A/N – Sorry for taking so long. I'm not sure why it took so long to write this chapter. It's taking me a long time to write anything these days. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!
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Chapter 9
Astrid stormed into the empty squire room. The tears she refused to cry had turned into something else; a fiery determination set her bones on fire. With all the squires and knights in the courtyard putting on their show, no one stood in her way.
She found the suits of practice armor well enough. She grabbed one about her size, and after looking over her shoulder to make sure no one had followed her in, she stripped herself of her dress.
She'd never worn armor, but it felt protective, albeit clunky and loud. Armor would be useless in a stealth attack. Of course, armor had been made for combat, not stealth.
She twisted her braided hair up and held it in place as she lowered the helmet down. Fully armored, no one would know her face.
Astrid stepped as quietly as she could to the courtyard's door. The squires not engaged in a battle would be standing with their backs to it. All she had to do was slip out the door and into the crowd of other armored squires without anyone noticing.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open. From the sliver she could see, all backs were turned. She pushed the door a little more. No one turned around. With all the clanking of swords and armor on the courtyard, the sound of the door made no noticeable noise.
Astrid slip through the door and closed it gently behind her. She took calm steps and joined the back of the crowd. One tall squire to her left glanced in her direction; nonchalant blue eyes gazed out through the helmet. Astrid feared a questioning, but no sooner did this squire look, then he looked away.
The battles continued, one team after another, in the middle of the courtyard. Astrid put her hand on her sword. She could still turn and walk away. She didn't have to go through with this. No, she had to do this. She would prove herself to them all, mostly her parents. She was no delicate little bird to be protected and guarded; she could look out for herself and would.
She followed the line of squires. With every battle, she got closer to the front of the line. The crowd cheered with each battle, each parry, and each defeat and victory. She couldn't tell who was who among the squires. This close, she couldn't find Hiccup in the crowd.
At last, with her heart beating faster than she thought possible, her turn in the battles began. She griped her sword like Hiccup had taught her, and as her opponent thrust, she parried and sidestepped.
She won.
She mimicked the bow she had seen the other squires give to their opponents and rejoined the others in line. She did not glance at Stoick. She did not want him to suspect anything amiss. She did not want him to question the extra squire in the yard.
Astrid won her next battle and the battle after that; she won each she took part in. It filled her pride. Whether she'd fought Hiccup, she didn't know. She didn't have time to find her opponents' eyes among the helmet. She worried that if she fought him, he would recognize her fighting style, or her eyes, or something. She didn't want him to worry about her. She could handle herself.
Overtime, the squires sat out with their defeat. The winning squires numbered less with each battle, and yet Astrid remained in the ranks.
Had Snotlout not spoken, no one would have known him, either. Yet he had. In each battle, he taunted and flaunted, laughing and jeering. He won most of his battles, except for one silent squire she hadn't fought. Her instincts told her that had been Hiccup.
One by one the squires retired to the defeated line. The squire she assumed to be Hiccup lost to Snotlout in their second battle, which left her and Snotlout as the final two squires. Somewhere, the gods were either laughing and waiting for her disaster, or they had given her a golden chance.
The battle started with a fierce thrust by Snotlout.
"Aw, can't hit any harder?" Snotlout taunted, laughing as though he'd made a marvelous jest.
His jeers didn't work on Astrid as they did they others. She saw them as his defense mechanism. He wanted to ensure his victory, which meant he did not believe he had the skill enough to do so without taunting. She saw his attempts to belittle the enemy, thus exposing his own cowardice.
The battle raged on. She parried and countered, but he parried and countered, too. Then, at last, when her breath ran ragged and sweat singed along her spine, she saw her opening. She wasn't thinking of anything else but winning. She struck.
Snotlout lost; the crowd erupted.
Astrid's heart hammered. She'd won. What was she thinking? She should have let him win.
"Our victor!" Stoick's voice rose above the cheering crowd. Suddenly, he stood beside her, a smile on his face. "Let's see the face of our victor."
Astrid froze; she hadn't planned this far. Everyone in the courtyard watched her. They stood on their feet. Her father rose. Her mother stood serene beside him. Tegard looked ready to jump into the courtyard.
"Squire," Stoick said, more commanding, "Remove your helmet."
Astrid glanced at him. His eyes met hers. A crease formed between his eyes. Confusion drifted over his pride.
He knew.
Astrid sheathed the sword at her side and lifted her hands to either side of the helmet. She grasped it and lifted. She kept her eyes forward.
She heard the collective gasp rush through the crowd. She met her father's gaze; his rage silently fumed underneath his skin. It pushed the blood from his cheeks and into his nose and ears. Her mother shook her head, eyebrows as high as they could be. Tegard looked disappointed. He frowned and sank back into his seat.
Murmurs started.
Among them, Eret laughed. He laughed heartily and proud. He motioned toward the courtyard and said loud enough for all to hear, "Looks like you've got your campion. I'd follow her into battle."
Astrid couldn't tell if he joked or not, and she found it irritating. Her father seemed to share the same confusion over Eret's words.
King Arvid exclaimed, "Our victor."
Behind her, a squire said, "Wow, Snotlout, you got beat by a girl."
"Twice," another, distinctly feminine, added on the heels of his words, chuckling.
"Shut up," Snotlout spat.
Stoick cleared his throat. The chitchat among squires stopped.
Astrid couldn't decipher the expressions among the crowd. Some look shocked, others impressed, others impassive, some confused. They all whispered. Some openly pointed.
It seemed her father knew not what else to say. He'd prepared a speech for the winning squire, of bravery and future endeavors in the knighthood, but he remained silent.
Astrid spoke, "The honor is mine."
Then she turned and retreated to the dorms. The squires shuffled to clear her a path, gawking. A few had removed their helmets, but she did not pause to see if Hiccup stared. She met the dorm door and went inside.
She started to pull off the armor, but her hands shook more than she realized.
The door opened, and quick footsteps rushed inside.
"You're amazing," Hiccup said, breathless and wide-eyed. He came to the armor stand, helmet in hand. "You're crazy, but amazing."
Astrid smiled, although her nerves erased it. She said, "I feel crazy. My father looked furious."
"Why did you do it?" Hiccup asked.
"To prove that I could," Astrid said.
"To who?"
"My father, mostly," she said, yanking feebly on the armor.
"Here, let me help," Hiccup said.
Hiccup's deft hands undid the leather straps holding the armor together and helped pull it from her. He set it piece by piece onto the stand.
"It was still amazing," Hiccup said.
"I had a good teacher," she said.
Free of the armor, she realized she stood in her underdress. She felt the blood rush to her face. Hiccup, smart as he was, reached to the floor for her discarded dress.
"Thank you," Astrid said, taking it from him. She stepped into it and in a few short moments, re-laced it as best she could with her nervous fingers. "I daresay I might have fought better in this. The armor is too heavy and feel clunky."
"It's more fitting of you," Hiccup said.
"How so?" Astrid asked. She must have asked it sharply, because he jumped.
"I-I mean, it looks nice on you. Better than the armor does," Hiccup said. His eyes fell to her waist and he tried to make a motion, possibly to point out of the figure-flattering dress, but he couldn't.
Astrid felt the warmth in her chest that Hiccup often brought, but she hadn't the time to dwell on it. She heard the clamor of the squires leaving the courtyard. She'd rather not be found by them.
She grabbed Hiccup by the collar of his armor and pulled him downward to meet her. She kissed him, and for a moment he seemed too startled to react. Then, he returned her gesture. She broke the kiss at the sound of the dorm door and departed with a warm smile to Hiccup.
She went the long way to the corridor to avoid the squires and made it as far as the lounge closest to the library when her father caught up with her. He hadn't brought his guests or his men or knights. He stood impassive in the hall, frowning and fury-eyed.
"What were you thinking?" King Arvid demanded, his voice little more than a venomous hiss. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Astrid stood her ground. She held her shoulders like a knight, and said, "I proved myself."
"You proved that you are stubborn," King Arvid said. "You proved that you cannot be trusted to follow the rules I set before you."
"I did nothing of the sort," Astrid said. "Just because I'm to be Queen, doesn't mean I can't handle a sword or defend myself."
"You've made a fool of the squires," King Arvid spat, stepping closer to her with every word. "You've made a fool out of me, in front of guests, no less. You are a lady, a Queen, not a solider. Such behavior is unbecoming of a Queen."
He stopped within arm's reach of her, but she refused to back down. Astrid opened her mouth to argue, but he held up his hand.
"I forbid you from watching the squires' performance," he said. "And I forbid you from learning anything of the sort of knighthood from any of the squires, knights, or anyone else. You're a lady, do you understand?"
Astrid stood frozen, dumbfounded by the order. As his words sank in, she shook her head, saying, "You can't be serious!"
"I am," he said. "I will have no more of this behavior in my household."
"No," Astrid said. "Being able to fight is a trait of a strong leader."
Seething, King Arvid grabbed both of her upper arms. She winced under his grip. He hissed, "You will stop this nonsense. You will stop playing Knight or I will exile that squire from the order myself."
"Stoick would hate you for it," Astrid said. And so would she.
King Arvid seethe another moment. His grip on her arms tightened, and for a fearful moment, she thought he might toss her backward. Her father had never laid a hand on her, but she had never seen him as furious.
"Stay away from the squires, all of them," King Arvid said. He released her arms. "Get to bed. We're dining with our guests tomorrow morning."
Astrid didn't wait to hear anything else he said. She turned and walked away, posture perfect, all the way to her bedchamber. Inside, she slumped behind the door and felt the tears welling behind. She changed out of her dress and into a simple shirt and pants. She rang the bell by the door that would ring in the servants' quarters. Soon, a young girl knocked on her door. Astrid ordered a platter of tea and cookies, and the girl ran off down the hall toward the kitchens.
Astrid washed her face and hands while she waited. When a knock landed on her door, she rose, expecting the servant with her requests, however she found someone else standing on the other side.
Squire Hiccup.