The Imposter

Chapter 9

It was raining and cold as the two riders picked their way through the boulders and stones of the mountains. The terrain was uneven and a chill wind was howling down from the north. Hiccup swiped the sodden auburn hair from his eyes and blinked the rain from his eyes, staring ahead miserably. Behind him, Astrid was walking Stormfly after him, though she was drier thanks to his subterfuge.

"How do you fancy becoming a knight?"

Astrid had stared at him, as if he had gone crazy and scowled.

"What are you talking about?" she snapped. "I look nothing like a knight." He sighed.

"You look nothing like one of your father's knights-that I happily concede, Highness," he said, thoughtfully staring at her. "But not all knights hail from a rich court, living in luxury and eating three square meals a day with guaranteed protection. Many knights wander from master to master, seeking employment and selling their swords for the means just to stay alive."

"And you think that I could pass for one of these...peripatetic warriors?" she asked archly, seeing his emerald eyes sparkle. "These...mercenaries?" He nodded, inwardly cringing at the word. It was the antithesis of everything he had been trained to believe and do...but was probably the best he could hope for-if he survived this mess.

"I still have Squire de Tete's armour with me...and I grabbed an Outcast helmet before I left, just in case," he told her. "Um, we could pad you up and put you in the armour. With the cloak and the helmet, you could pass for a female knight." His voice was enthusiastic and his arms were moving, emphasising his points as he proposed his plan. She found her lips curling up at his eager voice and found herself nodding.

"And you?" she asked directly. "I thought you would want to claim the role of knight for yourself..." And she was rewarded by his blush before he dropped his eyes.

"Um...it would be dishonourable for me to impersonate a knight," he mumbled quickly, "and my father would never forgive me for such cheek. He'd probably come back from Valhalla to chew me out in front of you for even suggesting such a thing." She looked at him thoughtfully.

"And yet you had no qualms at impersonating a squire," she pointed out. He sighed.

"I was a squire, Milady," he said defeatedly. "I never deserved to have that taken from me. I never failed any task or shirked any duty. I never disobeyed a single order. And all that happened when my father gave his life for the King was that your father rewarded me for the sacrifice my father made by stealing my life, my friends and my honour from me. So yes, I have a right to wear the squire's uniform."

She stared, a frisson of shame briefly flickering through her chest. What he said was true: as Heir, she had been informed of the King's decision and the reasons for it-but there was never any proof of treason on the part of the Knight Commander, merely a failure to return which probably meant he had given all for his liege. And to penalise his son for that groundless supposition when he had just lost his only close kin was cruel.

Her father had been wrong.

But she couldn't say a word to Hiccup, who was breathing hard, clearly struggling to control his keenly-felt sense of injustice. Instead, she hummed in agreement and pulled the cloak tighter around her body. "So I am a knight and you my squire," she murmured. "Okay-so what am I called, Squire Hic..."

"Squire Henrik," he interrupted. "The female knights I know of all have quite impressive names. Knight Freya?" Astrid shook her head.

"Queen of the Valkyries, who chooses the dead of battle?" Astrid smirked. "I am afraid the Goddess may be offended if I take her name in vain!" She sighed. "And we may need her help later. How about Brunnhilde?"