Omphalos (Hiccelsa)

Chapter 29

Lykke was feeling a little bit deterred and underwhelming unsuccessful. In her days of wandering, she wondered if she'd fully thought this through. She wondered if this was all together the best choice she'd ever made.

Then she would want to slap herself. She'd been waiting ten years for an opportunity like this, and she'd taken it. Hans would have been proud. She remembered her anguish when she'd arrived on the other side and looked in her pocket for her portrait of him, but found it gone. That had almost broken her; it was the only thing left she had of him. All of his personal belongings had been disturbed between his brothers, burned, or sold. She hadn't been allowed to take anything that was ever of meaning to him. Not even his ascot, which had been a gift from his mother on his thirteenth birthday. She recalled with a rueful smile his obsession about keeping the little purple piece of fabric pristine. He wasn't a real materialistic type of guy, and that was as much as he held onto anything.

He'd been stripped of that, and it was where the hell knows know. Lykke's teeth ground in anger as she imagined a lowly peasant using it to tie a wound or mark a tree or something. That something so beautiful should not be used as something so disgustingly plebeian.

She'd wandered through what was not quite yet Europe as a whole for weeks, spending as little money as possible, stowing away on ships, and talking to those at the ports. She recalled from her time in the Southern Isles as a child when she would sneak down to the docks and give the navy men and the traders some fresh food from the castle for a bit of gossip about anywhere and everywhere. From these men, coincidentally, she'd heard first about the peculiarity of the Kingdome of Arendelle shutting it's doors and firing the staff. It piqued her interest enough to try to keep updated. And she wondered often what kind of daughter Elsa must have been to cause this?

It was clear now; Elsa was a monster.

There was an abrupt rocking of the ship and Lykke raised her head above the barrels of fish, feeling a chill in her bones. She had no clue where she was now, but she got up, like she did each time she'd done this, counted her gold coins, hid them tight away, and straightened her dress. She was angry with herself for trading in her warm clothes when she arrived, but it was heavy to carry, and if she looked cold, no doubt some horny seaman would take pity on her.

She slid from the ship like a fox, and felt a thrill of triumph that once again, she'd gone un-noticed. After splashing some water from the icy-cold harbor onto her face, doing up her hair in the water's reflection, and using some precious rouge that she had left, she returned back to the docks, making herself look as presentable as possible.

There were catcalls. There were invitations to stay warm in random beds. Lykke's eyes gazed around with a careful selection; she knew the types that spilled their lips easily without much prompting. Couldn't get someone too smart, or someone too stupid that wouldn't pick up on her hints and nudging. In the end, she walked up to a guy who looked to be not the bottom rung, but no the highest on a ship either.

"Hi." He greeted, stumbling over a barrel as she approached, straightening up and coughing in surprise.

"I'm going to cut to the chase. You look like a smart enough guy not to want to be fooled, eh?" She asked. The man blushed at the compliment, nodding furiously.

"I'm wondering if you've ever heard of a Viking named Hiccup or his wife named Elsa?" She asked. In all the previous places, there had either been straight up 'no' replies, or the occasional scratching of head and saying it sounded 'familiar' but no one seemed sure. She was almost ready for disappointment again, but the man's eyes lit up in recognition.

"Hiccup the Dragon Rider!" He said, clapping his hands, "Awee, man everyone around here knows about him! He'd like a ledged, not that I've ever seen him, you know. They say he rides dragons-,"