Morning found the Princess and the Imposter huddled side by side in the mouth of the Night Fury's cave, a dying fire smoking as the rosy dawn warmed the bleached rock face. Astrid rolled over and snuggled closer to the swaddled shape of Hiccup and through the layers of blankets, he felt her press against him, his eyes slamming open in shock. He stiffened in response to the contact and hazarded a look over at her. She was smiling, her head leaning against his shoulder and a small part of him wanted to stay there, impossibly snuggled against the sleeping Princess as if he was someone of some value and worth, rather than a menial, a fugitive with a price on his head for the crime of helping a supposed friend by standing in for him on the most ill-fated Hunting Trip in history. 

But that was the truth and no amount of dreaming would alter his miserable predicament. And though the Princess was being kinder to him than she had been, he honestly doubted her kind intentions could overcome the will of a vengeful King. The fact that he had illegally impersonated an apprentice knight in the Hunting Party was one stark fact he couldn't ignore-and it meant that, no matter what he achieved, he was still at risk of execution, even if he hadn't had any part in Astrid's kidnapping.

The horrible thoughts swirling around his head, he gently moved Astrid and rose, stretching and yawning, the audible crack as he extended his neck causing him to wince. Quietly, he tucked his blanket around Astrid, then carefully got to his feet and jumped down to the ground, checking the horses and affording both attention. Then, glancing over his shoulder to check the sleeping girl, he grabbed a rag, a spare tunic from Thuggery's pack and a rock-hard soap and headed down to the stream to clean up.

Waking not much later, Astrid opened her eyes and yawned, mumbling to her maid to pull a bath...before she realised that she still wasn't in her bed and she was tucked in more blankets than were hers. Instinctively, she looked to her right and saw that Hiccup was already up and with a groan, she sat up and ran her hands through her hair. She felt dishevelled and grubby and would have bitten someone's hand off for a decent bath-the poor lukewarm substitute she had endured in Reaper had really disappointed. She pushed the blankets back and ran her fingers through her hair, hand fumbling in her pack and dragging out her comb and then tugging her hair free of the braid and combing the long golden mane until all the tangles were freed and then rebraiding it deftly. 

She jumped down and fussed Stormfly, then looked around, wondering where Hiccup was. She had already realised he rose early-as he had been trained to, as a drudge in her home, slaving away long before she ever opened her eyes-and he quietly and efficiently made sure that all her basic needs were seen to so that when she woke, there was usually water and food ready. But he wasn't back yet and she wondered if something had happened to him. She cast around again. There was no sign of a struggle and she could hear the huff of the Night Fury, sleeping in the cave behind them. Then she wandered down the slope into the trees, hearing the soft rush of water-and splashing.

Quietly, she pushed her way through the bracken and young trees and suddenly, the river gleamed in front of her, lined on both sides by trees, branches trailing into the cold water. And then she glimpsed an auburn head. She froze and then inched forward-to see Hiccup kneeling by the river, stripped to the waist and soaping his arms and body, trying to clean up. Mesmerised, Astrid stared, seeing his lean shape methodically going about his wash, bones more prominent than they should be from too little food for too long. His lean muscles somehow suited his lanky frame and were far more attractive to her than the very buff shape of the Jorgensens and Thuggory. Then her eyes trailed inexorably over his pale skin, lightly freckled...but marred with scars. The worst were on his back, still red from he whipping he had earned for saving that young boy from being needlessly ridden down by her father and his hunters. But there were far more than she could have dreamed, seeing old burns on his arms, small white cut marks from nicks during his training and more recent bruises from his adventures saving her. She shifted her weight and a twig snapped underfoot.

His head snapped up and his just-shaved face was wary, emerald eyes sparkling with sudden confusion-and then embarrassment. 

"Milady?" he gasped, suddenly aware of his state of undress-but as he cast around for his tunic, he overbalanced and toppled into the river. Astrid screamed in shock and saw him surface, tossing his side hair back off his face, before diving down and retrieving his soap and then swimming strongly back towards the bank. But the edge was steep and muddy and he wasn't able to get purchase to haul himself out. Tossing his soap safely onto the bank, he peered out of the water at her. "Um...any chance of a hand, Highness?" he asked pointedly and her cheeks flared, but she walked forward confidently and leaned forward, grabbing his hand. Using all her strength, she hauled him up before her foot slipped from under her and she landed hard on her ass as he topped forward across her. 

For a moment, he lay there, dripping and breathing hard, his emerald eyes locked with hers. Astrid scarcely dared breathe, their faces inches apart so she could count every single one of his freckles. Then he blinked and pushed himself off her, swiping his water-darkened auburn hair off his face and offering her his hand to pull her up as he sat back on his  heels.

"S-sorry," he said in an incredibly embarrassed voice as she suddenly realised that she was staring at his half-naked shape. "Um...if you let the mud dry, it'll brush right off..." She sat up and half-turned away, the memory of his closeness and the red scars across his lean back turning her cheeks scorching red.

"Thanks," she mumbled. "I-I'll remember that..." And Astrid Hofferson never stammered either! What was it about this skinny boy? She scrambled up. "I-I'll get some wood for the fire so we can have some freckles-I mean, breakfast. Breakfast!" She got to her feet. "Um...carry on!"

Hiccup watched her almost run away and barely resisted the urge to face-palm. The Princess had seen him in all his scrawny non-glory. And she had seen his scars... This time he did face-palm. If there was any better way he could have graphically demonstrated how much he wasn't a proper squire and was just a menial servant pretending to be what he had dreamed of, he'd like to know it. No wonder she couldn't wait to run away from him! She must have been repulsed by him, disgusted by the evidence of his punishments, not all of which were earned and not all of which were for him anyway. But the Heir to Berk wouldn't know and couldn't care anyway. He ran his shaking hands through his sodden hair and groaned. 

Face it, Haddock. That kiss-such as it was-is the closest you'll ever get to the Princess. When you get her home, she'll be married to some nobleman who will rule Berk and you-well, if you're lucky, they'll just throw you into the dungeon and throw away the key. Otherwise, they'll execute you out of hand. But he looked up and sighed. Despite that, I have to get her home. It's the last thing I can do for Dad and our family honour. If I am to be the last Haddock serving the crown of Berk, I won't let it end with failure. And they may kill me for no good reason, but I won't fail Dad-not this last time. 

So he finished his wash, found his tunic-which had gotten muddy-and dragged it on, then headed back for the camp, wondering what he would find. What he wasn't expecting was Astrid, talking to Toothless and inexpertly trying to roast two fish over the fire. He could already see they were too close to the flames and would burn-but what was more interesting was that Toothless had a pile of fish in front of him and was eating them happily, the sight warming Hiccup's heart. He could appreciate everything the dragon had suffered-loss of family, imprisonment, hunger, cruelty...and to see him free, back with his eggs and eating heartily brought a smile to his face.

Astrid looked up when he arrived and smiled at him, especially as he adjusted the placement of the fish and boiled them both some water for mint tea. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have disturbed you. I shouldn't have stared..." He blushed and stared at the fire.

"Um...it was probably my fault, Highness," he said awkwardly. "I should have waited until you woke so you wouldn't have needed to come looking for me." She accepted the cup of tea he handed her and sipped to cover her embarrassment. Her teaching in etiquette should have stopped her intruding and certainly should have stopped her staring. "So...we should make it out of the Forest by noon and then we will need to be careful because the Berserkers are only interested in the Berserkers...and their Lord, Dagur 'the Deranged', may not treat you as he should..."

"I've met Dagur," Astrid commented, "but my father never considered him a possible suitor, Our intelligence reports indicate he enjoys fighting and hunting...with human prey, not animal. He would never be a man we would consider as suitable to rule Berk." She sighed. "I think he took offence that his application to woo me was rejected by my father. I really would prefer to avoid him."

"Agreed," Hiccup replied, recalling the couple of occasions where he had encountered the insane Berserker when he had been Heir to his Honour...and taken great glee in tormenting the skinny son of the honoured Commander Haddock for fun. Because he would never have shamed his father by revealing his suffering, Hiccup had endured in silence-but some of the scars Astrid had seen by the river were Dagur's. A chittering broke them both from dark thoughts and they looked up-to see Sharpshot and Sneaky steal one of the fish from the fire and take it to the far side of the cave mouth, tearing it apart and sharing it between them. 

"HEY!" Astrid yelled but Hiccup rested his hand on her arm, a small smile on his lips. 

"It's okay, Milady," he said gently, smiling at their eager chittering. "They can have it. I'll have some jerky instead..." She stared at him in shock, then grabbed the remaining fish and skilfully bisected it, handing half to her protector.

"Oh no, mister skinny squire," she told him firmly. "If I feed you any less, you may vanish completely. We can both have some yak jerky as a second course!" He swallowed and looked up, then nodded.

"Thank you, Highness," he said in a touched voice. "It really is okay, though. You deserve the better food..."

"And have my sole protector keeling over for lack of food? What kind of Princess would I be then?" she asked him and he dipped his head, a small smile lifting his lips.

"A normal one," he said.

They set out not much later with the Terrible Terrors and Toothless accompanying them. But when the edge of the forest came into view and the trees thinned, the dragons stopped and Hiccup slid from Fury's back, preparing to say his final goodbye to the dragon that had saved his life.

"I'll never forget you," he said in a tight voice as the hugged the dragon. "Don't forget me, okay? But... I would have loved to see your babies..."

Toothless had crooned gently and stood with the Terrors perched on his head as the two riders trotted slowly away, the auburn-haired would-be squire looking back with longing and regret as he said a silent goodbye to the last Night Fury. And then they broke through the tree line and the dragon vanished from view. Ahead of them was an expanse of heathland, with gorse and bracken riven by narrow sheep tracks. Tough tussock grass poked up in patches on the uneven terrain and the two riders sighed. There was a cold northerly breeze and the scudding grey clouds promised rain as they pulled their cloaks around them and head south along the line of the forest, heading for the border with Berk.

They had only ridden for maybe a half hour when the sound of horns echoed through the low hills that rose to their right. Glancing up, Hiccup saw a line of riders top the rise, armed and ready and he stared closer. Then his head snapped round to look at Astrid.

"RIDE!" he shouted. "They're looking for you!" 

"How...?"

"Dagur...and Eret!" he told her briskly, kicking Fury's flanks and she hastened to drive Stormfly into a gallop, as fast as they could away from the hunters. The horns rang out again, more urgent and the low thunder of hoofbeats began, growing louder as the pursuit began. Hiccup on Fury accelerated but matched his speed to the blue roan mare, seeing her galloping at full speed, Astrid low over the saddle. The pursuers were spread our, some remaining on the rise, the rest descending to the heath and racing after them. Hiccup kept his eyes on the trail, picking the best way through the uneven tussock grass, knowing a rabbit hole could spell doom. The little sheep trails were erratic and here and there, deep ditches filled with tiny streams cut across the way. But up ahead, the line of the forest swung treacherously round to bar their path, squeezing the heathland gap between the trees and the north-south rise to a narrow strip. Frantically, his eyes searched the tree line to see if there was any path or way in-but the line of firs and brambles looked impenetrable. 

"Hiccup!" Astrid gasped and he looked up where she was pointing: the riders on the ridge had pulled ahead of them and were speeding down the slope to block their escape. The hooves behind were closing and he looked into her face, seeing azure eyes wide with sudden despondency. She could read the situation as well as he could.

"Head for the trees," he shouted. "You could go by foot and I..."

"Will get killed!" she snapped, slowing to a canter as the men ahead drew their swords or trained bows on them. "It's done, Hiccup."

"NO!" he shouted in frustration. "Thor damn it! I..."

"SURRENDER!" a familiar voice bellowed and the lead pursuer, a man on a large grey high-spirited horse with black tack pulled up behind them, his short carrot red hair and trimmed beard framing a broad face with hooked nose and pale green eyes. There were three pale scars vertically across his left eye-socket and he wore a sumptuous black fur-lined cloak, a heavy chain of office around his neck. "Or I kill you for trespassing in my lands!" Astrid wheeled round, her eyes flashing in anger.

"This is the main road across the northern kingdoms, Lord Dagur, and free passage is guaranteed for all!" she snapped. His eyes widened in mock surprise as his horse walked forward, stopping mere feet from Stormfly.

"Princess Astrid!" he said slyly. "Just what is the Heir of Berk doing in my humble demesne?" Lifting her chin, Astrid flicked her braid over her left shoulder.

"I am heading home after a series of unfortunate events..." she explained coolly. "My squire here is escorting me back to the main road and..."

"And that will never do!" Dagur exclaimed, his eyes locked predatorily on the Princess. "I absolutely insist you come back to my castle, Astrid. I must offer you hospitality, a warm bath, food and then a proper escort back to your destination!" His eyes trailed back to the tense shape of Hiccup, his gauntleted hands tight on the reins as he tried to ignore the arrows pointed at his body. "Hmm...doesn't look up to much."

"Squire Haddock is the finest..." Astrid began hotly but Dagur suddenly began to chuckle.

"Haddock? Haddock? You mean this skinny excuse for a squire is Hiccup?" he scoffed. "Brother! Good to see you!"

"Feeling is anything but mutual," Hiccup muttered under his breath, his emerald gaze intense. 

"Isn't he adorable when he pouts?" Dagur asked to no one in general. "No funny business or I turn you-and the lovely Astrid-into a pin cushion! Understand?" Hiccup nodded, his eyes rebellious. "And to make sure no one gets any ideas, my friend will take her reins...just to make sure." He gestured and a familiar jet-haired shape walked forward on his dark charger, leaning forward to grab the reins pointedly. "You know my friend, Lord Eret?"

Astrid glared. "We've met," she said in an arctic voice. Eret gave his self-confident smile.

"I have no idea how you got away from Alvin de Traitre, Princess, but you are not getting away from me now," the northerner hissed, his dark eyes cold and threatening. "And you didn't have the boy with you...and there certainly wasn't a Squire Haddock in the Berk knights when I was there." He leaned closer. "I think there is a story here, Highness-and I will find out who this boy is-and then we can dispose of him."

"I'll watch you eat your own entrails!" Astrid hissed angrily as Eret jerked on the reins and started Stormfly walking alongside his own mount.

"Hardly a healthy diet," he commented smugly. "So you care for the boy, hmm? Now I really want to hear this tale-before we take you back north-to your new husband." He smiled. "Did you think I was your suitor, Princess? I am afraid you are mistaken. Your husband will be...Count Drago."

oOo

"Do they think we're stupid?" Tuff nut commented angrily, as he, his sister and Fishlegs rode north along the border of the Dragon Forest.

"Don't answer-it's a trick question!" Ruff hissed at the husky squire and Fishlegs sighed. He had been hurt when the others had sniggered at him and Meatlug and told them basically they were too slow and were holding the more important squires up. So they and the twins had been dispatched to see if they could catch the Princess coming from the forest-even when the squires didn't believe the fugitives had gone anywhere near the trees. 

"They've sent us on a fool's errand because they recognise we don't share their enthusiasm for capturing and threatening the Princess and maiming Hiccup," Fishlegs said. "But it makes sense that he actually has gone into the Dragon Forest. After all, he has a dragon..."

"And it would make pursuit almost impossible," Ruff admitted. "No one in their right mind would go in there..."

"OOOH! Are we going into the forest? I hope I get eaten...or chewed a little..." Tuff said excitedly as his twin rolled her eyes.

"And...I rest my case..." she sighed.

"We need to hug the perimeter and look for two horses emerging...and see if we can offer our help," Fishlegs said. "And Ruff? Can you stop your brother riding stupidly into the Forest? No matter what Viggo thinks, there are dragons within..."

And to illustrate the point, a shattering roar sounded to their right and the three riders shared a suddenly worried glance.

"Oh dear..." Fishlegs whimpered as he heard a loud rustling and the snapping of branches in the trees. "RIDE FOR IT!"

oOo

Four steps forward, four steps back...Hiccup paced the tiny cell he had been put in ceaselessly, mind in turmoil. Despite very effort he had put in, ever danger he had braved, they had been caught and Astrid was in the hands of Dagur and Eret...and there was nothing that he could do. He was a prisoner as well...and there was no chance he would get out soon. The guards were alert, wickedly armed and patrolled regularly. Eventually, he slumped onto the small mat on the floor that was the only bedding on offer.

Dagur really likes his prisoners to suffer, he thought darkly, resting back against the wall. I wonder what he has planned for me?

He had been given a kind of thin gruel with no spoon, just a rough bowl and he had eaten it because he was hungry, but the stuff was foul. Then he sat back, waiting as he heard the patrolling guards talking.

"Latest bout was good. Rjodr slaughtered the opponent. Man, he's a machine! Hope Dagur has another fight soon-I made a pocketful of kronor on the last one!"

"Yeah-but there aren't many who'll give him a fight, Hrolf. We just gotta hope the new prisoners give us some sport and maybe a couple will be worth putting up against the champion. Or that masked southerner, Krogan, comes back. He killed a unit of men before he bailed. He may be a contender." They paused outside Hiccup's cell and stared at him. "But this skinny boy isn't gonna be one."

And there we are. Thor loves playing with my life and now I guess I'll be thrown into whatever sick games Dagur is playing. From what Astrid was saying, Dagur enjoys watching fights...and from experience, I guess they are to the death.

Then he slumped back down and waited...until the guards came to collect him. He had been searched very thoroughly and his weapons and leather armour had been taken from him, leaving him in his borrowed tunic and leggings and his own belt and boots. But surrounded by armoured and armed guards, he felt vulnerable...especially when he recalled the not-fun times he had spent with Dagur as a boy. He was also worried about Astrid and so it was with a surge of relief that he saw her, bathed and gowned in a flattering dark blue gown, sitting alongside a jet-haired green-eyed woman of similar years that Hiccup guessed was Dagur's sister, Lady Heather. The Princess was  poised and cool-but her azure eyes lit up with relief as she glimpsed the tall, lean shape and she began to rise from her seat before she mastered herself and  settled back down, though Dagur and Heather noted the gesture.

"Ah-here comes the entertainment!" the Berserker Lord announced, gesturing to the prisoner and Hiccup's emerald eyes flicked up warily. 

"My Lord Dagur may be disappointed if he expects much," he said evenly. "My skills with the lute are lacking, my voice is poor and I only know some rather salty ditties...and I cannot clog dance at all." Astrid had to bite her lip not to smile at his sarcastic announcement, even though it cost him a fist to the back by one of his escorts.

"Now Eret and I know you aren't a knight, Hiccup," Dagur announced, sipping from his goblet. He peered at the almost empty space and waved it wildly until a serving boy hastily refilled it with amber mead. "But you have had some training. So we'll give you a chance to prove yourself." He gestured as a very burly guard stepped forward, his wide face twisted in a very nasty smile. "Eyvind here is a champion with the sword." He waved and a sword-Hiccup recognised his own, plain weapon-was thrown carelessly onto the floor between the two men. Simultaneously, his escort backed away to stand by the walls, leaving the two men facing each other on the flagged floor, between the dining table and the huge fireplace. "The one who doesn't die, wins!"

"WHAT?" Astrid snapped. "I protest, Lord Dagur. This man is part of my retinue and I must insist..."

"INSIST?" Dagur roared, leaping to his feet. "You are in no position to insist anything, bitch! You should be on your knees thanking me I'm not ravishing you myself..." Her eyes widened in shock as he visibly calmed himself and sat back down. "But I value Count Drago's friendship and he wants you...unspoilt." He sipped his mead. "And cut the 'retinue' crap. This boy is a drudge, thrown out of the apprentices because his old man's a traitor. If I killed him, I would be saving your precious Daddy a job!"

"Why don't you check with him if he wants me back?" she replied bitingly.

"Because I don't want to!" Dagur sneered. "Now why am I not seeing fighting! I've had my meat-now I want blood!"

Astrid opened her mouth but a light hand landed on her arm and Heather leaned close to her, shaking her head slightly.

"He has a temper and impulse control," the woman said in a low voice. "Let him calm down and have his fun. Otherwise, he could hurt you."

"But Hiccup..." she breathed and the girl sighed and shook her head. 

"My Lady, you must be mindful of your own safety," Heather murmured discreetly. "The boy is just a menial, an imposter. You are the Heir to Berk. You have to look out for your own safety."

No, that's his job, she thought, biting her lip. Just as looking out for him is mine. She closed her eyes to calm her temper. Freya, how come this skinny boy has come to mean so much to me? But he does. So please...let him live. Let him not be harmed.  And she nodded. 

"Thank you," she forced herself to say, though little escaped Heather's astute gaze.

"You care for him?" she guessed and Astrid start stonily ahead, neither confirming nor denying the question. The Berserker Lady dabbed her mouth neat with her napkin and sighed. "You know it would never work out? He's a menial and you are the Heir."

I know that. It's just...my heart doesn't seem to be listening.

Hiccup backed away as Eyvind advanced, never taking his eyes from the burly guard who brandished his sword cockily. Hiccup's hands were empty, his sword still lying a few feet from the guard.

Yeah...and this tunic isn't especially sword-proof either, he thought grimly, never taking his emerald eyes from the man's face. Dad always said the watch the eyes for the clue to an attack. And Gobber has been training me ever since Dad died. And he has also been teaching me some more unorthodox moves. Which is handy since this guy doesn't look like he's keen to play by the rules...

He dived forward under a slash and grabbed his sword, rolling sideways and missing the backswing by inches before he rolled to his feet, half crouched with his sword raised and other arm half-extended for balance. Suddenly, Eyvind threw himself forward, the sword slamming repeatedly against the swift but solid defence the Hiccup raised. A booted foot swiped out, narrowly missing Hiccup's knee and the young man darted back, ducking under a slash at his head. Eyvind bellowed, clearly annoyed that his best move had failed and swiftly, Hiccup was up, launching a fast and accurate attack, his sword cutting across the man's hand, thigh and shoulder before he dodged back.

"At last! Some blood!" Dagur yelled. "Somebody kill someone already!"

Come on Hiccup! I have faith in you. Astrid eyes were fixed on the lean, auburn-haired shape and she winced as a stray blow cut into his right arm. He hissed in pain and stumbled back, then regrouped and traded blows with the burly guard. He guessed the man would outlast him on stamina and was certainly heavier-but Hiccup was faster and-he hoped-more determined. So he dodged and ducked under blows, dancing around the man and cutting the back of his sword-arm and finally slapping the sword aside. Eyvind reached for his dagger but the imposter leapt round and dug the tip of his sword into the man's throat.

"Yield!" he commanded and the man's eyes opened wide. The dagger dropped from his suddenly nerveless hands, cold sweat standing out on his shocked face. The room fell silent.

"Kill him," Dagur commanded. 

"He is defeated," Hiccup told him levelly. "It's enough." A knight kills only to protect the weak and in self-defence. He does not kill for sport or revenge. 

Dagur rose slowly, walking menacingly behind the young man until he was standing at his shoulder. "Are you refusing an order?" he breathed. Hiccup never moved, the tip of his sword still dug hard into Eyvind's throat.

"He has yielded," Hiccup insisted. Breathing hard, Dagur walked around behind his own defeated man and sighed.

"The rules are to the death," he explained and shoved Eyvind forward. Hiccup's eyes widened in horror as his sword impaled the man, the final gasp loud in the silence. He pulled the sword back to allow the man to slump to the floor, his face appalled, before his emerald eyes looked up at Dagur's smug face.

"That wasn't necessary," he breathed, his anger and disgust momentarily overwhelming his sanity. "You murdered him!" Dagur's face hardened.

"No," he said. "You did, Hiccup. And the penalty for murder of an unarmed man...is to fight to the death in my arena!" He gestured. "Take him away!"