The next morning, Hiccup made good on his promise to return to Magnus, much to Astrid's annoyance. Frankly, he wasn't that thrilled about it, either, but if there was a chance Astrid would be safe, then it was worth it.
Hiccup braced himself for the tongue lashing of a lifetime when he walked into Magnus' house, but things were strangely quiet. The jailer barely glanced at him from his place at the table, and when he did speak, it was only an order to stay at the smithy until after sundown. Hiccup kept his head down, didn't look Magnus in the eye, spoke only to give a submissive "Yes, sir," and generally tried to be invisible. It seemed to work, even though it drove him crazy. He took a few pieces of bread from the counter and hurried out the door before Magnus could pin him down again. When he got to the smithy, Gobber was looking at him anxiously. "You okay? After last night?"
Last night, Hiccup would have said that he was absolutely not okay, but now it wasn't so bad. "I'm fine," he said. "Gothi got to me. Just a few bruised ribs, is all." He tried to sound nonchalant, but Gobber didn't seem so at ease. Their eyes met, and for a split second, the blacksmith's eyes shone with agony. Not from any physical pain, but because he cared about Hiccup the way he knew his father would have cared about him, because what Magnus was doing was wrong on so many different levels, because no one could do a thing about it and it wasn't fair.
The fire died down before Hiccup could figure out what it was. But he had a feeling that he knew, anyway. And that scared him.
"Gobber," he said, keeping his voice low.
"Yeah?" the blacksmith replied, noticing the change. He came over cautiously and started working on a spearhead, sharpening it on the wheel, letting the noise drown out their conversation.
"Magnus figured it out last night. He knows everything now. The rebellion, even me and Astrid."
"Does he know when?" Gobber asked, his face pale.
Hiccup shook his head. "Do you?"
Gobber thought for a second, then chuckled quietly. "No. We haven't really gone over that bit yet. Ironic, isn't it? We have the weapons, the motive, the numbers . . . and yet we haven't figured out the actual date of the thing."
Hiccup smiled a little. Then a thought struck him. "Gobber, what's going to happen to Astrid's family?" His voice shook a little, involuntarily voicing his fears.
Gobber paused and put down his work. This was serious. He sighed. "Do you want me to try to make you feel better, or do you want the cold hard truth?"
Hiccup scowled, which was enough of an answer for Gobber.
"In all honesty, Hiccup, I don't know. Magnus is extremely hard to predict, and he can offer mercy just as fast as he can raise the executioner's blade. If I had to guess, though, I'd say her father would probably get put in jail for a few months, but he wouldn't do anything to Astrid."
"What would stop him?" Hiccup asked. "What's the difference between hurting me and hurting her?"
"You're in Magnus' charge. She isn't. And unless he wants the entire Hofferson clan baying for his blood, he won't go after her." He wasn't kidding. Astrid's family was comprised of some of the fiercest warriors Berk had ever seen. To even try to take them on singlehandedly—because that's what would end up happening with Magnus being the most unpopular guy in town—was suicide. And, fortunately for Astrid, Magnus knew it.
Hiccup sighed, relieved. "So she's safe."
"As safe as one can be with him snooping around." Gobber jerked his head in a vague gesture toward the window, where Magnus was trying—valinatly—and failing—miserably— to make polite small talk. Hiccup edged further into the safety of Gobber's shadow.
YOU ARE READING
Moon Fire
FanfictionHiccup is the son of the chief. Well, he's supposed to be, anyway. But try telling that to the acting-chief, Magnus, who has some serious abusive tendancies, is despised and feared by all, and treats Hiccup more like a prisoner than future leader. H...