Hiccup rapped his knuckles against the partly opened door. Some shuffling around, and then a voice called, "Come in."

The door opened with a creak. Merida was sitting up on the bed, supported by pillows. She did not look happy.

"I, ah, brought some dinner for you," he said, nodding towards the plate of food and the mug held in his elbow.

Some interesting expressions crossed her face. He was worried she was going to lose her temper at him (her mother had warned them of the possibility), but she took a slow breath in through her nose and let it out with a defeated sigh. "Thanks."

Hiccup walked over to the bed. He handed her the plate, which she took with her good hand, and set the mug down on the bedside table. She struggled with the plate for a moment, and he didn't dare try to help her if she was determined to do it herself.

Once she looked like she was set, he mumbled something about coming back for the plate and headed for the door.

"Ah . . . it's Hiccup, right?"

He looked at her, surprised. "You remember?"

Merida rolled her eyes. "I didn't hit my head."

He shrugged and said, "You did sort of have a rough day. I wouldn't blame you."

She smiled. It was just a bit too tight to be genuine. "Well, I'll let you know if my broken bones begin messing with my memory."

He smiled back at her. She was trying to be brave, trying to cover up how horrible this was for her, and he understood that, perhaps better than most. He paused in the doorway, fingers drumming against the doorframe. What could he say? "I hope you feel better soon, Princess." Ugh. Vague. And everyone would be saying that. "And . . . I'm really sorry your horse got spooked by the dragons. That wasn't . . . "

She sighed and shrugged, looking out the window. "Ay, well, not much to be done about it now." With sad eyes and not even a hint of that fake smile, she looked back at him. "Thanks for dinner."

He nodded and left.

When he came back for the plate, he said nothing about the untouched food.