The Imposter

Chapter 15

Morning found the Princess and the Imposter huddled side by side in the mouth of the Night Fury's cave, a dying fire smoking as the rosy dawn warmed the bleached rock face. Astrid rolled over and snuggled closer to the swaddled shape of Hiccup and through the layers of blankets, he felt her press against him, his eyes slamming open in shock. He stiffened in response to the contact and hazarded a look over at her. She was smiling, her head leaning against his shoulder and a small part of him wanted to stay there, impossibly snuggled against the sleeping Princess as if he was someone of some value and worth, rather than a menial, a fugitive with a price on his head for the crime of helping a supposed friend by standing in for him on the most ill-fated Hunting Trip in history. 

But that was the truth and no amount of dreaming would alter his miserable predicament. And though the Princess was being kinder to him than she had been, he honestly doubted her kind intentions could overcome the will of a vengeful King. The fact that he had illegally impersonated an apprentice knight in the Hunting Party was one stark fact he couldn't ignore-and it meant that, no matter what he achieved, he was still at risk of execution, even if he hadn't had any part in Astrid's kidnapping.

The horrible thoughts swirling around his head, he gently moved Astrid and rose, stretching and yawning, the audible crack as he extended his neck causing him to wince. Quietly, he tucked his blanket around Astrid, then carefully got to his feet and jumped down to the ground, checking the horses and affording both attention. Then, glancing over his shoulder to check the sleeping girl, he grabbed a rag, a spare tunic from Thuggery's pack and a rock-hard soap and headed down to the stream to clean up.

Waking not much later, Astrid opened her eyes and yawned, mumbling to her maid to pull a bath...before she realised that she still wasn't in her bed and she was tucked in more blankets than were hers. Instinctively, she looked to her right and saw that Hiccup was already up and with a groan, she sat up and ran her hands through her hair. She felt dishevelled and grubby and would have bitten someone's hand off for a decent bath-the poor lukewarm substitute she had endured in Reaper had really disappointed. She pushed the blankets back and ran her fingers through her hair, hand fumbling in her pack and dragging out her comb and then tugging her hair free of the braid and combing the long golden mane until all the tangles were freed and then rebraiding it deftly. 

She jumped down and fussed Stormfly, then looked around, wondering where Hiccup was. She had already realised he rose early-as he had been trained to, as a drudge in her home, slaving away long before she ever opened her eyes-and he quietly and efficiently made sure that all her basic needs were seen to so that when she woke, there was usually water and food ready. But he wasn't back yet and she wondered if something had happened to him. She cast around again. There was no sign of a struggle and she could hear the huff of the Night Fury, sleeping in the cave behind them. Then she wandered down the slope into the trees, hearing the soft rush of water-and splashing.

Quietly, she pushed her way through the bracken and young trees and suddenly, the river gleamed in front of her, lined on both sides by trees, branches trailing into the cold water. And then she glimpsed an auburn head. She froze and then inched forward-to see Hiccup kneeling by the river, stripped to the waist and soaping his arms and body, trying to clean up. Mesmerised, Astrid stared, seeing his lean shape methodically going about his wash, bones more prominent than they should be from too little food for too long. His lean muscles somehow suited his lanky frame and were far more attractive to her than the very buff shape of the Jorgensens and Thuggory. Then her eyes trailed inexorably over his pale skin, lightly freckled...but marred with scars. The worst were on his back, still red from he whipping he had earned for saving that young boy from being needlessly ridden down by her father and his hunters. But there were far more than she could have dreamed, seeing old burns on his arms, small white cut marks from nicks during his training and more recent bruises from his adventures saving her. She shifted her weight and a twig snapped underfoot.