Berk, lawbreakers were usually cast out, preferably not in winter, though it often made little difference. If they were very lucky, the currents led them to the Outcast Islands, from which they were sometimes allowed to return after a few years, assuming their crime had not been particularly grave.

Hiccup had only witnessed one execution in his life, when he was about five years old. He could remember parts of it, even though his mother, who was still alive then, had told him to stay home that morning. Disobeying, Hiccup had sneaked out to witness the first execution on Berk in what people said had been nearly a decade.

Though Stoick the Vast had not been the offended party, he had insisted on carrying out the deed himself, as chief, hoping to thwart the blood-feud that was likely to ensue between the families involved. The convicted man had died with a single flash of Stoick's mighty axe, without pleading for his life, without crying, without complaint. He had been offered banishment, but he had refused, acknowledging the gravity of his crime. He had chosen death over a lifetime in exile, either hoping the quick resolution would lessen the shame he had cast upon his family, or perhaps fearing what exile would entail.

Thus, with grim determination, the man had kneeled, his back always straight, his eyes always open, looking up, until the very last moment. The whole village had witnessed the event; none had raised objections.

Weaponless, the man had been forbidden Valhalla, but he had still died with Viking pride. And yet, Hiccup had never been able to decide whether to feel admiration or contempt for that man, his crime being that of drunken rape. Hiccup had not understood at the time, nor had he asked. Witnessing the death of a man by something other than a dragon's claws or fire had left him too shaken to ever attempt to make sense of it. He had not thought about it since, and only now flashes of the grim performance reemerged vividly into his mind.

Was he going to suffer the same fate? Was he going to face it with the same poise and pride as that man? Was he going to die a Viking as he had vowed moments ago?

Perhaps there was no need to worry about such fate at all, for it was with a strange, unexpected reverence that the two guards now led Hiccup through a much finer, wider corridor of the castle, and finally to a large double door made of carved wood. Hiccup could not tell if this was a good sign or not, but, from the looks of the few people passing near him as he made his way from the dungeons, he did not perceive hostility or pity. Instead, there was curiosity, incredulity, and even wonder. None of those looks suggested he was about to die, though he could not be certain. He did not know these people or their customs.

The doors were opened for him by two standing guards, revealing a huge rectangular room. Hiccup was shown in from what appeared to be the main entrance, which stood on the long edge of the chamber. The first thing that caught Hiccup's attention, however, was not the size of the room, but the three narrow, yet incredibly tall glass windows, which started at a man's height, and stretched up to the high coffered ceiling, each of its wooden boxes intricately inlaid.

It had stopped raining outside, and, from those towering windows, warm afternoon light was now falling into the room at an angle, making dark silhouettes of a row of men, all sitting behind a long, rectangular table, facing him. Hiccup could not make out their backlit faces, at least until his eyes began to adjust.

A hand pushed him softly through the entrance. Hiccup could feel his hesitant steps muffled by the biggest, red-woven carpet he had ever seen. There were also smaller embroidered tapestries covering the high stone walls of the room. They depicted gruesome and magnificent scenes of great battles, prancing horses, roiling armies, castle-sieges.

There were also two walled fireplaces popping to Hiccup's left and right, at the far ends of the room, where servants stood neatly by, ready to obey orders.

While the room was nowhere near as gargantuan or arresting as Berk's great hall (few things in the world probably were), the craftsmanship, the symmetry, the placement of the windows, and the imperious, violent decorations, gave this council chamber an air of gravity that Hiccup had never experienced, not in Berk's great hall during a nest-hunt council, nor in Berk's arena during his last trial.

The hand of a man sitting near the left corner of the ornate table pointed towards a single chair which had been placed at the center of the room, a few paces away from the same table, right in the middle of the carpet, where the intricate geometries met.

"Please, come forward so we may all see you," the man's unfamiliar voice said in near-perfect Norse.

Unsure whether to feel surprised or not, Hiccup wiped his clammy palms against his breeches, and obeyed. He had to wait for some dizziness to abate as he sat, before he could finally focus on the man's face. He blinked a few times, and felt a frown of recognition form on his own face.

Hiccup had seen the man in the docks of this city, on his very first day here, just before meeting the young lady who had pointed him to the bookbinder. He was the same fine-clothed man who had been talking to that ship's captain. He was also, most likely, the father of that same lady, as her last words before parting had suggested.

The man was smiling jovially, yet, while clearly affable and well-disposed, he seemed not at all the kind of man who would sit in front of a hearth before nightfall, humming gentle stories to his children. He was unnaturally clean and neat, with neat clothes, neat black hair, a neatly trimmed black beard, and black clever eyes that seemed to see things even without looking.

Hiccup could not decide whether to feel reassured or not. Everything around him seemed oddly bright and slow. His heart was still pounding in his ears, and his stomach felt empty again. That honeyed water had clearly not sufficed.

Why did they bring me here?

As they studied him, a few men started speaking in the southern tongue. Were they expecting him to understand? Hiccup did not need to feign his confusion.

Then, a man sitting at the center of the table raised a hand, quieting all the murmurs. Hiccup recognized him as the one who had supervised his questioning in the dungeons; his long shaggy hair and freshly shaved face were unmistakable.

While the man had not been as cruel as Hiccup had feared, his hard glare suggested he was not a man who allowed humor to be an apology for disobedience. In that, he reminded Hiccup of his father. He was probably the king, though he looked much different than the king Hiccup had envisioned for this kingdom.

No, he can't be the king, Hiccup thought. Tinas was not the capital of Erfar, though Hiccup could not recall where he had heard of this.

Still, despite the dark circles cupping the man's eyes, and despite his rough looks (aside from Hiccup, he was the only one present whose hair was not impeccably trimmed) the man held himself with an unmistakeable air of command.

Once he had obtained silence, he lowered his hand, gesturing towards the rich-looking man, who nodded gratefully, and finally spoke again:

"First, some introductions. My name is Oliman Fillatis, merchant by trade, here in the vest of Master of Finance of this fair city, as well as representative of the Guild of Merchants. In the center, you've already met Lord Dario Langham, commander of the king's northern army, appointed by the king himself with the safekeeping of these lands. He is the highest authority in the city, as his grace the Earl is currently absent. To his right, Admiral…"

The man went on to name five more figures, but Hiccup could not concentrate, nor did he care enough to memorize their names and faces. With his mind still hazy, Hiccup's eyes kept falling onto trivial details: flower carvings on the wood, candle holders made of silver, strange fine clothes, some with polished buttons, some of which had actual engravings upon them. There were maps on the long table, colorful, costly parchments with odd wooden figurines scattered atop them. One was a little prancing horse with a man on its back holding a banner. It was a surprisingly good carving for a mere toy figure. What were so many toy figures doing on that table?

In one of the two fireplaces, a piece of burning wood collapsed abruptly with a puff of embers. Hiccup turned, startled. He then looked back at the rich-looking man, who had finished his introductions.

"In the name of everybody present," the man named Oliman continued, "and as the only one here who can fully speak the Viking tongue, I apologize for the treatment you received. You must understand, these are times of war. Spies and assassins are not uncommon in this city, and our enemies are known to often scout the woods to the west, which are our only border with Kadal. We are-"

"Is Tooth-, the dragon, is he all right?" Hiccup finally cut in, encouraged by the apologetic tone of the man. "Is he hurt?" His voice cracked and trembled, but, after what had occurred that afternoon, the embarrassment was trivial.

Oliman seemed taken aback for a moment. The commander looked at him, as did the others. Oliman translated for them, then, seeing the commander give a nod, he replied:

"The dragon is fine. I saw the great beast myself. It has been properly fed, though it remains chained, as it easily killed four of the commander's men."

Hiccup swallowed, feeling less sorry than he would have in any other circumstances. Was Toothless going to be forgiven for killing those men? Would they be demanding his head now that they had found his rider?

"What will happen to him?"

"That," Oliman began, "depends entirely on you. You see, the usefulness of a dragon rider, which, I'm still baffled to realize, is apparently a real thing, has not escaped the commander's attention. This is why you are here. The commander wishes to make you an offer. An offer, I'm convinced, that will be beneficial to everyone, especially to you, considering your story. From what the commander has told us of your… interview, it appears you crossed the Wicked Waters looking for a safe place for you and your dragon. Is that not the case?"

So, Hiccup thought, it's through talking that our fates will be decided.

At that, an uneasy sense of relief settled within him. He wanted to hide it from his face, lest the sight of it changed these people's minds, but he probably failed, so great was the weight that was being lifted from his chest. Was it too good to be true? Could this be a trap of some sort?

They could have killed me a hundred times by now if they wanted to. Why try to deceive me?

Hiccup turned to the commander. The man was staring back. There were obvious reservations in those eyes, but, unlike Oliman, at least this man was wearing his apprehension openly. His eyes were honest, and, if anything, they reassured Hiccup even more. This was no trap. Everyone had something to lose here, though Hiccup was clearly at a disadvantage, and Toothless even more so.

"What do I have to do?" Hiccup asked. Like the commander, he did not try to hide his apprehension either.

Oliman Fillatis smiled the most satisfied smile Hiccup had ever seen. The man turned to the commander, saying something in the southern tongue. He then looked back at Hiccup, and his expression was suddenly businesslike.

"Erland, right? You seem like a smart young man, so here is the deal. It's a very advantageous one, if I may say so myself, and it's also very simple. You shall become a most honored guest in my home, where you'll be spared no comfort, a privilege many in this city likely dream of, but which only my own wife and daughters have been able to claim. In exchange, only one thing will be asked of you." Oliman paused, perhaps to gauge Hiccup's expression. Hiccup could not see his own face, but he could feel his eyebrows twist in a mixture of worry and bewilderment. "What you are asked to do, is, quite simply, to put yourself at the commander's disposal. In a sense, you are to become one of his soldiers, though of a rather special kind."

Hiccup' back touched the chair. Cold sweat stuck to his fresh shirt along his spine. Disbelieving, he looked back at the commander.

"You want me to fight for you?"

Hiccup could not comprehend the offer. In what realm could he be a warrior of any kind? That ship had sailed long ago. In fact, that ship had never docked in the first place.

The commander seemed to understand the question. He gave a slow, careful nod.

"But… I can't fight. I have no experience with combat or war or…" Hiccup trailed off with sudden realization. He shook his head, feeling silly as he murmured to himself: "…right. You only need the dragon."

"The dragon," Oliman cut in, "and the rider. I'll be honest with you, Erland. We discussed many possibilities before you were brought here, and the idea of finding another rider was mentioned. However, it appears the commander is convinced you are the only one who can control the creature, given the rather unique circumstances."

Oliman smiled, sat back more comfortably, then, making congenial gestures, he went on: "The idea of riding dragons is one that many have sung songs about, one that lots of kings and men have dreamed of, but one which has always resided in the realm of bedtime stories. Now, with you, it appears this is no longer the case. What you have managed, your… ability, could be of immense value to this city… no, to the whole kingdom. It seems suddenly unfortunate that there are no dragons in these lands for you to perform… whatever it is you did to tame that black one. A company of dragon riders would end the current war for good in a matter of weeks." He paused with well-timed contemplation. "But, of course, this only makes your presence here even more valuable. You, along with your dragon, could be the most precious asset of this city in the current conflict. Your mere existence might help discourage our enemies, not to mention damage their morale in battle. You must only pledge your allegiance to the commander, and hence the king. Just by being on our side, you will be saving lives, young men such as yourself who, without wings, might very well die in the vanguard of the next battle. Is this not an honorable prospect?"

The room fell silent as it waited for Hiccup's response.

Hiccup considered the merchant's words. His head spun again. Even if he had truly had a choice (after all, he was still always a prisoner of these people, and Toothless was still very much a hostage) the man's reasons for accepting were indeed compelling, something Hiccup had not been expecting after his brush with torture. It really was a good offer, regardless of circumstances, and the convenience of it was stunning to consider.

So I'm being offered a home… with Toothless?!

Hiccup had long resigned himself to a perpetual refusal of offers, whether it was the offer of becoming a blacksmith, a sailor, or a bookbinder. For the sake of his friend, he could never pursue those lives. But, being an official dragon rider? And even being rewarded for it? It seemed too good to be true, which was why Hiccup's mind searched frantically for ways this could be some sort of trick.

"I still know nothing of war," he said. "I'm no warrior. And a dragon is not as hard to kill as some might think. You might be overestimating us."

Oliman translated for the others.

Hiccup's breath caught. Was he being stupid? If they found out how notoriously clumsy he was, even with a dragon, they were going to withdraw the offer, which likely meant they were going to dispose of him. Still, this was the only way he had to test how honest the offer truly was.

Hiccup stared at the commander expectantly. As the translation was relayed, the man's expression transformed ever so slightly. He seemed more interested, or, at least, less displeased than before. He gave a short reply. It was the first time Hiccup heard the commander's voice since he had entered the room, and he found it to be much more youthful than the man's face suggested.

A few other men joined the conversation, before Oliman began translating back.

"As the commander says, our enemies have no experience fighting dragons. Most of them have never even seen one. Most of them have probably never even met a man who has seen one. This, in itself, can be quite the weapon. Also, the commander here ensures that, if it comes to that, raining fire from above will be quite a safe form of combat, and a powerful stratagem for our troops. The admiral says the same." He gestured at the man who was sitting to the left of the commander. Hiccup had never memorized his name.

"I'm sure, in time, you'll have plenty of chances to discuss such things with the lord commander, as well as how best to put your abilities to use. The details are not important now. What's important is that you are being welcomed here in exchange for your allegiance. Is this not a fair offer?"

It's not like I can refuse, can I? Hiccup thought, but did not voice the objection, mostly because of how endearing the offer was. It was a dream come true. With all his heart, he wanted to accept. He nonetheless found it hard to imagine himself as a member of some army or troop. Could he truly perform any sort of warrior's work, even as a special recruit, even with a Night Fury?

If his childhood on Berk had taught Hiccup anything, it was that he had no talent for such things as discipline. Would he constantly make clumsy messes of things? Would he end up endangering the very people he was going to be tasked to protect? These men here seemed to truly want him, but would they still forgive his inevitable mistakes? As the chief's son, messing things up on Berk usually had only mild consequences. Would it be the same here? Would he need to fly away at the first misstep? Again?

Hiccup's apprehension was probably plain on his face, for Oliman's voice filled the room again: "If you're still in doubt, let me reassure you as well. It's been five years since the last real confrontation with Kadal. Tarsim favor us, you may not need to see battle anytime soon, though I'm probably overstepping my position here. Still, Lord Langham is a meticulous man, and an exceptional commander. Not only does he recognize an asset when he sees one, but he also knows how to hone and protect it. This is why he has promised to grant you the tutelage of his most seasoned captains, if you so desire, to train you in the arts of combat, so you may learn how to defend yourself in case you come into any danger."

"You may not know this," he went on, "but things are a bit different here from your Viking islands, where every villager must pick up an axe in times of war. Here, during wars, armies are formed by gathering levied men from all the cities, towns, and holds across the kingdom. Whilst Lord Langham will lead such men in times of need, however, he primarily commands the king's own northern forces; elite warriors, captains, cavalrymen, scouts, even foot soldiers, all men of good blood, all highly trained, all sworn directly to the king and devoted to the safeguard of the kingdom. These men have chosen this as their life's profession, and they have gone through extensive trials to be granted the opportunity to wear the king's own crest on their armor, and hence to savor the advantages that this noble career grants. So, if you so wish, you shall be trained among them. Lots of youths your age would envy the prestige to serve directly in King Eremar's name."

Hiccup's mind roiled with all the information, but quickly shook his head, remembering that, regardless of circumstances, regardless of his worries and wishes, he only had one purpose in life, only one thing he truly valued.

"What about Toothless?" He asked. "I mean the dragon. Will he be kept in a cage when he's not needed? He cannot live like that."

Again, Oliman looked utterly pleased. "We deliberated on this as well, and this was our decision, or, should I say, my proposal. If you can assure us you can keep the beast under your total control, then the… Toothless… is that his name? He will be allowed to stay beside you at all times. This means that I'm welcoming the dragon in my home as well. He has already been moved to my gardens, waiting for you. Arrangements have also been made for you to be together day and night, as, I'm sorry to say, I don't think my stables are a place fit for a dragon. My horses are fine animals, but they've been spoiled by my daughter's far too loving manners. I don't think they'll be at ease with a dragon keeping them company in their pens." He chuckled.

His laughter was cut short by Commander Langham, who finally asked in broken Norse:

"What is you respond?"

The man was addressing Hiccup directly, but relief and expectation had numbed his lips, and Hiccup found he could not give the obvious answer right away. He could only stare back at the commander and at each of the other men, thinking of Toothless, of how he was going to see his friend again, of what he was going to say.

The commander frowned impatiently. Again, his voice smooth but hard, he repeated:

"What is you respond?"

The escort that accompanied Hiccup to the exit of the keep was comprised of all the council members, with Commander Langham first among them, as well as twelve guards. The guards increased when Hiccup stepped out of the keep via a drawbridge, into the inner of two baileys of the castle. Even more warriors joined the procession before the last gatehouse. Some of them talked excitedly to each other, whispering a word Hiccup had learnt to recognize: 'drago.'

They've all been told about Toothless.

On his way out, Hiccup would have stopped to observe the inner architecture of the castle, the high walls trailed with ramparts, punctuated by thick stone towers. He would have admired the square inner ward, and then the first guardhouse gate, out of which, after a steep slope in the cliff, the second, lower and outer bailey opened, a huge dirt field filling most of it, alongside stables, granaries, and animal pens, as well as barracks, armories, and even two blacksmiths.

Dozens of young men and boys were fighting in that large field, training, clashing swords, aiming arrows at hay targets. Most of them turned towards him, some even came closer to see what was happening, but none seemed to notice him. They only stared the large entourage, their eyes mostly on the commander and the other lords, who were probably never seen all walking together.

After passing through the last portcullis, Hiccup found himself in that paved street of the high city, which he had crossed dozens of times in his search for a way into the castle. He would have marveled at the ingenuity of the pulleys that allowed the heavy iron grate to be raised and lowered. He would have gladly stopped to study how it worked, but his mind was elsewhere. His heart kept skipping at the prospect of seeing Toothless again. He tried to curb his enthusiasm; this could still be some sort of trap.

The road to Oliman's place was much shorter than Hiccup had anticipated, for the walls of his villa were adjacent to the same street that trailed the castle's perimeter.

The procession stopped before another gate, much less impenetrable than that of the castle, though still as wide as the entrance to Berk's great hall. Men's voices yelled orders, and the studded wooden gates parted, revealing a huge courtyard, and all around it stood the villa.

It was a mishmash of large stone structures, balconies, and columned galleries, connected in the shape of an irregular crescent around that courtyard. Green, large-leafed ivy climbed up vast portions of all the different buildings, none of which was lower than two floors. Its highest floor belonged to an actual tower jutting from the left wing of the villa.

Only one family lives here?! There must be a room for every man, woman, and child on Berk in this place!

Hiccup's calculations were cut short by a familiar tickling sensation growing in his brain.

They hadn't lied to him. Toothless was close.

Oliman took the lead of the procession. It continued straight through the courtyard, towards a decorative pool, after which stood an arched passage that cut right through the middle of villa, leading to the even more extensive gardens beyond.

Only a few steps later, Hiccup's connection to Toothless became so powerful that, for an instant, it made him dizzy. It was likely an effect of their being apart for so long, but the link between their minds felt stronger than it had ever been. There was a sudden clarity to it.

It was all Hiccup could do not to sprint ahead of the guards. His heart quivered with anticipation. His stomach, still empty, was now suspended.

After reaching the vast gardens behind the villa, to his right, surrounded by no less than twenty spearmen and archers, Hiccup saw the large grey drape covering the obvious shape of a dragon.

Toothless was writhing in his chains underneath it. He had surely felt him too.

The dragon's relief and anticipation began to reverberate between their minds. An immediate understanding bloomed between them, or around them, or perhaps within each of them. There was no need for human words, and none were shared.

The loneliness that had coagulated uncomfortably in Hiccup's chest during all those days apart melted away in an instant, and Hiccup took a huge, shuddering breath. It was as if he'd been suffocating for days, without realizing it.

He could hold back no longer. He ran towards the dragon, ignoring the agitated spearmen lowering their steel to him, shouting foreign threats. The other soldiers of their escort joined hastily around them, weapons drawn, whereas the council members stood at what they deemed a safer distance, all but the commander, Oliman, and two other men, who edged closer.

Hiccup forgot about their existence. Without asking anyone's permission, he clutched the canvas in his hands, and pulled it away.

The sight of a black snout and green eyes blurred immediately beyond the tears. Hiccup launched himself at Toothless, kneeling on the wet grass, one hand inadvertently squeezing one of the dragon's ears, embracing his friend as he had done a thousand times before, but with a thousand times the fervor.

Hiccup said nothing.

Toothless said nothing.

The two of them merely stood there, Hiccup's forehead pressed on his friend's hard enough to etch the shape of the dragon's scales onto his skin. Both already knew everything there was to know. Neither of them cared about the menacing swords and spearpoints around them, which now seemed impossibly distant, far beyond the soft shroud of purrs and whines that Toothless was unwittingly letting out.

How long they stood there was unclear. When Hiccup opened his eyes and raised his head again, he felt like waking up from a long, pleasant dream. He looked around, then remembered where he was. Toothless let out a soft growl.

Oliman had come to stand beside them. The man smiled down on him. "You should probably take off the restraints yourself. Can you do it?"

If the man was feeling any unease at being so close to the soon-to-be-freed dragon, he was hiding it masterfully.

Everyone else around them was clearly on edge, even from a distance. They were terrified. They were not Vikings. At least, they were not northern Vikings.

Hiccup nodded, sniffed, and, for the first time, smiled back at the man. He felt such gratitude in fact, that, for a moment, he almost considered hugging him too.

"You are sure you can keep the dragon under control?" Oliman asked with only the smallest hint of worry in his voice.

Hiccup nodded again.

The man still kneeled beside him, speaking so only Hiccup could hear: "I can tell that you are no fool, Erland, and I want you to know that what we are doing here, what you are being allowed, was my idea, and it was not an easy sell. I'm not asking for your gratitude, mind you. I've placed a bet on you. All I ask in return, is for my bet to pay off. Nothing more. I'm keeping all the promises I made you. Will you be keeping yours?"

Hiccup blinked the last few tears away. He had just caught a glimpse into the man's true thinking. So far, it had seemed as if Oliman was only capable of smiling and translating. But, no, this man's mind was racing, working frantically, hiding a powerful anxiety, not in fear of the dragon, but for his gamble.

While this abrupt revelation took away some of Hiccup's euphoria, it also made everything feel more grounded, more real, which, Hiccup quickly realized, he did not mind at all. If this was a business deal, between him and the man who had played a part in reuniting him with Toothless, then he was going to hold his end of it, for it was, without a doubt, the best bargain he could have ever hoped for.

Clearing his throat, trying to imitate the man's business-like tone, Hiccup replied: "Toothless won't hurt anyone, Lord Fillatis."

Oliman humphed. "Oh, I am no lord," he said through a smirk. Then, before walking back to stand beside Langham and the others, he mumbled something to himself in the southern tongue: "Nen seman imari..."

During the days he had spent roaming the streets of this city, scavenging for leftovers, listening to passers-by, sellers, or beggars, Hiccup had slowly begun to absorb fragments of this new language, for he thought he understood what the man had muttered: 'Not yet at least...'

Hiccup turned to Toothless. "Hear that? Don't hurt anyone, alright? Everything's fine now. We'll be safe here."

Toothless did not reply. He only gaped in surprise.

"They won't harm us; I promise. I'll explain everything later, alright?"

After a pause, the dragon blinked in assent, and Hiccup loosened each of the chains and belts that held his friend pressed to the makeshift cart, trying not to damage the saddle and tailfin any further, though both had clearly been broken beyond repair, most likely during the dragon's capture in the forest. At least Toothless did not seem to be gravely injured, and that was all that mattered.

Everyone but Hiccup took a collective step back when the dragon shook off the last of his chains, arching his long black wings up to an orange sky. The sun was finally setting on the last day of the Night Fury's captivity. And yet, Toothless did not roar his relief. He quickly stretched a few muscles, then turned and gazed into Hiccup's eyes, studying them with an odd but familiar intensity.

"Toothless? What's wrong?"

"Have you not noticed?" The dragon said, speaking for the first time. A flavor of either shock or wonder colored his mental voice.

Hiccup looked around, a moment of panic telling his weakened muscles to tense; they merely trembled instead. "Noticed what?" Maybe this truly was some sort of trap, and he had been too hungry, dazed, and drunk with relief to realize it.

"Not that," Toothless replied. There was definitely a taste of awe in his words. "You are speaking to me… with your inner voice!"

HIATUS NOTICE (May 2019): My apologies to all, but this story is currently on a temporary hiatus. As I said on my profile page, I don't plan to ever abandon this story. In fact, I do plan to resume publishing soon, but my current work is not allowing me the spare time and peace of mind that proper writing requires. If it's any consolation, I'm still occasionally working on the upcoming chapters, but not with the attention this story deserves. I do hope to be able to resume proper writing in the next couple of months.

Thank you for your patience.