Chapter 22:

Thuggory Tete de Carne, Heir to the Meathead lands in Berk and would-be knight, was wondering if he could murder Snotlout and who, if anyone would care. They were hanging around the taverns of Bazerk, listening out for word of the Princess and Hiccup...and gaming. Despite Thuggery's concerns, Snotlout had no sense of urgency in locating Astrid and restoring his honour, preferring to eat, rest and do a little training rather than put the effort in to stand any chance of reclaiming his place as a squire. Spitelout had joined him from Reaper and was joining his son in enjoying himself, having almost given up on finding the Princess. And no one was watching the main road north.

He glanced around the tavern. Snotlout had three empty plates in front of him and was quaffing ale merrily with Dogsbreath and Halvard, Spitelout was out practising with his axe, the other squires were playing various games and no one but no one seemed even bothered that without the missing Astrid, they were wanted...or dead. With a huff of annoyance, he slammed his mug down and wiped his mouth, rising to his feet and stalking out.

"Someone can't take his mead!" came a raucous cry from one of the others and he shook his head as he emerged into the cold afternoon. It was close to dusk and guards on the town walls were preparing to bar the doors for the night-not that Berserkers feared attack, but there were thieves and outlaws who could cause problems for the less aggressive citizens. Absently, Thuggory kicked a beggar out of the way, not even pausing to stop and watch the blind man pitch into the muddy ground as he walked down towards the yard. The sky was washed with purple and orange as the guards paused in their winding of the portcullis down and a party cantered towards the doors, yelling for them to hold the gates. The squire glanced up-and then froze, automatically diving back into the shadows as the six horses slowed.

At the front was the unmistakeable shape of Princess Astrid, her golden braid gilded by the fading light and Thuggory stiffened as he saw the shape next to her. There was only one man that size with the full flaming beard: somehow, against all reason, Commander Haddock had returned. He scarcely registered the twins and Fishlegs as they swept by for his eye was drawn by the final member of the party: the skinny auburn-haired shape of Hiccup on the familiar black stallion that had been his horse before it was taken from him.

The party wheeled round and while the guards closed and barred the gates, a runner sped off towards the main castle as Astrid checked her party, leaning close to the Commander and then walking her horse along the main street after the runner. Casting one look at the retreating shapes, Thuggory put his head down and sprinted back towards the tavern.

Somehow, Astrid was back-and Hiccup was in the castle. Which meant they miraculously had a chance to silence him and save their skins...

oOo

Astrid had led her party into the Berserker throne room, feeling infinitely more relaxed than the previous time she had been here, even as the guards bowed low to the arriving Heir. At her shoulder stood the impressive shape of Commander Haddock, who was studiously ignoring the hostile glares from those who knew he was the man who had slain Dagur...though most did not connect the Berk Heir's knight and the famed anonymous arena champion. Lady Heather sitting bolt upright in the throne, clothed elegantly in a shimmering silver gown that was belted with emerald green silk. She wore a simple circlet on her jet hair that gleamed as she received the guests and she smiled as Astrid dropped a respectful curtsey to her. All Astrid's retinue dropped to one knee and remained still as Astrid rose, their heads bowed and left hands flat in the floor.

"Greetings, Princess Astrid," she said, trying to keep the smirk out of her voice. Astrid was also trying not to smile.

"Thank you, Lady Heather," she said and then the two burst into laughter, surging forward and hugging like old friends.

"I'm so glad your young protector rescued you," Heather murmured as they broke apart, her eyes flicking over the bowed shape of Hiccup. "Though you seem to have acquired some more personnel. Would you like to introduce them to me?" Astrid smiled and turned, facing her followers.

"Rise and at ease," she commanded, watching them put together an impressive display worthy of the fabled Berk Knights. No matter they were grimy and travel-worn, they all moved as one, backs straight and chins up. "Commander Stoick Haddock you know-the head of the Berk knights, lost on a mission and betrayed by his partner and your brother. The twins are Ruffnut-the girl-and Tuffnut-the boy. I believe they have been described as a force of nature and I suspect the people responsible for the complete chaos and demolition I witnessed in Nordlund." They nodded but wisely said nothing. "The other squire is Fishlegs Ingerman who has performed very solidly. And you recognise the final member of the group-Hiccup Haddock. My protector."

There was a range of gasps as the others stared at the skinny young man, his head still bowed. Heather smiled. "I'm glad you found him," she explained. "I sent him and his father off in your pursuit. He was hurt by your rejection, my friend. I assume you have ironed out any misunderstanding?" Astrid looked up in shock at her friend's perspicacity.

"I guess," she said uncertainly, still troubled by his withdrawal as soon as his father assumed command but Heather draped an arm reassuringly round her shoulders.

"I invite you all to my table," she said, gesturing to her steward. "I am dying to hear how you were rescued from Count Drago...and what has happened with our most powerful northern neighbour..."

But Hiccup hung back, feeling horribly self-conscious and every nerve on edge. His heart had sunk for Astrid knew he had no right to be there and so did Lady Heather and the squires. They at least had uniforms and dignity while he was acutely aware that he was dressed in stained and wrecked tunic, a scarf bound around his really painful shoulder and he looked like he had been trampled by an entire unit of knights. No one could mistake him for anything other than a menial.

They were taken to the fine dining hall, the fire roaring in the huge fireplace and hangings of the Berserker Crest and the shields of allies hanging form the high vaulted roof. Servants swarmed back and forth, bearing plate after plate of meats, breads, vegetables and sauces, bowing low to everyone-even him. He had managed to get a seat right at the end of the table, hunched and as inconspicuous as possible, thanking the servants politely because he knew by rights he should be among them. But worse-he was feeling lightheaded and aching, his vision slightly blurred and he guessed he was suffering from exhaustion and lack of food. He forced himself to eat, despite the fact he was feeling sick and he drank more water than he would normally to try to fill himself up.

But before the end, he crept out the side door and headed away. He just wanted to curl up and sleep, away from false plaudits and accusing eyes and people he knew would be judging him for being just a drudge.

Astrid noticed he was missing as the sweetmeats were brought round-delicate fruit tartlets and extravagant marchpane along with sweet wine and mead. Heather had been thrilled at the tales of their escapades and Astrid had needed Stoick to tell their side of the tale because Hiccup was at the far end of the table, curled up and uncommunicative. And she knew he hadn't forgiven her and she hadn't had the smallest chance to speak with him...and there was no prospect that Heather would release her friend any time soon.

So she had leaned towards Stoick as the meal drew to an end and asked him to find Hiccup and make sure he was okay. She had noted he had eaten little and she knew his shoulder wound hadn't been properly cleaned and bandaged. Silently nodding, the Commander rose and walked off in search of his son. He checked their assigned rooms and of course, they were empty so he then decided what to do next-and recalled where his son slept of preference when he was miserable or had been in trouble. He turned and headed for the stables.

oOo

Thuggory was prowling the castle with Dogsbreath, seeking Hiccup. Snotlout had refused flatly to come with them, saying that he didn't want to harm Hiccup-because it wouldn't make a difference. In fact, he argued that if the Commander was alive, the best they could do would be to own up to their failures and hope that he would set them hard punishments and demotion rather than execute them. And if Astrid returned alive and unharmed, Harild would be likely to be lenient if they were penitent.

But Thuggory wasn't willing to trust his fate to the lenience of the King and Hiccup's father when the young man's testimony could condemn him for dereliction of duty-which he was guilty of-no matter the conduct of the squires. He had to make sure that the young man couldn't incriminate Thuggory Tete de Carne. But Hiccup couldn't be allowed to die, because the King had decreed he had to be brought back alive...though Thuggery was determined to never let him speak again. And he knew that he had to find the young man, well away from the others and any help for the attack...

They were searching the stables, knowing from their time as his brothers-in-arms that the young man tended to sleep with Fury when away from the castle because he trusted the horse to protect him...but the two squires shrank back from their fell purpose at the sound of a set of heavy steps. They scarcely dared to breathe as the huge shape of Stoick Haddock stomped through the stables bearing a lantern and whistled, hearing Fury nicker and he headed directly for the stall. The two squires silently followed, peering behind the Commander into the straw-and seeing a shape curled under a cloak and a patched blanket. Stoick paused, then crouched down by the gently snoring auburn-haired shape.

"Son?" Stoick murmured gently, seeing the eyelids flicker. Hiccup's face was very pale and his emerald eyes were almost black with weariness. The young man tilted his head slightly.

"D-Dad?" he murmured.

"Why are you here, son?" the Commander asked softly. Hiccup sighed.

"Where I belong," he mumbled, closing his eyes again. But Stoick slid his arms under the exhausted shape, lifting the six foot skinny shape in his arms like the small boy he had been. Hiccup's eyes fluttered open, blearily staring up into the big face. "S'okay, Dad. You don't need t'worry..." Stoick smiled and shifted the young man in his arms, feeling the head loll against his chest.

"Worrying about you is my job, son," the Commander said gently, feeling his son instinctively snuggle his head against him. "You're exhausted, you're wounded and you're my son. I am going to make sure that you are safe. I failed you for three years but, by Thor, I won't fail you now." The watching squires retreated at the words, seeing their opportunity vanish...for now. Unaware, the father headed back to their assigned rooms, feeling his son relax in his arms. As he carried the young man, he realised Hiccup was much lighter than he should be, his cheek bones more prominent and jaw sharper from lack of food. Not that he had said a word to his father since he found him: Hiccup was stubborn and brave but as a father, Stoick wanted to take his son safely to his room and make sure he was warm and secure.

He gently rested Hiccup on the huge bed, removing his cloak, boots and ragged over-tunic and tucking the lean shape under the blankets. His threadbare tunic and leggings had Stoick wincing, seeing garments on the brink of rags, stained with blood from previous wounds. It made his stomach curl in shame and anger that his son should have been treated like this, that a boy who was loyal and brave and accomplished should be rejected so devastatingly and treated so poorly by the King that Stoick had sworn his loyalty to and almost given his life for. And anger ignited in his breast that the loyalty seemed to definitely be a one-way street. As he looked, he saw that Hiccup was very pale and with deep shadows under his eyes, the wound on his shoulder clumsily bound. Stroking his son's hair, Stoick was rewarded by Hiccup leaning into the contact.

"Jus' tired," he mumbled softly. "Glad you're back, Dad." And his face flickered with a smile. "Jus' don' leave me. Please..."

You look so much like your mother, Hiccup, Stoick thought silently and stroked his battered face. "Of course, son. I'm not leaving you now I just got you back." Hiccup's eyes fluttered open and he smiled again, the faintest echo of that happy smile he used to have as a small boy.

"Sorry," Hiccup mumbled drowsily. "I'm not the son y'wanted me t'be. I'm jus' a servant now. And I don' think the King will forgive me..."

"Son, from what I saw with my own eyes, I couldn't be prouder," Stoick reassured him, stroking his hair. Hiccup gave a small smile.

"Thanks, Dad," he sighed and his eyes closed again, his breathing evening down to sleep. Stoick tucked the blankets tighter around the battered shape and locked the door, settling his bulk in the chair.

"Sleep well, son," he smiled.

oOo

The morning saw the exhausted Hiccup being woken by his father, who refused to leave his side as they washed and shaved. Stoick could see that his son was still exhausted, pale and sluggish, though he smiled and professionally prepared himself for the ride south. But as they ate their breakfast, Stoick failed to miss that Hiccup was almost forcing himself to eat, wincing as he moved his right arm and remaining quiet and withdrawn. They had to wait around as Astrid and Heather shared a leisurely breakfast and signed an alliance between Berk and Bazerk. They parted as friends and allies with Heather already planning a visit to Berk Castle in the near future to see her friend.

Hiccup and the squires had prepared all the horses and found generous provisions, fresh bedding and clothing waiting for them. Everything was ready and Hiccup held his father's bridle as Fishlegs held Astrid's, waiting for the senior members of the party. Astrid looked over at the young auburn-haired man but he steadfastly stared forward and wordlessly returned to his own horse as soon as the Commander was mounted. And she really honestly didn't know what to do, if he wouldn't even look at her. Had she hurt him that badly? Or was it something more?

They were escorted to the border by an honour-guard pf Heather's personal guards and they were formally wished well by their Captain on the border, the trumpet fanfare echoing long after they had crossed the river and galloped south. But once they were finally back in Berk's lands, they galloped fast and hard south down the main track of the Northern Road, riding fearlessly towards the forests and the long and potentially dangerous outlaw-infested roads. Stoick was determined to get Astrid home as soon as possible but they all knew they had to be on their guard, for others would not care who she was, if they could profit from it. And they became more and more concerned as Hiccup gradually began to drop back throughout the morning when they reached the northern borders of Freya's Forest. Eventually, they had to stop to allow him to catch up and Stoick wheeled round to face the young man.

Hiccup was walking Fury along, his head down and eyes dulled, not even able to look where he was looking.

"Son? What's wrong?" the Commander asked, recognising that his son wasn't looking well. Fury stopped, whinnying unhappily and Hiccup listed in the saddle.

"Dad...I'm okay..." he mumbled and then slid from the saddle, sprawling on the ground, unconscious.

Astrid felt the breath lurch in her chest and she was out of the saddle before anyone else, dropping on her knees by Hiccup's side. She leaned over him, pressing her head against his chest and frowning, then looking relieved.

"He's breathing but his heart is beating very fast," she reported, then pulled off her riding glove and gently stroked his face. "He's burning up too." There was a thud at her side and a creak as Stoick crouched by her.

"I knew he wasn't right yesterday evening-but he's proud and never wants to look weak," he revealed. "He always said he was alright, even when exhausted or hurt or beaten."

"Proud and stubborn," Astrid smiled and stroked his head, her fingers running through his soft auburn locks. "Hmm, I can relate to that. What can we do? Bazerk has the nearest healer..."

"Maybe not," Stoick murmured. "There is an old woman, maybe an hour's ride through the forest to the west. Mother Gothi is the wisest woman in Berk, able to predict the weather, the future and heal the most dangerous of ills. She will be able to help him...if your Highness permits us to deviate from your journey home." Astrid raised her eyes and she was candid.

"I wouldn't be going home without Hiccup," she reminded him and then she paused. "I'll take him. If you would hand him to me, Sir Stoick?" His eyes widened in shock.

"I thought I should..." he gabbled but she smiled.

"How can you protect me, Sir Stoick, if your arms are full with your son?" she asked archly, clambering to her feet, brushing her skirt down and swinging into the saddle. "I am ready..." Looking down, Stoick tenderly lifted his son in his arms and murmured in his ear before carefully placing him into her arms. She gently adjusted him so his head was resting gently against her shoulder and her arm was comfortably cradled around his lean shape. Quietly and unselfconsciously, she nuzzled her cheek against his hair. "You've taken such good care of me, Hiccup," she whispered. "Now it's my turn to look after you. I will see you safely there and healed...and please Thor, let me find a way to make up to you for my stupidity."

Then she wheeled around and followed Stoick as the Commander galloped off the track and away into the forest. Despite all her trials, she trusted Commander Haddock implicitly so she held Hiccup tightly and thundered through the trees, hoping they would arrive soon...

oOo

Mother Gothi's hut was surprisingly neat and well-tended, sited in a picturesque clearing with a small stream to one side and a stand of apple trees across the clearing. Smoke curled from the crooked chimney and the wood-stack was neat and fully stocked. The old woman herself was a tiny wizened shape with a hump on one shoulder, a very long thin grey braid and a sharp nose. Her eyes were bright and alert as she hobbled out, leaning on her staff and peered up at the riders as they wheeled to a halt. Stoick leapt down and bowed low to her.

"Mother Gothi, I crave your aid," he said formally. "Princess Astrid is returning home and one of her retinue has become ill." The old woman glanced at he shape clutched tenderly in the Heir's arms and raised a cynical eyebrow. "He is my son," Stoick added softly and Gothi beckoned, turning into her house. Giving a sigh of relief, the Commander took Hiccup from a reluctant Astrid and carried him swiftly into the house. Astrid leapt down and stared worriedly, gently stroking Stormfly's nose and trying to reassure Fury. And then she jumped as Hiccup's saddle-bag moved and chirped as Sharpshot stuck his head out of the bag, followed by Sneaky. She suddenly laughed in relief and shock.

"Guys!" she breathed. "I thought you had all gone back with Toothless to the Dragon Forest!"

Sneaky chirruped and rubbed her head against the princess's hand.

"Whoa-is that a dragon?" Tuff exclaimed, speeding forward.

"I thought they'd all gone!" his sister added.

"Terrible Terrors are very affectionate and loyal," Fishlegs added, peering at the little dragons and offering his hand to Sharpshot for a rub. "It looks like you've got another new friend, Highness." Astrid rubbed Sneaky's head again but her eyes trailed back to the cottage.

"Yeah," she sighed as Ruffnut caught her mood and nodded.

"I'm sure he'll be fine, Highness," she reassured her but Astrid's smile didn't touch her eyes,

"Thank you," she said tonelessly. "I owe him so much. And he thinks I hate him. But...I just wish I could explain."

oOo

Hiccup painfully opened his eyes, his head still pounding and body aching. He seemed to be lying on a bed when the last thing he recalled was riding through the forest feeling absolutely like death. He grimaced for his shoulder was really hurting and he moved his hand slightly-to find a soft hand softly clasping his.

"Dad..." he murmured and rocked his head to look towards the owner of the hand-and then his eyes snapped wide open and he went incredibly tense as several facts filtered into his foggy brain.

Astrid was gently holding his hand, her thumb tenderly stroking over his knuckles.

His shoulder had been redressed and probably stitched.

He seemed to be naked under a patched blanket.

He blushed scarlet and found he had almost completely lost the power of speech as her azure eyes flicked up and a genuine smile lit her beautiful face when she found he was conscious. His hand snatched the blanket and tied to haul it as far up his body as it could before she gave a giggle.

"How are you feeling?" she asked gently.

"Gah! Naked!" he managed and tried to cower under the blanket, though she hung onto his hand. "What...what happened?" he managed, still feeling like his face was on fire. Astrid reached to his side and lifted a small cup, lifting it to his lips.

"Mother Gothi said you were to drink this when you woke up," she told him briskly, seeing him looking very embarrassed. Despite the blanket, his naked shoulders were still on show, the skin very pale and faintly freckled, bones very prominent and a few old and new scars visible. There was a crisp bandage expertly wound around his right shoulder and he stiffened as she leaned close, silky strands of her hair brushing his cheek as she held the cup to his lips. He obediently drank and then almost gagged at the foul taste.

"Ugh! Is she trying to poison me?" he complained as he laid back and she sat at his side once more. He was in a surprisingly bright and spacious room in a cottage, light streaming in through an unshuttered window, the walls and floor scrubbed clean and bed comfortable and fresh. The sheets were worn but crisp and the blanket smelled clean and of grass and lavender. He stared at Astrid and wondered why she was here. Maybe this is where she tells me she's leaving me behind and continuing on with the real knights. Where she tells me she doesn't want to ride with a menial and an imposter...

"Why are you here, Highness?" he asked her quietly, steeling himself for bad news. And it shouldn't hurt him because she had already rejected him in Bazerk-even though he had come back to rescue her in Nordlund and she had been polite about him to Lady Heather because why would she own up to riding with an ex-squire and imposter? She looked up into the wary emerald eyes and sighed, the sunlight framing her with a halo of gold.

"I remember," she said softly. His brow furrowed and he lay back on his pillow, her hand still gentling his.

"Remember what?" he asked, trying to recall what he had done now.

"The small russet-haired boy with bright green eyes who used to play with me when I was still the Heir's sister," she said quietly. "When Finn was alive." There was the slightest crack in her voice because this was something that she didn't talk about-something she didn't have anyone to talk about with.

"I'm sorry," he said honestly. "It's hard losing someone so close. And I know you lost your Mom as well." She nodded, absently swiping the tear from her cheek.

"I remember you, always protecting me when we played and I wanted to be a knight. You used to let me use the wooden swords and the practice bows. We would go into the gardens and climb and wrestle."

"You could out-wrestle me," Hiccup admitted. "Wasn't especially big or strong."

"But you were brave," she told him. "Even then-you never let me get into trouble. You made me go if we were caught and you always took the blame on your own." He managed an small, nostalgic smile.

"My Dad taught me to protect the Royal Family," he said honestly. "And no matter how reckless you were, I should've known we weren't allowed to do what we were doing. I accepted the risk."

"I wish I had been allowed to tell you what had happened," she admitted. He managed a wan smile.

"I knew," he reminded her. "The Castle-the entire Kingdom-was in mourning for the the Heir, Prince Finn and Queen Inga. And I really wished I could come and tell you how sorry I was-but I was just a young page and you were the Heir. So I just tried my best, every single day because I knew you would want knights you could rely on, people who would protect you as I always had."

"I should have said something," she said ashamedly. "I hated being the Heir and I was always being watched, being judged for not being Finn and being his sister who didn't die. I heard the Commander was gone and I was sad but I...I forgot that you were his son until I heard you had been...expelled from the squires."

"I didn't expect anything," he said slowly. "It was a long time after you became the Heir to Berk. Why would you know or care about a boy who played with you when you were a child?"

"What kind of person forgets a friend?" she asked him directly and he pulled his hand free of hers.

"You tell me," he said and his voice had grown a little cooler. "Because I never did. Not you, not Thug, not Fish...but everyone forgot me. And everyone abandoned me. And what hurts most is they only came back when they wanted something. Thug used me so he could have a day off with one of your maids and blamed me for everything that subsequently happened, you...well, I did everything I could to protect and see you and I thought..." His voice wavered. "I thought you were treating me at least like a real person...but the moment Lord Dagur says I was working for him, the moment he spun his lies but offered no proof-you believe him straight up. I thought...you knew I was loyal, Highness. I thought you knew I..." He looked away, pain bright in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said desperately. "I never meant it...but what he said sounded so convincing..."

"And I am sure what Thug said to your father was equally convincing which is why I am probably going to be executed on my return for saving you," he shot back sarcastically. She looked at him, a flash of anger in her eyes instantly vanishing and she lowered her head.

"You were poisoned," she told him softly.

"What?"

"The knife was poisoned," she explained. "Gothi said it was a slow poison-but you must have been feeling horrible all yesterday..." He forced his mind back, recalling how every part of his body was hurting, how his head was pounding and his gut roiling and even his muscles were burning.

"Explains a lot," he murmured.

"You could have died," she said softly. "If Gothi hadn't cleaned your wound and discovered the poison, you would be dead."

"Wow. I mean..." he began and sighed. Suddenly, a soft sound caught his attention and realised Astrid had just sobbed. Grimacing, he hitched himself up on one elbow and caught her hand. "Milady?" She shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she gulped, her head bowed. "When-when I was Drago's Citadel, when he had me locked up and waiting to be married, all I could do was to pray to Thor and Odin and all I wanted...was to apologise to you for treating you so badly. Because it wasn't deserved. You did so much for me when I was captured and you were so...amazing...and I hated myself for what I said. And I thought you had been killed in Dagur's arena and I feared I would never seen you again to apologise...and I was so relieved and overjoyed when I got the letter but I couldn't really hope until you knocked on the window and rescued me...and you got me out and stopped Drago and were so...amazing. And then I find out you had been poisoned rescuing me and I didn't even know because you wouldn't tell me what you're feeling..."

He stared at her and sighed, hitching himself up higher until he was in a rather lopsided sitting position. He gently stroked her hand.

"I thought you wouldn't want a drudge in your company when you had proper knights and squires," he said quietly and she looked up, eyes shining.

"I wanted my protector," she said sternly. "Stubborn..." His lips twitched.

"A quality I would suggest we both share, Milady," he admitted. "Stubborn and proud." She opened her mouth...and then nodded.

"And also hot-tempered-at least I am," she added. "And I am so sorry...because I keep thinking about you..." He stilled.

"What you said...that you believed Dagur when he claimed I betrayed you...that hurt me badly," he told her honestly. "I mean, I know I have no intrinsic worth, I know I am an imposter, a discharged squire who was clinging to the last shred of my dreams but I did everything that I could to keep you safe. You even made me feel sort of like I was a real person, not a nothing."

"You are!" she protested. He closed his eyes.

"Then why did you say it?" he asked her directly. She stared at him and swallowed.

"Because I was afraid he may be right," she said in a shamed voice. "Everyone else had betrayed me-Eret, my knights, my squires...even my brother for dying on me. And I knew I couldn't get away and I was so mad and frustrated that when he planted that doubt...I...said the wrong thing." He shook his head.

"That's not even a good excuse," he sighed. "So you were angry and frustrated so you basically took it out on me. You broke my heart by believing that lie." She stared at him.

"Hiccup?" she asked and he sighed, trying to turn away but her grip intensified on his hand.

"I'm sorry, Highness," he sighed. "I apologise..."

"Shut up," she said, pulling him back to face her and stared into his face. "I realised that I keep thinking about you, about your smile and your sarcasm and how you came through for me when everyone else didn't, no matter the risk to you," she said. "And though you treated me like a Princess, you also treated me like a person. You didn't always agree with me. You pointed out when I was wrong. You were cautious and generous and kind." He stared at the blanket. "And I thought about...that kiss..." He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Haha...um...well...in my defence it was the only thing I could think of...to keep Ryker from recognising you," he mumbled. She leaned closer to him.

"I believe in you," she said firmly. "I will always believe in you-because you came through even when I had given up. I promise that I will never let you down again. And I promise I will ensure you have the right to take the Tests." He stared at her, unable to help himself, emerald eyes shining with treacherous hope.

"Really?" he asked softly. She nodded.

"Promise," she said, leaning in and then gently kissing him. For a second, his mind blanked and then his hand unconsciously rose to caress her cheek as he kissed her back. Finally, she pulled away and then looked shyly into his astonished eyes. "Am I forgiven?" He managed a lopsided smile.

"You are if you do that again," he said and leaned forward once more.