Hiccup hadn’t cooperated with being chained up, despite how he was still weak from the poison. The Hunters had woken him in the middle of the night, had taken him to a cell, roughed him up a bit when he wouldn’t cooperate, and had chained him up standing from hooks in the ceiling. Viggo was there, but never laid a hand on him, as always.
“What now?” Hiccup asked, not happy. The men had taken his prosthetic from him, leaving him only to balance on one foot.
Viggo stood from his chair, and Hiccup could see that there was a table on the room. There were all sorts of implements laid out on it that Hiccup very much didn’t like.
“We’re going to try something different,” Viggo said, striding over to the table. He picked something up, and Hiccup feared what it would be, but when he turned he saw it was just a needle. Well, a very long needle. Hiccup didn’t like those, but he figured he could deal with them. He would have to. “You don’t sleep, and instead we talk.”
“I’m not talking to you.”
“Mm, but the mind has a way of slipping up when it’s exhausted,” Viggo said. “And to keep you from falling asleep…” Viggo stepped forward, wrenched Hiccup’s head to the side with one hand, and inserted the needle into the side of his neck. Hiccup yelped as it dug into him. Okay, that hurt.
“Ow,” Hiccup complained as Viggo released his head and let him straighten it.
Viggo smiled at him, patted him on the shoulder. “Indeed.”
Then, Viggo went and took something else from the table. Hiccup tensed, wondering if it would be something worse, but it was the most innocuous thing in the world: a book. Viggo sat down, opened it, and began to read. He was apparently prepared to wait.
“So you don’t need to sleep?” Hiccup asked after an hour of silence.
“Already rested.” Viggo didn’t look up from his book. It was a thick tome, and he was about halfway through. He would most likely still wait. He could be a patient man.
Hiccup tried moving his neck, stretching it out, as it had grown stiff, but the needle made that hurt horribly, and he groaned. His eyelids felt heavy. His body wanted to get back to sleep. He closed his eyes, willing to try.
It didn’t work. It had passed about two hours. Viggo had left the room to do something, had been gone for a while, and had come back.
“Feeling sleepy?” he asked Hiccup, who obviously was.
Hiccup hated hanging from these chains. Well, it was sort of hanging. Sometimes he could support himself with just the one foot, but other times he needed to use his arms to support himself. It was making his joints ache, and the muscles in his foot and leg were aching and cramping. The needle still dug into his neck. How on earth would he be able to get any rest.
Oh, this is torture. But that was entirely the point. It was. Viggo wanted information out of him, and he wasn’t going to let him sleep until he gave it.
Hiccup didn’t want to give it willingly, but what if he slipped up? What if his tired mind began talking and giving up the information anyway?
Hiccup actually began to doze. He closed his eyes, could feel himself falling into a dream. He was walking down an endless hallway. There were doors all around him, but he couldn’t open any of them, all of them locked. So, he just kept walking.
Something tore into his back. Hiccup jolted awake with a shout, panting.
“What was that?!”
Viggo came around him, showed him the whip in his hand. “You looked like you were dozing.”
“I was.” Hiccup smoldered. “I was having a pleasant dream about your death.” Usually he didn’t think about death, not in regards to people, but he’d had a very long night, and his captivity had already been horrible.
“I would prefer if you didn’t get back to it.”
Hiccup spit at him, and the whip hit him across his front.
There was daylight coming in from the porthole, the ship rocking as if the sea was choppy today. Hiccup’s chains rattled with the movement.
He was hurting badly. The needle had been twisted deeper into his neck, another one added just below it, and he had three slashes from the whip on his body. His joints were screaming at him and his one leg was burning.
But still, he was exhausted, tired down to the bone. He’d been awake for hours now when he should have been sleeping, had been straining himself trying to keep himself up with the chains, and he was still weak from the belladonna. He wanted to be let go to sleep. He needed to sleep.
“Lenses.” His tongue felt thick, but he still said the word.
“Yes?” Viggo asked, putting his book down, standing.
“We hid them,” Hiccup said, head hanging down. He didn’t have the strength to hold it up. “Wingmaidens.”
“Ah, thank you, Hiccup.” He patted him on the cheek.
The needles were removed first, which was painful and left spots of trickling blood, and then the chains. Hiccup fell once he was free, right into Viggo’s arms. The man didn’t seem to mind, actually picked him up, and took him out of the room.
“Because I must, Hiccup.” Viggo maneuvred his hand around to open the door to Hiccup’s room, and Hiccup took the time to stare at the scar on his face, on his sightless eye. It must have been difficult to learn to read again with that, he found himself musing.
Hiccup fell asleep the instant he was set down on his sleeping pallet, before Viggo even left the room.