More Than He Bargained For
"Well Snowflake, we might actually be lost this time." Being a horse, Snowflake—so named for the white speckles on her coat combined with her owner's love of winter—did not reply.
Sighing, Jack gently brought the mare to a halt before looking around carefully, squinting at the sun. The day was nearly over, which meant that the hunting party would be back soon, which meant Jack needed to get to the campsite right away or his father—Duke North—was NOT going to be happy with him. True, his father was a very kind man, and certainly granted the young nobleman far more freedom than most would in his position; but defying the direct order to stay in the clearing with Aster was definitely going to get him into trouble if the older man found out. On their own landholdings it'd be different, but they were currently travelling through strange territory on their way to Earl Stoick's lands; and Duke North did not want to risk Jack getting lost.
Luckily for Jack, Aster always fell asleep on the job. The youth chuckled softly, if his father only knew how many times he'd already snuck off on this trip, always managing to return before Aster woke up and the hunting party arrived.
Though it appeared he was out of luck this time, given that for once he really didn't know how to get back. Clucking softly to Snowflake, they set off in the direction Jack was pretty sure (but mostly hoping) their campsite was in. It wasn't long before they came to a small clearing, though it definitely wasn't the right one, since there was a house in the middle of it. Well that's odd, the blue-eyed youth thought. While it wasn't impossible that someone could be living out here, as far as Jack knew this house was a good distance from any towns or villages, at least half a day's walk; and few individuals would choose to live so far from any support network. If someone's there maybe they saw a hunting party go through, and can point me in the right direction.
But as Jack drew closer his hope of the place being inhabited steadily dropped, for it was obvious that the building was old and in very bad repair. The hinges on the door were rusty, the windows covered in cobwebs. Still, Jack figured it wouldn't hurt to try, and he knocked loudly on the door. Nothing happened. Frowning, he tried again, only to be met with silence. Jack knew the smart thing to do would be to leave and search for his companions while there was still light; but his notorious curiosity got the better of him. He'd ridden off looking for some kind of adventure, and a creepy, abandoned building in the middle of the woods qualified as exactly that.
Pushing the door open, Jack stepped inside and immediately sneezed. Good Lord, there was dust everywhere. Clearly no one had been living here for a long time. The pale youth was just about to leave when his gaze shifted to the far end of the dwelling, and he jumped in surprise upon seeing a figure sprawled in a chair. A second later Jack realized the boy—it was a boy about his age—was asleep; and he chuckled softly to himself over being scared out of his wits. Heart still pounding from the shock, Jack made his way to the chair and looked down at the youth. That really doesn't look like a comfortable position to take a nap in, he thought wryly. The sleeper had light skin sprinkled with freckles, a small upturned nose, and pink lips. Jack found himself thinking he was cute. Unlike everything in the house, there wasn't a speck of dust on the redheaded boy, leading Jack to think he must've just found the cottage and needed a quick rest. Though why he'd chosen to sleep in the chair when there was a perfectly good bed not three feet away was beyond him.
Reaching out a hand, he shook the other's shoulder gently, still thinking about getting directions. "Hey, wake up." The sleeper didn't so much as flutter an eyelid. Jack tried again, harder this time. Nothing. Eyebrows furrowing, the pale boy looked him over. Was he drunk or something? But he couldn't smell any alcohol, nor did he see a bottle anywhere. He was starting to worry that maybe the sleeping youth was ill, or somehow injured, but he couldn't see any evidence of either scenario; and a quick check confirmed that he did indeed have a pulse, so he wasn't dead. He just looked peacefully asleep, chest rising and falling gently as he breathed softly.
For the next few minutes Jack tried everything he could think of to wake the unconscious figure. He yelled and clapped his hands, then—thinking the freckled youth could be deaf—he shook him as hard as he dared. When all that failed to get a response, he went outside and drew a bucket of water from the well and dumped it on the boy's head. He felt a little bad about that, but he couldn't in good conscious just leave him here without at least waking him up first and making sure he was alright. But even the water did nothing.
Mystified, Jack stepped back and tried to think. The boy was quite thin, it would take some effort but Jack could probably manage to get him strapped onto his horse and then—and then what? He was on his way to visit Earl Stoick, so that his father, Duke North, could finalize the marriage agreement between Jack and the Earl's daughter Astrid; which Jack was not at all happy about. Such a journey would be difficult with a sleeping passenger in tow, plus, technically he'd be kidnapping the youth since he couldn't exactly get his permission to take him along. Judging from the aubrunet's clothes he was some kind of nobleman or rich merchant's son, and Jack really didn't feel like getting accused of doing anything nefarious. He would have to go find his father and bring him back here, or at least get his advice on how to handle the situation.
Looking the youth over once more, Jack's eyes caught a glint of light. Peering closely he saw for the first time that the boy's left hand was clutching something blue, which, upon further inspection, proved to be a sparkling glass ball. As Jack turned it over in his own hand, looking back and forth between the orb and the sleeping figure, his mind wandered to all of those fairy tales where the person falls asleep after eating or touching the wrong thing. Don't be ridiculous, Jack told himself sternly, they call them fairy stories for a reason, that sort of thing doesn't really happen. But he couldn't push the thought away that it would explain everything—why the auburn-haired boy couldn't be woken even though he had a pulse, why he was sprawled in the chair next to the table instead of lying on the bed, why he bore no sign of illness or injury or drunkenness. He had to be in an enchanted sleep.
Reeling a bit from his epiphany, Jack wondered just how long the aubrunet been here. Had he been asleep for decades, or centuries? No, his clothes looked normal, so that was unlikely, given how fashions changed. Still, he could easily have been here for months or a couple of years. His poor family must be so worried about him, Jack thought. Now he really had to find a way to help. He set the ball on the table, and was almost out the door to find his father when another component of those fairy tales popped unbidden into his mind: the way the sleeper was always woken in the end. Instantly, Jack blushed at the thought of kissing the freckled youth, though if he was honest with himself the sleeper was very attractive. It was a preposterous, far-fetched idea that more than likely wouldn't work. But, as Jack turned to look back at the unconscious figure, he realized it was the only thing he hadn't tried and he couldn't think of anything else that might wake him up.
Gingerly, Jack moved to stand in front of him; reminding himself that the boy wasn't dead. Pushing away his nervousness, Jack took a deep breath before bending down and gently joining their lips in a chaste kiss. The other boy's lips were warm and soft against his own. A moment later he pulled back, eyes widening in utter astonishment as auburn lashes fluttered and opened to reveal the greenest eyes the young nobleman had ever seen. The freckled youth gasped slightly, staring confusedly at Jack, who just stood there in complete shock. "W-who—" the aubrunet stuttered, "what—"; the words dying as he looked around the room and his expression shifted from bewilderment to understanding. That's right, he thought, I was exploring the woods and stumbled across this cottage, went inside and picked up the glass ball and then…
He glanced up at the pale, white-haired youth standing near him. "Did you kiss me?" He watched as blue eyes widened, but he didn't give him a chance to speak before continuing. "Wait, who are you? Why—" The freckled youth stopped abruptly and touched his hair. "Why am I all wet?" Shaking his head, he returned to the more pressing question. "Why did you kiss me?"
Jack finally managed to recover from his surprise enough to speak. "I'm sorry, I poured a bucket of water on you, you were sleeping like the dead and even though you were clearly alive I couldn't get you to wake up, hence the water, but that didn't work either, so…"
"So you kissed me?"
The pale youth nodded, feeling like his cheeks were on fire. "Yes, it was the only other thing I could think of; and I figured it was a better option then letting you remain in an enchanted sleep."
"Oh." The initial irritation of being kissed without his permission—or knowledge for that matter—melted into gratitude for having been woken, assuming, of course, that the youth was telling the truth. Which he probably was, given his absolutely stunned facial expression. He looked up at his companion. Those are the bluest eyes I've ever seen, he thought in awe, and his hair! I've never even heard of someone so young having white hair. Getting ahold of his thoughts, he remembered the formalities. "I'm Hamish, son of Earl Stoick the Vast of Berk. Who are you?"
"I'm Jackson, though I prefer Jack, son of Duke North."
Hamish stood and offered his hand to Jack, who shook it firmly. "Pleased to meet you Jack—and thank you."
"You're welcome." The blue-eyed youth smiled, then furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait, you're the son of Earl Stoick? Of Berk?"
Hamish gave him a confused look. "Yes, that's what I said."
Jack's face brightened. "Well that's lucky! We can easily bring you home! You see; that's where we're travelling too, my father and—" The blood suddenly drained from Jack's face. "My father! The hunting party! The must have been back for ages now, oh, he's going to be so mad at me…"
"Let me guess, he told you to stay put and you went off exploring with the plan to be back before him so he'd never know?"
The white-haired youth grinned sheepishly. "Something like that, yes."
The aubrunet smirked. "Sounds exactly like the sort of thing I'd do." He strode towards the doorway. "Well, we'd better get going. I'll just grab my horse and—" He stopped abruptly as Jack shook his head. "I'm sorry, I think your horse is long gone, I didn't see one anywhere when I arrived. You can ride double with me."
"Oh," Hamish spoke softly. "He must have broken the tether and gone home. I wonder how long I've been here?"
"I have no idea," Jack replied. "But at least we know it can't have been too long, since your family is still very much alive."
"Yes, thank the gods for that."
As the pair stepped outside Hamish looked around and gasped. "The trees! Oh Thor, all the leaves are gone! It's autumn!" Jack turned back to look at his companion. "What time of year was it when you got here?"
"It was spring," the freckled youth answered sadly, "early spring." Neither of them voiced the more pressing question: spring of which year?
Instead, the pale youth untied Snowflake and climbed into the saddle, before offering Hamish a hand. As they rode into the forest, the smaller boy broke the silence. "By the way, you can call me Hiccup if you want, that's what my friends and my sister call me, and well—I know we only just met but I think you'd make a great friend Jack."
He smiled. "Hiccup it is."