The Dragon Master and The Lightning Rider *Hiccup Fanfic*

41. Welcome Home

Skye had been dressed up in that ridiculous costume. She was weaponless except for her curved scythe that she went to extreme measures to keep concealed. The tight metal collar around her neck didn't serve as a leash, but as a brand.

Tye, much to her chagrin, had given her sympathetic looks all day. They had docked days later than expected, due to unpredictable rains that had put them off-course. It gave a little more time for her burns to heal up. She still looked terrible and malnourished and pale, but she did feast on good food, thanks to Tye.

When they had docked, it was early evening, when the island was in full swing. There was a whole gathering at the port, where she had spotted familiar faces. Faces she wanted to throw into the ocean.

"You remember the salutation?" Tye checked.

Skye nodded her head. Oh, she knew that salutation towards the leaders of the island. The plank had been placed. Tye led as she followed, her head held high. It was almost like the whole island had come to see her arrive. Faces peered from every corner all around the docks, murmuring and gossiping. Skye pushed down her anxiety and shame. They looked at her like she was scum, and she assumed that they would have thrown rotten vegetables at her if the leaders weren't present.

Many villagers had lost loved ones from Alsaer. Her abandonment of her post meant that they had perished. She was put to blame for her freedom. She felt her lunch rise to her throat, and she avoided everyone's gaze, instead focusing on the horizon. Skye was marched down the plank, wounds smarting and burns itching, limping because of her sore kneecaps, where she stood before the leaders.

There were two of them—one man, who was red-headed, tall, and his face was expressionless. His dark eyes didn't shift from her, and she felt the urge to peel off her skin. He was probably the leader of the island. His word was unparalleled.
The other was a tanned woman, who wore sleek armor. She was probably his right-hand person. Her eyes were soft, but her scars over her face and neck and arms were bare to the world. Her arms were neatly placed over the silver pommel of her sword. A small red emblem was marked on her left sleeve. The mark of the silver hilt meant she was a General. Not just any General, but a high-ranking one as well. Judging by the fact she was next to the leader and not behind where the other Generals stood, she was the Head of the Armies.

Skye knew immediately to not trust her. She didn't trust anyone, but she knew that a person with that many scars fought too many battles, and killed too many people. The Chief of the Armies meant pure control over thousands of soldiers. She was branded the best fighter and strategist.

Tye nudged her. It was time for the salutation.

"Gordo Aym, leader of Shruiken, heir to Thiram, and Ambrosia, Chief of the Armies," Tye introduced formally, saluting them with a bow of his head, arms tightly placed behind his back.

Skye tilted her head, ignoring the sting from the collar, and bared a small grin before spitting right at their feet.

Tye let out a hiss as the leaders pursed their lips at the disrespect.

"If you think for one second that I'd salute you," Skye growled. "Then you don't know whom you're dealing with."

In a split second, a sword was drawn with a loud whine and pressed against Skye's neck. Ambrosia pressed her face close to Skye, but the girl didn't bat an eyelash. She had been on the opposite side of the sword many times, and she had seen people lose their dignity before she even spoke. She vowed to never be like them. Any fear she had, she quelled it with the thought—how much worse could they make it for her?

They had no leverage on her. Torture wouldn't get them anywhere. They built her to withstand them, and that's exactly what she gave them. Skye pressed her lips tightly. "Is this an offer to spit in your face as well? I wouldn't mind," she purred.