Hiccup found that all his old skills were still there-rusty but present and as he sat in the saddle on Fury, he was able to do what was asked of him with relative ease. Fury had been ridden and used sporadically by the other squires when their mounts were injured or just tired so he was still in excellent shape and familiar with the manoeuvres the knights used most commonly so Hiccup simply listened to his horse and easily kept up with the rest. And of course, among the other things he probably shouldn't have been doing as a menial, he had visited the stallion pretty much daily to ensure the horse still responded to him, in the vague hope that one day he would get his chance...

The other squires and the knights were all sluggish and jaded, mostly hung over from a very heavy night in the barracks and for his part, the young imposter actually felt ashamed of them. And more so of the Hunters, most of whom didn't even make the departure. When the Princess accelerated, he had done as his father had taught him and matched his speed instantly to the Royal they were protecting-but Spitelout had bellowed a warning and Snotlout had dealt him a deeply unfriendly glare so he had recalled that he really shouldn't garner any attention and he had forced himself to hang back, failing the Princess and his duty. His life depended on being anonymous.

The party galloped after the Princess and Lord Eret, who was sticking very close to Astrid. Hiccup remained at the back, seeing the others share a few words as the party slowed to a gentle walk. A very husky shape with a surprisingly gentle and timid voice had turned to inspect his silent shape.

"You're very quiet, Thug," he said and Hiccup recognised the voice of Fishlegs. The guy had been reasonably friendly-well, until Hiccup had been abruptly expelled from the training cohort. Then he, as everyone else, had ignored his very existence. Hiccup shrugged, his face all but concealed by the helm. "Hung over?" He raised his gauntleted hand and made a so-so gesture.

"Hey, he was really hitting the mead last night!" another shape said and Hiccup winced inwardly. Tuffnut drifted his dappled gelding closer.

"Yeah! I'm shocked he's made it at all!" the unmistakeable voice of Ruffnut added. Though a female, it was impossible to separate the twins and short of making Tuff a lady-in-waiting, making a unique exception and adding Ruffnut to the squires was the only option. Her dappled gelding was the image of her twin's and she trotted alongside.

"Dog's already chucked his guts twice and Snot looks like he's about to die," Tuff added cheerily. "And he's only here because he wagered Thug wouldn't make it out of bed!"

If only you knew, Hiccup thought grimly, keeping his head down.

"Yeah-pay up Snottykins!" Ruff scoffed and headed forward to the stocky, black-haired man whose greenish face was testament to the fact he had lost the drinking contest the previous night.

"Yeah, no one likes a guy who ducks his wagers!" Tuff added loudly. Snotlout visibly winced and reluctantly dug into his pack, dragging out a small pouch of coins. Unable to help himself, Hiccup smirked: Snotlout had always been the first to demand his winnings and last to pay his gambling debts. But he had to keep in character so he wiped his smile, gripped the reins and trotted forward, extending his gauntletted left hand. He made a beckoning gesture and Snotlout very unwillingly handed it over.

"That's my horse," the stocky man pointed out snidely and Hiccup stiffened, his hand closing tightly around the coins.

"Ravager's lame," he growled roughly, disguising his voice as best he could. Snotlout scowled suspiciously. Something felt wrong-and not just the fact Thuggory had used Snotlout's own second horse to enable him to win the bet.

"You should've asked," Snotlout snapped so 'Thuggory' wheeled away to the back of the group, pointedly pulling his hood up and wrapping his cloak around him. "Huh-no one likes a smug winner," he muttered and went to ride by Dogsbreath, who leaned forward and vomited again. But he glanced over his shoulder at the swathed shape once more: Thuggory had drunk a lot more than Dog. There was no way he would have made the hunt.

Up front, Eret was boasting of his prowess as the tree line slowly approached. Astrid stared steadfastly forward, keeping her face neutral, nodding at the correct moments as he expounded on his exploits. He really had an immensely high opinion of himself-and hadn't asked her a single question about her own interests and wishes. She sighed and glanced back at the straggly band of hung-over knights and the huntsmen trailing even further behind. Even the knight in the dark blue was hanging back, swathed in his cloak and she felt a surge of disappointment.

Eret pulled ahead as they entered Raven Point forest, accelerating up the wide forest path towards Hamish's Mount, a low hillock a couple of miles inside the forest boundary where the royal deer tended to congregate. It was a well-known hunting ground and usually productive. Surging ahead, he reached the top of the hillock ahead of Astrid and grinned in triumph at her.

Breathing hard, she pulled Stormfly to a halt and patted her gratefully, flicking her braided sun bright golden hair over her shoulder and glancing down at her party. Spitelout and Hoark had dropped right back while Snotlout was looking green and another knight had stopped to vomit. The others were all sluggish, though the knight in deep blue was sitting bolt upright, riding smartly, his hidden gaze fixed on the Princess. Unexpectedly, she felt her cheeks heat with a blush.

"...day for a hunt, my Lady," Eret said and she snapped her attention back to her guest.

"Your pardon?" she asked and he smirked, taking a pull from his water skin.

"A fine day for hunting," he repeated, dropping the honorific and gesturing to the small herd of tan and black deer, grazing further down the valley. "Of course, I can understand if this was simply a ruse to spend time with me-though I enjoy the chase as much as the next man."

Who technically is the vomiting squire down there, Astrid thought sourly, glancing at Dogsbreath. She nodded and grasped her crossbow, loading a quarrel skilfully. "I am ready," she told him boldly and he smirked.

"But are your men?" he challenged her. She tossed her head irritably. The subtle jibes at the condition of her very much the worse for wear escort were getting wearing.

"We shall see," she replied tartly and wheeled Stormfly round. "I hope my Lord Eret likes venison!"

"The chase is always preferable...to the kill," he said huskily and kicked his stallion to a canter, taking the lead. Casting an irritated look at her party, Astrid rode after him, leaning forward, hands tight around the reins as she galloped hard. Her natural competitiveness meant that she wasn't about to let the northerner beat her. Teeth gritted, she pulled alongside him.

Hiccup saw the Princess vanish over the low hill and head off down the valley presumably towards a stag and looked around. No one was following their charge because all were having an unscheduled rest and frankly, weren't paying attention. Captain Spitelout and Hoark had vanished during the ride, as had the hounds while Ack was shouting at Snotlout and Dogsbreath who had been arguing. He shook his head and tapped his heels again Fury's flanks, sending them forward after their Heir. No one else followed.

He could see the two riders up ahead, bearing down on a small herd of Berk deer, the hardy and very ornery bred unique to Ravens Point-and as they closed, the stag charged them, sending the two riders sideways. In a flash the deer vanished into the trees. Glancing behind, the imposter saw the squires were still paying no attention: in fact, half of them had dismounted, ignoring the Princess completely as she hit the tree line and disappeared from sight. He should call-but that would betray him in an instant-so he did the only thing he could: he followed.

He could hear them crashing up ahead, hear Lord Eret's taunting and the clear, calm response of the Princess. And then, as he closed, he heard something else: softer voices, coming from his left. He stopped, head snapping round and he opened his mouth to shout a warning...

...and then there was a roar and a dozen men erupted from the undergrowth, grabbing at the Princess's arms and hauling her from the saddle. She ripped an arm free and punched a man, sending him flying back with bleeding nose and grasping for her sword-but another ruffian grabbed her hand and wrenched it painfully behind her back. Her cry of protest was muffled as another hand slapped over her mouth and though he heard her struggling, it was clear it was in vain.

Hiccup slid from the saddle and wrenched his horrible claustrophobic helm off, sneaking closer, his hand on his trusty sword. Lord Eret was grinning confidently at the leader of the attackers, a huge man with a bushy jet beard, wild black hair and a cruel, scarred face. The young would-be squire pressed his lean shape back against a solid oak and listened, scarcely daring to breathe.

"Earl de Traitre, how fortunate you were passing," Eret said smoothly in his almost accentless voice. The big man ghosted a mock bow, a nasty smile twisting his ugly features

"An 'appy circumstance, Lord Eret," he commented as Astrid was gagged and trussed up tightly in thick rope. She was kicking and trying to curse at Hiccup dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword. "I were out 'untin'. And I just caught me prey!"

Astrid gave a desperate struggle as Eret gave a mocking smile from the back of his horse. Hiccup stiffened. He knew the name for his father had tutored him in the main enemies of Berk: Earl Alvin 'the Treacherous' was one of the most persistent problems nibbling at Berk's eastern border.

"You know the terms of the deal, Lord Alvin," Eret reminded the big man. "Not spoiled...yet...and not dead. My master wants her held securely until he makes his move." Earl Alvin de Traitre gave a yellow leer as he watched the Princess tossed over the saddle of his heavy war charger. The treacherous Earl nodded.

"I'll 'old meself back-fer now," he grinned and swung into the saddle behind the kicking prisoner. "Don't mek me wait too long-or I may 'elp meself ter some fun!"

Astrid's squeal of indignation had Hiccup cringing in shame. A knight serves and protects the King and Royal family-even at the cost of his life. But he knew he stood precisely no chance against so many-including Lord Eret, who was definitely no friend of Berk and he knew he should go fetch the knights...but in the time taken to do that and talk his way out of the accusations which would certainly lose him his head, Astrid would be swept away and no one would know where she was gone. He ducked down and sneaked a peek from behind the bracken and brambles, emerald eyes seeing Earl Alvin and his dozen men sweep away with the Princess tossed over Alvin's saddle while Eret turned his stallion to watch them go. 

Then quietly, the northerner took his dagger out and swiftly cut into his forearm, before casting the dagger aside and smiling. Callously, he swiped his fingers through the blood and smudged some on his chin, his neck and across his chest. Then he carefully wrapped his scarf around the bleeding gash and tightened it. Slowly, he turned back towards the valley and began to walk calmly through the undergrowth, taking his time and allowing the attackers the largest possible lead. 

Blood boiling at the treachery, Hiccup scrambled as quietly as he could through the brambles, picking up Eret's dagger-and seeing Astrid's scarf as well. Swiftly, he gave a low whistle and Fury trotted up. Checking that Eret was out of sight, he swung up into the saddle and stared down the trail of crushed bracken and snapped branches after the vanished Princess. Taking a slow breath, Hiccup girded his courage. 

A knight serves and protects the King and Royal family-even at the cost of his life.

My father would never forgive me if I didn't try. And what hope have I otherwise? If I reveal myself, I will be executed for impersonating a squire. And who will they believe about the ambush: Eret or me? The Princess is in dire peril and the rest of them didn't even bother to follow her.

His heels tapped Fury's flanks and he looked as determined as he could. "C'mon, Fury. The Princess needs us."

oOo

Snotlout was dozing on the slope, his hands laced behind his head and eyes closed. He was still furious that he had lost the wager to Thuggory, who honestly was completely wasted the previous night. There was no way that the smug scion of Meathead could have made the ride-yet he had collected the wager with his usual determination and...

Snotlout frowned. There was something very wrong with the picture, something nagging at his mead-soaked brain. Maybe he would remember after a small rest. After all, his father, the Captain, had given him temporary command while he headed back with Hoark, since both were so hung over they couldn't carry on-even though Ack was senior because the man was hardly a Jorgensen, for Thor's sake.  To Snotlout, it was pretty obvious the party was in desperate need of a rest so Snotlout had given the order and the squires had eagerly dismounted and settled down for a break. 

And then he heard the shout, the sounds of approaching hooves and he sat up, his head still pounding as he saw a man ride up on a dark steed. He blinked and briefly wondered why the look-out hadn't called his approach...until he recalled he had forgotten to set one. And then he realised it was Lord Eret, the northerner who had treated the knights and squires to the very generous barrel of vintage mead they had willingly downed during the meal that had turned into a total bender. He sighed and blinked again, focussing. The man was shouting as he galloped up towards the resting knights and squires.

"HELP! THE PRINCESS IS TAKEN!" he yelled. 

Snotlout frowned and shared a glance with Tuff and Fishlegs. All looked alarmed and for a moment, Snotlout looked round the party, wondering where the Heir was. After all, she would hardly be stupid enough to go off without her escort...

...the escort who were supposed to follow until she gave the order or permission for a break...which Snotlout had forgotten to ask for. She must have assumed they were following, as was their sworn duty...

"Loki's balls," he muttered, wondering how he could talk his way out of this one. He rose, swayed and went light green before staggering towards the man, his arm wrapped in a bloodstained rag. "What happened?"

"Bandits!" Eret announced. "They fell on us from the woods. One grabbed the Princess and while I was fighting the rest, she was taken. I was knocked down and by the time I was on my feet, they were gone. I think they headed south..." Snotlout looked round his very bedraggled party. Thuggory had gone missing but honestly, Snotlout didn't care. The man had cost him a dozen crowns and if he caught Hel for vanishing during a mission, it was no skin off Snotlout's nose. He raise this fist in the air.

"MOUNT UP!" he shouted to a chorus of protests and curses. "Lord Eret has come for us because the Princess is taken!"

"Not our concern!" Dogsbreath grumbled.

"If we don't get her back, we'll fall face the block!" Snotlout shouted and a chilly silence fell over the party. The words had a miraculous sobering effect and the squires all scrambled into the saddle, desperately trying to get ready for pursuit and finally bearing some semblance to almost-trained knights. Snotlout mounted Hookfang, his very spirited and disobedient reddish charger, and raised his fist. "For Princess Astrid! We head south!" he shouted and kicked his charger in the direction Eret had told them...

...the opposite way to that that Alvin-and Hiccup-had headed...

oOo

Fury was maintaining an easy pace as they followed the very obvious trail of the kidnappers through the moderately open woodlands of Raven Point, though Hiccup had every nerve on edge, listening for pursuit and making sure he didn't accidentally close up too much on the Earl's party. He had already shed the helm-he was sure Thuggory would be furious and make him pay for losing part of his kit-but he kept the armour on simply because it was too time-consuming and awkward to remove while riding. He was glad that he had his own sword and his own horse, but he was riding into the unknown...though a little less so than he could have been.

Commander Stoick Haddock had lost his wife when his son was just over a year old to a fever that swept the Kingdom and wiped out one in ten of the population. Valka had been a fine woman who had loved her husband and their little son and Stoick had been devastated at her death. And then he had turned his attentions to his little boy and lavished the love on him that he would be owed by both his parents. Never once did Hiccup doubt the love of his father, even though he was frequently absent on his duties, because he always came back and loved and praised his bright and determined young son. Even Hiccup's small size as a boy and young teen hadn't deterred Stoick, for he had every confidence that his son would overcome whatever obstacles were in his way.

The Commander had started training Hiccup from when he was able to toddle, giving him a small wooden sword to train him in the motions of holding and wielding a blade. His left-handedness had posed a problem but Stoick had worked hard to ensure Hiccup was way ahead in his sword craft and knife work, before taking his seven year old son to the archery range and starting him with the bow. He was determined that the boy would be good before he was accepted as a page at eight, because he didn't want his son to be teased. And though Hiccup was teased-mercilessly too, by his own cousin, Snotlout and his friends-he was never chastised for failing a single assignment or skill. Drilled in all the laws, codes and etiquette, skilled in the saddle and trained in weapons, Hiccup almost had all his skills learned for the Tests before his father vanished-because Stoick wanted his son prepared for anything as a squire. Anything except being thrown from the programme, treated as a worthless menial and then in mortal peril chasing after a kidnapped Princess while pretending to be his own former best friend.

But he did know about Alvin de Traitre because knowledge of the nobles and enemies of Berk was essential for a knight. So Hiccup had spent hours in the library, reading about the potential threats to his future charges...and he had found Earl Alvin a definite enemy. Alvin-dubbed 'de Traitre' or 'the Treacherous', had betrayed King Harild's father as a very young man and had fled beyond the borders of Berk to what had been dubbed 'Outcast' lands, the rocky valleys and mountains to the east that were the strongholds of bandits, traitors and outlaws. Alvin was a self-styled Earl and vicious and cruel, sworn to get his revenge on the House Hofferson. And he had Astrid in his clutches.

The raiding party had been waiting-that much as certain-and Hiccup guessed the three day delay between announcing the hunt and the actual day had given a traitor-probably Lord Eret, from his reaction-the chance to contact Alvin for his assistance. And now Eret was pretending to have tried to save Astrid and the Princess was the pawn in a deadly game against Berk. He kicked Fury to a canter and they thundered along the track-until he caught sight of the back of the party and he instantly hung back, seeing them slow and then accelerate as they forded a shallow river and passed out of the forest-and into Outcast territory.

Astrid had left Berk.

Praying to Odin and Thor, Hiccup hung back and removed his armour while he waited until they had headed out of sight down the valley...and then he paused and walked Fury through the ford. He lifted his head and cast a last glance over his shoulder at the trees of Raven's Point, before turning to the barren, rocky valleys of Outcast lands and trotting off in pursuit of the Princess.