The Blacksmith's Apprentice

Three: Proposition

Three.

Hiccup woke early, curled up as tightly as he could to try to keep warm on the low wooden platform that was the bed in the cell. As feet approached, he sat up, wincing as he felt stiff and ran his fingers through his messy auburn hair, framing his face and highlighting his bright green eyes. With a sigh, he rose and walked towards the bars.

"Top of the morning," he said pleasantly to the guard, though the man scowled at him and passed a narrow flask through the bars.

"Water," the man said and turned away. Hiccup stared at him.

"He really means not to feed me at all?" he asked softly and the guard nodded.

"Jail is meant to be a punishment, not an easy time," he growled. Hiccup gestured to his bare cell.

"Yeah-because between the sumptuous soft furnishings, the extensive wine list and gourmet menu, why would I want to leave?" he asked sarcastically.

"You family could alway bring you food," the guard reminded him. "That is permitted."

"Oh, joy," Hiccup shot back. "Because my family didn't actually condemn me to be in here! Oh wait-they did!" The guard cast him a sneering look.

"Not my problem," he said coldly and walked out, the door clanging shut behind him. Hiccup sighed and took a sip of the water: it didn't exactly taste fresh either.

"No-but it's very much mine," he sighed.

The day passed, very cold and boring. He curled up on the little wooden platform, arms wrapped around his cold body, knees pulled tight to his chest, desperately missing the warmth of the forge and even Gobber's sarcasm. Apart from the water, he wasn't given any food or drink and eventually, he just dozed, feeling cold and pretty miserable. The guard kept coming in and checking on him, sneering at the prisoner and in the end, he gave up even trying to reply.

It was dusk and the temperature was dropping when the door to the cells opened again. Cracking a bleary emerald eye open, Hiccup looked disinterestedly at the door-and then abruptly straightened up as he saw the familiar blonde shape of Astrid walking in. Self-consciously, he ran hand through his messy hair and a smile warmed his face. Astrid looked stern-but then, she was carefully carrying a covered bowl that smelled delicious and had his mouth watering and stomach growling in hunger. He scrambled to his feet.

"Afternoon, Milady," he said cheerfully, hands grasping the bars as she stopped opposite him. "What brings you here?" Her fair brows dipped and she gestured to the bowl.

"I've brought you something to eat," she said sternly. "I know you think you could maybe stand to lose a few pounds but personally, if you lose any more weight, I won't be able to see you side on..." He grinned.

"You heard?" he said cheerfully. "Hey, I wasn't going to say how that made me feel so..." He shrugged as she passed the bowl through the bars and his hands briefly brushed hers as he gratefully accepted the gift. Urgently, he uncovered the bowl, finding thick meaty-smelling yak stew and a hunk of black rye bread. Eyes sparkling in gratitude, he dived in, desperately wolfing the food, not caring that she was watching-because he was so hungry it hurt. It was only when he had nearly finished that he slowed and he glanced up to meet her pitying eyes. He wiped his mouth and took a mouthful of bread. She smiled.

"Better?" she asked and he nodded with a relieved sigh.

"Gods, yes," he murmured.

"Good," she said and handed over a folded bundle of cloth. He started: it was his spare tunic and his vest and he accepted them gratefully, hauling them on.