Author's Note: Thank all of you for the kindness and support! I hope by the time I've finished this chapter, a multitude of time hasn't quite passed. Enjoy!

Commence the Responses: (because I haven't done that in a long time)

CassandraDayTree: Why thank you! It always warms my heart to hear from you. Thanks for sticking with me for all these years, bro!

A Person Who Likes Comedy: YES! Hail to Hiccup and Astrid! The King and Queen of dragons! Don't worry there will be an escape scene, and we will get to find out if any of our lovely ladies escaped.

Noname: Aw, I'm sorry about that. To be honest I was kind of in a hurry when I was writing it so sorry if it seem too rushed for your taste. I promise that I'll try harder and I'll go back and revise the chapter.

Guest: Thank you so much!

Guardian Of Azarath: I think you'll get what you're looking for in this chapter. ;) I have been working hard to conform with people to make this chapter great.

Monkey Lover 911: And you are a sweet reviewer. I promise you that what will happen next will be sick. Really sick.

Nagajewel: Thanks bro! I will!

Disclaimer: I do not own the How To Train Your Dragon series.

Other thing: I do not allow swearing in my story and I hopefully won't see it in the comments. Have a nice day!

...

Chapter Five: The Coliseum

Stoick couldn't think of a worse place he would rather be, locked up in a pen like a common animal, his cosmic body festooned with bruises and slashes, and as for his horns; they had been detached without his sanction. Now, as far as he was concerned, situated where his regal horns were once proudly displayed, there were two bandaged, bloody holes on either side of his head, sore and aching with agonizing pain.

It was like... It was more than losing an arm of a leg; he had plenty of friends who'd lost both. Pain-wise it was the same, but mentally-wise, it was losing a part of his identity-who and what he was. A proud Viking! The chief of his clan! And the Romans had effortlessly stolen that from him-without a care.

Stoick gently brushed his large fingers against the bindings and winced at the sting that came along with the movement. His head was pounding like crazy, and at that point, he was sure to have a migraine from the hurting. But trying to make the best out of the worst, he made many attempts to relax while he could; he really did, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could take the abuse.

Spears, swords, maces, the bashing of shields, and the shedding of blood: too much in such a short amount of time. He was a skilled warrior, yes. As fit as an ox, and could pop a dragon's head clean off of its body. But this was different. This was inhumane. This was...torture.

He trembled, hands shaking and twitching from an abundance of uncanny emotions: anger mostly, but desperation coupled with worry and anxiety as well. Angry that his horns had been taken and probably mounted as some decorated ornament above a fireplace, desperate because of his poor son, who had been so precariously taken from his loving clutches just a day or two ago. Anxiety because his tribe was alone without a proper leader, and what tribe was to run without its chief?

"Has it been that long?" Stoick wondered. It honestly felt like years since he'd been rounded up to battle Spartan trainees, ranging from teenagers to middle aged Romans, each one stronger and faster than the last. One by one, they'd been sent into the large arena, bloodthirsty for Viking horns. He'd done well to protect himself just until today and Snadge-Stoick sneered-Snadge was pleased by the loss of his horns.

In fact, he'd been the one to remove the horns in the first place.

Speaking of which...

The door to the small room opened and in popped Snadge, who smirked upon catching sight of the poor, un-rested Viking upon the stone floor. "Well, well, well," he sneered, "if it isn't the grand warrior himself, the great chief of Berk...feeling refreshed?"

Stoick's green eyes had grown wide when he lifted his head as the man entered, and his heart had dropped to his stomach.

There were his horns, fastened in some sick, twisted fashion upon the man's helmet, sticking out on either side. Stoick could have lost the contents of his stomach but he slowly rose instead, his nostrils flaring.

"How dare you..." He breathed, eyes glinting with pure rage. "H-How-?" He stopped, for Snadge had probably guessed what he said.

"Isn't this exquisite? Becoming quite in style, if I do say so myself," Snadge chuckled; removing the helmet to run his fingers over the rigid appliance. And although Stoick could understand nothing the man was saying, he roared and grabbed for him through the bars.

Snadge stood easily out of the Viking's reach, looking quite content. "Just think of it," he basked. "A new trend, one that just may put your kind out of existence for good." He took a step forward. "Helmets, helmets, helmets, upon helmets for everyone! Just imagine it..." He paused. "I'm not in it for the gold-you should know that by now."

He took another step forward, so that his face just barely brushed against the Viking's large fingers. "No more Vikings to gorge any eyes out." He smiled. "You're a lowly creature now, Chief of Berk. Remember that. Starting with you and your young, this will be a revolutionary fashion trend."

"Horrendous scum," Stoick growled, yanking his arm back through the bars and re-gripping them instead, his forehead resting against the cold metal. "You'll regret this, you will," he promised. "As soon as Ah escape from this madness-" he stopped, for Snadge had already turned away.

"Goodbye, barbarian," was his pleasant valedictory. "Perhaps we'll meet again after the show. Or, maybe we won't?" He laughed, with a hand on the door, and then sneered, "Good riddance," before exiting.

Stoick watched him go, unable to do anything about it, and that mere fact alone caused him to slump. His own helplessness was infuriating, but what was he to do? How could he ever rescue his child if he could not even rescue himself?

...

Hiccup had a clever plan. Many would call it fiendishly clever. It was his idea that he and Astrid would both sneak into the coliseum under the guise of common slaves, under the semblance of humble attitudes. If they could make their way past the guards and into the arena itself, they could somehow reach the chief before he was put out to fight, get him out of there, and leave for Berk by scaling the fort and stealing a vessel from the docks. They would have to move quickly.

The plan, like any, however, had major flaws. For example, the guards didn't lack in the brains department, and that's just what Hiccup was realizing as they came across the first obstacle in front of the large coliseum.

"Who goes there?" A large guard uttered in Latin, drawing his spear warningly. The two Vikings stopped in their tracks, trying their best to look innocent, and Astrid gave Hiccup a subtle nod, one that the guard failed to notice. It meant that he needed to start talking now.

"W-We are here to serve the guests," Hiccup answered lightly, heart pounding in his chest as he folded his hands across it. "Celso sent us." Astrid tried her best to appear defeated and humble, bowing her head. He had hoped that a server would be one of the positions a Viking could have in this place.

The guard's eyebrows rose. "...You speak Latin," he stated. It was not a question. Hiccup swallowed hard and tried not to look frightened, as he was, out of his mind in fact.

"Y-Yes," he admitted. "I was taught by scholars."

"Vikings aren't taught Latin here." The burly guard didn't look convinced, and Hiccup started to sweat. "Word gets out, Lad," he told him skeptically. "And from what I know, you are supposed to be stationed in the Educ Domum, correct?"

Hiccup could have melted into the stone ground right there and become a part of the pavement. Was he really that famous at Fort Sinister? "Oh!" He exclaimed, stealing a glance at a stricken Astrid. "That...yes, well, we were transferred, actually," Hiccup stammered clumsily.

The guard stared at him, skeptical. "Really?" He asked, uncertain, "You and the girl?"

Hiccup swallowed hard and gave Astrid another tiny glance. She looked back at him, eyes wide. "Yep," the male Viking answered evenly. "That's correct."

The guard narrowed his eyes, and Hiccup felt his instinctual drive begin to chink. Something was going to happen, he could feel it.

"Lad, you'd better come with me." The guard ordered, and he reached out.

Panicking, Hiccup wrenched away with a cry. Shocked by the volume of the yelp, the guard yanked his hand away and gasped.

"Gods! Astrid, run!" The male Viking hollered, ducking under the man's arm and running into the entrance, his horns scuffing the sleeve of said man's shirt in the process, spinning him around, to which Astrid followed and delivered a well-resounding blow to the man's chest, knocking him off-balance. And after that, she sped off after her friend.

They rushed into the coliseum, lit with torches everywhere. "Well that worked!" Moaned Hiccup as they ran down an empty hallway. He bashed his own forehead in the process. "Gods, how stupid could I be?!"

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You're naive, not stupid," Astrid groaned, pumping her arms. "But we have bigger things to worry about. Like finding your dad and getting the heck outta here!"

...

"How exciting!" Julius groaned, resting his chin upon his hands. He and his family had a fantastic view of the arena, up where they were in the stands. However, they'd been seated quite a while ago, and the show hadn't quite begun yet. Therefore, he was getting restless, along with every other audience member. "Nothing better than waiting until your butt goes numb," he mumbled.

"I lost all feeling down there an hour ago," the elder one, Giordano, chimed in with an uncomfortable groan, massaging his thighs.

Aranka was less than excited. She hummed out of boredom and lack of comfort, swinging her skinny legs and blowing spit bubbles, her eyes glazed as she stared into the vast empty wasteland of an arena.

"Honey, please don't do that," the prefect sighed, touching her shoulder. "The show is about to begin."

"We've been waiting here forEVER," she groaned kicking the seat in front of her, causing the person before her to turn around and frown.

After a quick apology, the prefect addressed his daughter and smiled. "I know," he admitted, patting the small of her petite back. "It HAS been a while, hasn't it? But that's because the people in charge are making sure that the show is going to be the best ever! They're working super hard, I'm sure."

Aranka frowned, and after a moment's thought, she announced, "I wanna see Hiccup again!"

Before the prefect could answer this out-of-nowhere request, the younger brothers began to laugh. "Ooooh! Aranka's in love with a Viking!" They teased, while the prefect bit his lip. "Viking lover! Viking lover!"

The little girl went absolutely pink. "Am not!" She shouted, catching the attention of many others seated around them. Her mouth was covered a moment later by her embarrassed father, who scolded her accordingly.

"Hey, relax," he warned, "or we're going straight home and you won't ever see Hiccup. And boys," he added, causing the young ones' eyes to widen, "stay out of trouble. We don't say things like that around here. Understood?"

"Yes, Dad," they chanted in unison.

Aranka went silent at that, and she nodded, because she wanted to see her friend again.

The prefect all but sighed, sinking lower into his seat. He for one could not understand his daughter's affection for the young Viking, but he was desperate to know, to discover that same sort of connection the two had created that night during dinner.

...

Hiccup wasn't sure how long they could keep running without being seen. There were guards everywhere, and it was only a matter of time before they were-

"What in Jupiter's name?" The Roman that had stepped out of the dark swore, causing the two of them to crash into him with a thud. After a moment's confusion, the Spartan made a grab and captured the two Vikings by their hair before they could even attempt to move. "Well, well, well."

He smiled as the two struggled with all their might, but he was stronger than them by far. "Calm down you two, there there now-shhhhh," he soothed. "Outsmarted my men, have ya? Have you come to join the show?"

Astrid bared her teeth and snarled, delivering a swift kick to the man's shin, and he howled accordingly. "You little barbarous!" He cursed, shaking her by the head, causing her to yelp in pain.

Hiccup's eyes flared, and put in his own kick to the man's shin to match hers. His was not as nearly as fierce as hers, however, and the man merely glared at him in annoyance.

Hiccup froze. It was Snadge, the man who had a particular hatred for Vikings.

"What's this?" The man asked with genuine curiosity. "Do I have a pair of fighters here?"

Hiccup went white. "Wait!" He cried as they were flung into a nearby cage on rollers and locked inside. "Sir, I can explain!" He quickly got to his knees and grabbed the cage bars, pressing his face against them. "We were transferred! Transferred!"

Snadge whipped around and smiled a scary smile, causing the poor Viking to shrink back.

"I believe you," he grinned. And he walked out into the arena.

...

"Alright big boy," sighed another guard. "It's time to go."

Stoick sat with a thud, his arms folded across his vast chest, refusing to move even an inch for the Spartan.

The guard stared at him and then groaned. "Fine. Stay there in your cage. You're still going to fight, you-" he paused and stared blankly at the Viking. "Riiiiight. You can't understand a word I'm saying, can't you?"

Stoick said nothing and the guard groaned. "Stupid animal."

...

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Came the roar of the announcer, which was Snadge himself.

Hearing this, Ceaser shook his nearly-bored-to-death sister awake. "It's starting!" He whispered-yelled excitedly. "Finally!"

"About time," the eldest groaned, rubbing his behind. "I think I might need to amputate my legs."

"Tonight," roared Snadge so that the entirety of the stadium could hear," is a special night. One that will remain with you, I'm sure, for the rest of your lives!"

"Hooray!" Aranka applauded.

The crowd cheered, stomping their feet until the place rumbled like thunder. From inside their cage, Hiccup listened intently, and Astrid watched him with worry. "What's he saying?" She whispered, to which Hiccup gently shushed her.

"Tonight!" Snadge repeated, flourishing his hand to one end of the arena, "You are about to witness something truly amazing. You all know of the Vikings-"

The crowd booed and yelled, causing Hiccup to bristle.

"Heheh. Vile creatures they are!" Snadge laughed. "This is why I'm sure all of you are very excited to see one or two perish. Your honorable soldiers have captured a great bout of creatures thin and wide, and lemme tell ya folks," he chuckled, "this is going to be the bloodbath...of the era." While the crowd cheered, he swept his red cape to the side and walked over to Hiccup and Astrid's cage. They glared at him, Hiccup with trembling fear, Astrid with solid defiance.

"Say hello to Venus for me," he sneered, pressing his face against the bars. Hiccup curled his fists but said nothing. Astrid, however, got right up in the man's face and growled, expelling spittle from her mouth, "You are nothing but a steaming pile of dragon dung. Drittsekk!" Hiccup covered his mouth and tried not to burst at her profanity, despite his fear.

Snadge gave the female an unamused look and retrieved his new helmet from a fellow guard, making sure to flourish the horned headpiece before placing it upon his head. "Silly Viking," he chuckled. "You haven't learned your lesson yet, haven't you?"

Astrid stared and clenched her horns (she had tied them to her belt with spare string), while Hiccup began to shake with unquenchable fury. "Again," the female slowly scorned, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Hiccup had gotten to his feet. "Nothing but a steaming pile of-Hiccup!?"

Hiccup roared, slamming himself against the bars. "I'll fight you myself!" He shouted in Norse before continuing in Latin.

He recognized those horns; those were his father's! "What did you do to him, you swine?!" Had these Romans actually done the unthinkable? Had they done away with his poor father?

If they had, he would...would... Hiccup began woozy quite quickly, stomach churning while his mind became all but a white hot slurry of emotions as it became a strong possibility that his father might be dead, many he could not place due to his sudden bout of hysteria.

"Fili canis!" He shouted hoarsely, yanking at the bars with a sudden burst of strength, though this did little to weaken the metal. "Pelle et ego vivere! Et de hac cavea per Thor obviam es fictori quomodo audes noceret mihi pater mi amicus meus! Scum sunt: Te mori! Faciamque certum fit!

The eerie grin on the man's face slowly grew darker and darker as Hiccup continued his shouting tirade until his face was white with rage and his teeth were gritted so tightly they cracked.

"That's it. Let it out. You will fight," Snadge whispered, shoving his face so close to the Viking that their noses were touching, "by Jupiter, little barbarian-you will fight or you will DIE!"

Hiccup screamed at him and Astrid joined in with her own layer of screeches, though she knew nothing that the man was saying. "You Romans think you own everyone and everything that moves?!" Hiccup wailed in Norse, tears gathering in the corners of his emerald, bloodshot eyes. "Do you think that you're one of the Gods?! Do you?!"

Snadge had no answer, of course. Instead, he swept himself away from the hysterical Viking and addressed the awaiting crowd. "LET THE GAME BEGIN!" He shouted and flourished his arms, electing shouts of approval from the huge audience. With a small, angry smile, he addressed the two caged Vikings.

"Prepare yourselves," he snickered, "little barbarians, for this is your last day on this Earth."

With that said and done, he disappeared from the rink and a lever was pulled, allowing the cage door to open. At first, Hiccup refused to move, stricken to the core by the supposed "death" of his father, but with a little nudge of logic (and Astrid) he assumed it best to prepare for any adversaries that may appear. With a quiet sob, he cautiously stepped into the torch-lit night, and Astrid followed suit with her fists clenched at the ready. She was prepared to avenge her chief.

"What do we got?" She whispered breathlessly, blowing her bangs out of her azure eyes as she quickly scanned the area. "Wolves? Bears? Dragons?"

Hiccup lazily followed her gaze, his vision blurry and his desire to live slackened by grief. But then...

"Dad...?" The male breathed, stumbling backward. At the other end of the stadium, there was indeed the man who'd raised him, standing tall but weary, who noticed him the moment he was released from his confines. He was a mess... Hiccup's throat went dry as the man ran at him, axe in hand.

His heart plummeted, ugly scenarios coming to mind as the man approached. After all that had happened to them, he could only imagine what his father had been through. Vikings were mentally fickle as they came, and Stoick's sanity might have vanished. And then...he noticed the tears welling up in the elder's eyes, the blotchy skin of his face, the bruises on his arms and legs...

Astrid noticed the man at the last second and felt the blood drain from her face.

No...

There was a moment where Hiccup really thought that his father was actually going to kill him, and that the axe his father was brandishing would sink deep into his skull and he would enter Valhalla. He stood stock still, his instincts screaming at him to go to his father and embrace him, but his instincts knew little of the situation they were in.

A foot away from the two young Vikings, was Stoick.

Astrid screamed.

Hiccup closed his eyes...and then was crushed.

…Crushed by Stoick rushing forward and embracing him, nearly squeezing him to death in his loving, desperate grip. Astrid had fallen back on her haunches, breathing heavily.

"Ch-Chief?" She whispered, shakily swiping her blonde bangs from her face. It must be confessed the Stoick hardly even noticed her presence, nor did he acknowledge it.

The crowd murmured in confusion as Hiccup felt his rattled nerves begin to settle. His father...his father was alive! Not well, but alive all the same.

"It's okay. Everything's going to be alright," Stoick soothed, but his voice was cracking tremendously. Hiccup stared over his shoulder, seeing nothing but feeling everything. He returned the embrace graciously, wrapping his arms around his father's thick neck as best as he could. Astrid watched the two males embrace, and managed a small smile of her own. Well, they got the chief, but now...what?

"Hey!" Someone shouted in confusion. "Where's the bloodbath?"

"Yeah!" Another agreed.

"Why is the bigger one preening the littler one?" Another asked, equally confused.

"I thought they were going to fight to the death over the female!" A woman shouted.

While all this shouting was going on, the prefect and his family watched from the sidelines, completely appalled. "Hiccup, what in the world?" The head of the small clan whispered. "Is-Is that really-?"

"Hey, isn't he supposed to be in the breeding place?" The eldest girl asked, rubbing her chin with worry, "with that female?"

"Aranka?" Ceaser called out in confusion, whipping his head back and forth. "Where are you?"

It took a moment or two for the prefect to process what had just been said, and once he absorbed this new bout of information, he leapt from his seat and stared open mouthed.

What...what was his little girl doing?

Racing down the steep steps of the rows as fast as her little legs could carry her, Aranka was doing the unthinkable. She was entering the ring.

...

"I thought I lost you," Hiccup whispered happily, tears welling up in his emerald eyes. "W-When he showed me your horns...I thought..."

Stoick's grip only got tighter as he clenched his son's tunic. "I'm so sorry," he apologized.

Hiccup pulled back and smiled tearfully. "For what?" He croaked. "You didn't do anything..."

Stoick smiled back. "For-For everything."

Hiccup just shook his head sorrowfully. "Oh, Dad, I-"

"HICCUP!" Came Astrid's hasty shout, and she leapt forward with a tremendous heave, shoving the two out of the way just as a spear whizzed by.

Out came Snadge, bearing another spear, and a shield, his expression nothing short of ferocious.

Sensing extreme danger afoot, Stoick took immediate action. "Get behind me," he ordered and the two young Vikings obeyed, scrambling behind his vast form. "It's time," he said, cracking his knuckles dramatically, "that I end this."

"Wait!"

Came the distant shout of someone in the audience. Everyone, including and Stoick and Snadge, turned to look. "There's a little girl!" The bystander screamed, and pointed to where said girl was: in the ring, approaching the three Vikings with a determined smile on her little face.

"Aranka?" Hiccup gasped as the little girl ran at him. The crowd could only scream as she reached him, expecting the worst to transpire, but then murmured in confusion yet again as he...embraced her.

"..."

"He's...not killing her...?"

"..."

"No, he's...grooming her?"

And that was true indeed. After gathering the tiny girl up in his arms, assuming that Snadge would never harm his own kind, Hiccup had quietly dragged his tongue over the skin of her face in rushed, sort of panicky licks, gently scraping any dirt away with his sharp canines. Of course, she fell into a fit of giggles at the touch.

"That tickles!" She giggled as he nuzzled her further.

"..."

The crowd was in a bit of a pickle at that stage. On one hand they wanted a bloodbath, but on the other hand, they didn't want this little girl's eyes to be gorged out. She was one of their own! A Roman!

"Aranka," Hiccup murmured once he was done grooming her, as her tiny hands clutched at his green tunic, "What are you doing here?" He asked. "You need to get out! It's dangerous for little kids to be down here, Bud."

He was half-expecting her to listen, but it still surprised him when she defiantly shook her head. "No," came the girl's stubborn reply. "I don't want to let you get hurt."

Snadge stopped in his tracks, as did Stoick, and Hiccup let out a sigh of relief as the girl snuggled into the nape of his neck. Perhaps there would be no bloodbath after all.

"Hiccup," the large Viking nervously proclaimed, "let her go this instant."

"Let her go, Barbarian," came Snadge's order. "Or I shall dehorn you myself."

"Wait! Not so fast," yelped the nervous prefect, hopping over the last row of seats and scrambling in on the scene. He was terribly breathless, and had to stop and bend over to catch his breath. "This," he gestured wildly with his hand once he was situated, "has to stop."

Snadge nodded and thrust the spear in Hiccup's direction. "Of course it shall, Prefect. Fear not, I shall handle this."

"Wait! Stop it!" The prefect shouted to a now confused Spartan. "He'll..." The prefect regarded Hiccup wearily and then turned to a shocked Snadge. "He...He wouldn't hurt my daughter; I see it in his eyes," he admitted, pointing to his own eyes. "Snadge, I know a killer when I see one; those aren't the eyes of a killer."

There was a long pause as Snadge tried to collect his resolve and Hiccup quickly translated the Latin into Norse for his counterparts.

"I think...I think that these creatures are more than just...animals," the prefect slowly dawned, as if discovering this idea for the first time. "They...They have rituals. They have their own language, just like the Germanic, a-and the English! They have their own culture, their own clothes, their own food, and their own weapons! They have marriage ceremonies, they have husbands and wives! They even have a monarchy!" He stopped and gave a nod of acknowledgement to Stoick, who puffed himself up with pride after Hiccup translated it. "Snadge..." he turned to the armed Spartan, pleading with him to understand. "Doesn't that count for something?"

Snadge regarded him carefully, trying his best to control his portentous temper. "Just what are you suggesting, Prefect?"

The prefect swallowed his nervousness and stood up straight. "I'm suggesting that we let them go," he loudly pronounced, causing the audience to gasp and then whisper amongst themselves.

"Traitor!" Someone growled, and a few others picked up as a chorus.

"No!" The prefect cried, sensing that he was losing his target, and waved his thin arms. "Listen! Please! Would you know how painful it is to have your horns torn off? I'd imagine it'd be like amputating one of your arms!"

Snadge all but trembled from anger. Pure anger. "Don't throw your lot in with them," he snarled, brandishing his spear at the other man, who winced. "Do it and you shall die too."

"You'd turn on one of your own?"

"You're not one of us if you believe that these creatures are more than just the animals that they are," Snadge declared.

The prefect clasped his callused hands together, beseeching the other man to reconsider his actions. "Please, Snadge," he begged, "Think about this. They aren't who we think they are. We don't have to kill them."

Snadge let out a hysterical, airy sort of laugh. "Think about? Good Gods, man, what is there to think about?" The prefect stood silently and the other man shook his head. "They are animals, Praefectus. Nothing more, and nothing less. They are not human, no. Not one of us." He repeated that, more to himself than anyone else, before saying, "Get your daughter out of here, go back to your seats, and try to enjoy the show." He clenched his spear and pointed it at Stoick and his son. "I will take care of the rest."

The prefect closed his eyes, thoughts swirling around in his mind like a water torpedo as he obeyed the man, slowly trudging over to the Vikings. The crowd held its breath. He bent down to Hiccup's level and smiled sadly. "Thank you," he said, "for taking care of my daughter while you could. Come, Aranka."

The little girl initially refused to comply, but a little nudge and nuzzle from Hiccup encouraged her to reluctantly return to her father's arms. The man then turned to Snadge, daughter in his arms, and announced,

"I won't conform to you this time, Snadge. I won't. I can't. Vikings are unpredictable, dangerous, and shifty as they come, yes, but I believe that they aren't evil at heart." He rose his voice. "Romans!" He shouted. "We cannot continue to treat our neighbors like this!"

"Viking-lover!" Someone shouted.

"Throw him into the ocean!" Another chimed in.

The prefect refused to back down. "They-" he glared at his adversary and spat, "They deserve much better than the shackles and chains you've provided."

He turned to Astrid, "They all do." The young Viking beamed affectionately at his words and rubbed the back of her neck as Hiccup quietly translated his words to Norse.

Snadge's nostrils flared as he tried to control himself. "If you think that those things are worth your time, then you are no friend of mine." The prefect's heart dropped at that statement, hurt, but quickly regained his resolve.

"I'm not asking you to be my friend, Snadge," he told him softly. "All I ask of you is to ensure their safety."

"To which that will not be granted," the man stubbornly replied, brandishing his spear once more. "Now get out and go back to your scrolls, Prefect."

The prefect clenched his fists and was about to retort but before he could, a sharp cry of alarm rose about the arena.

"Vikings!" Someone in the audience screamed before another muffled scream was emitted.

At first, all was quiet as everyone in the audience and in the ring listened intently for what had caused the abrupt commotion. Then, a harsh, battle cry echoed about the arena. And then another. And then another. And another and another!

"Vikings," Hiccup whispered.

"Vikings?" Astrid repeated, and caught Hiccup's gaze, to which they both gasped in happy disbelief.

The intruders were indeed Vikings, and true to their destructive nature, they heartily stormed into the coliseum, flourishing their hefty, spiky weapons and hollering all the while. Another interesting feature about these particular Vikings, was that all of them were...

...Female?

"It's the Bob-Burglars!" Stoick realized, and while a part of him was overjoyed that some help had arrived, his petty rival with Bertha, the chieftess of the tribe, roused some embarrassment in him pertaining to the fact that he had to be rescued.

But there was no time for silly rivalries. What mattered were the lives of the young, and they needed to be rescued more than anything.

"'ELLO THERE STOICK," boomed Bertha, knocking over a row of Spartans with her bosom as she hurled over the seats of the stadium. Her women followed suit, letting out cries of their own and slashing through enemies.

"What took ya so long, lassie?" Stoick had to let out a nearly hysterical laugh of relief. It was nice to see the boisterous woman, under the certain circumstances of course. He ran up to her, and clasped his hand against hers. It was then that she noticed his new deformity.

"My dear STOICK! Whatever happened to your horns?!" Bertha gasped, covering her mouth.

"Another time, Bertha. Right now we need to figure a way out," he said, and remembering the kind prefect and his children, desperately added, "And pardon the audience! Take out only the Spartans!"

Bertha nodded. "Mercy is for the weak, Stoick, but I shall try my best." And with that, she took off, heaving her impressive form towards the small army of Spartans and smothering them with her...um...strength.

Hiccup and Astrid watched the show with great enthusiasm. "What do we do now?" Hiccup asked curiously, dodging a spear thrown his way and watching it sail into the chest of a Spartan. He winced.

"We fight of course!" Is what Astrid was GOING to say, but a familiar female beat her to it.

Astrid whipped around to catch sight of who had spoken, and Hiccup framed his neck to see his long-time friend duking it out against a large hoard of Spartan soldiers much bigger than she. "Take that you Jupiter-worshiping worms!" She laughed with a giant smirk of triumph on her blotchy face. "Is that the best you can do?"

Hiccup broke into an even bigger smile. "Camicazi!" He cried. "Is that you? Don't tell me it's you!"

The girl with the wild blonde hair grinned at him, hand propped up on her hip, dueling effortlessly with a Spartan without even looking at him. "Hiya Hiccup!" She cheerfully called back. "Didn't you miss me?"

"Did I ever," he admitted, running to her. Astrid followed, rather reluctantly.

"What took you all so long?" She asked angrily, though it was half-hearted annoyance, due to the rescue actually transpiring.

Camicazi shrugged and shoved off her attacker as he leaned forward to grab her. "Oh, you know, complications that only us Bob-Burglars would understand. No offense, Hooligan." Hiccup snorted.

Astrid bristled, and looked her up and down. She wasn't a bad figure. Just a little messy but all around pretty. Even her horns were curled and pale pink at the bases and pure white at the tips. Astrid touched her bandages self-consciously, and while she steamed for reasons unknown, Hiccup just shook his head and took her hand in his. "Where to?" He asked the other shield-maiden.

Camicazi carelessly jerked her head to the exit of the arena. "'Kay, so being the amazing burglars that we are, we made this giant gash in their wall with our catapults. The ships are a little offshore, but if you swim, you can make it. Now hurry," she ordered, dodging a blow to the head. "I'll take care of these amateurs."

"Thanks so much, Cami!" Hiccup thanked her profoundly, and she smiled.

"She does seem to be pretty pleased with herself," Astrid muttered as she and her partner raced out of the arena. "How do you even know her?"

Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck as they passed a few buildings. "Eh...long story," he huffed.

"I have time-"

"Long! Story..."

...

For the first time in forever, the Hooligan and Bob-Burglar chief fought side by side, as close allies rather than petty rivals. They fought valiantly and violently, throwing off and Spartan that dared to cross their paths.

"Just like old times, ey Stoick?" Bertha boomed with a rowdy cackle, punching a guard square in the face when he brandished a spear at her.

Stoick paused, holding a guard high in the air with one hand and spoke thoughtfully, "Bertha, Ah can't recall any old times…"

The woman shrugged. "On yer left, Stoick."

Stoick's eyes widened and he whirled around. Sure enough, a bruised, bloody Snadge was charging, but he stopped once the Viking Chief quickly rounded himself up.

The two beings, man and Viking, began to circle one another, quietly, angrily. Sttoick was so tempted to rush forward and rip that helmet right off the man's head, but he collected his resolve and tried to keep his cool. Too often he would lose his temper, causing not only himself harm but for those around him as well. It needed to change. It was time to be patient.

Snadge was absolutely livid, actually shaking with rage. Not only had his prisoners escaped, but now Fort Sinister was under stack by the creatures he hated with a passion. He swore that he would not let the Chief escape, which was why when Stoick tried to peacefully pass, the Spartan flourished his spear threateningly.

"Not so fast, barbarian!" Snadge screamed at Stoick, who stopped and regarded him angrily. "You aren't going anywhere-GAH!"

It was the prefect who had bravely done his part, running as fast as he could at Snadge, knocking him off his feet, and slamming him into the wall of the arena, rendering him unconscious.

Stoick stared in disbelief as the roman panted, looking quite pale himself due to what he had just done, and crouched down to his height. The prefect noticed his close presence and jumped a little, fearful of the giant of a Viking.

"I-I don't know if you can understand me," the prefect stammered while Stoick stared, "but I'm so so so sorry about what happened to you and your son. I assure you, I don't tolerate that anymore-" he froze, for Stoick had laid a large hand on his shoulder.

For a moment, just a fraction of a moment, the Roman and the Viking looked into each other's eyes and saw a bit of themselves in the other. For a moment, there was understanding, compassion, and sympathy on both sides.

And then it was gone.

The Vikings were beginning their retreat.

"Fall back!" Bertha, the leader of the Bob-Burglars bellowed. "To th' boats!" Everyone, even Stoick, obeyed her command, so after a final round of delivering fatal blows to the Spartan's heads, they began to retreat.

But before Stoick left, he made sure to retrieve Snadge's-HIS helmet, his new horned helmet from the prefect, who gave it graciously.

...

Hiccup and Astrid stopped at the water's edge, staring out into the icy fjord. Astrid took a deep breath and waded in. "Alright," she said with a tiny shiver, "come on. The sooner we get there, the better."

But Hiccup didn't move.

"Hiccup?"

"..."

Astrid sighed when he didn't reply and rushed forward to grab his hand. "Come on, your dad will be fine! Let's go! The Bob-Burglar ships aren't too far off!"

Hiccup was looking quite conflicted, so Astrid's brows furrowed. "What's wrong?" She asked. "We've been rescued!"

Hiccup just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "I'm just...worried."

"...About?" Questioned Astrid.

"The prefect. Aranka."

Astrid was quizzical.

"You know, the Romans that stood up for us?"

"Is that what they were doing?" Astrid asked, surprised. She looked away, trying to process that, as it was hard to absorb. "I can't believe it," she breathed.

"Me neither," Hiccup admitted. "Sorry my translation was rusty. Anyway, that's why I'm worried about them. I mean, this is a society where hating Vikings is encouraged. I don't think Snadge-"

"Who?"

"The guy with the spear," the male quickly clarified.

"Oh."

"Anyway, I don't think he was happy, judging by the look on his face."

Astrid tugged at his hands. "C'mon, I'm sure it'll be fine! Romans are tight, man! Nothing bad's going to happen to them!"

Hiccup sighed. "I sure hope you're right."

"I'm always right. Now come on. We have to get home. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can organize a rescue mission for the girls."

Hiccup paled. "Oh, right."

...

Snadge stood silently after the Vikings had retreated, staring off into the now empty coliseum. The rest of the guards avoided him like the plague, except for one, and that was the prefect, now shackled and tied to rest uncomfortably in a wooden chair. He shifted, watching Snadge like a hawk, but the man had been standing there for a good twenty minutes without doing a single thing.

Until...

"All I want to know is why."

The prefect jerked his head up in acknowledgement. Snadge had finally spoken, but as he had, he had asked deadly question. And there was no way that he was going to tell him about Hiccup and his daughter. Well, the prefect had a question of his own.

"What will you do with my children?" He whispered hoarsely, trying to block the feelings of anxiety gathering in his system. His children, adopted or not, were his entire life. His world revolved around them, and if they were being punished because of him...

"That is none of your concern," the man answered with a subtle growl to his already gruff tone. "You should've worried about that when you threw yourself in with their kind. What you should be worried about now is what is going to happen to you." The prefect tried not to let his fear show, but he knew that it was quite inevitable at that point that his expressions would betray him.

"I respect them much more than I fear you, Snadge," the prefect calmly declared. "You lost today. You miscalculated."

Snadge whirled around to deliver a well-resounding kick to the man's chest, knocking him backwards to land with a groan against the stone floor.

"No, you miscalculated, Prefect. You should have feared me more," Snadge growled, and wielded a whip.

...

Author's Note:

I know, I know. Just review. There's a lot of action and ROMANCE to come!