The Dragon Master Part I: Rewritten (A Httyd fanfiction)

Chapter 37: Prisoners

(Normal pov)

The only noises that could be heard were the waves crashing against the hull of the ship, the creaking of the wood, the rolling of nails along the floorboards of the room they were in. He was chained to the hull of the ship; both his hands cuffed and pulled back, making him hang forwards. His hair hanging messily around his face, sweat dripping profusely despite the cold air, with a few droplets of blood along with it. Dirt patches along his face, and bare chest, over the bandaged bruises on his body were also present, except Dagur and Alvin hadn't resolved to harsher methods of persuasion ... yet.

Toothless and Astrid were somewhere along this ship as well. He didn't hear his roars or her yells or curses. He prayed to the gods that they were alright. They would have most likely placed a muzzle on Toothless' snout, to prevent him from blowing up the ship, but that would be pointless since the Night Fury knew he would not risk killing his rider and Astrid.

However, he was more terrified of Astrid's
predicament. He couldn't hear her. He didn't know where she was on this ship. He didn't hear shouts or yells in the rooms next to his torture room, which meant she had to be in another room aboard the ship. She was one of the strongest people he's ever known, apart from his dad - stubborn, strong-willed - a spirit that could never be broken. He just wondered if they were doing the same things to her as they did to him.

There were a few cut marks on his chest, not deep enough to continuously bleed, but it was an effective method nonetheless. That feeling of a blade cutting your skin, the cold metal meeting warm blood. If it was any deeper, he would have the risk of going into shock.

He was brought back from his thoughts when he heard the locks of the door, to see one of the guards opening the door and Dagur walking in ... dragging Astrid in behind him. He tossed her onto the ground, into the centre of the room that was illuminated by the few candles. There he saw the real extent of her torture. Her red tunic had been ripped from her body, leaving her only in her binds, with a few bruises along her stomach. Parts of her leggings were ripped as well, and her fur boots had long been removed. Her braid had many tussles of hair sticking out, indicating it had been pulled repeatedly; most likely someone had pulled on the braid while another person punched her senselessly. Her wrists were bound and were over her head, bringing the image that her wrists were hung by some hook fixed to the ceiling of the ship while they had their fun with her.

He couldn't help but pull on the chains, trying to reach her. He heard Dagur chuckle and he looked at him from beneath his bangs, sending all the fury of the Gods in that one stare. Dagur, however, wasn't fazed in the slightest.

"I did ask her what she knew about dragons..." He said, innocently as he pranced around her barely conscious form. That's when he noticed the bruises on her face, and cuts on her brow and lip. "...but apparently she's like all of Berk's residents ... too stupid and stubborn to stop the pain."

"This is between you and me, Dagur! Leave her out of this!"

"You have only yourself to blame, Hiccup. The moment you taught her about dragons was the moment you roped her into your world and the time she became a liability." He lectured, as he knelt behind her, running a finger along her spine to which she sobbed softly for a brief second.

"What did you do to her!? I swear to you Dagur ... if I wasn't chained to this wall I'd.. agh!" He was cut short when one of the Berserkers kicked his bad leg.

"Hiccup..." he heard her moan. He looked up, completely ignoring the pain in his leg as he made eye contact with her. He could still see the fire that burned within her, but it wasn't without pain. He had done something to her. Something that went against every fiber of her being.