I would say hey look more incest, but are any of you really surprised anymore?
I got quite a few prompts for these two and it made me happy, because finally there's more variation in the couples I get asked for (I think I've had a request for almost every single pairing possible at this point).
So... this will be a threeshot, each 'shot' taking part at a different point in these two's timeline. Starting with...
when Heather was undercover on Ryker's ship. Still evil Dagur. Some character inflection as he adjusts to having someone to care about. Probably slightly off storyline because... I haven't rewatched RTTE for a week or so.
Sibling-y incest warnings... but you probably got that.
-HTTYD-
He tried to excuse it at first.
Watching Heather was for her protection.
She was the only girl on board the ship, and with the questionable ethics of many of the man aboard, Dagur knew the thoughts they had about her even without overhearing them. Heather could take care of herself - she was a Berserker - but for the first time in years, Dagur had something, someone that was his and his alone. His connection to Heather had stolen her away from those pesky dragon riders, and the fact she flew her own dragon helped ensure they could win fights against Hiccup and his do-gooder cronies.
Dagur felt his hands curl into fists at the mere thought of Hiccup. Hiccup who he wanted to beat and bite and maybe take off his skinny leggings and-
"Dagur!"
Snapped out of his reverie, Dagur turned around to see Ryker. He knew Ryker wanted to do things to Heather that would easily win him a death sentence, but he valued having a dragon flier on their side too much, and he was just scared enough of Dagur not to risk it. For now.
"What do you want Ryker? I was dreaming of brutal, bloody revenge!"
"Aren't ye always? Get your gear, we're docking soon to hunt some Nadders."
"Oooh Nadders! Poison spikes and constant preening themselves."
"Aye. They remind me of you in that way. Breakable too."
Dagur growled, anger flaring immediately.
"You wanna talk breakable Rykie? How about I break your skull and wear it as a codpiece?"
Heather scoffed behind them, axe slung over her back and Wind... something at her side.
"Get a room! Can we go?"
Ryker sneered, picked up his cruel looking weapon and tossed a sword at Dagur - blade first, just to test his reflexes.
"Almost got me Rykie, but not quick enough! Let's go get us some dragon guts! Heather! My dear sister, stay close now."
She rolled her eyes, but she didn't stray far all the same. Some of the others could be heard muttering about how they wanted to tear off Heather's skirt and by that point Dagur had a blade to their throats.
"Any of you so much as touch my sister and you will find out just how slow a death it is to be ingested by a Slitherwing dragon. Do I make myself clear?"
They squealed like stuck yaks, moving away from Dagur. He wasn't called 'the deranged' for nothing.
"I don't need you defending me Dagur."
"We're family sis, it's what I do."
No matter how much she insisted she was capable of taking care of herself, even his amazing sister was fallible sometimes. Knowing Heather was such a light sleeper, Dagur was convinced the trapper he stabbed to death had drugged her drink with the express intent of sneaking into her room. Her dragons loud cries as he walked back from the outhouse had been all that alerted Dagur, finding the bastard with his pathetic little cock out even as he tried to say it wasn't what it looked like.
"H-hey! Why don't you go first?"
Dagur halted with his dagger at the mans throat.
"Excuse me?"
"Y'know. You have her first. C'mon, you might be her brother but surely even you know there's not enough girls about and she's easy on the eye."
Dagur cut his throat, then jammed his blade all the way to the hilt through his heart, dragging the body out to the deck and yelling loudly.
"This is what happens if you go near my sister. Let this be a lesson."
If anyone was in any doubt, Dagur had left his clothes pulled away so he was humiliatingly exposed as well as dead. Once he saw Ryker and a few other men had seen the body, Dagur turned back and went to Heather's room. The Razorwhip eyed him beadily with her muzzle and tail clamp on - the only way Ryker let Heather keep the dragon out of a cage at night - but Dagur simply pulled out another blade and sat at the foot of Heather's bed. She hadn't moved, had no idea what had happened yet.
Dagur reached out a hand and placed it on her leg, the warmth even through her clothes reassuring that accursed concern that showed up occasionally in his gut.
"I'm gonna protect you Heather. You're my sister."
He shuffled up to keep his back against the wall, eyes on the door and knife in his hand. Dagur was going to have to keep watch over her, lest any other idiots try to take advantage of Heather. He would be there to kill them too. He didn't realise he had fallen asleep there until he was jerked awake by Heather with her axe against his chest plate.
"What are you doing in here?"
He held up his hands, having placed his knife down to try and assauge Heather's concerns.
"Let me explain!"
Dagur couldn't help but be impressed by her reaction time - Heather's eyes were barely even open, hair mussed and features soft with sleep.
"Explain."
"Notice how late you slept?"
Heather looked at the porthole, seeing that the sun was higher in the sky than usual for her.
"What happened?"
"One of the crew must have put something in your food or drink, your lizard was making a lot of noise so I came in and found one about to do you while you were unconcious. So I killed him, dumped him on the deck and came back here to make sure you were ok."
Heather's eyes widened, her axe lowering so she could pat herself down, finding all her clothes in place and the relief in her face was palpable.
"You killed him?"
Dagur nodded.
"They've probably tossed his corpse overboard but we could go find out-"
"N-no, that's fine. You just saved me the trouble."
Ah, there was the Berserker in her.
"That's my sister. I'll uh, leave you to get dressed."
Now she was awake and un-dosed and capable of slaughtering anyone who got too close, Dagur had no cause to stay in her bedroom.
He wasn't sure why that thought disappointed him.
Many of the others on board all avoided Dagur's eye, Ryker about the only one brave enough to come near him.
"Think ye scared them witless. Shoulda had you killing men randomly since you got here."
"Well, I have to protect my sister. Family man, gotta protect it."
Ryker crossed his beefy arms (he was broader but not as properly muscular as Dagur, he reassured himself) and nodded.
"Aye."
A man of few words.
Heather and her dragon came up on the deck, pointed looks at Ryker meaning the Razorwhip had her restraints off and she stretched, flicking her tail and making a happy roar. Heather smiled fondly at the creature, rubbing a hand in just the right way to not have her palms sliced to bits by the sharp scales. Dagur found himself momentarily transfixed by that expression - Berserkers didn't really smile.
Oh, they smirked and sneered and even occasionally had a maniacal grin that threatened imminent harm.
But a proper, genuine smile?
Almost unheard of. And that was including the years under Osvald the Agreeable.
"There we go Windshear" he needed to remember that name sometime "just let me get some water and then we'll stretch your wings."
"I didn't say ye could fly the beast yet."
Heather rolled her eyes; she had little patience for Ryker trying to boss her around.
"Quiet Ryker. You want us to match Hiccup and his riders, me and Windshear have to stay sharp. That includes morning training, because that's Astrid's favourite time to train."
"Of course you would know that."
Heather squared up and Dagur bristled, ready to jump in.
"What do you mean by that Ryker?"
Ryker snorted, huffed and turned off. Heather scowled at his back, helped herself to some water and a grilled fish, then cast one glance at Dagur before climbing up on her dragon saddle.
"Let's go Windshear."
They took off for a morning flight, leaving Dagur momentarily missing his Skrill. Not that one could easily ride a Skrill, which had always been a problem for him only tempered by how much of a powerful, glorious beast Skrilly was. They docked up at one of the bases for a couple of days to sort which dragons were alive enough to sell, and which the men could play with and kill for sport since they were too weak to survive. Then they would be skinned and the parts sold instead. Dagur didn't tend to join in - they only fought the sick and weak ones, which took out all the sport.
And a tiny part of him, almost invisible it was so minute, knew Heather had mixed feelings about actually killing dragons. It made some sense; Dagur would skin Ryker for suggesting skinning Skrilly. She was never around for the sport killings. Adamantly refused to assist with the skinning. If she weren't Dagur's sister and their only flyer, Ryker would probably have tired of her and gotten rid of her long ago.
"Hey sis."
Heather looked up from her journal, mostly where she jotted down what dragons they had captured that week. Half the crew couldn't read or write much, so at least someone was keeping records other than Ryker.
"What's up Dagur?"
"Brought you food. You didn't eat much at breakfast."
She blinked in surprise, but took the cloth with a mutton thigh and a couple of burly cakes wrapped inside from Dagur.
"Oh. Thanks."
Dagur sat down next to her, watching her dragon groom herself in a rare spot free of other dragons or humans. Dagur could only sit in silence with Heather; everyone else made him paranoid. Heather was family. He felt less worried she was plotting his death than anyone else. They shared blood, for Thor's sake. Heather sat quietly eating, tucking her book back under her chest plate to ensure she didn't misplace it.
He didn't discuss it with Heather, but Dagur took up vigil outside her door that night. He wouldn't put it past one of the morons around them to try it on themselves under the assumption Dagur's guard was back down.
His guard was never down.
He only woke up when Heather kicked him, stumbling across where his body had slumped across her door.
"What now?"
Dagur curled up, grumbling.
"Protecting you. Five more minutes."
She kicked him again.
"Get up. Windshear can't get out."
Dagur grumbled some more but got up, rubbing his eyes and scratching at his scruffy stubble. Heather and her dragon left for breakfast, but Heather actually came and sat next to Dagur with her food when he made it to the designated breakfast spot. He wondered who did the cooking...
Heather didn't say anything, but she sat with him. Then she flew off, scanning the island for what species might have migrated since their last trip to the base. She sat with him at dinner too, still in silence but it said something that she and the dragon were voluntarily in his space at the vulnerable point of eating.
He went to back to sit outside her room that night. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but Dagur refused to let any of these trappers hurt Heather. Berserkers above all else.
"Are you out there again?"
"... No. Maybe. Yes."
Heather pulled open her door, looking irritated.
"You might as well come in. The floorboards creak and you're driving me nuts."
Dagur stood up, walking in to his sisters room. She went straight back to her bed, basically ignoring him and Dagur hovered, shuffling his booted feet.
"What are you doing?"
She grumbled, turning from the bed.
"Waiting for the dragon to stop moving her tail?"
He was lying.
"Are... You're not sleeping on the floor idiot, that would defeat the point of getting you off the floorboards. Just lie down would you?"
Feeling distinctly out of his depth, Dagur took a few hesitant steps closer, peeling off his chest plate and kicking off his boots before laying on her bed. They lay with their backs to each other, the wooden bedframe surprisingly un-creaky considering the age and dampness of the wood, of the air.
Heather trusted him to sleep in the same room as her. Dagur wasn't sure when that had begun to matter.
He wished those treacherous, awful words weren't whispering in his ear.
"You go first."
There was a tiny flicker of truth in what the now-dead sicko had said. Dagur did notice the lack of women, and there were only so many times he could fuck one of the guys (it was helpful if they looked like Hiccup), or wait to pick up an unscrupulous wench in a tavern.
And Heather was beautiful. She was a Berserker after all.
But she was also his sister. Those sorts of thoughts just wouldn't do, would only distract. He pushed therm aside.
Much like Heather did the next morning, literally shoving him off her where it turned out he had grown more protective in his sleep, rolling over to embrace her. It took some convincing for Heather to believe it had been an unconscious act. They agreed to say no more about it.
If she noticed his erection, she said nothing of that either.
Dagur thought nothing of it. He always woke up... stiff.
He put his armour back on, stepped into his boots and left Heather to put her own second layers on in stilted silence.
After that, they always sat together at mealtimes and Dagur slept in her room. They didn't discuss it, didn't even really look at each other. It just... was.
The rest of the time, they were same as ever. Heather was his sister, they stuck together on dragon missions where possible and kept an eye on each other, backed each other against Ryker. They talked about Osvald sometimes, though always very surface details. Heather didn't ask about Dagur murdering him, which meant Dagur never felt compelled to admit he hadn't. That Osvald had just... gone.
It took weeks, weeks of some weird tug in his gut whenever Heather got injured by dragons and the compulsion to stab Ryker whenever he leered at Heather. Weeks of odd bubbles in his chest when he saw her smile at Windshear, and days at a time where Dagur realised he hadn't so much as thought about Hiccup outside of the usual revenge and plotting.
Over those weeks, Dagur came to realise.
He wasn't just watching Heather for her protection.
He was watching her because he liked watching her.
Heather probably noticed, but in true Berserker style pretended nothing was going on. If they confronted it, they would have to talk about it. And with their lives constantly on the line with dragon riders and Ryker and in the future, Viggo, they didn't have time to be awkward around each other because Dagur got an erection sometimes.
There was the issue of dealing with it - he shared Heather's room now, and that meant he couldn't just jerk off when the... whim arose. Dagur had to steal time where he could, in the outhouse and empty cages and even out in the woods sometimes. The idiot Grimborn wasn't as stupid as he looked, and Dagur felt certain he suspected something. Dagur buried it, under bravado and mania and killing dragons when Heather wasn't looking, just to prove to himself not everything he did had to be Heather-approved. Those were the nights she completely ignored him, the nights where Dagur had to wash dragons blood from his hands, where it was dried in the grooves of his armour when he came to sleep beside her, to protect her.
He was kidding himself and he knew it.
Dagur laid awake for hours most nights, watching Heather sleep in absolute silence with their almost completely non-resembling features. Their eyes were the same colour, but that was it really. Heather was tall and slender, like their grandmother. Dagur was shorter (and oh was he ribbed for her greater height) broader, filling out in adulthood like their parents. She had their mothers nose, but since the woman had died almost as soon as Heather was born, that was a hazy memory at best.
They did have another similarity.
Dagur had spotted it in one brief instance where her under-tunic had ridden up as she was getting out of her armour. A birthmark, a perfect crescent moon above her left hip. He had recognised it instantly - Dagur had the exact same one on the opposite hip. Heather didn't know he had seen it, so she didn't know they shared it. How was he to bring that up? Admit he had stolen looks at her changing?
With that axe?
Pass.
After a particularly profitable sale that Hiccup and his lizard riding buddies hadn't ruined, Ryker and the men celebrated with copious amounts of mead and ale and Thor only knew what it was they were smoking. Dagur didn't tend to get drunk, he was manic enough and the world slowing down when he was too drunk to process was unsettling.
But when Heather turned up in her room where Dagur had been hiding from insistent pressure to join in the raucous festivities - they made him eerily homesick for his home island - with a couple of bottles and bladders full of crude, powerful brews, Dagur took one.
"You trying to get me drunk sis?"
"Just trying to get you to relax. If you were any more tightly wound I would be the sister of a bow string."
Dagur took a mouthful of ale, looking around the room in an attempt to work out what was missing.
"Where is your dragon?"
"Sleeping in a cave. None of the men are active and she's been dying for some fresh air. Plus, most of them won't climb that high."
"Oh."
He drank some more, silence falling as the two steadily imbibed a fair bit of ale and more than a little mead. Dagur's head began to spin slightly; he didn't drink much, so he didn't have a great tolerance. At least he wasn't a puker like Savage was... that was gross.
Maniacal laughs occasionally burst from his mouth for no good reason - they weren't talking, he wasn't even thinking about much. Well, much other than how close Heather was and when had she taken off her armour? He swayed on the spot and put the bottles down, barely getting his chest plate off before flopping down onto the bed to try and wait for his vision to straighten out again.
"My god you are a lightweight."
"Hey! I was chief of the Berserkers before I was allowed more than one cup of mead."
Heather rolled her eyes, pushing what he recognised was his water canteen into his hand. Dagur took a hearty swallow of it and waited for it to flush some of the intoxication away. That was how it worked, right?
"How drunk are you?"
"Not too drink. Drunk. I could take on a dragon!"
Dagur gestured violently, serving only to embarrass himself as he pitched himself off the bed. Heather laughed hysterically as he faceplanted the ground, stumbling and slipping before he got on his hands and knees, feeling his tender face to find out if his nose was bleeding. It was sore but his face was dry. Heather was in fits of laughter, clutching her stomach and almost keeling over from her seat on the bed.
There was a feeling in his gut for putting that there. Dagur didn't recognise it. So he ignored it, hauling himself up on to the bed again in an ungainly fashion.
"Alright, not my finest moment."
"You can say that again."
Dagur planted himself firmly on the bed, refusing to move again. Heather moved. He couldn't not notice it, since they were on the same bed.
"Hey Heather?"
"What?"
"Do you hate me sleeping in here?"
She was silent for a while. Well, it felt like a while. Dagur wasn't sure.
"Nah. It gets cold. And nobody creeps into my room. Wish you didn't snore though."
"Hey! I do NOT snore!"
"You really do Dagur."
Dagur glared, or tried to in a somewhat drunken haze.
"You are a horrible, terrible liar."
"I am not!"
She punched him in the arm. Dagur stared at the spot for a second. It was probably wrong that instead of hurting, it was sort of tingling. Huh.
"You are."
His response felt massively delayed. He could blame it on the drink, he mused.
"It's no fun fighting you like this, I'd have more challenge from a baby Gronckle!"
Pride suddenly stirred, Dagur leapt at her.
"Take that back!"
Heather looked up at him oddly, but didn't immediately throw him off even though he suspected her slim frame belied the fact she was quite capable of it.
"Alright, I take it back. A juvenile Gronckle."
Dagur didn't jump to defend himself again; he was trying to work out if he'd had the erection he had now when he jumped on Heather. It would certainly explain her confused look. Gods, Dagur was more deranged than he thought.
"Hey Dagur?"
"What?!"
The sudden outburst surprised even him, but Heather barely blinked. When she first joined up with Dagur, Heather had frequently flinched and recoiled. Now she almost never did, only when truly caught off guard. Which was almost never. She was smart like that.
"Hold still a second."
"Why?" she leant closer and he frowned "is there something on my face? Do I have bread in my beard?"
Heather pressed a finger to his lips, silencing Dagur. When he stopped trying to speak, Heather moved her hand from his face.
Then she kissed him.
Her mouth tasted like sweet honeyed mead and sin, and Dagur took several seconds to react at all. Torn between responding and demanding an explanation, Dagur responded briefly before remembering his arms worked, lifting them to place hands on her shoulders and push Heather off him.
"I knew it."
Dagur blinked.
"Knew what?"
"Knew you felt it too."
Too?
"W-what?"
He was too drunk for this.
Or perhaps not drunk enough.
"You think I don't see you watching me, brother? That I fail to notice just how close you get in the mornings?"
Dagur's sluggish brain - this was why he didn't drink - took a little too long to come up with anything resembling an answer. Heather ran her hand down his tunic-covered chest, hovering just above his belt. A couple more inches and she would definitely know.
Hel, she already knew.
"Well, if you're not interested then-"
"No!"
Her hand had begun to move sideways rather than down and Dagur's reaction was sudden and vehement. A smirk curled over her lips, the Berserker in her shining through so clearly his heart tried to kick clean out of his chest. He barely blinked before Heather was on top of him, slim thighs tight around his muscular ones as she straddled him, leant forward to kiss him again.
Kissing was a strong word for the way she brutalised his mouth, all rough tongue and sharp teeth and nails digging in to the delicate skin protecting the pulse points of his neck. Dagur was drowning in a multitude of feelings, something like drunken wish fulfillment and what might have been a touch of guilt with a hefty dollop of confusion. Too many feelings. He wasn't used to so many of those.
Heather took charge completely, fumbling to hike up the bottom of his tunic and Dagur only remembered to react when she was pulling down his leggings. Her dragon-roughened hand wrapped around his cock, smirking when he yelped and bucked.
"H-Heather!"
"Say it. Say you're mine Dagur."
Where had all this come from? Heather squeezed at his cock, reminding Dagur he was in a rather vulnerable position.
"Y-yours!"
Her smirk darkened, something really rather feral in her eyes as Dagur watched in shock; she shuffled closer on his thighs, surprise adding itself to the madness inside him as he realised Heather had nothing on beneath her skirt. Before he could blink, Dagur felt her position him and drop herself down his length in one brutally hot slide. Both of them cried out, something like pain across her face as he jerked.
"Gods Dagur, bigger than I expected."
Oh. She was ok then.
Dagur felt much less affected by the ale now, his every sense focused on where Heather had taken his cock inside her. None of the tavern women or even the men came a little bit close to how Heather felt, tight and hot around his erection. Her slim thighs trembled against his own, the sheer rush almost threatening to make Dagur come on the spot. That wouldn't have been too fair on Heather though. He used his broad hands to grab her narrow hips, then scowled.
"Take off your top."
Heather looked surprised, but she tugged up the undershirt she had on, revealing that birth mark on her hip. Feigning surprise, Dagur held out a hand to halt her removing her breast bindings - for now at least.
"I have one of those too."
She watched as he lifted up his own tunic, revealing the matching mark on his own hip. Of course, his was under a huge scar that wrapped around his side from a mishap in Berserker sword training when he was eight. By then he had already sent a four year old Heather floating out to sea. It was a miracle she had survived, and a mistake he hadn't recognised her on sight. Berserker blood... it was unmistakable.
"And there was me thinking we had nothing in common."
"Well..."
Dagur rolled his hips and Heather gasped. He wasn't sure it was a sound of pleasure, but she didn't stop him. Instead, she leant forward to brace her weight on his stomach and lifted herself, biting her lip as she sank back down. Dagur reached for her braided hair and used it to pull her closer still, returning the brutal kiss she had given him earlier now he could think a little clearer. His hand then roamed down and tugged the knot of her bindings, letting them fall away to reveal her breasts to his eyes. His hands didn't take long to explore them either.
"Up, get up."
Heather moved and both groaned with the loss, but Dagur could see she was struggling to ride him while his apparently big cock (he didn't compare his size to others, he knew he was good regardless) stretched her. Unless she was fucking in taverns too, Heather couldn't have gotten fucked in a while.
"Lie down."
She went, skirt the only thing left to break up the line of pale skin as she laid back on her bed. Dagur tugged up his own tunic until it was off, hungry to see what Heather's eyes showed as he revealed his muscled, scarred torso. Cock pulsing and throbbing with need, he pushed open her thighs and hiked up her skirt, burying himself back inside her and Heather arched, shaking as her body thrashed on the bed. His cock practically sighed with relief to feel her heat around him again, her nails sinking into his forearm. His leggings were bunched halfway down his thighs but Dagur didn't care, reaching up to grope roughly at her breast. Heather whined, nipple hardening against his palm so Dagur rubbed it, sensing something like shame or hesitation tinging her pleasured moan.
He pulled back, thrusting back in with the knowledge that every time he pressed back flush to Heather, the crescent moons on their hips would meet. Heather fisted a hand in the thin fur on their bed, pushing her hips down to meet Dagur's thrusts and he hungrily listened to every moan she let out. Each one was a victory, a chink in the armour Heather kept up even to him, her brother.
Not satisfied Heather was breaking fast enough, Dagur pushed her legs up until her knees were bent to her chest and sped up his thrusts, guttural sounds of skin against skin filling the air to intermingle with the increasingly hungry responses Heather gave him. He was generally following the base, animal instincts when he fucked anyway, but something about Heather writhing beneath him had Dagur feeling primal, stripped back to just a raw need for pleasure, to chase the high of climax.
Heather's hand came up to tug at his hair, rough to the point of pain in his scalp that Dagur reveled in. She bit him, sharp teeth sinking down on his lip, his shoulder, his throat. Her nails raked down his back, her deep green eye fixing upon his with a chilling stare that was part lust, part something else entirely that Dagur knew probably wasn't good. He just didn't care enough, his own nails sinking into the pale skin above Heather's skirt, bruising her hip and tearing the otherwise blank canvas of her skin next to the birth mark.
"Say it Heather. Say you're mine."
She had demanded it of him; he deserved the same from her. She owed him that much.
"In your dreams brother mine."
For someone who was flushed, sweating and keening with the pleasure of said brothers cock stretching her, filling her, Heather was remarkably cool as she challenged him. Dagur decided to let her think she had won for the moment - he knew he needed to work on patience. Heather would be his first test.
She was too hot, too wet and too fucking perfectly responsive for Dagur to hold back, hips beginning to shudder as he crested the wave. Heather exploded beneath him, looking every bit as surprised as Dagur was before her face went slack with pleasure as she spasmed around him. Dagur buried himself deep, spilling inside Heather and knowing she was his whether she said it or not.
"D-Dagur!"
Gods, his name had never sounded so good. On the tongue of a Berserker. His Berserker. His sister. Dagur leant down, sealing his lips on the side of her breast and biting, sucking, not letting up until he was satisfied the bruise left behind would linger. He pulled out, enjoying her small sound of complaint that he was no longer in her and tugged his leggings back up.
Heather was silent, fairly still and hadn't even pulled her skirt back down.
Dagur left her to work through it, rolling on his side and preparing to go to sleep. Heather got up, obviously cleaning herself up and replacing her clothes. Dagur kept his eyes closed in case she was suddenly shy, as most women he'd seen had become immediately after sex. Then she got back on the bed, facing away from him by the quiet sound of her breathing. On impulse more than logic, Dagur rolled over and placed his arm around her, pulling her into his body. She shuddered when he pressed his teeth to the back of her neck, though he didn't bite. Not that time.
"Mine."
She didn't say anything. She didn't have to.
When Dagur woke after a particularly fantastic nights sleep, Heather hadn't moved. His morning wood was pressed against her hot little ass, Heather amazingly pushing back when he thrust it against her to test her reaction. Dagur didn't waste the chance, fumbling to lift up her skirt, push down her leggings and his fingers delved between her thighs. Her sleep-rough voice formed needy moans as he rubbed her, trying not to rush and gain the opposite effect as he got her hot, wet, ready to take him within her again.
He rolled her on to her front and Heather let him, pinning her with his weight and teasing his cock over her wet hole, wanting Heather to beg for him to fill her before she got what they both wanted. She rested her head against her forearm to allow herself space to breathe, pushing back as best she could on Dagur and growling in frustration when he didn't immediately fuck into her oh-so-willing body.
"Damnit Dagur!"
"You want something little sis?"
Heather growled again, arching her back to try and get more of him.
"If you aren't gonna do it I'm gonna leave."
Her threat did the trick; Dagur aimed his cock and pressed inside her. Heather keened, letting out those sounds that were half-pain, half-pleasure as Dagur stretched her to fit him. Placing a hand between her shoulder blades to ensure she didn't try to leave - if she wanted to stop, Heather would let him know - and leant down to bite a bruise into the skin revealed by her looser sleep-tunic.
Even if she didn't say it, Heather would feel it.
Positioned as she was, the sound of his hips slamming into her ass were loud enough to drown out her muffled moans, probably loud enough for others to hear but Dagur didn't care either way. All it would mean is anyone who dared try to touch her again wasn't just after his sister, they were after his lover. Double the deathwish really.
"You feel me in you Heather? Feel my blood in your veins?"
Her response was muffled in her arm but Dagur was certain it was a yes, biting into her skin again and feeling a rush as bruises bloomed across the blank porcelain. He sank into the heat of her repeatedly, tasting sweat on her skin, feeling her muscles tremble beneath him over and over again with each deep, punishing thrust of his hips into her. The novelty of it was too much, too much to take so early and Dagur felt the heat coalesce in his groin as his cock swelled and spurted, filling Heather with his come again with a deep, satisfied groan.
He pulled out quicker, rolled her over and pushed his fingers back between her thighs. Heather didn't take much to join him in bliss, quaking as she soaked his fingers with the messy mix of them both leaking out to stain the bed furs.
Dagur hadn't finished basking in the afterglow for two minutes when Heather wrapped herself around him from behind, both hands around his throat just tight enough to let him know it was a serious threat rather than a simple kink.
"You. Don't. Tell. Anybody. Do I make myself clear?"
He nodded as best one could with a half-way chokehold, waiting for Heather to let him go. She bit him in return, just below the muscle of his shoulder and it hurt. Dagur suspected it was her biting over where her nails had torn at him the night before as she collapsed beneath the weight of exquisite pleasure they both knew they could find only in each other.
Blood made it better.
Dagur had only applied that to battle before.
Now it applied to sex.
He was half-expecting Ryker to tell something had changed, even with their unspoken agreement that what happened stayed in their room, their bed. Dagur knew, knew he had left his mark on her inside and out. Heather acted no different, sitting next to him in silence for breakfast before taking off to find her dragon. Dagur stayed behind to plot chaos with Ryker, getting goosies just thinking about all the destruction they would wreak upon people and places and maybe even Dragons Edge.
"So, when do we leave?"
"We don't. Not without Viggo."
Oh. Oh. Were they finally going to meet the mysterious Viggo?
"When does he get here?"
"He doesn't. We go to him. Get your sister and her animal. We sail in an hour."
"Chill out Rykie, it's not like she couldn't catch us up anyway."
Dagur waved a dismissive hand, jogging off in the direction Heather had been heading last. Windshear was pretty distinctive, so he was expecting to spot her pretty fast. He wasn't expecting to be tackled, bitten and pinned to the ground.
"Heather?"
"You suck if I can pin you."
Oh, she was in for it.
"That what you think?"
He used his legs to clamp around hers, preventing Heather from wriggling free as he rolled them and pinned her shoulders down. She thrashed and managed to bite his hand, using the momentary distraction to knee him in the groin and take the advantage again. He felt the wind knocked out of him as Heather threw her weight down on him, managing to pin him.
"Give up?"
"Not a chance."
Her eyes darkened, mouth quirking in that smirk Dagur knew in his gut was just for him.
"Concede and I'll make it worth your while."
A dull ache between his thighs where she had gotten her knee in didn't seem to quiet his arousal, and for just a second Dagur didn't care about winning or losing. He cared about that spark in Heather's eyes and what it could lead to.
"I concede."
Thor, Heather was bringing up so many feelings. Feelings Dagur didn't know he could feel, feelings he didn't think were possible.
And that was just since last night.
Heather grinned when Dagur spoke, fumbling to free his cock from his bottoms and wriggling downwards.
"Since I kicked you, only fair I kiss it better.
Dagur was in disbelief, realising Heather was putting her mouth on his cock out in the middle of the woods, where anyone and anything could happen across them. Her tongue was hot on his shaft, leaving a wet stripe that tingled as she breathed over him. Then her thin lips were sealing over the tip and Dagur had to bite his fist to keep from shouting her name, from declaring that by the gods Heather was born to suck his cock and wanting to brag that he was experiencing it.
Her fingers wormed under his clothes to rub at his birthmark, the one she bore too. He knew she liked that they had something the same, something beyond the fact they were blood. Something visible, something as tangible as her tongue wrapping around his cock as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked. Dagur's hips bucked, knees shaking in a way that made him glad he was already horizontal. Heather bobbed her head, leaving a sloppy trail of saliva along his shaft, one she followed with her hand as she stroked and squeezed and dug her thumb into where the base met his sack, some sudden waves of heat coming from that new motion.
"C-close."
Some didn't like to swallow, and even Dagur knew better than to annoy the person with his little Dagur in their mouth. Heather pulled her mouth off, tight-fisted grip still going and she looked straight at his eyes the whole time, determined to watch him at the height of climax. Dagur obliged, eyes falling closed as he spilled over her hand with a cry muffled in his bitten fist.
As if nothing had happened, Heather stood up, wiping her hand clean on a couple of leaves and walked off. Dagur stumbled upright, fixing his clothes and being forced to run after her.
"Wait! I actually came out here to tell you something."
She turned back, eyes full of suspicion.
"What?"
"We're leaving soon. To go and meet Viggo."
That got her attention. Heather's eyes widened, hand automatically twitching to her axe for a second. Good girl, good instincts.
"Oh. How soon?"
"Like, get your dragon cus we're shipping out soon. I'll meet you there sis."
With that, Dagur turned and ran off. Ryker looked annoyed Heather wasn't with him, but she and her dragon caught up with them before they set sail so the big lump had no real cause to complain.
He wasn't allowed to be involved in much, bristling when Viggo dismissed him to be alone with Heather. Ryker snorted and wondered off, probably to throw a tantrum about being bossed around by his little brother. Dagur tried not to think too much about how Heather bossed him around earlier. Or how much he kinda liked it.
"So, whats the job?"
He asked a passing lackey, one who had no idea who was in charge except that it wasn't him.
"Nightmare? Flightbear? I don't know, we just got told to get this glowing algae."
Dagur waved him off with a menacing growl that made him jump; it felt good to scare someone again. Being bossed around by brothers Grimborn was bad for the ego, but good for the revenge plans against Hiccup and the riders. He knew what they were talking about - a Flightmare. Only dragon that lived almost exclusively off of glowing algae... gods, when had he started learning this yak dung? All he cared about on a dragon was how they died, how they bled and how much they could sell for.
Something didn't feel right... and that wasn't just the questionable mutton he had for lunch talking. Or the fact Ryker didn't seem any more concerned than usual that the Dragon Riders were currently trashing the place.
"Rykie... where's Heather? What's Viggo doing to her?"
Ryker huffed.
"Testing her. Or using the flyer to help him catch the Flightmare. Who can tell?"
Dagur paced and wondered if this was what it felt like to actually worry for someone. Mostly he just wanted the possessive knowledge Heather was unharmed. It was good for his ego, but he never really... worried.
It was hours before he saw Heather again. In shackles. Ryker - the bastard had known something was up - had a thick collar around her dragon too.
"Your sister here" he yanked at the chain to Heather's manacles and she almost fell over "has been found as a traitor. Viggo wants to give you the benefit of the doubt though. Family isn't always perfect after all."
Dagur didn't know what the new feeling in his chest was. Betrayal had never felt so sharp. Trying to think on his feet, Dagur refused to show any tension.
"Right. Like you and Lars number two."
Ryker scowled.
"Yes. So... you're going to take her to her new cage. Dragon too. Just to be sure you aren't both traitors, you'll have company."
"Ok. Where's her cage?"
He kept himself relaxed, happy even - like finding out she was a traitor killed any and all emotion for Heather but hatred.
There was a time when Dagur knew that would have been the case.
Ryker pointed up toward one of the caves, one Dagur knew rather well. It was where they left traitors to die, but in cages so they thought they were just waiting for someone to come back. Nobody ever did.
"You got it Rykie. What then?"
"Assuming you all come out unscathed" he leered again, and Dagur had a gut feeling he expected Heather not to be before she was locked up "head to the nearest base. First we need to deal with the Riders."
The other guys took Heather's chain, Dagur was handed Windshear. They headed up to the cave, Heather's terrified whimpers occasionally escaping despite her usually stoic facade. She knew she was going to her death.
"Stay here. Don't. Touch. Her. Save it for the cage."
Heather's face went from mildly scared to utterly terrified. Dagur yanked a resisting Windshear off to where the echoes would be lessened. He broke the chains, and leaned in close.
"I can get you both out of here, but you have to wait until I whistle ok?"
Windshear rumbled, but stayed. Dagur went back, finding men plus Heather exactly where he left them.
"How does it feel to know you'll die so close together, but you won't even be able to comfort the beast?"
Heather threw her pride away; she was begging for her life and they both knew it.
"Dagur, we come from a strong and noble line. How could you do this to us, to the Berserkers?"
She babbled on, and Dagur lost his cool for a second.
"Where were all this touchy family feelings when you were betraying me? When you were trying to kill me before?"
"I didn't know you were my brother then! And that was because of you! You floated me out to sea, not to mention killing my whole island."
"Hm. I suppose thats fair. Into the cage."
The other soldiers leered at her, scowling when Dagur slammed the door closed and beckoned them to follow him.
"But I thought-"
"Hey, just come with me a minute? Don't make me help the dragon live longer by feeding you to it."
They fell silent, following him. They were so eager to rape Heather they literally walked to their deaths.
Dagur killed the bigger one first; silently stabbing him through the throat so he couldn't scream. The second tried to run, but Dagur threw the dead ones sword and it slammed through his chest. That was the trouble with their dragon-hide vests - the stitching was such a weak point.
Kicking the one nearest for good measure, Dagur went back and yanked a terrified Heather from her cage.
"Dagur, wait-"
"Just move would you?"
She stopped dead when she saw the bodies, realised she was stepping in blood.
"You-"
Dagur raised his sword, watching her recoil, eyes closed. He swung it down.
Her manacles clattered to the floor.
She peered through scrunched up lids, eyes going wide when she saw she was free. Dagur whistled, Windshear trundling around the cavern until she found her rider.
"Go."
He couldn't look at her anymore. Dagur had dared to think he found family in her, had let his guard down enough to drink around her for Thor's sake. And it was all a lie. Even when she fucked him, she was selling them out to the riders.
Dagur was only letting her out because he knew, just for a few minutes, that there was something real there. And for that, Heather could live.
For today.
-HTTYD-
Like I said that was probably off canon, but then so was the sex.
I'm not thrilled with this one and how it came out, but I'm far more hopeful the next one will go how I want it to. So... we'll see.