The Imposter

Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen:

Astrid lay on the bed in her 'guest room' in Bazerk Castle, the bars on the window and lock on the door a cruel mockery of her status as Heir to Berk. The weather had taken a turn for the worse and a storm had roared in from the north, trapping Astrid in the castle and preventing Eret and his party from setting out north towards the lands of Count Drago. Of course, she had quartered the room but unlike the Outcast castle, Dagur was taking no chances. In fact, she was treated very much like a prisoner and she knew the moment the weather broke, she was doomed. Her only hope was Hiccup.

When the door opened, she looked up warily-and was relieved to see Heather. The Berserker Heir-her brother was unmarried with no children-was the most normal person in Bazerk and at least she treated Astrid like an equal. Heather's jet hair was in a loose braid over her left shoulder and she was dressed in an armoured skirt, tunic, leggings and boots and she carried similar garb for Astrid.

"I thought you would appreciate a change of scenery," she said calmly, her green eyes amused. "I am aware that you have had martial training-as have I. I thought maybe we could spar?" Astrid's eyes lit up: being cooped up was driving her mad and if she was out of her room, at least she could scout the castle and that may give her some tiny hint of how she could escape. She nodded.

"What weapon do you prefer?" she asked. Heather grinned.

"Axes," she admitted as Astrid's face betrayed her astonishment-and delight. "I take it you were trained in the traditional weapons as well?"

"I insisted," the Princess admitted, rapidly unbuttoning her gown and shimmying out, then pulling on an azure tunic, leather above knee skirt and grey-blue leggings before pulling on her own riding boots. "I am the Heir and no matter what stupid tradition says, I will not sit back and let everyone else protect me."

"Except that skinny young man," Heather guessed and Astrid blushed.

"He's...no one," she lied.

"And yet you worry for him," she teased the Princess. Astrid flicked her own braid over her shoulder.

"A Lord should care for his bonded men as they care of him," she quoted. Heather burst into laughter.

"Really?" she giggled and Astrid smiled.

"Not always-but Hiccup is loyal, brave and very determined," she admitted. "He rescued me from Outcast...and he doesn't deserve what your brother plans for him." The other woman stiffened and then she nodded.

"My brother is the Lord of Bazerk," she said flatly, her eyes warning the woman that they were probably being eavesdropped. "He does as he will." Fists clenching, Astrid nodded, not trusting herself to say more. And then she realised: they would be able to talk much more freely when they were sparring, because no one would be able to get close enough to listen in to their conversation.

"Lead on, Lady Heather," she said. "I look forward to our match!"

oOo

Hiccup sat back against the cold wall of his cell, his arm bound with the most rudimentary of bandages and his thoughts black. The fact that Dagur had killed a subdued enemy...used Hiccup to kill the man...ate at him like a canker, for it had been cruel and unnecessary. The man had yielded and he was beaten-but Dagur had wanted to see a death. He covered his face with his hands, choking breaths shaking through him. Throughout every minute of every day, he had tried his best, attempting every task with a good heart and doing everything he could not to shame his father's memory and live up to the Chivalric Code. Hiccup could not control what others did, only himself...but he realised that if he didn't fight to the death, Dagur would kill him...and the opponent anyway.