We made good time flying back, helped by the clouds that refused to shed snow on us. I wrapped my cloak tightly around myself and the small bundle that I carried.

Camicazi tried to chat, to make up for her silence, but even she sensed the premonitions that every passing minute brought. Her blond hair fluttered in the wind, though she held on tightly to her Changewing's mask and her dragon.

"You know," I said, in a gap of silence, "it's a shame you and the other riders came when I had to leave. I would have liked teaching you. Teaching all of you."

"Maybe," she said. "I would have had to steal from you because you're a boy."

That made me laugh, despite the cold wind. I would have preferred having a girl pick my pocket for days on end to exile in Scotland and Alvin's pursuit. Camicazi started to laugh as well.

"I wish you had been there the day I had taken Stormfly. You would have seen Astrid when she was so angry!"

"Then I would have had to placate her and stop you," I said, though the smile wouldn't leave my face.

"You? Stop me? Ha! You may be a Dragon Conqueror, but you could never conquer the Bog Burglar heir!"

"Famous last words," I grinned. "This Dragon Conqueror had picked up quite a few fencing skills."

"Wait till you fence with a Bog, boy! We know how to use swords to steal your underpants while wearing them!"

By the time we landed, we were both in hysterics. It may have been the sleep deprivation, the thrill of riding through frost, what the dawn would bring, and the stories that we were sharing. In any case, we were loud enough to frighten the guards, who sighed in relief in relief as they saw it was me. Elinor came out of her tent, wearing a thick dressing gown that looked elegant enough for battle.

"Where are Merida and the boys?" Elinor asked.

"With Toothless and Morgan at Dunbroch," I said. "I trust Toothless to protect them, and Morgan's going to help fashion enough arrowheads for Merida to wipe out the whole Outcast army."

She looked me over as I rubbed frost off my hair and showed her the practice blades. Fergus's snores made their tent rattle.

"And the boys?"

"They're a loose card," I admitted. "I told them to stay in Dunbroch, but Merida insisted that they come. They'll be able to help her out if the automatic bola snags them."

Elinor didn't look happy about that, but there was nothing to be done. Besides, it wasn't like the boys were useless in battle, and she knew that. They'd be safest with their big sister and a protective Night Fury.

Astrid also came, shaking her head as she saw me shiver. She had her blanket wrapped around her, so that her body was enveloped in thick fur. She looked beautiful, mysterious and cross.

"It was part of the plan," I told her. "I would have sneaked into Spitelout's camp to see how everyone was, but I didn't want to attract attention. Not with this weather. Merida invited herself along with me and Camicazi."

She touched my reddened cheeks, one at a time. She frowned on feeling how rubbery the skin was.

"You need to get some sleep. We march in four hours."

To emphasize that point, she grabbed me and marched me to a spare tent. Her grip hurt, one hand clamped to my shoulder.

"Some Dragon Conqueror," Camicazi called after us. "Can't be impressive with a girlfriend like that around."

Astrid flipped her hand at Cami in what seemed to be a rude gesture. It had to be a Viking gesture, since none of the Scots gasped. Then she resumed her lecture.

"And you're NOT sleeping outside by yourself, without your dragon."

"We have your dragon, Astrid."

"If I have to tie you up, I will."

I shivered at the thought of being tied up and forced to sleep. Astrid seemed to realize.

"That wasn't called for," she said. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." I smiled to hide my fear. "I AM very tired."

Stormfly waited outside the tent, her wings folded. Astrid patted her on the snout, to show that she meant well.

We crept in, with Stormfly following us. No one shouted insults after us or nodded knowingly. The guards looked at Stormfly with trepidation.

The tent had standing room, if not much else. We undressed without averting our eyes. I left the cloak to hang from a stray nail, and Astrid stripped off her armor. We didn't say anything, but not out of argument. She pulled on one of my oversized Scottish nightshirts and tossed one for me to wear. When I struggled with slipping my head through the excess silk, she helped by finding my hair.

Even within the Scottish tent she still had her Viking bedding. Her bedroll gathered beneath our feet, felt furrier when we kicked off our boots. Stormfly swept the shoes away with her tail. We lay together, my fingers clinging to her warm arms and comforting hands. Her axe lay beside us, and she lay facing the tent opening. She was taking no chances.

Privacy, something not often received in war camp. I pulled her closer, lips to her eyebrows. She had never felt warmer than when wearing my softest clothes. In time, she started kissing back, tasting every bit of exposed flesh. Her form relaxed into mine.

Stormfly gave a disgusted squawk. No matter. The last hours to dawn belonged to us, and I'd treasure each moment.

Dawn came. Astrid woke me up gently, by pressing her fingers against my eyebrows. I crinkled my forehead in response. She pressed harder, making circles with her thumbs.

My eyes shot open, and I sat up. The yak hair blanket took a while to fall off, since it was heavy fur. This was a good thing, since I wasn't wearing my nightshirt.

"It's time," she said softly. The softness hid the quaver in her voice, the fear that suddenly tinged the space between us.

"It's time," I repeated. My voice held no fear or anticipation. Only acceptance. Still, my hands shook as I rested them on the blanket.

Astrid reached for a shirt- hers or mine, I didn't know- and stumbled outside the tent. There were a few jibes that she ignored. She came back with a bundle of clothes. The stitches on them were new, as if the tailors had stayed up till late the night before straightening out the seams. Which they probably were.

"You're going to look ridiculous," she said.

"That's the idea." I gave a light kiss on her nose before shooing her out. Astrid had seen me naked before, but I didn't want her criticizing my wardrobe for the day. We had enough problems to worry about.

Before the actual duel, I had to look the part of a nervous Viking pretending to be a Scottish prince. Elinor had made over one of Fergus's old shirts so that I could wear it during a duel; she and Maudie sewed the extra parts that I requested. The extra parts made the shirt less baggy, but it still came down to my knees. Elinor added slits so that the bagginess wouldn't weigh me down.

The first practice sword clipped to my waist; the scabbard was new, but the belt was too large. The other two I packed in the right places, so that they wouldn't interfere but would come in handy at the right time.

Morgan had warned that the blade wouldn't last long if it received too many blows. They were old, and the sharpening may have weakened their strength. As long as I kept thrusting the sharp end to Alvin, however, I'd have a few hours. Maybe.

That should have been enough, looking the part, but Elinor insisted on straightening me out as well. She came to my tent just as I had come out, wrapping the cloak around me.

"You look untidy," she said.

"I'm supposed to be," I tried to protest.

Elinor didn't listen. Without Merida, she needed to straighten one of her kid's clothes, or the Viking equivalent. No unfastened collar or misplaced button missed her eye. She combed my hair, running the metal teeth at least half a dozen times through my bangs, and wiped a cloth of cold water across my face. I spluttered at the last one as grime came off.

"Much better," she said with approval. "Is your back straight?"

"It has to be," I said with no small irritation. "I'm not exactly going to slump for this."

She tapped my on the cheek firmly.

"No sarcasm now, Hiccup. It's not the right occasion."

Astrid came over, her bedding rolled up in her arms. She stopped when she saw me, Stormfly nearly crashing into her.

"I know, I look ridiculous," I shrugged. "But like I said, it's the idea."

She shook her head. Her bangs looked messy, so she brushed them back. The bedding looked heavy.

"What is it, Astrid?"

"You look good," she said. "Like you're the same Hiccup who took down the Green Death and tricked Alvin the first time, only grown up. Stronger."

"How he should look," Elinor agreed.

"We'll see if I'm strong enough," I responded, but my back straightened on hearing them agree.

"I'm going to go find Spitelout and gather the army," Astrid said. "Like we planned."

"Remember, don't attack until you get the signal," I told her. "We don't know how many bolas the Outcasts and Hysterics have-"

She pressed a finger to my lips.

"Let me do my part, Highness. That's why I'm your humble servant."

"Not you too!" I protested, but she removed the finger with a smile.

"I'm kidding, Hiccup. Just kick him in the rear. Hard."

"That wasn't funny."

She gave me a quick peck. Then she mounted her dragon.

"Aren't you going to stay for a meal?" Elinor asked. Astrid shook her head.

"We don't know if the clouds will clear, and the idea is to remain covert," she said. As she rose, she shouted one last thing, "Hiccup, PLEASE be careful! And crazy!"

I watched the Nadder soar into the clouds, fading like a puff of blue smoke. I had to watch, to make sure Astrid was leaving this time and not doubling back. Any signs of her return meant she didn't trust me,

No one made light talk over the morning meal. Wee MacGuffin tried, but since Wee Macintosh had to translate, the banter was slow. Elinor went over battle points with her husband the lords while emphasizing that no one was to attack. Camicazi and Tantrum listened to their role, and Camicazi grinned when being told to make sure not one Outcast or Hysteric raised the alarm. She was wearing her burglary outfit, though this time with a white, hooded cloak, sewn from one of the peace banners. She must have taken Merida's advice to heart. Tantrum had an identical outfit, though no amount of white would hide her red face.

"We ARE going to show that we are formidable," Elinor said, demonstrating with a fork over a map. "But we have to demonstrate it as a whole. As a united front."

"Only we can't appear united at first," I replied. "Not until it's absolutely necessary. I have to appear alone, the way I was when I came here."

"You weren't alone," she responded, squeezing my hand. "You never were."

I blinked, thinking back to that first meeting in the dark. How hostile Dunbroch had seemed to Toothless and me. How Elinor had seen me having nightmares.

There was not much more to say after that. Camicazi and Tantrum left, their

cloaks making them resemble wraiths. I sent them a prayer for luck and a reminder for Camicazi to liberate hostages efficiently and speedily. The other riders who could fight also took to the air, towards Spitelout's camp near Dunbroch. That included Thuggory, Fishlegs and the twins, since we needed as many Zipplebacks as possible. Snotlout was still bedridden with fever, and Hookfang wouldn't ride with anyone else.

"I'm not really used to this," Fishlegs said nervously. "Doing your crazy plan without you flying with us."

"You'll get used to it," I said. "You're the guy who managed to stop an army of Changewings, from what I've heard, and landed a chief's daughter as a girlfriend."

He couldn't help but smile at those two compliments.

"Can you believe only several months ago you were leaping off our dragons, using yourself as bait? That we played a game of Mjollnir in the Middle with you as Thor's hammer?"

"I can," I said. The memory of Fishlegs's panic and my dad showing up and accusing me of being addicted to cheap thrills was strong, as was the shock when we had found dead bodies on the beach, as a result of the land battle.

Fishlegs seemed to recall that as well, because he swallowed.

"Spitelout was right that day," I said. "If someone is asking to fight, you have to be willing to defend yourself. Even if it causes you to question your morals."

"That's the hardest thing about being a chief in wartime," Thuggory added from where he mounted his green Gronckle. "Having to make those difficult decisions. It's easier when you know your enemies aren't human."

Now came our turn to leave, just as the cloud cover broke into morning. Most of the clans gathered their armies ready to match. A small group of guards remained for the sick and injured, Viking and Scottish sentinels alike. Elinor gave me a gentle mare to ride, just for a couple of hours, before sending one last messenger hawk to the camps that Alvin had taken hostage.

The mare did her best, since she took even steps on the slippery snow and slush piles, but I hated every minute of straddling her. It reminded me of what I was about to do, of how dragon scales felt more soothing than brown hair and flanks, that Toothless wasn't with me. The only thing I didn't hate was keeping my back straight. It's what I had to do.

The cloud cover had trouble making up its mind whether to stay or leave, though it let no snow fall on us. Heavy winds alerted us to the sea's presence, and the hawk kept flying back and forth, heading for the queen. It knew better than to land on her arm, heading for Fergus. He would read the notes, and she'd write responses. As we went on, her frowns lasted longer.

The frozen coast appeared in the distance, coated in hostile sheets of ice. We stopped when we saw a company waiting for us. Outcasts, dressed to the nines in their best Viking armor. Many held bludgeons, while still more wielded battle axes.

Of course, I thought. They brought my dad out to rub it in. To throw me off even with the terms I set.

He was alive, and only his face looked injured. There were numerous gashes, and his beard was dotted with dried blood. His hands were bound behind him. Two men had to hold him back when he saw me, called my name despite the blade at his throat. His voice still echoed over the landscape, as did his desperation.

"I'm all right!" I called back to him. He didn't seem to hear, injured and panicked.

Dad, trust me. I have a plan.

Alvin walked towards us, as if he didn't care about the army behind us. Endeavor was clipped to his belt, along with his usual blade.

"Where's your dragon?" he asked. I didn't have to pretend to cringe.

"Away. I didn't want him captured again."

His beady eyes shot to the skies above us, where a few clouds resided. Then he looked back.

"Any tricks, boy, and you'll know what I'll do. Not just to your dad."

Several of his men brought out several automatic bolas. The wheels squeaked in the slush. I gave a visible wince and suppressed the threatening sarcastic remark.

You couldn't have stolen something less practical when you took my dragon? You know, like the saddle models?

Seeing my wild look, Alvin went on. He was enjoying having this much power.

"I received that interesting challenge, a sort of honor duel with only swords. Why should I agree to that?"

"Because by attacking me and my dad, you've threatened the honor of Clan Dunbroch," I said. "We have Scottish blood in us related to the clan. In addition, you threatened the queen, who is my distant relative."

There were a few exchanged looks among the Outcasts, as if this were news to them. They looked more nervous about the army on hearing this.

"There's no proof, except that sword hanging off your belt and a tapestry in the castle," my voice became louder, "but the queen knows, and so does her army. It would be a bloodbath if we had a straight-up battle, however. An honor duel would settle the matter and preserve more lives, including the lives of those you've taken hostage."

Alvin's men muttered some more on hearing this. He turned back to shoot them a glare.

"The queen sent you the terms. In addition to disarming his opponent, one of us must strike at the neck." I indicated with my finger. "It shouldn't be lethal, of course, since you want to take me alive."

Dad's bloodshot eyes went wild. He looked at my skinny neck before flaring at Alvin's thick blade. It was obvious what he was thinking.

"If I win, you'll release my dad and all the hostages, as well as any resources and treasures you've stolen. After a spell in the Dunbroch prisons, you'll be allowed to leave when the ice melts, along with the Hysterics, without booty for your raid or your weapons. That is a merciful fate."

If the twins had been there, they would have found the word "booty" hilarious. I hoped that Spitelout and Thuggory could keep them in control before they had to go crazy.

"Done," Alvin drawled; he had agreed too quickly, which meant he was lying. "And what exactly do I get if I manage to disarm you?"

I took a deep breath and let my shoulders slump, despite what I had told Elinor earlier. He was waving the cursed paper with the terms, making me recite my death sentence. It was a good thing that Elinor had been teaching herself to write with runes, or we would have needed translators.

"If I lose, I'll go with you. Willingly. No Scot will chase you, and no dragon will either. I'll let you put the Slavemark on me and will never rebel or say anything sarcastic." I tried to ignore my father's gasp. "And I'll train dragons for you, and for any tribe that owns me."

Dad's face turned pale, even as he cringed in pain. He mouthed something at me, but the words wouldn't come out. Just as well; he didn't need a cuff from the man holding him. Or his throat slashed.

Alvin smirked. He waved the paper again. "Don't forget that you're not the only one that matters. Everyone we have hostage will come with us when you lose. Everyone."

"If I lose," I whispered quietly, keeping my eyes to the ground.

Elinor gave a visible, tranquil glare. But she gave the signal for the army to retreat, leaving a space.

It was time. And I wasn't ready.