Even Miracles

by epineffin

Cinderella AU. Hiccup goes with his best friend to a ball. This somehow leads to the princess, the king, and the entire royal guard trying to track him down. It's about as fun as it sounds.

Even Miracles (Take a Little Time)

Snotlout's been in the bathroom.

Hiccup scowls. Of course Snotlout's been in the bathroom. He can always tell when Snotlout's been in the bathroom, because he leaves not one, not two, but three towels strewn about the floor, every single time, and he never bothers to empty the water from the basin after he bathes. Hiccup is well-aware of the fact that he's a servant, and that cleaning up after the Bludvist family is his job, but still, draining the tub is common bathroom etiquette. And both Lord Bludvist and Eret usually have the sense to hang up their towels after their baths, or, if not, they at least don't use three of them. Hiccup's not sure what three towels could possibly accomplish after just one bath.

At least Snotlout only bathes every other week or so. It's a burden on Hiccup's sense of smell but a blessing on his patience.

He awkwardly positions himself in a way that allows him to pick up the three towels – which, of course, have been thrown almost strategically to the farthest corners of the room – without actually setting his left foot inside. Snotlout has, as per usual, splashed water all over the floor, and the last thing Hiccup needs is to have to recraft his leg again. Just as Snotlout bathes every other week, Hiccup's leg falls apart from rust every other week. It's like clockwork.

Still, though, Hiccup thinks, as he futilely attempts to use his right foot to maneuver a sopping wet towel over the water, Snotlout is by far his favorite person in the Bludvist household. Oh, he's a slob, yes, and he's obnoxious, and vain, and Hiccup always has to cook more than he'd like to because the boy insists on eating four helping at each meal, but Snotlout is simply not a cruel person. It's not like he's nice, exactly, but he's not mean. Not like Lord Bludvist or Eret, who may not leave the bathroom looking like a warzone but certainly take more pleasure in ordering Hiccup around. And in punishing him. They take a great deal of pleasure in punishing him.

This isn't a new or sudden revelation for Hiccup, though, so he retrieves a fresh towel and begins mopping, just enough so that the floor is dry enough for him to stand on safely. He'll clean it thoroughly later, of course, but first he'd like to drain the bath water. It's so dark that he's actually concerned for Snotlout's health. Surely it can't be safe to remain that dirty for two weeks…?

"Oi," Gobber says, poking his head into the bathroom and immediately scrunching up his nose at the smell. Hiccup, who'd just started on wiping down the basin sides, definitely understands. "Ah, Snotlout take a bath again?"

"What do you think?" Hiccup asks, waving around the sponge he'd just been using on the side of the tub. It's black. After touching the tub for one second. Scrubbing down the basin is usually a weekend chore, but he always makes an exception after Snotlout's baths. Mostly because he can't afford not to.

"Sorry, lad," Gobber chuckles, not looking nearly sorry enough. Gobber is the paid stable hand of the Bludvist family. He's not a servant; he's a legitimate worker with hours and time off and his own house and all that fancy stuff. The Bludvist family is a rich one, but they've only got one servant, and that's Hiccup.

"As nice as it is to see you, Gobber," Hiccups says, and he means it because Gobber is great, "I'm kind of busy right now. Rain check?"

"'Fraid not," Gobber tells him. "Drago wants yeh downstairs 'round five minutes ago."

Hiccup groans. As unappealing as scrubbing down a post-Snotlout bathroom is, meeting with Lord Bludvist is infinitely worse. On a good day, Hiccup can avoid him almost entirely, remaining in his presence only long enough to serve him his three meals before scurrying off to do some chore or another. Hiccup honestly doesn't even mind cleaning, really, at least in comparison to being around Lord Bludvist.

"Right," he says weakly, standing up and brushing off his trousers. "Yes, okay, thank you, I'll do that now." Gobber cuffs him on the shoulder.

"Aye, lad, no need to look so glum, I don't reckon yer in trouble. Just a gen'ral house meetin' for all yeh lot. The boys're down there too."

Oh, well. That's a little better. There's nothing worse than a one-on-one, you-fucked-up conversation with Lord Bludvist. Hiccup offers Gobber an almost-sincere smile.

"Thanks," he says. Then, "You gonna let me borrow Toothless this weekend, then? To, you know, make up for my misfortune today?"

"You keep dreaming, boy," Gobber says, but he's got that twinkle in his eyes that lets Hiccup know, yes, he is going to let him borrow Toothless. The man's a secret softy. "And he's called Night, yeh hear? He's got teeth, for chris'sake!"

Hiccup laughs as he exits the bathroom and heads in the direction of the stairs. They both know which name the horse responds to. "You keep dreaming, Gobber," he calls out, and starts making his way down towards the foyer.

… … …

"So," Lord Bludvist starts, pacing slowly at the front of the room before coming to a stop at the fireplace. "As you all know, the princess's eighteenth birthday is tomorrow. Which means that the ball is tomorrow night."

Hiccup would groan out loud if not for the fact that he'd be flayed within an inch of his life if he did so. For a house full of bachelors, there's been a lot of talk about the ball as of late, and Hiccup is frankly sick of it.

"Of course, Father," Eret says smoothly. He's muscular and tattooed and he's got a gruff, deep voice, the kind that has the girls in town swooning at his feet. Hiccup personally doesn't see the attraction, but then, he knows Eret as a person and that's a pretty huge turn-off.

"And you're prepared?" Lord Bludvist looks between Snotlout and Eret, who are seated next to each other on the sofa. Hiccup is on Snotlout's left, using the boy as a buffer between himself and Eret. He is not a fan of Eret.

"Yes, Father," Eret says. Snotlout echoes him. It's worth noting, Hiccup thinks, that neither Eret nor Snotlout are actually Lord Bludvist's sons, which makes sense because Hiccup has his doubts about Lord Bludvist's capability of reproducing. He'd have to, like, touch another human being. Eret, son of Eret, is Drago's nephew on his brother's side, and Snotlout is his nephew on his sister's. Both Eret and Snotlout's respective pairs of parents have passed away.

Hiccup never had parents.

"So you are confident that you will be able to secure the princess?" Lord Bludvist poses. Snotlout and Eret nod. Hiccup says nothing.

The plan to secure the princess does not, surprisingly, involve kidnapping. Hiccup had at first been sure it would. But, no, it instead it includes something that may make the princess suffer infinitely more: seduction. Hence Snotlout's bath, Eret's extra-smooth voice, and Hiccup's… well, Hiccup's still not sure why he's here. Other than being Eret's reluctant spotter while he worked on defining his muscles more, he's not had much involvement with Operation Flirtation, as he's been referring to it in his head.

In all honesty, Hiccup finds the situation almost humorous. Not the Lord Bludvist part, because that man is truly scary and the thought of him securing the crown is a disturbing one, but the Eret-and-Snotlout part. Mostly the Snotlout part. The boy is hopeless at flirting, as evidenced by his crush on the Thorston girl, and Hiccup is endlessly amused by the thought of him attempting to seduce a princess.

Eret, though… Eret might actually have a chance. He might actually become the prince, and then the king, and then he'd use his position to carry out the will of Lord Bludvist until the day he died. And what a horrifying thought thatis.

"Simon," Lord Bludvist says, addressing Snotlout specifically. Snotlout is, in fact, a nickname, one Hiccup has been using on his youngest master since he first came to work for the Bludvist household. It's not an insult so much as it is an endearment, and Snotlout's never minded so Hiccup's never stopped.

"Yes, Father?" Snotlout straightens in his seat, and he's sitting close enough that Hiccup can feel his muscles tense. He's not the only one who fears Lord Bludvist.

"I think it would be best," Lord Bludvist says slowly, "if, when we attend the ball, you were to leave the princess to your brother."

Oh, Hiccup thinks. This is a new development, technically, but it's not one he's surprised by. Eret is tall, strong, charming, and the lot; Snotlout is not. Eret's also talked to princess once before, at a royal dinner where all the nobles were invited, and Lord Bludvist is pretty sure he'd made a good impression. Snotlout has done no such thing.

Hiccup expects Snotlout to protest, as the boy has always been quite keen on the idea of being king, but instead he just nods.

"Yes, Father," he says again. That's all he ever says in Lord Bludvist's presence, really. Eret varies a little more, but he's still usually rather quiet. Hiccup doesn't blame either of them.

A silence falls over the four of them, until Eret tentatively breaches, "Is that all, Father?" Lord Bludvist shakes his head.

"Master Ingerman has invited you for brunch," he says, sneering the last word lightly, as though a breakfast/lunch combination is worthy of such scorn. Hiccup will never understand nobles.

"Oh, Father," Eret groans. Usually this kind of attitude might result in punishment, but Lord Bludvist is not fond of the Ingerman family, either, and Eret's verbal rebellion goes unmentioned.

"It would have been impolite to refuse," he sniffs, looking as though would have very much liked to have been impolite to Master Ingerman. He's never been one to displease someone with power, though, and the Ingermans are a rather wealthy family.

"Simon can go without me," Eret says, which Hiccup knows will work. Master Ingerman – Finn, is his name, but Hiccup calls him Fishlegs – doesn't care for Eret. He doesn't care for Snotlout, either, but he can't very well ask Lord Bludvist to send only Hiccup over. For Hiccup is, in fact, the one he really wants at brunch.

Hiccup and Fishlegs are best friends. Shhh. It's a secret.

"Very well," Lord Bludvist says to Eret. "You may stay, provided that you work on your plan of action regarding the princess. Simon, you go." He finally turns to Hiccup, but Hiccup doesn't even flinch. He now knows why he's been called, and it's a rare good reason. "Hiccup, Master Ingerman has inexplicably asked for your specific service at his manor. It appears your pathetic cooking skills are appreciated by someone."

Hiccup smiles blandly, as he often does in Lord Bludvist's presence. The more vacant he appears, the less he has to live up to.

"Master Ingerman doesn't exactly have high standards when it comes to food, Father," Eret says, his lips pulled up into an unpleasant smirk. Hiccup hates that smirk. He's lived with it for nearly ten years now, and it drives him crazy.

"Well then," Snotlout says awkwardly, getting up from the couch. "We ought to be on our way then, hadn't we, Hiccup?" Hiccup nods his assent and stands unevenly, bowing on lopsided legs to Lord Bludvist before following Snotlout towards the door. The second they're outside, they both collapse against the side of the house.

"Jesus Christ," Snotlout says, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I took a bath to get with the princess and now he's calling it off?"

"You should take baths for the good of society," Hiccup says mildly. "At least this way you still have a chance at Mistress Thorston, right?"

"Yeah," Snotlout says, looking marginally less upset. "But she's not a princess."

"She's nice-looking, though," Hiccup murmurs, not particularly meaning it. Both Mistress Thorston and Master Thorston have always scared him more than a little bit – they're so rowdy that he can scarcely believe they're nobles. "And, besides, the princess isn't technically a princess, either."

Snotlout glares at him. "Hiccup, her name is literally the princess."

"Her name is Astrid," Hiccup says, pushing himself off from the wall of the house and rolling his eyes. He has no doubt that Snotlout legitimately didn't know that. "She's not actually of royal blood, remember?"

"Oh," Snotlout says, as an ancient politics lesson seems to come back to him. Hiccup heads off towards the stables, and Snotlout trails behind him. "Wait, so – wait, if I married her – or, I mean, Eret – wait, would he not be king? In theory? Because she's not a princess?"

"Honestly," Hiccup mumbles, wrenching open the stable doors. Gobber's not there – he must be still in the Bludvist manor. Hopefully cleaning the bathroom. "Did you pay attention at all in your lessons? You had a private tutor."

"He was boring. So will Eret be king or not?"

"Of course he will, if the princess chooses him," Hiccup says, peering into the nearest stall to see if the horse there is the one he's looking for. It's a brown mare. Not Toothless. "The bloodline died with Hinrik, right?"

"Right," Snotlout says slowly.

"And the king needs an heir."

"Right."

"Right, and since Hinrik is dead, he doesn't have one, and he doesn't have any relatives either. So Astrid, whose parents are of the highest nobility next to the royals, is next in line. Make sense?"

"Yeah, I guess," Snotlout says. "But shouldn't she have to marry, like, a prince or something?"

"She has to marry a noble, Snotlout, that's all. This isn't the dark ages." Hiccup's face breaks out into a smile as he finally finds the black stallion he's been looking for, all the way at the very back of the barn. "Hey, there, bud. Hey, Toothless," he coos, running a hand over the horse's face. Toothless whinnies at him and nuzzles his palm.

Snotlout rolls his eyes and opens the stall next to him, where his reddish horse Hookfang is. "I still can't believe you named your horse Toothless, honestly. You're an idiot."

"First of all, you're the idiot. Second, he's not technically my horse. He's Gobber's. And third… look at this face." He angles Toothless's big wide eyes in Snotlout's direction. "Clearly he is incapable of harm."

"Doesn't mean he's toothless," Snotlout grumbles, mounting Hookfang. "Race you to the nerd's house? I'll ditch you outside, of course." Snotlout is well-aware of the fact that Fishlegs only really wants Hiccup there, and he'd much rather stalk the Thorston estate anyway.

"You're on," Hiccup says, slipping Toothless's saddle onto him and tugging at the straps. Snotlout doesn't bother waiting for him, and ends up getting a good thirty second head start.

Hiccup wins anyway.

… … …

"Hiccup," Fishlegs groans, throwing himself down onto his soft bed. Hiccup continues to doodle in his notebook. "What do I do?"

"Ask her out," Hiccup says noncommittally, adding long eyelashes to the picture of the woman he's drawing. He's not sure who she is, but his best bet would be his mother. He doesn't remember his mother – perhaps his subconscious does, though? It's all very blurry, and the woman is honestly more of a rough sketch than anything. He's pretty sure she's beautiful, though.

"I can't just ask her out," Fishlegs whines, waving his hands dramatically up in the air. They're not actually eating brunch. Hiccup is goofing off and Fishlegs is having a mild panic attack. "You can't just ask someone out."

"Ican't," Hiccup agrees. "You can. Go for it."

"Not her, though," Fishlegs says, suddenly abandoning freak-out mode in favor of sighing dreamily. "She's too special."

Hiccup groans. Why is he surrounded by guys who are desperately in love with Mistress Thorston? He doesn't really see the appeal. "Write her a poem or something, I don't know."

"Do you think she'd like that?" Fishlegs asks, sitting up. The honest answer is no, but Fishlegs looks so hopeful that Hiccup has trouble finding the words to say it.

"…I don't think it'd hurt," he decides on, which isn't a lie. "But she'd probably prefer, like, a sword or something." Or a severed head. Or a war in her honor.

"A sword," Fishlegs says slowly. "That could work, I could give it to her –"

He falls back onto his bed with a short screech. Hiccup closes his sketchbook. "Fishlegs, what –"

"I can't give her anything," Fishlegs says, horrified and sitting up again. "She'd – she'd laugh at me, she'd refuse me, she'd destroy my fragile heart –"

"Fishlegs," Hiccup interrupts, walking over to the bed to grip his shoulders. "Breathe, okay? Focus on breathing."

Fishlegs nods. Hiccup offers him a smile.

"Good job. Now, I want you to sit there while I come up with something, alright? Just… breathe some more."

Fishlegs nods again. Hiccup's not been educated by private tutors like Snotlout, but he's sat in on a great deal of lessons and can read and write a fair bit better than any of the Bludvists. Plus, he's just naturally pretty clever. Coming up with a way to woo Mistress Thorston shouldn't be a problem. Although getting Fishlegs to woo her might be a little harder…

"The ball," Hiccup says, after a few seconds of silence. "It's a masquerade thing, right?"

He doesn't know why he poses it as a question; Lord Bludvist has been talking about it enough for him to know that, yeah, it's a masquerade. Fishlegs nods for the third time.

"Right, so, just… charm her there, okay? Like… in your mask. Read her your poetry or whatever. And if she rejects you, ask her why and she can tell you what you did wrong and, like. Then you can approach her as you and do things right and she'll never have to know. And if she likes you at the ball you can just… rip off your mask and ask her to marry you or something. Foolproof." Fishlegs gapes at him.

"It's so simple," he says. "It's… it's perfect. I love you." Hiccup knows. He's about to take a sarcastic bow and demand some actual brunch when Fishlegs adds, "I think I'll need you there."

"Me?" Hiccup says, aghast. "What do you mean, me?"

"For moral support!" Fishlegs insists. "I can't just approach Ruffnut by myself, I mean, she's too –"

"Oh whoa," Hiccup cuts him off, suddenly intrigued. "You're on a name basis with Mistress Thorston now? When did thishappen?"

Fishlegs blushes. "Our families are close, you know that, Hiccup. Seriously, I don't know if I'll be able to do this without you there."

"Sorry, Fish, I can't. The Bludvists will be there."

"You'll be wearing a mask!"

"That won't cover up my leg, my prosthetic'll give me away."

"You can put a shoe over it."

"I don't have an invite!"

"You can be my plus one."

Hiccup stares at him, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. "I don't have a suit," he says. It's his last excuse.

"You can borrow one of –"

"You weigh five times more than me, Fishlegs." He means this not as an insult to Fishlegs, but to himself. He's tall but skinny as a rail, the kind of person who might get swept away if the wind were to blow too hard. This is due in equal parts to his natural build and the fact that Lord Bludvist barely feeds him.

"I can find you something," Fishlegs says brightly, which is how they end up spending the next hour and a half in the back of his closet looking for something that could have even a chance of fitting Hiccup. Nothing works – Fishlegs has some very old clothing that doesn't completely dwarf Hiccup's frame, but it's all far too short.

"Aha!" Fishlegs finally exclaims, pulling out a suit that most certainly does not belong to him. "Tuffnut gave this to me ages ago because it's too formal, and look, it's your size!"

It's not. It's a few years old, so it fits Hiccup quite well in the middle, but Tuffnut is still shorter than him and the pant legs don't go past his ankles. Ankle. And the jacket sleeves are too short.

Fishlegs replaces the jacket with one of his own, which hangs a little loose but fits overall, and lends him some black socks to hide his ankle and prosthetic. Hiccup frowns as he tries to finagle a sock over his fake leg.

"I'm gonna have to make a special shoe for this," he mumbles, examining his prosthetic. The bottom of it is rectangular and certainly won't fit into a regular boot. Fishlegs pauses.

"You're going, then?" he asks happily. Hiccup sighs and nods.

Fishlegs hugs him.

… … …

Hiccup spends all of that night and most of the next morning altering one of his unused left boots to fit his prosthetic. He doesn't like to wear two shoes, because it impairs his movement, but Fishlegs is his best friend. And Hiccup is weak.

He finds himself a little antsy with excitement as he goes through his chores that day. It's probably because both Lord Bludvist and Eret are buzzing with anticipation and making it hard to think straight, but Hiccup thinks it might also be because he's going to a ball. Like. He's going to a ball. The ball. With Fishlegs. With people who won't know that he's just servant. With the princess. Not that he'll actually meet her or anything, but whatever, she'll still be there.

Dusk approaches slower than he thought possible. Lord Bludvist pulls him aside just before the sun sets and crowds him up against the wall.

"Listen here, Hiccup Smith," he says, and Hiccup flinches. That's the one way to get to him, really – use his last name. Or, his substitute last name. Smith is what they call all the unclaimed, unknown orphans and bastards.

"Yes, Lord Bludvist," he says, looking him in the eyes. He wants to call him Drago, just to get a rise out of him or something, but he's not an idiot. And he doesn't want to get flayed tonight.

"Eret will be king very, very soon," Lord Bludvist says, in a way that makes Hiccup think that King Stephen won't be around much longer if Eret becomes the prince. "And when that time comes, I will have a million servants and no more need of you. Do you understand?"

Hiccup nods silently. He doesn't say what they both know – that Lord Bludvist is already rich enough to have… well, not millions, but certainly hundreds of servants already. He simply prefers to have Hiccup do all the work himself.

"Then if you wish to be kept around despite being utterly useless, you will have the table set with a celebratory feast by the time we get back tonight. Set four places – I've no doubt that the princess may be joining us."

"Yes, Lord Bludvist," Hiccup says, ignoring the pit of unhappiness in his stomach. Poor Fishlegs. There's no way that Hiccup can possibly attend the ball and make dinner in the same evening – he'll just have to sit this one out. The disappointment he's feeling is on behalf of his best friend only, by the way, not himself.

"We'll be back at midnight," Lord Bludvist says, and sweeps out of the room. Hiccup sighs and sinks down against the wall.

… … …

"Alright, 'iccup, out wi' it – what 'appened?"

"Oh," Hiccup says, turning towards the stable doors, where Gobber's voice had come from. His hand stills, and Toothless whinnies unhappily as his mane stops getting brushed. "Hey, Gobber."

This is what Hiccup does when he's stressed: brush his horse's hair. It's a little pathetic.

"'ey, lad. Yer face is longer 'an yer horse's. What's 'appened?"

"Lord Bloodyfist wants me to cook him a feast by midnight and… I had plans." It's eight o'clock now, meaning he's only got four hours 'til midnight and he should really get started on the meal, but… he doesn't want to.

"You? Plans?" Gobber looks far too shocked for comfort, and Hiccup glares at him. "Well, boy, get out of 'ere! Yah've never had plans before, go honor 'em."

Hiccup rolls his eyes. "I just said –"

"Ah, dun worry about it, I can take care of that. I'm a right cook, I am."

"Gobber, I can't ask you to do that –"

"You di'nt, I offered. Get outta 'ere 'fore I chase yeh out."

Hiccup gapes at him. No freakin' way. "Gobber –"

"Hiccup, go. I've got this." His smile is soft and a little overly fond. "Yeh dun get ta take Toothless – ah, Night with yeh, though. S'yer punishment fer makin' me cook. Yeh can walk, righ'?"

Hiccup purses his lips. "I… I guess I can suffer through that," he says, grinning stupidly. Then he deflates. "I – I can't go, Gobber, the ball starts in twenty minutes and – I was going to make a mask, but then I thought I couldn't go and now I don't have time."

Gobber doesn't stop smiling at him. "I think I've got jus' the thing."

… … …

Hiccup shifts Gobber's black dragon mask over his face nervously as he searches the crowd for Fishlegs. The ball is invitation-only, and he doesn't have a goddamn invitation, Fishlegs does, and Hiccup is supposed to be his plus one but he can't find him and if he can't find him he can't get in and if he can't get in then –

"Hiccup?" someone says from behind him. He spins, and – oh. Fishlegs's mask is a muddy brown-green, with an under-bite and what looks like warts. Who paints warts on a mask? He's not sure how far this will go towards seducing Mistress Thorst – Ruffnut.

"You look great!" Fishlegs says happily. "I love your mask."

"Thanks," Hiccup mumbles. He likes it, too. It's black and sleek and it hides the middle of his face. "You, too. Um, maybe you should not call me Hiccup? Like, in case someone hears?"

"Oh," Fishlegs says, his eyes widening behind the mask. "Oh, right. Um… I – I'll call you – Jason? That's my cousin's name."

"Sure," Hiccup replies. "Let's go."

The guard accepts Fishlegs's invitation without hesitation, and doesn't spare Hiccup a second glance when he goes through the doors. It's thrilling.

"Alright," Hiccup says, looking around the room. "We've got until midnight before I have to go, so let's get a move on. First thing's first, we need to find Ruffnut. You know her well enough, who do you think –"

"Hi," a rough voice says from behind them. "Nice mask."

They turn. It's a girl wearing a mask similar to Fishlegs's, but greener and blissfully wartless. Hiccup glances at Fishlegs, and the look on his face tells him that, yeah, the girl is definitely Ruffnut.

"Are you – are you talking to me?" he squeaks, and Ruffnut nods. Hiccup rolls his eyes and sticks out his hand.

"I'm – Jason," he says, making his voice a little deeper than it usually is. He and Ruffnut have met before, quite a few times, and his normal voice is distinctive enough that she might recognize it. "And this is…"

"Franklin," Fishlegs lies, and Hiccup raises a brow at him. He suddenly looks infinitely more confident, probably something to do with the mask, and he gives Hiccup a look like go mingle, I'll call you if I need you. Hiccup salutes him mockingly and mouths midnightone more time, then ambles off into the crowd of people.

He spots Snotlout out on the dance floor by himself, wearing a fiery red mask that Hiccup rather likes. He doesn't' see Eret, so he assumes he's probably with the princess by now, maybe schmoozing up to the king and working his way up the royal ladder. It's not a great mental image.

His leg's not really adept for dancing, so he settles himself against a wall and watches the masked people interact. He doesn't recognize anyone other than Snotlout, but it's nice to speculate. He's trying to figure out who Tuffnut is (he's probably wearing a mask similar to Ruffnut's, right?) when someone leans beside him on the wall.

"Gets repetitive, right?" she says, but Hiccup barely hears her. She's – whoa. He shouldn't be able to tell through her mask, but, like. She's gorgeous. He knows it. She's got blonde hair styled into a thick braid down her right shoulder, plus blue eyes and light freckles and a perfect nose and her mouth –

"Huh?" he asks, a little dumbfounded. The girl has a blue mask with orange and yellow swirled into it. It's beautiful. She's beautiful. She's talking to him.

"The balls," the girl clarifies. "It's always the same thing over and over again, dancing and mingling and small talk… you know what I mean?"

"Uh, yeah," he says, slipping back into the deep voice he'd used with Ruffnut. This girl is so out of his league. But then – but then she's not, is she? Not tonight. Like, she's still too good-looking for him, but – but he's not a servant tonight. He's a nobleman. And he has a shot with this girl. Maybe.

Maybe.

"Nice mask," the girl says, after a pause. Hiccup beams at her, and hopefully doesn't imagine the way her eyes dart to his lips.

"Yours, too," he replies honestly. "It's really colorful." And then, before he can lose his nerve, "What's your name?"

Her mask is narrow enough that he can see it when she raises her eyebrows at him. "Isn't the whole idea of this thing to be in disguise? What's the point if I tell you my name?"

"Fair enough," Hiccup concedes, only a little bit disappointed. "But then you don't get to know mine, either."

"Sounds good to me," she says. "So, why are you here? Plans to marry the princess?"

Hiccup laughs. "Hardly," he says, and the girl looks pleased. "I'm just here to help a friend."

"Oh?" the girl says. "Who's that?"

He gestures towards where Ruffnut and Fishlegs are still talking. "See that chemistry? See that natural, flowing conversation? That's all because of me."

"Is it?"

"No. Turns out he didn't need me once he had a mask on. My skills have been rendered useless. I've still got them, though, honestly."

The girl laughs. "I can see that." She says it like it's a compliment, and it makes his gut twist with happiness.

They stand there in comfortable silence for a moment, before the girl says, "So. Tell me about yourself."

Hiccup snorts. "I thought we weren't doing that? Like, you wanted a mystery thing?"

"Just no names," the girl clarifies. "Or, like, really telling characteristics. But tell me some stuff about you. Like, any siblings?"

"Nope," Hiccup says, not entirely honestly. He's a Smith, so. He might. It's not like he knows. And even if he used to know, he doesn't anymore. "You?"

"Nope," she says. "Pets?"

"Uh, a horse, I guess. You?"

"Same." She's definitely smiling at him now. "Favorite color?"

"…blue." Not just because her eyes are blue.

"Green," she counters. Probably not because his eyes are green. "Hobbies?"

"Um, drawing. Designing stuff. Inventing. You know."

Assumed Soulmate (that's her official name now) pauses. "You're an inventor?" Hiccup nods, and she grins at him. "That's really cool. Usually no one here does anything interesting. What do you make?"

"Oh, you know," he says vaguely, not really able to tell her that he usually crafts foot prototypes because he's missing the lower half of his left leg. "Just stuff. Swords, axes, other assorted weaponry."

Assumed Soulmate's eyes sparkle. "Really? You work with weapons? Because my axe has been feeling a bit unbalanced, lately, you know. Maybe you could fix it up."

Fireworks explode in Hiccup's stomach. "I, uh. I dunno how you'd be able to bring it to my estate without knowing my family name."

"True," Assumed Soulmate (A.S.? just As) says. "You could always tell me it, though. If you absolutely had to."

Oh, yeah, it's Smith, because I'm a bastard with no official title or heritage. Marry me anyway? "Would you tell me yours?"

As smiles. "Not likely."

"Then likewise," he says, offering her his widest grin. He knows it's crooked and unattractive, but the look As gives him makes him think maybe she likes it. He clears his throat. "So, um… you have an axe?"

"Yup."

"Ah. You any good?"

"Obviously," she sniffs, and wow, isn't overconfidence meant to be unattractive? And obnoxious? Because clearly someone forgot to tell As that. "How about you? Any axe skills to your name?"

He considers lying and telling her that he's descended from a long line of axe-wielding noblemen and that he's the youngest, most prestigious master in all of Berk. It's not like he'll ever see her again after this, right? No harm done. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but somehow he finds himself admitting, "I can barely pick up an axe, much less swing one."

Strangely, this seems to be the right thing to say, because As laughs. "An honest man, I like it. Can you pick up a sword, then?"

"Yes, actually," Hiccup says, perking up. "And I can use one. I'm pretty good at it, too, I think, me and Snoaaahh… um, my cousin practice with each other sometimes and I usually beat him. I mean, he's more of a hammer guy, though. So." He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. He'd almost mentioned Snotlout in front of this girl, which… well, it's not like she would've recognized the nickname, but. Still.

As is looking at him a little weird, so he adds, "I've actually got this – this cool sword that I designed, and made, and stuff, it's, uh – it catches fire. The blade does. When I want it to. And… sometimes when I don't, it depends."

As's eyebrows shoot up. "On what?"

"Um. I don't know, on whether or not the world hates me that day?"

She laughs. "I like you," she declares decisively, as if she's been working towards this conclusion throughout their entire conversation. Hiccup flushes down to his toes. "You're different. Tell me how your sword works."

He does, gesturing wildly as he explains, As smiling and nodding every so often. She actually looks like she's hanging onto his words, which is nice, because he's very used to being heard rather than listened to. Even Gobber and Fishlegs both tend to tune him out whenever he starts going off on the mechanics of his inventions. Hiccup can't really blame them, but it's great to have As offering him her full and undivided attention.

He might get just a bit a little overenthusiastic while talking about his plans to make the blade retractable, because he ends up flailing his arms to the side and accidentally smacking someone lightly in the face. As snorts a little, which shouldn't be attractive but is, and he offers her a sheepish smile as he rubs his left hand with his right.

"Sorry," he mumbles to whoever he hit, too embarrassed to look them in the eye. He's shocked when two big hands shove him in the chest and he stumbles.

"Watch it," Eret growls, and of course it's Eret. He hasn't found the princess yet, apparently, because his tone is harsh and his lips are twisted into a scowl. Hey, maybe he'd talked with the princess and she'd rejected him. What a beautiful thought.

"You watch it," As snaps, practically gnashing her teeth at him. "He said he was sorry."

Eret rolls his eyes and stalks off, obviously too infuriated to deal with them. It's only been, like, fifteen minutes since the ball started, and Hiccup wonders what could've happen to get him in such a mood already.

"Asshole," As mumbles under her breath, which startles a laugh out of Hiccup. He's never been more into anyone in his life. "Hey, you wanna take this outside?"

"Huh?"

She nods her masked head towards a pair of closed doors near the side of the room. "Those lead to a hallway, which lead to the gardens. We could continue our conversation there, Eret-free?"

"You know Eret?" he asks, stunned. As's face takes on a similar expression.

"You know Eret?"

"Not willingly," he defends himself, which makes As laugh. Again. "I just… know him. And hate him."

"Same," she says, still smiling. "Remember that dinner King Stephen had for all the nobles last year?" Hiccup nods – Eret had engaged in conversation with the princess there and hadn't stopped talking about it for days. "Yeah, well, I met him there and have stayed far away from him ever since."

Hiccup smiles understandingly. "He's, uh – same thing with me, basically."

As perks up. "Were you at the royal dinner, then, too?"

"Oh, uh –" what does he say? "No, I sat that one out. I just meant… that I met him in a similar situation. You know. Nobles hanging out together, me forced into hanging out with him."

"Ah," As says, looking a little – disappointed? "I figured. I mean, I talked to everyone there and… I would've remembered you, I think."

"Oh," he replies, feeling rather pleased. He's memorable. "Thank you. Um, so – the gardens, then?"

As's face breaks out into a wide smile. "Follow me."

… … …

"Uh, hey? As?"

As freezes. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry," he says, flushing as he realizes that he's just used his made-up name for her out loud. "Sorry, that's – what I've been calling you in my head."

As's – the girl's – shoulders are tense. "Why would you call me that?"

"Oh, it, uh." He feels his face go even redder. "I just… A.S. are the initials I came up with for you. They, uh. They stand for something."

Her posture eases, but only just. "Obviously. What?"

He can't tell her they stand for Assumed Soulmate, of course, so he racks his brain for something else. "Uh. A… stranger. They stand for A Stranger."

As stares at him for a moment, then her lips quirk and the set of her shoulders goes back to normal. "I don't think I quite believe you."

"Okay, fine, it's Awesome Stranger."

"I still don't believe you," she says, "but thank you. I guess I'll call you… Smith."

His heart falls into the pit of his stomach. "I. What?"

As seems to realize what she just implied, and now it's her turn to blush. "Oh, God, no, that's not what I meant. I mean – God, sorry, I didn't think that through, you're not a bastard, obviously, just – you know. You're kind of a blacksmith, so. Smith. Sorry. Shit."

She claps a hand over her mouth and turns almost purple immediately after she lets the cuss slip out, and Hiccup chooses to laugh rather than cry. You're not a bastard, obviously. "I'm not sure if shit is a very lady-like word, As."

"Shut up," she hisses, punching him in the shoulder in a way that's not very gentle. He doesn't mind too much, though. "I'm sorry I called you Smith."

"It's cool, I'm not bothered," he says. It's not insulting if it's true. "But, um. What I was going to ask, before I called you As, was, uh. Are we allowed to be here?" He spreads his arms out, referring to the hallway as a whole, and As smirks at him.

"You afraid of getting thrown in the stocks, Smith?"

"Yes. Is that your way of admitting we could get in trouble?"

"Don't worry," As says, brushing her fingers against the too-long cuff of his jacket. Hiccup stares intently at the spot. "I'll protect you."

"Um," he says, rather intelligently. "…Thanks?" As doesn't say anything; just smiles and lets her hand stay near his, their fingers touching briefly every so often.

He's about to attempt to engage her in conversation again (so, do you believe in love at first sight?) when they turn a corner and enter an adjacent hallway, where the walls are decorated with assorted paintings. Hiccup eyes are immediately caught by a portrait of the royal family, and he stops walking just to stare at the three people depicted there.

He's always heard that the Haddocks had, at one point, been the epitome of happiness, and this picture pretty much proves it. King Stephen is seated, his eyes crinkling around the corners and his bushy red beard doing a poor job of concealing his smile. Queen Valerie is on his right, radiant and ethereal. The crown prince, Hinrik III, is perched comfortably on his mother's lap, and appears to be the most content child in the world.

It's an old painting, done when the prince looked to be about two. When the royal family had posed for this portrait, they'd had five years of happiness left. Out of the three people in the picture, the king is now the only living member, and in a more recent painting of him standing alone, his eye crinkles are gone.

This is due to the fact that, when the prince was seven and the queen was twenty six, the two of them and their escorts had set out on a regular daytrip to the border of Berk to have a picnic. Not even the king knows the exact occurrence of events, as every Berkian present there that day was killed, but the long and short of it is that their party was attacked by bandits. The guards, servants, and horses were slaughtered: the queen alone managed to escape, and she was grievously injured herself. She'd shown up at the palace a day later, covered in blood that wasn't all her own, deliriously fretting over the fate of her son. The king himself had lead parties in the search for the prince, but no trace of Hinrik had ever been recovered. The queen had died a week later, and there were many who believed it was of a broken heart rather than her wounds.

Hiccup, who has heard this story hundreds of times through gossipy nobles, finds himself a bit taken aback by the pure lightness of the painting. He's only ever pictured the Haddock family as broken and devastated, but here in this portrait, they are happy. It's something of a revelation. And…

And, well. He feels like he recognizes the family in the painting. He sees the king's smile and imagines a deep, rumbling belly laugh: he sees the queen's mouth and thinks of a soft, sweet voice singing of seas: he sees the prince's freckles and they remind him of – well, they kind of remind him of –

"Smith?" As says, and Hiccup's eyes snap back towards her. He's being ridiculous. Just – he's never gotten a glimpse at anyone from the royal family before, and it's making him all weird. He's an idiot.

"Sorry," he says, smiling crookedly at her. "Got lost in thought." They start walking again, As shooting him wary glances every now and then, until they get to a picture of the princess.

Hiccup's clearly in a strange mood, because he's half-convinced he recognizes her, too. It's only a painting, but he thinks he knows the blue of those eyes, or that golden hair – which makes no sense, as he's most certainly never met the princess. And blue eyes and blonde hair are very common, especially in noble bloodlines…

"Come on," As says, sounding a little on edge as she drags him past the portrait. "We're supposed to be going to the gardens, remember?" He stumbles a little bit over his fake leg, but follows her nevertheless.

Finally, they come to the end of the hallway, and As pushes open the doors. The time is approaching nine in the evening, so it's dark outside, but the gardens are lit by candles. Hiccup frowns.

"Isn't this place meant to be off-limits to the party? Why would they light it with candles if no one's coming here?"

"They do that every night," As mumbles absently, then coughs. "I mean, I'm guessing they do. Royalty, you know?"

No, he doesn't know. "Yeah. Um. You wanna sit?" He points rather awkwardly to a bench positioned in front of a hedge, and As nods her assent. Her Assent. Haha. Wow.

They sit, quiet for a moment. Hiccup breaks the silence this time. "So. As. Um. What was… your childhood like?"

As smiles ruefully. "Normal, until I turned seven. Then…" she sighs. "I guess you know how it is. Rules, dinner parties, finishing schools, corsets… the works. All for the sake of molding me into a pri – ah, a proper lady. Even though…" She trails off.

"Even though you'd rather be axe fighting with Eret," Hiccup finishes for her. As kicks him lightly in the leg, and he thanks God that he's sitting with his right side pressed against her rather than his left. No need for her to know that he's missing a foot.

"Yeah. But maybe not with Eret."

"I have no doubt that you'd win, though, and don't you think he'd look so much more attractive without a head?" As laughs. "Just think, you could shove it where it's always really been, right up his –"

"Smith," she says, placing a hand dramatically over her heart. "I'm a lady, remember? You're scarring my innocent mind."

"I'm sure," he replies wryly. Her foot is still resting close rather close to his, so he nudges it gently, and within seconds they're playing footsie. Nice.

"Your laces are done up really tight," As mentions offhandedly. "You're gonna cut off the circulation in your feet and lose 'em."

And isn't that ironic? The laces on his left shoe are tied as tightly as possible, because his boot isn't perfectly fitted to his fake foot and he doesn't want to risk it slipping off. He'd done the same thing with his right shoe so that they'd match. "Thanks for the tip."

"No problem," As says. They stare at each other for a moment, both of them smiling softly, and Hiccup wonders how he can feel so comfortable around such a beautiful girl. She's… he doesn't want to say perfect, because nobody'sperfect, but, she's… well. She's perfect for him. He thinks.

As leans a little too close, though, so he turns his head and clears his throat. "Uh. So."

"So," she echoes him. "Er. How was your childhood?"

"Oh." He really shouldn't have asked her that question, because that's basically an invitation to ask him the same thing in return, and he has no idea what to say. Because he has no idea what his childhood was like.

It's never been diagnosed or anything, because Lord Bludvist certainly doesn't care enough to hire a doctor to check him out, but Fishlegs is pretty sure that he's got full-on retrograde amnesia caused by trauma. Hiccup remembers being adopted as a servant by the Bludvist family when he was around eight (he thinks that's how old he was) but very little before that. In the months before he came to the Bludvists, there was a lot of being passed from home to home, person to person, each of them making him carry out chores before handing him off to whoever wanted him next. All of that is very fuzzy when he tries to recall it. Anything prior to those days is almost completely lost.

He remembers he had a family, at one point, but. That's it. Nothing else. Fishlegs is confident that something horrible happened to him and his parents, something that left him bereft of his leg and so scarred that his brain decided to write off the entire incident to spare him the pain. It would explain a lot (like why he is bereft of his leg), and Fishlegs has read enough medical books that Hiccup trusts his opinion.

"Um," he says to As, who is staring at him expectantly. "It was… rough. Like yours, I guess. Lots of hard work." Like scrubbing out the fireplace and getting down on his hands and knees to polish every table leg in the house. "And, uh. Lots of learning. I really loved school." School being the tutoring sessions he sat in on with Snotlout.

"Me, too," As says. "English, mostly. You?"

"Same. And science. And math. And history. And –"

"Nerd," As cuts him off, sounding fond. He gapes at her.

"Excuse me," he says, and coughs a little bit when his voice comes out sounding more like his own in his indignation. "I am of the highest intellectual standards and take great offense at your immature name calling. Honor demands we must duel."

As laughs, and it rings loud across the gardens. "Does not."

He tangles his fingers with hers, and for a second As's face goes slack and her eyes go wide. But then he yanks off one of her elegant white gloves and throws it to the ground, and her expression abides. Throwing down a glove is the universal symbol of a challenger proposing a duel.

"Does now," he says cheekily, standing up. He takes her hands, both the gloved and the ungloved one, and pulls her up with him.

"I don't have to fight you unless I pick it up," As grumbles, crossing her arms petulantly as he lets her go. Hiccup looks at her, then raises his right foot and steps on her glove, grinding it into the dirt.

"Oops," he says, even as he continues to press down on it with his heel. "My bad."

As gasps and bends over to shove his foot away, then picks up the glove to assess the damage. By the time she realizes that she's walked into his trap, he's already searching the grass to look for passable sticks to use as weapons.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" As growls, as he hands her a thin branch to fight with. She's smiling, though, so he doubts he's in too much trouble.

"En garde," is all he responds with, waggling his damp stick threateningly at her. He gave her the good one, which turns out to be a mistake, because his falls apart by the simple act of them touching sticks to signal the start of the match.

They both stare down at the wreckage of his weapon for a moment. It's a sad sight. Then As pokes him lightly with her stick and says, "I win," and they both burst out laughing.

"Doesn't count," he huffs, once he's caught his breath. "The fates were working against me."

"Maybe they had a good reason," As poses. He crinkles his nose up at her, and she looks like she's about to add something when the clock bell chimes. They stand there and count the rings – nine of them.

"The ball only started half an hour ago," As says, sounding shocked. "We've only been hanging out for half an hour."

Hiccup eyes her suspiciously. "Is that a you're so boring, how is this evening not over yet or a I feel like I've known you forever kind of statement?"

"The latter," As says quickly. "Definitely the latter. I… I thought this was going to be really boring, and that I'd hate it, but. You're great."

"Well then," Hiccup says, rather at a loss for words. As look… sincere. She looks so sincere and so beautiful and so… just, everything. He adores her. He's known her for thirty minutes and he adores her. "Good."

"Good," As repeats slowly, and smiles.

… … …

"No, no, I'm serious," Hiccup insists, trying to calm As's laughter and fight off his own at the same time. "He did! I'm not making this up!"

"No way," she chokes, and he can see tears welling in her eyes as she struggles to take in air. He pats her back gently. "There is no way anyone could be that stupid, you're – you're embellishing."

"I don't need to embellish," Hiccup tells her honestly. "My cousin is honestly that ridiculous." The story of Snotlout purposely attempting to make it from the Haddock estate to the Thorston estate while riding his horse backwards is a completely true one. The part where he'd almost steered Hookfang into a lake and ended up getting flung into the water when the horse got sick of his nonsense is true, too.

Hiccup hadn't mentioned any names, of course, but the story is one of his favorites and had been too good not to share. As is leaning against him on the bench for support after her laughing fit (he's had a lot of practice telling it to anyone who'll listen, enough that he's gotten quite good at it) and she's very warm. Hiccup tentatively slips an arm around her, and she moves closer to him rather than pulling away.

"He sounds fun," As hiccups, which makes his stomach twist a little. Hiccups. "I'll have to meet him someday."

"He's kind of obnoxious," Hiccup mumbles. Meet him? Smith and As are never going to see each other again after tonight. That was the deal.

"Look at the stars," As says out of nowhere. Hiccup follows her gaze. "Great view tonight."

"Yeah," Hiccup agrees. "Know any constellations?"

"Do you?" He shakes his head, and she smiles. "Then, let's see. Um, that one's the palace, engrained into the stars by God himself, and that one's – um, a bone, I think, and there's an axe, and that one's obviously my face –"

"I hate you," Hiccup says, and As buries her laugh in his collarbone. He knows he's skinny, so shoving her face in his bony chest can't be too comfortable, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"Sorry. I think that one's Draco right there."

His blood runs cold. Draco. Of course the only constellation she knows is the one with a one-letter difference from his master. They've been talking for ages at this point, and the clock struck eleven quite a while ago. He wonders how much time they have left now.

As must see the look on his face, because she sits up to frown at him. "Hey, you okay?"

"Oh, 'course. Just trying to cope with the fact that you know more about something than me. It's hard. At least I'll probably never have to do it again, though."

She punches him. "Are you calling me stupid?"

"Maybe," he says, pursing his lips. "Or maybe I'm just referring to the fact we'll never see each other again after this."

Her mouth drops open. "What do you mean? Of course we will!"

"I don't even know your name," he points out. Her face goes a bit pale.

"I – well, I'll tell you it, obviously. So we can meet up again." He wants to inform her that she shouldn't bother, because they're certainly not going to ever see each other again after this, but he doesn't. Because he really wants to know her name.

She's silent, though. "Any day now," he prompts her, and she sighs.

"Sorry," she mumbles. "Sorry, just – I don't want you to, like. Look at me differently."

"Why would I look at you differently?"

She takes a deep breath and stares him in the eyes. "I… Smith, I'm – I really like you. You're really wonderful. And… I just… I don't want this to be a one night thing, because I think I'd regret letting you go for the rest of my life." Her face is so close to his that he can count the light freckles that aren't covered by her mask, and he's more watching her lips move than listening to her words because he can barely hear a thing over the pounding of his own heart.

"Um. I. Me, too." He's not sure what he's agreeing to, but he knows that he means it. As shifts impossibly closer.

"I want to see you again," she whispers, her eyes glancing down to his mouth for the briefest of moments before darting back up, and he can feel her breath against his lips. "Would you let me?"

He nods, almost imperceptible, because of course he'd let her if he could. He just can't. He doesn't say this, though, because he's not exactly capable of words at the moment. She leans so close that their lips are actually brushing, and he's just about to suck it up and kiss her when the clock bell chimes.

They jolt apart, and Hiccup is laughing nervously and running his fingers through his hair when he realizes that the clock bell is chiming. The last time it rung was when it turned eleven, which means that now it's turning twelve which means it's midnight which means the Bludvists are on their way home and Hiccup is suddenly jumping to his feet.

"Shit, fuck, shit," he hisses, grabbing at his hair and totally forgetting that he's in the presence of nobility. Not that As minds swearing, if the last three hours and a half hours are anything to go by, but still. He should really shut up.

"Smith?" she says, clearly alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"It's, uh, God, it's midnight, I have to go, I'm sorry, I – I have to go, I'm sorry." In a rare show of courage, he grabs her hand and presses a kiss to it before turning and dashing off towards the palace doors.

He complete ignores the paintings that had so compelled him earlier, running as fast as he can towards the ballroom. His fake leg is slowing him down, though, especially since it's awkwardly confined in an ill-fitting shoe, and As catches up to him just as he exits the hallway. "Smith – hey, wait, I thought – I mean, you said you wanted –"

"Jason!" someone calls out, and Hiccup stops and turns to find Fishlegs struggling to keep up with him. "Jason, it's midnight, we've got to –"

"I know," Hiccup snaps at him. "I'm sorry, As, but –"

"Jason?" she repeats, not even panting. How is she not panting? And why are they stopping, he can't afford to stop, Jesus Christ he's going to get killed for this, Drago is going to hang him up by his thumbs and – "Your name is Jason?"

"Seriously, As, I have to go. Look me up, alright?" He figures it can't hurt to say this, because Jason's not his real name anyway and he'll do anything to get As off of his back right now. "Fish, let's go!"

"Fish – Finn?Finn Ingerman?" As turns to Fishlegs, who waves awkwardly at her.

"Hi, As. I guess we've met before? When we weren't wearing masks, obviously. I don't remember you, I'm afraid, or at least I don't recognize you with the –"

Hiccup doesn't hear the rest of that sentence, because he's already shoving his way through the people in the crowd. He doesn't see Snotlout or Eret or Drago anywhere, which is bad, very very very bad, and as he flings open the palace doors something even more very bad happens. The king is standing there. And Hiccup runs into him.

"Oh, fuck, sorry," he says, then realizes he just swore in front of the king of Berk and might very well lose his head for it. The king, however, chuckles.

"In a hurry, lad?" he asks, then gapes at Hiccup as he gets a good look at him. "Valerie?"

Oh, wow. There've been a few rumors of the king going crazy after his wife and son's death, but Hiccup had never believed them. He does now. "Nope, sorry, gotta go. Bye!"

"Your – your eyes! Those are Valerie's – Hinrik!" King Stephen yells after him. Hiccup keeps running. He hears him call for guards, and a few seconds later, the king says, sounding panicked, "Get that boy, get that – get him! Bring him back!"

Hiccup keeps running.

Then he hears As's voice. "Jason? Jason! Forget about your curfew, I can work something out for you, just – stop!"

Hiccup keeps running.

"Jason?" the king says. Hiccup wonders how he can still hear both him and As, then realizes that, in addition to the palace guards, As and the King of Berk are chasing him down on foot. The situation is quickly spiraling out of control.

Hiccup. Keeps. Running.

When he gets to West Altar Street, he ducks behind the Thorston estate and jumps the short fence they have around their backyard, then quickly bends down to untie the laces on his left shoe. Losing the shoe isn't going to solve all of his problems, but it will certainly give him a little bit of a speed boost, and he freaking needsit.

As jumps the fence, too, and Hiccup dashes through the backyard of the Thorston's like he never has before, not even that one time when Tuffnut chased him with a live snake. He runs and runs and runs and runs, taking all the shortcuts he knows and thanking God that it's so dark out. By the time he gets to the Bludvist manor, the thundering sound of footsteps behind him has faded into oblivion.

It's not safe to celebrate yet, though, and his entire body is on edge as he flings open the back door of the house and runs to the dining room to find… Gobber. Setting the table.

"Oi, lad, yer just in time! You look a right mess, if you dun mind me sayin'. What 'appened?"

"No time, no time, I've gotta change," Hiccup puffs, almost crying with relief. "Thank you so much for this, Gobber, I'll – I'll muck the out the stables for a week if you want me to –"

"Make it a month and yeh've got a deal," Gobber says, waving him off. Hiccup sprints towards the servant's quarters (aka his room) and has just ripped off his black mask and shucked his jacket to the floor when he hears the front door open. Shit.

There's no time to change his slacks or shirt, so he pulls on a grubby coat and zips it up, then grabs a basin of dirty water from the corner of his room and pours it over his pants to disguise how fancy they are. So much for that outfit.

He runs back into the dining room (he's never gotten so much exercise in his life) to find that Gobber has vacated the area and that the Bludvist family is just starting to enter. Despite Drago's predictions that the princess would be accompanying them home, she's nowhere to be seen.

Hiccup exchanges a glance with Snotlout, who shakes his head minutely. This is a signal that things have gone wrong and that Hiccup should not open his mouth under any circumstances.

"I can't believethis," Eret fumes. "We were told the princess wouldn't be in disguise!"

"She wasn't supposed to be," Lord Bludvist says darkly, as Hiccup spoons some seriously nice-looking mashed potatoes onto his plate. Maybe Gobber should've been a cook. "According to Lady Abbot, she went against the king's wishes because she didn't want to be singled out."

"But that was the whole point," Eret says, in a voice that's dangerously close to a whine. Hiccup and Snotlout lock eyes, smile a little bit, and turn away from each other. "I wanted to single her out!"

"You were born to be king, Eret," Lord Bludvist says grandly, and Hiccup and Snotlout share a quiet snicker as Hiccup sorts out five slices of well-done steak – one for Eret, one for Drago, and three for Snotlout. "A small setback such as this one has no impact on what is essentially your destiny."

It goes on like this for a while, with Eret and Lord Bludvist spouting increasingly ridiculous statements and Hiccup and Snotlout alternately laughing and exchanging disbelieving looks. No one mentions the fourth place set on the table.

Eventually, Eret and Lord Bludvist amble off to bed, while Snotlout opts to stay behind for dessert. Once they're alone, Hiccup asks, "So how was it?"

"Okay," Snotlout says, swallowing around his strawberry parfait. "I found Ruffnut, but this other guy was talking to her and we ended up fighting for her attention all night."

Hiccup laughs. He can imagine Snotlout and Fishlegs going at each other's throats, and it's pretty funny. "Did you win?"

"Not sure." He sighs. "To be honest, I think she's more into Eret than me."

It's rare that Hiccup manages to wrangle any legitimate emotion out of Snotlout, so the look on his face means quite a bit. Hiccup claps him awkwardly on the shoulder.

"Eret's a jerk. I like you better," he says, and Snotlout rolls his eyes.

"Way to make me feel worse," he grumbles, but the happy lilt in his voice has Hiccup not buying it.

Snotlout pushes his chair away from the table and says, "I'm going to bed. Tell Drago I ate the dinner leftovers, okay?"

Hiccup frowns for a moment, then realizes what his young master is offering. He grins. "Okay. Thanks, Snotlout."

"Whatever," Snotlout mutters as he leaves the room. Hiccup watches him go, then sits down in what was supposed to be the princess's seat and helps himself to what's left of Gobber's meal. Snotlout's not so bad, honestly.

The room is dark and silent, and for the first time in the 45 minutes that've passed since the king-guards-As fiasco, Hiccup has time to think long and hard about the evening. He's not sure how he feels.

It'd been good – great – for most of the time, definitely. As was lovely and he hates the thought of her looking for a Jason in Berk's noble families and coming up short. He briefly contemplates getting Snotlout to convince Drago to invite all of Berk's nobility over to dinner so that he can find As and reveal himself to her, but it's a bad idea. She won't care about him once she realizes he's just a servant, and he'd like to have the three and a half hours they'd spent together to remain pure and untainted with heartbreak. This way he can look back on them and feel only happiness.

Well, mostly happiness. The thing with King Stephen at the end… that'd been nothing short of bizarre. Hiccup can't for the life of him figure out why the king would suddenly start babbling about his lost wife and son because of a short glimpse at Hiccup's face – unless, of course, the king is insane. Which is definitely the most plausible explanation he's come up with so far.

Hiccup sighs and finishes off his plate, then collects the rest of the dinner dishes off the table. It doesn't really matter anymore, does it? The night is over. He's never going to see As or the king again, and as wonderful and strange as the past few hours have been, they're done. Gone. Things in the Bludvist manor will continue to happen as they always have, and his life will go on unaffected.

It's not like anyone will come looking for him. It's over.

Obviously.

… … …

Prompt: omg I just watched the new cinderlla movie and it was pretty ok but now I want a hiccup as cinderella fanfic?! With gobber as his hairy godmother of course lmao do it? do it yes do it by saturday or Ill burn down ur house :) :D ^_^ ^U^ xxx

I regret nothing. This'll only be a few chapters but hopefully a lot of fun.