The noises were quiet at first: the cessation of conversations, the swish of crossbow bolts and thuds of impacts but they were enough to rouse the Prince as he lay sprawled on his bed, grabbing a final five minutes before he was due to rise. He always woke early because Toothless, his most faithful friend and protector, would not allow any sort of a lie in when he needed his morning exercise. He sighed, flung his arm above his head and listened.

Another noise sounded, closer and Toothless raised his head, ears pricked and teeth bared in a silent growl. Hiccup sat up, lithe and alert, his forest green eyes focussed on the door. His tousled dark auburn hair was caught by a stray beam of the sun between the heavy curtains, highlighting the few lighter copper hairs mixed among the unruly mop. Then he was up, his lanky shape moving with purpose, almost silent as he leaned against the door and listened. There was breathing out there, people closing and he gestured to Toothless to guard the door as he frantically dragged on his dark green hose, lighter green tunic and brown leather armour. He had just slipped his boots on and grabbed his sword and dagger as the handle to the door to his room started to turn.

Scarcely breathing, the young prince ducked behind the door, motioning his protector to stand by him as the door opened a crack and four crossbow bolts thudded into the dent on the mattress which had only just been vacated by him. The would-be murderer poked his head into the room and saw he had missed so he shoved the door further open and walked forward. The Prince raised his sword and slammed the hilt onto the man's head, knocking him witless. Noting his would be killer was wearing the King's livery, the Prince moved swiftly as the traitor hit the floor with a thud, his head snapping round to look into the corridor. Two more men stood out there, over the bodies of their loyal comrades and they spotted the familiar shape of the Prince immediately.

"There he is! Get him!"

Hiccup groaned and ducked from the door, heading directly across the corridor to the window. Before the men could react, he flung his arms across his face and leapt through the window, his legs freewheeling as he dropped almost twenty feet to the roof of the cloistered walk below. He rolled, his left ankle turning and sprang up, hissing gently in pain. The jet shape of Toothless soared down and landed lightly by him, growling. Hiccup cast him a jaundiced glance.

"Yeah, yeah, it's alright for you, useless wolf!" he grumbled, limping to the edge and leaping down. Crossbows whiffled past his ears as he ducked to avoid them taking his head off. "Wow, someone got out of the wrong side of the bed today!" he noted.

Shouts began to sound and there was the sound of fighting as soldiers-he hoped they were loyal to his father, King Stoick the Vast-began to defend the Royal family against the attackers. Hiccup ducked back and tried to get his breath. He had no idea what was going on but it was clear that Berkingham Castle couldn't have been infiltrated by the traitors without inside help. He swallowed: it wasn't an appetising thought. Stoick was respected and loved by his subjects but there were always the malcontents and enemies that any kingdom harboured. Hiccup could think of Mildew the Unpleasant, Silent Sven of Westcliffe and of course, the King's brother, Lord Spitelout in Berk as well as the nobles from neighbouring kingdoms and the borderlands-Alvin the Treacherous, Dagur the Deranged, Viggo and Ryker Grimborn and Drago the Dark, Prince of Blood. He swallowed: any or all of them could be involved in the attack.

He shook himself. He knew who he would trust with his life and he knew his priority was to get to safety: it would help no one if he was taken or slain. He had been drilled by his tutor, Gobber the Belch, his father's Right Hook Man, right from when he was a small runty princeling, about what he should do in the event of an attack-no matter his instinct to fight and defend his home.

"Yer job, lad, is ter survive and continue the Royal Line-no matter what ye may want!"

"But, Gobber-I am the King's son. I should be there, fighting with my soldiers and defending Berk!"

"When yer the King, mebbe, but until then, son, yer Dad wants yer to be safe and secure the succession!"

He blinked and almost smiled at the bluff response of his mentor-then he nodded to Toothless and they ran round the back of the kitchens, heading for the stables. He had an emergency pack hidden in a grain bin in the main stables, which he grabbed and then hurdled over the stall dividers into the stall of Fury, his midnight black stallion. Hiccup had been taught to do everything for himself, unlike the pampered existence of his cousin, so he was swift in saddling his horse and had his packs stowed before he became aware he wasn't alone. He swung his head round and heard breathing on all sides: he was surrounded. He gestured to the wolf and the creature whined, then slunk through the flap into the next stall, burrowing in the hay as he had been trained. Hiccup tested the girth as he heard men enter the stall.

"Stand away from the horse, brother." Hiccup sighed and straightened up, his lean and lanky shape a little slumped.

"Hello, Dagur," he said. "I guessed you would be here somewhere." The tall, powerfully muscled soldier closed on Hiccup's leaner shape and grinned. Dagur wore black leather armour emblazoned with a Skrill dragon emblem, his carrot-red hair cropped short and pale green eyes wild. Three deep scars cut across his left eye from the forehead to the cheek-a momento of the day he had tried to drown Hiccup when the Heir was younger. Toothless had saved the Prince that day so Hiccup wasn't surprised when the invader swung his head around.

"Where's your little pooch?" he sneered. "I owe him a debt." Hiccup smirked.

"I think he may have gone on this morning run," he suggested lightly. "If you come back in a couple of hours, he may be back..." Dagur lunged forward, his meaty fist grabbed the Prince's slender throat and he choked, his eyes widening.

"I think we'll discuss this now..." he growled and lifted his fist. The man at his side-Savage-cleared his throat.

"My Lord, the Prince's instructions were explicit," he reminded his master. "He wishes to see the Prince immediately!" Dagur tightened his grasp for a long moment, then released Hiccup, who coughed and staggered back a pace-before his arms were bruisingly grasped by two of Dagur's men. Hiccup was jerked forward, his sword left behind with his saddled horse.

"Prince?" he asked. "Hmm. Have I just developed a brother I was unaware of? I thought I was the only..."

"That smart mouth will get you into a world of trouble!" Dagur snapped, his fists bunching. Hiccup watched him with a small smile: he knew Dagur had a short fuse and he knew he could exploit it-once he knew exactly what he was facing. He was hauled back across the yard and into the main castle. It was strange, being a prisoner escorted through familiar corridors now manned by soldiers in foreign uniforms and men in the livery of his own house, dragging away the bodies of their loyal colleagues. Hiccup's face hardened: he wondered exactly who had betrayed his home. Then he was thrust into the Great Hall and he stared at the Throne at the end, under the black dragon banner of House Haddock. And his green eyes widened with anger and hatred.

The stocky jet-haired shape of Spitelout was sitting smugly in his father's seat, wearing his father's crown and commanding his father's castle. Spitelout, his father's half-brother who had been favoured and loved by Stoick and indulged in his excesses. Spitelout who was brutal and venal and covetous-and, it now seemed, a traitor.

Hiccup sighed. The man had despised Hiccup for all his life as a runt and disappointment to his father and his line-and, to be fair, Hiccup had always been small and slight from birth, though he was also brave, determined and very smart. But two years ago, he had hit his growth spurt finally and he had shot up, topping both his uncle and cousin easily, though he had remained lanky and lean. And he had trained more than they would ever guess to gain his skills in weapons and horsemanship as well as the hours he had put in working in the forge with his mentor learning to maintain and develop new weapons. His body was toned and strong-just not the massive, muscular outline they considered ideal. He knew they saw only a lanky fishbone, not the fighter and tactician he had become and he hoped and prayed that would be his advantage. Because, gods knew, he had precious little else on his side at the moment.

"Uncle, what's going on?" he asked in a weary voice. Spitelout sneered and gestured. Hiccup was expecting the slap to the face but it still hurt. Note to self-duck when someone wearing an armoured metal gauntlet wants to smack you in the mouth, he reminded himself silently, tasting blood. "That's not an answer!" he added, slightly thickly. Spitelout nodded and Hiccup felt his legs kicked from under him and he crashed to the floor. He sighed. "Still not an answer," he persisted.

"You are accused to treason!" Spitelout announced.

Hiccup gawped. It wasn't a princely thing to do but sometimes, even his control slipped and he frowned. "Where did I fit that in my busy schedule?" he asked sarcastically. Dagur kicked him in the side and he exhaled painfully. "OW!" he whined.

"I have uncovered evidence that you were planning to seize the throne in the absence of your father and install yourself as King of Berk!" Spitelout announced. Hiccup frowned as he was hauled to his feet by the scruff of his neck.

"Hmm, don't remember that," he retorted. "Are you sure you're not reading your own diary, Uncle?" Dagur slammed his fist into his side and the Prince winced.

"Lord Dagur-please exercise restraint," Spitelout ordered. "We don't want the traitor dead before his execution!" Hiccup's eyes narrowed.

"If you believed I was plotting treason, why have you assumed the Throne, Spitelout?" Hiccup asked him directly. "Why haven't you maintained my father's loyal council?" Spitelout sat forward and rubbed his chin, a nasty smile lifting his mouth.

"Regrettably, the Council has been shown to be involved in the plot so they have already answered to the axeman!" he announced. Hiccup felt his stomach drop then: his father's most loyal supporters-all dead? He found himself breathing hard in shock, his head spinning.

"So you have murdered the council, are about to execute the Prince and have stolen the throne," he said angrily. "There is another name for this, Spitelout. And it isn't legal: it is called Usurpation. You have stolen my father's throne. But he remains the King of Berk and when Stoick the Vast returns, he will kick your treacherous ass!" Dagur grabbed his hair and hauled his head back, exposing his throat and resting a knife hard against his skin.

"Should I silence his lying tongue, your Majesty?" he asked coldly. Spitelout stared at the lanky shape of the Prince and smiled.

"No-the executioner will silence him," he said coldly. "What makes you ever think your father would live to set foot on the shores of Berk again?" Hiccup swallowed, fear suddenly beginning to grip his heart. He suddenly realised how well his uncle had prepared for this day and how comprehensively they had been outmanoeuvred. He wondered just how many allies his uncle had gathered against the rightful King. And whether there was anyone left loyal to his father.

"The people won't accept you as their King," he said roughly. "Stoick is loved by his people. They will rise against you!"

Spitelout laughed in his face, his expression cruel. His icy blue eyes swept over the lean shape of the Prince and smiled at his bravery. "Even if they tried, I have powerful allies who will crush them, Prince Hiccup!" he sneered. "But of this hour, you are no longer a Prince. As of this moment, I declare you a traitor and an outlaw. I remove all your rights and privileges. Your land and possessions are restored to the crown and are hereby bestowed upon my son, Lord Snotlout. Your crimes carry the sentence of death." Hiccup took a quick breath, feeling his entire life collapse. He watched as Spitelout rose to his feet to pass his sentence. "Take him to the block!"

Struggling against his captors, Hiccup felt himself dragged away, the grips fierce on his arms. All the guards looked at him with pity and distain, as if he was nothing. And, he realised, he no longer was of any consequence: he literally was nothing. He glanced around and gave a soft whistle, earning himself another harsh slap. He winced and felt his cheek bruise. Then he was out in the courtyard, his boots sliding over the smooth cobbles as the was hauled to up the steps onto the wooden platform and the block. And his heart lightened a touch as he saw the familiar bulky shape with the outrageous plaited blond moustache standing there, waiting for his death also. Hiccup flashed a despondent smile.

"Hey, Gobber," he said. His mentor turned to look at him. Gobber sported a black eye and a tear in his chainmail but the bulky shape was straight and proud with his peg leg and hook left hand. His blue eyes twinkled but his expression was grim.

"Laddie-yer couldn't manage to do as yer were told!" he sighed.

"Hey, Gobber-I did my best but I guess they were already tipped off about our back-up plan," he sighed. Gobber looked across the yard.

"Yeah-there seem to have been a lot of people changing their allegiances today," he said as the axemen walked forward. Spitelout and Dagur had appeared at the balcony, observing the scene with very interested gazes. Dagger had managed to get himself a pitcher of wine and had poured a goblet for Spitelout, while he was chugging directly from the pitcher. Two guards hauled Gobber back and the Prince was forced to his knees and his neck pressed over the block. Hiccup struggled but he froze as he felt the cold metal rest across the back of his neck as the axeman took his position and prepared for the lethal blow. He took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes.

"Be brave, son," Gobber told him, his voice calm. "Remember all I told you..."

"I'm sorry, Dad," he murmured. "I couldn't stop him..."

He felt the pressure lift from his neck as the axe was raised for the lethal blow and he mouthed a final prayer to Odin...

...as a snarl sounded and a black blur soared over the Prince, hitting the executioner at neck height. The man fell backwards with a scream as yellow fangs bit hard into his throat. Hiccup's guards froze and the Prince shoved himself backwards, pulling free from their grasps. Simultaneously, Gobber smashed his head back into the guard behind him, sending him tumbling off the platform. He dragged his hand free of his ropes simply by popping out the hook that served as his left hand. He grabbed the appendage and used it to stab the next guard before jamming it back into its holder. Toothless was savaging another guard and Hiccup punched out the last, grabbing his sword and leaping from the platform, followed closely by Gobber and Toothless.

"Laddie-I take everything back!" Gobber panted as the sprinted for the stables, parrying a crossbow bolt with his hook hand. "Forget I ever doubted why a Prince would want a wolf as a pet!"

"Apology accepted!" Hiccup grinned as they ducked into the stables, attacking the guards stationed to prevent any loyal member of the household stealing a horse and escaping. "I've got Fury prepared already..."

"...and Grumpy is saddled as well, laddie!" his Mentor shot back, speeding to the stable doors. He flung them open and dashed back as Hiccup swung into the saddle, grabbing Grumpy's reins. Gobber leapt aboard as they trotted past and they accelerated towards the main gates, Toothless loping along at their feet.

"STOP THEM!" Dagur shouted as they came in sight of the gates. Men were already running to the winches to wind the portcullis down and close the gates. Hiccup kicked Fury to a gallop with Gobber at his side.

"C'mon, old man," he growled. "I don't think my Dad would want you giving up until he returns. I doubt he would trust me to escape without someone to keep me in order!" Gobber turned to him to shoot back a reply and then he jerked, his amiable face creasing into a grimace of pain. He sagged limply forward, a crossbow bolt sticking out of his back. Hiccup craned his neck back to see Dagur lowering his weapon and grinning from a balcony. Furious, the young Prince kicked his horse again, grabbing Grumpy's reins and thundering to the rapidly-closing gates. They whisked out under the falling portcullis just before it slammed down with Toothless racing ahead. Hiccup kept low over his saddle as they cleared the castle and accelerated up the hill towards the wood.

He stole one last look at Berkingham Castle, promising he would return and reclaim his birthright. Then they hit the line of the trees and vanished into the forest.

Dagur walked along the battlements to the top of the gatehouse as the gates were opened to allow pursuit to start after the fugitives. Spitelout was incandescent with rage at his side, throwing his goblet at the nearest guard. The Deranged Lord was grinning insanely. "So what are your orders, your Majesty?" he asked. Spitelout stared after him and scowled.

"Put a high enough price on his head that the peasants will be falling over each other to turn him in!" he commanded. "Hiccup Horrendous Haddock is an outlaw and a traitor. I want him dead!"