Chapter Sixteen:

Astrid lay on the bed in her 'guest room' in Bazerk Castle, the bars on the window and lock on the door a cruel mockery of her status as Heir to Berk. The weather had taken a turn for the worse and a storm had roared in from the north, trapping Astrid in the castle and preventing Eret and his party from setting out north towards the lands of Count Drago. Of course, she had quartered the room but unlike the Outcast castle, Dagur was taking no chances. In fact, she was treated very much like a prisoner and she knew the moment the weather broke, she was doomed. Her only hope was Hiccup.

When the door opened, she looked up warily-and was relieved to see Heather. The Berserker Heir-her brother was unmarried with no children-was the most normal person in Bazerk and at least she treated Astrid like an equal. Heather's jet hair was in a loose braid over her left shoulder and she was dressed in an armoured skirt, tunic, leggings and boots and she carried similar garb for Astrid.

"I thought you would appreciate a change of scenery," she said calmly, her green eyes amused. "I am aware that you have had martial training-as have I. I thought maybe we could spar?" Astrid's eyes lit up: being cooped up was driving her mad and if she was out of her room, at least she could scout the castle and that may give her some tiny hint of how she could escape. She nodded.

"What weapon do you prefer?" she asked. Heather grinned.

"Axes," she admitted as Astrid's face betrayed her astonishment-and delight. "I take it you were trained in the traditional weapons as well?"

"I insisted," the Princess admitted, rapidly unbuttoning her gown and shimmying out, then pulling on an azure tunic, leather above knee skirt and grey-blue leggings before pulling on her own riding boots. "I am the Heir and no matter what stupid tradition says, I will not sit back and let everyone else protect me."

"Except that skinny young man," Heather guessed and Astrid blushed.

"He's...no one," she lied.

"And yet you worry for him," she teased the Princess. Astrid flicked her own braid over her shoulder.

"A Lord should care for his bonded men as they care of him," she quoted. Heather burst into laughter.

"Really?" she giggled and Astrid smiled.

"Not always-but Hiccup is loyal, brave and very determined," she admitted. "He rescued me from Outcast...and he doesn't deserve what your brother plans for him." The other woman stiffened and then she nodded.

"My brother is the Lord of Bazerk," she said flatly, her eyes warning the woman that they were probably being eavesdropped. "He does as he will." Fists clenching, Astrid nodded, not trusting herself to say more. And then she realised: they would be able to talk much more freely when they were sparring, because no one would be able to get close enough to listen in to their conversation.

"Lead on, Lady Heather," she said. "I look forward to our match!"

oOo

Hiccup sat back against the cold wall of his cell, his arm bound with the most rudimentary of bandages and his thoughts black. The fact that Dagur had killed a subdued enemy...used Hiccup to kill the man...ate at him like a canker, for it had been cruel and unnecessary. The man had yielded and he was beaten-but Dagur had wanted to see a death. He covered his face with his hands, choking breaths shaking through him. Throughout every minute of every day, he had tried his best, attempting every task with a good heart and doing everything he could not to shame his father's memory and live up to the Chivalric Code. Hiccup could not control what others did, only himself...but he realised that if he didn't fight to the death, Dagur would kill him...and the opponent anyway.

Thor, is that what you finally planned for me? he thought desperately. I know I have failed Astrid...and Dad...but is this it? All that hardship and toil and pain...to die in Dagur's arena, fighting for the amusement of a madman? Please tell me that isn't the grand plan because... And he curled up, wrapping his arms around his legs and hugging them to his chest. Because I can't do this. Don't make me become a man who kills for others' sport. At least leave the last shreds of my self-worth.

"Boy! Master Haakon wants you to watch the champion, Rjodr and see what you will be up against!"

Hiccup shivered and then nodded dumbly, scrambling to his feet. There were in fact three guards, all armed and larger than him and with no obvious way out and no plan, he obediently followed them while trying to note the way, allowing himself to be pushed into a different cell with bars at both ends-one end opening onto the passage and the guards and the other...onto the Arena.

The space was a large bowl with eight foot stone walls below the stands where banks of stone seats rose in ordered rows to the metal-chain roof, half already occupied by guards and men who were jeering and wagering and calling to the sellers of sweetmeats. The floor was of compacted dirt to absorb the blood spilled and just opposite, Hiccup could see a canopy and there were arrayed padded and comfortable seats for the Lord of Bazerk and his honoured guests. And while he watched, Dagur emerged with Eret and the stands exploded into roars as the challenger walked out-a buff and very muscular man carrying a short battle-axe in each hand. And then another cage to Hiccup's right opened and a huge shape in armour emerged. A huge blank helmet enclosed his head and his bare arms bulged with muscles. His enormously powerful shape was sheathed in a leather tunic and kilt, sturdy boots covering his feet.

Despite himself, Hiccup moved to the bars and peered through, watching the man silently face his opponent, knowing the unseen eyes would be assessing the brash contender, seeing his arrogant motions and the gaps in his defence. A huge sword swung up as Dagur nodded.

"FIGHT!" he commanded and the masked fighter, Rjodr, lunged forward, battering the man back. Confidence rapidly vanished and the cocky expression melted into concentration and then rising panic. The axes slammed round, over and over but the sword was always there, blocking them until first one and then the second was knocked from sweaty hands. And before the opponent could even beg for his life, Rjodr swung his sword round, the rip of flesh unheard in the eruption of cheers that exploded from the audience as the kill happened. Breathing hard, Rjodr silently turned away and walked back to his cage, not even stopping for the plaudits for the crowd.

Hiccup stared in shock at the corpse and his mind reran over the merciless execution, instinctively backing away from the bars and breathing hard. There was no hope he could beat that man, no way he could overcome such a huge and vicious opponent. He slid down to sit on his heels, his head in his hands.

He was doomed.

oOo

The clash of metal filled the small training yard and the two young women circled each other, axes poised. Astrid narrowed her eyes as she saw Heather feint then slice at her side. Dodging, she blocked, spun and slashed back, hitting the jet-haired girl's two-headed axe. They were trading blows, each light on her feet and athletic until Heather swept Astrid's feet away and she looked up into the laughing green eyes of the Berserker Heir, the axe resting against her neck.

"I win!" Heather laughed, pulling the axe away and offering her hand. Astrid eagerly accepted and got up, dusting herself down and retrieving her weapon.

"Again?" she asked and Heather grinned at her.

"You have no idea how refreshing it is to be able to spar with someone who isn't afraid to scratch me for fear of being executed," she sighed. The Princess smiled.

"Actually, I do," she admitted and rested her axe against Heather's. "How come I never saw you on visits?" Heather swatted her axe aside but Astrid kept her guard firm and watched her.

"Dagur doesn't really like me leaving Bazerk," she said as she slashed half-heartedly at Astrid. "He's kind of over-protective..."

"I had a younger brother, Finn, who was the Heir," Astrid said calmly, launching a solid attack. "And while he was around, I could play with the page boys and apprentices and ride and do everything I wanted..." Then her voice dropped. "When I was ten, a plague swept through Berk. Many died. Among them were my Mom...and Finn."

Heather lowered her axe, eyes wide with sudden sympathy. "I'm sorry," she gasped. Astrid shrugged, lifting her axe automatically.

"Odin decreed it so here we are," she said flatly. "So I stopped being Astrid and became the Heir to Berk. My father wouldn't consider remarrying so I was his only option for Berk. Everything I ever enjoyed or wanted or dreamed about was stopped. Berk became everything and I did my duty...but Thor, I would have given my arm for someone in the same position, someone to talk to other than arrogant asses like Eret or Viggo who want a wedding to Berk for the throne or idiot knights who go drinking the night before we go hunting and let that treacherous slime arrange for my kidnapping!"

Her voice rose during her diatribe and she slammed Heather's axe away, sweeping her legs away and digging her axe into the girl's neck. Heather looked up, wide-eyed.

"Wow," she said. "I surrender!" Astrid stood back, breathing hard, and offered Heather her hand.

"Sorry," she said contentedly. "But I guess I really needed to get that off my chest." The other Heir grinned.

"Best two of three?" she offered and Astrid flipped her axe up into her hand with the toe of her boot.

"At least!" she smiled as Heather took up her stance once more.

"Eret really kidnapped you?" she asked and Astrid's smile vanished.

"No-he arranged for Alvin to kidnap me once he had led me away from my escort party that he had given three barrels of aged mead to the night before we went hunting!" she snapped. "And I know it was their fault but the only person who did his job was Hiccup-and he was expelled from the apprentices three years ago!"

They traded blows.

"Why? Was he dishonest? Not very good? A troublemaker?" Heather asked and Astrid backed up a step, breathing hard.

"No-he was one of the best," she revealed. "But his father gave his life in our service and some others took advantage to tarnish his honour. They then used that to ruin Hiccup."

Heather lowered her axe.

"Thor, that's terrible," she said and Astrid nodded.

"He was tricked into standing in for a treacherous squire who wanted to spend time with my maid, not me," Astrid growled. "But Hiccup came after me and got me out of the Outcasts' hands. And he protected me all the way through...until here."

"My brother is courting Count Drago's favour because only a fool would seek to be his enemy," Heather told the blonde and lifted her axe again. "So if Drago wants you..."

"Why should I be sold like a prize yak?" Astrid snapped, attacking the other girl in a fury. "I never asked for any of this and that you people are going to take me to Drago like a-a slave and kill Hiccup is wrong!"

Heather fought back, equally vigorously. "And we have to do what is best for the Berserkers," she snapped.

"And being our allies-my allies-wouldn't be an option?" Astrid argued. Heather momentarily lowered her gaze.

"I think it may be too late for that," she said quietly. "But I wish-I really wish we had met before this. Because it would have been nice to have a friend."

"You can still be my friend, Heather," Astrid asked her, spinning under a slash. "Thor knows-I need one..." But the jet-haired girl looked unhappy.

"I-I would love that..." she admitted. "But I don't know what I can do..." Astrid launched another attack, the clang of metal louder and swifter than ever.

"Just...don't let Drago take me." Astrid said. Heather swallowed and opened her mouth but Astrid swatted her axe aside, before powerfully throwing Heather and resting the axe over her heart.

"I-I think it's too late," the Berserker said with a genuine apology in her green eyes. Astrid lowered her axe and her shoulders slumped. If she couldn't persuade Heather to help her, then both she and her friend were doomed.

"Then at least see what you can do for Hiccup," she sighed. "It's the least he deserves."

oOo

"Well, that could have gone better," Fishlegs commented as they huddled in the little shelter they had made under the thick bank of spruce, trying to shelter from the driving sleet.

"What do you mean, dude?" Tuff asked, poking the fire. "It went awesomely!"

"We were chased by a whole flock of dragons...or was it one big dragon?" Ruff asked her brother as the husky squire sighed.

"Both," he admitted. "We thought it was a large and fierce dragon but then when it saw us panicking, it split into like a hundred smaller dragons!" He stared up at the shapes perched amid the branches. "They act as a gestalt organism under the leadership of the white one..." And he looked at the small white dragon, sitting on Tuff's shoulder.

"Smidvarg," Tuff corrected him happily, offering him a piece of yak jerky. With a chitter, the dragon delicately ate it and chirped to his flock. Suddenly, there were a dozen black versions of Smidvarg, surrounding Tuff and begging expertly.

"Mutton-head-we told you not to feed them!" Ruff grumbled, shooing a couple more away from the boar they had shot and were roasting over the fire. "Last time you fed one, they picked your pack clean-and we need what we can get! The weather's still horrible and we can't just ride up to Bazerk and ask for shelter!"

"Especially not since we found the trail of a pair of riders coming out of the forest...until they were intercepted by a hunting party that led back to the Castle," Fishlegs added. "I think the Princess and Hiccup have been captured by Lord Dagur, who isn't much of a friend to Berk."

"So what do we do next?" Ruff asked, watching her brother raid her bag for scraps for the dragon. "Please say we have to go somewhere so we have to leave the dragons behind? Please?"

The husky squire looked across at her and nodded, poking the fire and having a sip of water from his waterskin. He was fairly excited because he had geeked out on dragons when he was younger, secretly hoping-as many young boys did-that he could find and befriend one of the legendary flying beasts. And though the dragons they had encountered were not as large and impressive as he had hoped, it was still a thrill to encounter the rare beasts-especially since he hadn't seen any pictures of the type of dragons that were sitting above them, forming a living rainproof roof above the three squires.

"We need to make our way towards Bazerk, so we can at least watch to see if the Princess is taken away," he decided. "Dagur's suit for her was rejected but we are pretty far north and Berserker lands border those of Count Drago." The twins leaned forward, both listening.

"We'll need a disguise," Tuff suggested. "Maybe strolling players-with our flock of performing..."

"NO!" Fishlegs snapped.

"Perhaps livestock merchants with our amazingly rare flock of..."

"NO!"

"How about as legendary herpetologists and their flock of flying..."

"What part of 'NO!' don't you understand?" Fishlegs asked grumpily.

"Er...all of it?" Tuff tried with a smile. "Okay-Smidvarg and the gang will stay here while we go undercover..."

Fishlegs stared at him.

"Did he just get the point of the mission?" he asked Ruff and she shrugged.

"He can focus occasionally," she said, her tone a little defensive of her brother. "Just not very often..."

"Okay, I'll disguise myself as a blushing bride and you, Fishlegs can be my new husband with Butt-Elf here as my sour excuse for a sister..." Tuff carried on, his hands gesturing was he described his plan. The husky squire closed his eyes.

"Oh dear..." he murmured. It was going to be a long trip.

oOo

The creak of the door dragged Hiccup from his doze in his new, cold cell. They had closed a wooden door over the barred entrance to the arena but the draught underneath was icy and there were goosebumps on his skin. He had thoroughly checked the cell, though he found no possible escape-and even if he could open the door, he would find himself in the Arena. They also hadn't fed him and he was hungry and thirsty but he scrambled up when the guards gestured with their pikes, keen to avoid being struck-at least without good reason. But they shoved him on, past cells and through a wide door into the arena.

The cold hit him like a slap and he shivered, then shook himself, lifted his chin and walked forward, eyes locked onto the shapes sitting in the Royal Box. The menacing shape of Dagur was there, leaning forward and chatting to Eret but his eyes were drawn to the slender blonde shape clothed in a borrowed deep blue gown and his heart sped up a little. Astrid was safe-still a prisoner but apparently unhurt-and he was rewarded as her eyes widened and a definite look of relief covered her beautiful face as she stared at him. There was even a small smile and his heart lifted, even though he knew he wasn't standing in the arena just for fun.

"Well, here's the next bout...and I thought you would enjoy watching this, Princess, since you seem to be fond of your servant..." Dagur said scornfully. Immediately, Hiccup knew he had to prove the man wrong and wipe the smirk off his face...though when the next man stomped into the arena, he realised the size of the challenge.

"I am certain that he will perform admirably," the Princess said, her cool tone toughening Hiccup' resolve. Eret snorted and made a comment that Hiccup couldn't hear...but his attention was drawn to the huge stump of a man who was walking confidently towards him. He was fully the equal in Alvin in height, topping Hiccup by half a head, but was three times as wide as the lean young man, his bulging muscles gleaming in the dull chilly afternoon. Small dark eyes swept over the skinny shape and the man threw back his head and laughed.

"This is hardly a challenge!" he scoffed. "How am I to get any practice in for Rjodr?"

"Just kill him, already!" Dagur shouted and the guards threw two swords down in the centre of the arena and then retreated. Hiccup glanced up, realising a second too late that there was no starting bell. The opponent lunged forward and grabbed both swords, grinning yellowly as he faced the unarmed imposter along the length of the blades.

"This is gonna be a short match," he sneered and swiped at Hiccup, but the former squire leapt back, eyes reading the man's overconfident face and anticipating every attack. Every time he missed, the man cursed more floridly and his swipes and cuts became wilder and angrier-until he lifted the swords and tried to chase Hiccup down-but he dodged aside, spinning under a blow and ducking behind the man. Without hesitating, he landed a hard kick into the man's side and again, the bellow of pain from his opponent accompanied by the soft thud of a sword falling from his grip. Hiccup shoved him forward and snatched the weapon before retreating, breathing hard and keeping his gaze locked on the sweaty face.

"Go on, Hiccup! I believe in you!" Astrid yelled and the young man backed up.

"Hiccup?" the opponent scoffed. "What in Helheim is that?"

"You're looking at him," he replied, blocking the blow at his head and trading a series of furious blows with the man. He was a competent swordsman, not the equal of Gobber-or his father-and Hiccup had sparred for years with both and was well able to fend the man off. But the opponent started to use his weight to push the young man back, his dark eyes darting around for a chance to try his dark arts. Hiccup avoided the kicked clod of soil and the kick at his ankle-but a hand grabbed his left wrist-which held the sword-and hauled him close.

"You trying to make me look a fool, boy?" the opponent growled, the grip very painful. Hiccup head-butted him and staggered back, his head spinning, though the man bellowed like a wounded yak and released him. Blood was smeared over his brow from the impact though his sword still skimmed Hiccup's waist as the younger man pulled free. Turning away, Hiccup ran across the arena-and the opponent lumbered after him, his sword raised.

"You can do that on your own," the Imposter said, turning back to face the man, launching a fast and accurate attack, his left-handed style confusing the man and marking his arm and waist. But in response, he slammed his fist into Hiccup's middle and the young man staggered back, legs buckling from the bone-crushing blow. A vicious kick knocked him sideways and he rolled on the ground, the sword spilling from his hand. The man loomed above him as he rolled to face up into the suffused features, eyes staring with rage and bloodlust.

"Yer girlie's gonna be disappointed, twig!" he sneered, lifting the sword high above the young man. Hiccup tensed, waiting for the sword to reach its zenith. But as it plunged down, he swiftly rolled to his left, feeling the brush of air as the blade missed his torso by an inch and his hand closed on the hilt of his weapon. Rolling back, he snapped the blade out of the larger man's hand-as his own blade slammed up deep into the man's gut.

There was a moment of silence and Hiccup only then realised the crowd had been roaring and cheering every move, every blow and every twist and turn. There was a look of shock and astonishment on the opponent's face.

I don't even know his name, Hiccup realised dimly as the man staggered backwards, his hands pressed to the wound which still had the sword sticking out. I have just killed a man and I can't even call him by name in Valhalla. There was red welling from the rent around the man's hands and the opponent took a shaky, astonished gasp.

"But...you're just a twig..." he choked as blood bubbled up in his mouth and he pitched backwards.

Breathing hard, Hiccup warily got to his feet, eyes never leaving the fallen opponent until he realised the man was limp, staring eyes showing he had lost his grip on the fight-and on life itself. Then, he slowly looked up at Dagur and the Berserker Lord gave a roar of excitement.

"I KNEW IT!" he shouted. "I knew that boy couldn't get the Princess here without having some skills-or enormous luck!"

Oh, I have luck-all of it bad, Hiccup thought grimly as he walked slowly towards the Royal Box, offering a small nod to Astrid. And then Dagur got to his feet, smiling cruelly and tossed him a leather purse, bulging with coins.

"There you are," he said. "I knew you were worth it when you approached us with the plan."

There was a sudden, tense silence and Astrid's eyes snapped round to stare at her host-before turning accusingly towards the tall, auburn-haired shape in the arena.

"What?" Hiccup managed but Astrid was on her feet, glaring at him fiercely.

"What plan?" she demanded.

"The plan to bring you to me-in return for a chance to make his way in my service," Dagur said easily. "You know-young man, savagely wronged by your people, good skill set and the opportunity to make something of himself?" He stared at the Berk Heir and grinned. "You didn't fall for his 'woe is me' act, did you? He's a ruthless and determined man-as every squire is. And he sold you to me. Once he hit Reaper, he made his choice. Why do you think he brought you through the Forest? No one in his right mind would go through there-but we had agreed to meet away from the main road."

"H-Hiccup?" Astrid asked, her eyes wide and betrayed.

"It's not true," he said urgently. "Astrid, I swear..."

"I mean, the note he sent from Reaper was very clear," Dagur said. "He explained he had done everything to keep you safe-so he could bring you to me and earn my patronage..."

"Wha...? No!" Hiccup protested, his stomach doing flips of anxiety. Astrid's eyes flashed with betrayal, her anger at her imprisonment and general hopelessness boiling over at the only viable target.

"You know, you had me fooled," she snapped. "I suppose I should have believed my loyal squires when they warned me..."

"Hardly loyal," Hiccup shot back.

"And you?" she retorted. "Speaking Svellmal should have been the clue. NO ONE speaks it unless they are a traitor and a servant of the dark Count! And I was beginning to trust you, rely on you...care for you..."

His heart lurched then.

"Astrid!" he called but she turned away.

"It's Highness or Princess to you-menial!" she snapped. "I hope you're satisfied with your choice. Because if I ever see you again, I'll kill you myself!"