AN: so this story is set decades before the first movie, when the adults and parents of Hiccup and the others are only teens themselves. I particularly wanted to write Valka before her life with the dragons, as someone who still lived on Berk, knew it's ways, it's people. I hope you enjoy it:)

"So it looks like we're on watchtower duty together again? What is this, forth time this week, isn't it? Wouldn't be a coincidence, would it?"

He perked up to the sound of that familiar female voice behind him. The girl, only a teenager at the time, was still quite small and lean, her red hair parted into two braided ponytails hanging over her shoulders. She carefully pulled herself up the ladder, the studs in her armour and the strap of her satchel trying to grab the splintered wood as she did. How the pull of the wood hadn't ripped that fading leather bag was a mystery.

The village teenagers were always assigned the painful task of late afternoon watchtower duty. It was "something they can't screw up" he'd overheard his father say to his uncle once. It was probably for the best, looking at the majority peers. All bumbling and massive, beards that hadn't grown in and tempers that still couldn't be controlled. Even the biggest muttonhead on Berk, who at the time, Thorston's oldest boy, could manage watch tower. But good company certainly made it more enjoyable.

"Aye, I might put in a good word ta the chief."

"And you have some influence with him, don't you Stoick?" She smiled and brushed her overgrown bangs from her face. Stoick chuckled and setting his spyglass off to the side. He'd hear the dragons coming, wouldn't he? There were more important things on that old, rickety watchtower for him to be looking at.

"Well once ya take down yer first Monstrous Nightmare in dragon training he finally gives ya a little respect," he stated proudly.

"He should really start, if you're going to replace him some day," she said as she took her seat on the opposite side of the watchtower, "Think you'll be ready?"

"No one's ever ready to be chief Val." "Spitlout says he is, he got in a fight with Gobber and Alvin about it a few days ago." She laughed at the memory, the arrogant teen might have had a shot against one, but not two of his own peers. "Gerda was watching too, he's been going on about it for two days now, whining like a child, blubbering fool."

"Aye? Wish I could've seen that!"

"Oh it was a show," she admitted, "I know training to replace your father is a lot of work, but it's a shame you-"

"Valka-"

"Miss out on everything with your friends," she paused before adding, "they're your future war council after all."

"And you."

"Aye, and me. If I weren't on watch duty with you every other day." She rolled her eyes as she began to pull things out of her bag. Some papers, sticks of charcoal, her personal spyglass, and—

"Is that the dragon manual?"

She smiled. "I've been doing a little research of my own, figured there might be something here." She tapped the book. "Our scaly friends haven't given us much to go on though. I asked to get in to see Bork's notes, but they shut me down every time, said I should be worrying about fighting dragons, not studying them."

And there it was, Val, being, well, Val. Incredibly curious, over thinking everything, always asking for answers that she didn't know, always finding answers to the questions no one else could tell her, or would, answer. To say that she was going to drive the adults and elders insane by the time she was an adult with some sort of influence was an understatement.

The chief's son didn't even have a chance to reply before the young girl started, asking "did you see the two Nadders that Sven and his father took down a few nights ago?"

"Aye, Sven's first kill ya know, but he hasn't said a word since. Scrawny things weren't they? Gobber was gone ta use the scales for—" He actually hadn't asked what Gobber had planned for the scales. It was probably for the best. "Somethin'.

Val shook her head."He's going to lose an arm and a leg in that forge someday, I swear, if a dragon doesn't get to 'um first." She carefully flipped through her papers. "But those Nadders, have you ever seen dragons that frail? You could see the outlines of the bones right underneath their scales. It's like they haven't been eating."

"Haven't been eating? Val, they've made twice as many raids in the last year than they have in decades, they take entire flocks of sheep, yaks, cattle, even vikings—" "And don't seem to touch any of it by the looks of it. If we find out why they aren't eating it themselves, maybe we could trace what they do eat, where else the hunt, it might get us closer to finding the nest. We could scare them away from Berk, send them somewhere else."

"I'll talk ta my father."

He hadn't. Not that he hadn't tried. The chief was far from a reasonable man when it came to dragons. The second he'd mentioned it had been Val's idea, the chief shut him down and walked off.

Whatever Stoick said after that, he couldn't quite remember himself, she hadn't listened. Instead, her green eyes starred off into the endless sea, the wind blowing her hair around her face and rustling her papers. Drawings, he'd noted, of the dragons she studied so enthusiastically. There was never any fear or worry in her eyes around the beast, only eager fascination. She was still young, young enough to be brave, not quite old enough to be afraid. An incident waiting to happen. She began to drag the charcoal across her paper again, confidently marking up the pages with whatever filled her head. She was a good speaker, a smart diplomat, a strong fighter, but never was she more comfortable in her abilities than when drawing up on that tower, just the two of them and her imagination. Dragons, maps, Phlegma claimed she'd even seen the ginger girl drawing him a few times, (and when asked, she'd completely deny and tuck her book away in her vest.)

Time hadn't stopped, but he hadn't noticed it kept moving on, the sun creeping closer to the orange sea. He wasn't a sap of any sort, Odin knows he's the farthest viking from that at Berk, but in these moments, he doesn't complain about the silence or the unnatural calmness.

She sighed, her body relaxing into the corner of the tower. She'd put her drawings away, her satchel clasped shut. "Terror got your tongue?" she asked playfully, "never thought I'd see Stoick the Vast so silent." When he still didn't answer, she asked, "you are watching for dragons, aren't you?"

When he defensively stated he was, she simply laughed, "that makes one of us." She stood up, adjusting her armour and throwing her bag strap over her shoulder. "I heard Alvin and Gobber coming, looks like our shift is over." She'd offered a hand to help him up, as if she could do any good.

"S'pose it is." He could hear his friends below them, shouting and jeering about some unknown matter.

"Back to training."

"So soon?"

"It's the-"

"Role of the heir, I know, I know." She didn't know, of course. Trying to convince Val to follow through with even the simplest traditional procedure was a nightmare for certain.

"Wouldn't kill the chief if you were a little behind, would it?" She laughed, and twisting her fingers around a small braid in his hair. She pulled him down to her level, a smile on her face. "I thought you were going to take this out? Wasn't 'manly' enough?"

"I will." He wouldn't, of course. She'd been the one to put it there after all.

"Keep it, you look good with braids. More... Grown up." Again, she pulled him close and suddenly her lips pressed again his cheek. "Now, don't you have some chief in to do? Hooligans to wrangle and whatnot?"

"Whatnot?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Always have to have room for whatnot, Stoick." She had already turned to the ladder. "Never know what might happen."

"And yer an expert in chiefing, are ya?" He asked, leaning over the edge as she climbed down.

"I will be. I'm sure of that." She said brightly, her cheeks taking on the colour of her hair.