Dark Valkyrie

Two: The Wine of Hela

Two: The Wine of Hela

The journey home was fraught, for the fortress has been remote and they knew they needed to get him back to Berk, for his injuries needed Gothi. Hiccup had passed out once they had taken off, pain and exhaustion overcoming what little strength he had left and Astrid had cradled his broken body in her arms, feeling him shockingly light. He was tall, his long shape cuddled to her but it was no burden-because Hiccup would never be a burden. When she became his girlfriend, when she became his Betrothed, she accepted him-all of him, including his unerring ability to get into trouble and his propensity for surrendering to save his friends. And she loved him fiercely.

The journey was largely silent because her frayed patience had run out long before they were anywhere near halfway home and even the twins and Snotlout had shut up as the furious blonde had yelled at them. But no one argued with her authority, because they were all concerned. Heather remained close and Dagur on Sleuther was flying alongside Stormfly, his eyes drifting over to the unconscious shape. He had tried to kill Hiccup so many times before he had made his peace with his demons and now to see the auburn-haired viking so wounded made the Berserker feel ashamed. And he could read Astrid's white-hot fury and despair as she cradled her Betrothed on the long flight.

But he was mumbling and delirious long before the jagged shape of Berk was finally in sight, after a trip that had pushed the Riders to their limit. As ever, they flew at the pace of their slowest rider-FIshlegs on Meatlug-because they needed each other and though his dragon was slow, his knowledge of botany and basic healing was essential. But when they had short breaks to allow the dragons a brief respite and everyone to stretch their limbs and get some food, Astrid remained with Hiccup, holding his burning hand and staring into the battered face.

"How is he?" she asked in a low voice as she dripped water over his cracked lips, seeing his throat work as he swallowed. There were bruises there, marks of hands and certainly a collar that made her want to turn away in anger. Fishlegs sighed.

"Not getting any better," he admitted. "The fever is worrying, to be honest. There is no evidence of festering in his wounds-though they are all very severe, by the way." She grimaced and nodded, her eyes softening at the thought. And then she blinked and her mask was back up, the ferocious warrior protecting her chief, not the girl screaming in anguish at the wounds to her lover.

"What are you saying?" she asked him and the husky dragon rider sighed.

"They had him for a long period of time and they used everything at their disposal to make him talk," he said carefully. "There is evidence that they beat him, whipped and cut and burnt him. They used acid-probably Changewing acid-and some of the marks on him are very like dragon claws or spines." He took a shuddering breath. "They used parts of dragons to torture him with, Astrid. The man who loves dragons was broken to pieces using the creatures he protects."

She closed her eyes because tears were burning at that moment and one escaped, sliding down her cheek.

"And he'd do it again," she said hoarsely. "Because he's Hiccup and he's an idiot."

"Dragons also have venom," Fishlegs added quietly. "Some are very poisonous. And it's likely dragon hunters would have more practical experience of dragon venoms than we would. They...they could have poisoned him..." She rested a hand against his cheek, feeling the boggy swelling where his cheek was broken and absently noting how hot his skin was.

"They never meant for us to get him back," she murmured. "They were going to kill him when we arrived. And they made sure even if we did rescue him...he wouldn't survive."

"Gothi is the oldest and wisest healer in the Archipelago," Fishlegs told her with absolute confidence. "She will know what to do." And then Astrid looked up, the faintest hint of defeat in her clear azure gaze.