He was flying.

Forest sped past beneath him as he soared into the wind, letting it blow around his cheeks and through his hair. He ventured a glance upwards and saw a sky bluer than the sea on a summer's day, bluer than all the bluebells on the island put together. It looked soft and enticing, begging him to stretch his limits; though he wasn't sure he had them. Hiccup tilted his hands towards the expanse of freedom and began ascending into and through the layers of blue.

The first layer was the bluebell blue, and the flowers brushed the exposed skin of his hands, face, and foot softly as he rose through it, gently so as not to disturb the petals. He maneuvered with his foot until he was swooping in large circles above the bank of blossoms and dipped his hand down into them. Soft as rabbit fur and five times prettier than any picture could do justice, he let the tiny flowers sift through his fingers and join their friends below him. A flick of his hands and he was hovering upright, with his toes only inches above the carpet of tiny blue trumpets and his head barely brushing the next layer. A gentle kick and he slid through the next layer.

It tickled as he rose up, because this layer was made of feathers, but not all from the same bird species. Dozens of different colors blended beneath his eyes into a shifting mass of every kind of blue imaginable. Hiccup flew with his heel just grazing the surface of this new floor and giggled as the feathers tickled the bottom of his bare foot. Then the feeling became more insistent and he began twisting from the force of his laughter. The abrupt, uncontrolled movement sent him tumbling down, out of the sky…

And into his bed, with his favorite and least formal manservant sitting at the foot of it, tickling his foot with a feather to get him to wake. The servant smiled at his master, also his favorite. "Too big of a day to sleep away, Your Highness." He grinned cheekily at the prince.

"Exactly why I need to stay right here," moaned the young man in the bed as he drew his remaining foot into the warmth of the covers and away from the torture of his manservant Mark. "Gods, I hate court."

"Ah, but it's not just court today, Sire," jabbered Mark as he pulled open the curtains to the window and threw a batch of raw sunlight over the now flinching eyes of his royal charge. "Today you and your brothers get to show off as real men." Hiccup snorted from his place on the bed, now sitting up and removing his foot and stump from beneath the luxurious covers. "Oh, come on. It's not every day a man turns sixteen."

"Yes," groaned Hiccup as Mark handed him his prosthetic. He strapped it on and walked to the wardrobe where most of his clothes were kept. "I just wish that was all that was happening today."

"Oh, come on," chided the dark haired servant. "You're not still nervous about that? With all the practice you've put in? I should know." He picked up the prince's discarded pillows and set them down on the bed again. "I'm the one who had to fetch all your arrows."

"You didn't have to do anything," commented Hiccup from behind the changing screen.

"Your dad wanted to see you shooting, not picking up what you were shooting. Now get dressed and cleaned up. I'll be back with breakfast." Mark exited the room just as Hiccup came out from behind the screen.

The mirror began its assault of his short, scrawny frame, ganglier than a colt, thinner than a string bean, and missing a limb to boot. Honestly, you'd think he'd take after his two older brothers, even if they were two and six years older than him. But no, they apparently got the showy muscle gene and he hid behind a mind no one appreciated. Ah well, at least he could joke around with Mark. he actually understood the prince's humor.

And as the youngest son, his clothes weren't much to look at either. The tunic was green, a step up from the browner tones on the townsfolk's daily garb, but the only ornamentation was the gold clasp holding the fur cape around his shoulders. The crest of his family, although polished just the day before, was still just the plain lion with a diadem on its head and a hammer between its paws. His brothers had clasps with rubies in the lion's eyes and silver inlay in the diadem. Those had been gifts to them from him last Christmas. But even with the clasp, it wasn't an eye-catching ensemble. He'd hoped to look at least acceptable when his bride showed up later today.

Mark came back in the room with the tray and, surprisingly, the prince's weapon complete with sheathe and belt over one arm. It was an unusually fine weapon, tempered steel with a bit of gold filigree laid into the handle. The pommel was a polished black marble held in place by a cage of steel wires with the occasional silver one woven into the mix. Most people never bothered looking at him long enough to notice the finer details of the blade, but it was quite lovely, if he did say so himself. Thor knew how long it had taken to get the thing right. And he would know. He'd made it.

With a screech of wood against stone, Hiccup pulled out the chair from the table and Mark laid the tray down in front of him but didn't take his hands off the wooden table top. He looked his friend and prince straight in the eyes. Hiccup cocked an eyebrow at the stare. "What?"

"Just thinking."

Oh, now Hiccup was curious. "What are you thinking?"

Mark let a smile crack his face open. "Just that whatever girl marries you is getting a fine piece of manhood, my friend." Hiccup swatted at the already ducking servant and watched as his friend dodged out of the room, leaving him to his breakfast and brooding. After today, he would be sixteen. After today, he would have a bride.

Welcome to my latest story! This one did not come from my need to tip a cliche on its head, but from a rather intriguing folk tale that needed a little elaborating. The first person to review will have one question answered.

And before you ask, Mark was inspired by BBC's Merlin.