DISCLAIMER: New fic, new fandom to write for…same old song. I don't own these characters or this subject matter except for a few original creations – all the rest belongs to DreamWorks and Cressida Cowell. No copyright infringement is intended!

SPOILERS: The action and character history in this story – save for some very basic elements – is considerably AU…as long as you know the major and some secondary players in the HTTYD universe, you're good to go.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Boundless

SUMMARY: She is Astrid Hofferson, a chieftain's daughter set to marry a ruthless warlord for her tribe's sake. He is a nameless boy, a slave to the same brutal man for nearly all his young life. Only with each other will they find true friends, true freedom…and maybe even true love.

Prologue

"Checkmate."

The old soldier to whom the word was addressed scowled angrily, first at the Maces and Talons board on which his chief piece now sat surrounded by his opponent's hunters, then at the opponent himself before remembering his place in life…thankfully before any of his displeasure was noticed. "Ah, yes…well done as always, sire. Care for another round?"

The victor, far younger of a man than the soldier at only twenty-two years of age, but also far more powerful of a man stroked his well-groomed dark goatee as he pondered his answer. "Tempting…but I'll have to decline. My brother is due back any minute now from his journey, I do believe."

"Actually...I'm back already."

"Speak of the devil," the soldier muttered what he hoped was inaudibly under his breath.

"Ah, brother." The young man rose from his chair and began to approach the new arrival, only to pause in his steps when he saw his elder sibling hadn't come alone. "And what, pray tell, do we have here…?"

Standing at 6'3" and bulging with muscle, the slightly older man cut an imposing figure unlike his younger brother, who – though he was approximately the same height – wasn't close to being as brawny…but both siblings had the same wicked glint in their eyes as they leered at the young woman who stood shivering in their shadows. The soldier, battle-hardened though he was, nearly cringed to also see an even more innocent victim thrown over the massive shoulder of the elder brother like a sack of flour…and when the man carelessly shrugged his burden onto the table still supporting the Maces and Talons board – dislodging all the game pieces in the process – the soldier was helpless to hold back an unsettled shudder.

The boy was small – so tiny in fact that he nearly fit on the game board entirely – and clearly very, very young. Tousled auburn hair partially hid his eyes, which were closed in what the soldier dearly hoped was only unconsciousness. His porcelain skin was dotted all over in freckles, one cluster on his left cheek nearly made invisible by a vicious bruise that his captor had no doubt inflicted upon him – probably with great satisfaction knowing the man's mile-long sadistic streak.

"Little runt bit me," said brute spoke up as if reading the soldier's mind, though he was talking to his younger sibling. "It was a knee-jerk reaction."

"No need to explain yourself to me, brother," came the apathetic response. "At least…not regarding that. I would like to know, however, exactly why you brought this extra…" The dark-haired man looked distastefully at the young woman who was now screaming behind her gag. "Baggage, I suppose would be a proper term, along with you. Surely you could've found their weight in far more valuable things...after all, it's not like the weight would've been too difficult to match, considering the sheer lack of it from one side." Cold brown eyes pinned the unaware child with a steely glare.

"And here you're supposed to be the smart one," the older sibling laughed, tapping a finger to his clean-shaven head. "You of all people know how I love my riches and plunder, brother, but alas…" Wisps of red hair fluttered from the man's exhaled sigh, his face now so close to that of the captive woman's that she could barely breathe, fear silencing her muffled protests and settling thickly in her throat. "There are some things," the bulky man traced a stubby finger down her tear-stained cheek, "that even money can't buy."

"A woman?" The younger didn't even try to contain his scorn. "Brother, surely you—"

"Staying power!" the elder cut him off. "A dynasty…" He held the woman's chin and stared into her horrified eyes, beautiful and vibrant emerald clashing with his dull, muddy brown. "An heir."

"I beg your pardon?" the outraged reply sounded. "I am the heir to this—"

"Another heir, brother mine…another heir," the older man interrupted again. "Don't get your tunic in a tangle. I know you'll make a fine chief after me if the need ever comes, but what if it actually does…and moreover, comes sooner than expected like before? Like it did for me?" The elder sibling turned away from the woman to grasp the younger by the shoulders. "Thank the gods I had you when it was my time to step up…my loyal little understudy waiting in the wings, the brains behind my brawn…" The older man fixed a pointed gaze on his brother. "But who would you have?"

The old soldier had never seen such a wave of concern come over the younger of the two siblings; normally the man was as unflappable as the day was long. So perplexed was he now, though, that he didn't even notice the woman had again started shouting behind her gag, her green gaze locked on the tiny form of her son still lying limp on the table – a literal pawn on the game board.

"Shut up!"

Apparently, the soldier wasn't the only one to think in such terminology.

"You don't shut up right now, and I'll take your pretty little boy over there and string 'im up as bait in a dragon trap, you understand me?!"

The woman instantly silenced herself at the older sibling's furious threat, fresh tears spilling while she kept staring at her son in terror, as if imagining that very scenario.

The brute smirked cruelly at his own success. "And that, dear brother, is why I didn't throw the useless little whelp into the ocean." He walked over to the table and, eyes on the boy's mother, gave the silky russet mop on the child's head a mocking ruffle. "He has a very important use after all, turns out."

The soldier, unable to do anything to help the captives for fear of execution on the spot, watched as the cloud of confusion cleared from the younger sibling's dark eyes just as quickly as it had it come…he knew this would mean nothing good for the woman and her son. Slow, calculating footsteps echoed through the room as the man came to stand beside his elder brother.

"You know," he began, placing a well-manicured hand on his sibling's muscled shoulder, "you don't know how correct you are about that. I just…highly doubt it's the use you have in mind."

"Oh…?" One of the older man's bushy eyebrows rose. "What are you getting at?"

"Something you've actually already gotten at, brother…you're absolutely right." The younger ignored the man's look of surprise at the uncommon accolade. "We do need another heir in line after me, if only just to keep the other tribes believing our lineage is here to stay…but I'd wager you're no more keen on wedded attachment than I am. Especially attachment to a…" he snorted haughtily, "working class woman like this."

"Hel, no," came the disgusted reply. "But it's not like I need to marry her, I only need to—"

"You need to remember your place!"

"Oh, do I?" The biting reprimand was met with a heavy, arrogant scoff. "Last I checked, I was chief!"

"Exactly," the younger sibling hissed back, undeterred. "Which means, in the case of an heir, bureaucracy must win over barbarism. You present an heir without presenting a wife and this tribe will be shamed, as will our name!" Cold brown eyes bored into their twin counterparts. "Should I ever become chief…I refuse to have my legacy sullied with an illegitimate heir."

"Then how do you suggest you or I get a legitimate one minus the unwanted wife?" the elder brother snapped…and the soldier watched in secret trepidation as a sly smirk stretched across the younger's face.

"There won't be any need for that."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," the other man continued on despite the elder's incredulous reply. "A woman won't be necessary in this equation. Rather than starting from scratch, why not claim to have what we should've already had…and thus also have a three, maybe four-year head-start instead?"

Those same brown eyes now turned to hold the little boy in a scheming gaze, and the old soldier had it figured out before the elder brother could even be admonished to "do the math". Four years ago, the brothers' chieftain father and heavily pregnant mother had both perished in a dragon raid…and by the looks of it, that was about how long ago – give or take no more than a year – that the presently captive child had been born.

"Remember, brother…" Apparently, the elder was taking too long to catch on. "Remember that for all anyone else knows, Mother actually gave birth to our poor unfortunate sibling before she died."

The soldier winced inwardly; it was true. After the tragic demise of the former chief and his wife, their sons had risen to power ruthlessly and immediately, with one of the elder's first orders of business being to forbid disclosure on anything other than the simple cause of their parents' deaths…including the fact that their unborn sibling had remained just that – forever unborn. No one outside the tribe knew what had happened before, during, or after…only that one day there was one chief and the next day there was another, with dragons being to blame.

"Yes, you see," the younger sibling continued. "Our dear, newborn baby brother survived the attack, and we as his protective guardians have just been waiting until the right time to reveal the traumatized boy." The smile that spread above his neatly trimmed beard was wide and sinister. "What if…that time has come?"

It was another moment or two before realization finally dawned on the older sibling's face, and the soldier knew then that the young woman and her son had no chance for escape. Powerless to save them from their fate and despondent in this knowledge, he cast one last sad look at the achingly small boy and an apologetic look at the mother before trudging out of the room.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Stop struggling!" came the older man's growl, his iron grip locked around the woman's frail wrist as he dragged her toward the forge. "The more you fight, the worse we'll make it hurt for him!"

The younger brother smiled; he had to admire his sibling's forceful manner when it came to delivering threats, not to mention his accuracy…the man knew how to strike where it would wound the deepest. Nothing could've been more precious to that woman, it was clear, than the tiny little life he now held carefully in his arms, the bones pressing against his chest as fragile as a bird's. Of course, his plan would require some work down the line…if his current weight and the frame of his mother were anything to go by, the boy would grow up practically a wisp compared to him and his brother, doubtlessly creating suspicions as to whether they were really related. Not to mention the hair color and the skin complexion…but he was a patient, smart man. He would improvise when the time came.

"How's the runt doing?" his brother interrupted his musings, looking over his shoulder as they approached the forge door.

"Snug as a bug in a rug." He chuckled at the woman's increased muffled yelling; no doubt she was shouting something along the lines of 'get your filthy hands' – though his hands were never filthy, thank you very much – 'off my baby, you monster!' He shrugged, jostling the boy and smiling at the sway he held over her…she had no power here.

"Shut up and get in there!" his brother raged, giving the young mother a violent shove into the darkened space, save for the orange glow that came from a setup of burning charcoals in the back. "Remind me again why we're keeping this banshee?" the elder grumbled under his breath, prompting him to give a conniving wink to the man in reply.

"Future leverage."

"Fine, then," the other sibling relented after a pause, shaking his bald head as he stalked inside after the woman. "Close and barricade the door!"

This order was directed to him instead, and the younger sniffed. He would obey, but his oaf of a brother had damn well better know not to get used to it. He did the deed, then watched with the child still in his arms as his sibling put his snarling face directly into the young mother's wet, blotchy one.

"You resist what's about to happen in ANY way, and your baby boy is dead. Are we clear?"

The threat was simple, direct to the point, and the younger man smirked as the woman nodded shakily. It's not like she knows my plan is practically life insurance for her son…

His older sibling then took a fistful of her bright ginger hair in one hand, a wickedly sharp knife in the other, and carelessly sliced through the strands. He repeated the process until vivid color littered the dirt floor beneath them, only still stuck to her head now in short, grotesquely patchy clumps. Nothing could be heard but sobbing and the hissing of heated metal as the older man then removed the branding iron from the hot coals…within seconds, those sounds transformed into bloodcurdling keens that were only confined by the sodden piece of cloth between her teeth, accompanied by the sizzling of burning flesh.

"Good girl," his brother mockingly cooed, patting the side of her shorn head just above the approximately thumbprint-sized new area of angry red, still slightly smoking skin that would soon enough harden to show their trademark skull emblem. "Verrry good girl…you're all done."

It was his turn now to step up. "Excellent," he replied, laying his feather-light burden gently down on a workbench. "Shall I prepare the boy?"

An unearthly shriek sounded then from behind the woman's gag, and her desperate lurch forward was only stopped by his older brother's powerful arms and his equally powerful threat.

"NO! The rule still stands, woman!" He viciously spun her around to stare into her wild emerald eyes. "You stay still, the branding iron lands where it's supposed to. You don't, and it goes straight down his scrawny. Little. Throat. Understood?!"

It was clear she did. The woman went limp in the steely grasp, and the younger man took that as his cue to lower the left shoulder of the little boy's loose tunic, exposing the tiny joint along with the baby-soft, lightly freckled skin over his heart. It's a good thing our brand is small in size…

"Hmm…experimenting, are we?" his elder sibling mused. "The runt doesn't get to match mommy dearest, here?"

"Not this time," came the unemotional answer. "I wish to send a different message with the boy's brand…a deeper kind of ownership." He placed two fingertips on the child's delicate chest, smiling as he felt the fluttering heartbeat beneath the digits. "Just trust me, brother…right here is perfect placement."

"If you say so," the other man shrugged, leaving the mother to approach his second victim and finish the job. "Then so it'll be…"

The woman's screams reached a new, nearly impossible volume as the older brother pressed the still-hot tip of the branding iron onto the pale flesh, only this time it was joined by a shrill, ear-piercing cry as the boy woke from his unconsciousness to unimaginable pain, jerking away from the source of it as best as his little body could manage. The younger sibling caught the boy from falling off the workbench by the back of his tunic with one hand and held him there as the child kicked and thrashed and screeched his lungs out.

His older brother dropped the branding iron with a clang and came around to intercept, pressing the squirming bundle against his chest and practically suffocating all the air that the boy had left to keep making the awful racket right out of him. When the noise had devolved into helpless whimpers and hiccoughs, the older brother finally held the boy out to inspect, and the younger came around to have a look as well.

Big, beautiful green eyes stared into theirs. Just like his mother's.

Well, those will certainly have to be covered somehow whenever we present him as our own blood…

For now, though, their work was done. The boy and his mother were both officially theirs, and the siblings shared chilling grins.

"Ah…one to be a slave in body, the other to be a slave in mind and especially in heart. Well done, dear big brother."

"Likewise. This should last us for years to come, keep our name feared across the entire archipelago while also keeping us happy bachelors."

"That it should…but possibly not forever. Children do become adults and develop minds of their own, you are aware."

"Oh? And then what?"

"It's no matter…the day the boy outgrows his usefulness in keeping our lineage going, we go out and find someone else we can use if need be," he placated the elder. "Who can tell…I may even be ready to settle by that point."

A loud guffaw met his ears in response. "And what a lucky woman that'll be…" the older man grinned. He then gave a cheeky wink to the mother now doubled over in physical and emotional agony, followed by a confident look to his sibling, and finally a possessive look to the terrified young boy that he held in a cruel grip by his upper arms, huge hands encircling the tiny body entirely. "Until then…"

The younger man gave a satisfied smile when the rest of the sentence seemed to echo within the small space, as if reaffirming all the good fortune that was sure to result from his brilliant plan in the years to come.

"…welcome to your new home, baby brother."

TBC…

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Greetings, fellow HTTYD lovers…welcome to the story! I have journeyed from afar from the Supernatural fandom, and I hope you'll bear with me as I flex my writing muscles again in this entirely new one. But don't worry – I may be a HTTYD-fic newbie, but I'm no stranger to this universe because you name it – first movie, second movie, both art books, any HTTYD short, all seasons of Riders and Defenders – I own 'em and love 'em…or at least I co-own a Netflix account in the case of Race to the Edge, haha. And if that doesn't convince you…well then, consider the fact that I dressed up as first-movie Hiccup for Halloween at work, which was quite honestly my simplest role ever (minus crafting the fur vest and the finer details of the tunic, which was not simple!) as I could pretty much pass for his female doppelganger, even though I'm…well…admittedly twice his first-movie age plus two. LOL. Yep, I'll cop to that – just proof that you're never too old for awesome animation like HTTYD!

So, to sum it up, as my alter-ego would say…settle in for a relatively long, slightly AU H/A fic – they're my "ship", as the cool kids might put it. And speaking of young'uns – please note, as there are obviously several of those in this fandom, I'm rating this otherwise entirely clean story 'T' for violence, intense scenes, and very mild language (trust me on the mild thing, I'm not one for cuss words) akin to what you just read…if you were able to handle that, then I promise you can handle the rest!

Oh, and one more important and – if I do say so myself – rather fun fact. Though this fic will hardly be a one-shot as I mentioned, fear not when it comes to updates! The story is already fully written and I will post with strict adherence to the following schedule – new chapters will be released every Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. May seem a little random, but I've actually carefully calculated this in order to avoid missing any updates when I go camping at the end of June…during which time I'll have absolutely no internet access! With the above schedule though, I'll be finished just in the nick of time and y'all won't be left in the lurch beyond a day or two…win-win!

So, all of that said, I hope everyone will enjoy…continue reading and even follow, favorite, and review if the spirit moves you, and I'll see 'those who stay' for the next chapter! :-)

-PWK