This is an idea I had based off of the movies How To Train Your Dragon 1 and 2, the series on Cartoon Network and mainly the game School of Dragons. There is some timeline jumping, I hope it's not too hard to understand. Everything will make sense the farther we get into the story.

I stood stiffly on the stone steps in front of the Meade Hall. My thin frame was saturated by the cold but my stubbornness kept me from shivering. The iron shackles that bound my hands had rubbed my pale wrists raw. Between the cuffs the chain drooped heavily towards the ground. The frosty air was still and created a numb atmosphere. A gravelly voice belted out "Marhilde of unknown origins has been charged with robbery and treachery. Before the council begins discussing your sentence you have permission to speak."

I inhaled deeply and held the freezing air inside me, letting it burn from the inside out while I summoned all the strength I could. I let it out slowly in a stream of mist that swirled through the air before dissipating. "Thank you. But for you to understand I have to start at the beginning."

"My name is not Marhilde. It's Whiplash. Actually it's not Whiplash either but that's what I've been called for so long I can't remember my real name. I'm called Whiplash because I'm known for my speed. I attack first and so quickly you don't know what's hit you until you feel the pain. The other Berserker children knew not to mess with me. Yes, I am a born and raised Berserker. I graduated in middle of the class in dragon training- back when we still killed them."

I have an unusually good memory. And one of my strongest memories is my first day of dragon training. In Berserker villages you're started young. From the time you can walk there's a weapon in your hand and every day you're being trained how to use it. Not only against dragons but against people too. Hand to hand combat is a popular pastime for children. Mock wars and hunting for small animals are common forms of entertainment as well. Dragon training starts at 12 and never really ends. After months of training with old dragons in the ring, classes lose their formality and you join the adults fighting dragons in the open.

I remember how scared I was. I cried until I left the house. "I don't want to fight dragons! They're big and scary and they eat you! Why can't I just fight people for the rest of my life?"

"People aren't our only enemies," My mother replied. "We need everyone's help defending our village from any threat that comes our way."

I forced myself to stop crying before I left. Letting yourself be seen crying is just as bad if not worse than fighting dragons. When I lined up in the ring with the other young Vikings I wondered if anyone else felt less confident than they looked. It didn't seem like it. They chatted and joked, chests puffed out and weapons held easily. To them it was just another game. Our instructor stepped out in front of us and we all stood at attention. A young adult - not that there were many older ones - he was slightly less than average height with messy black hair and an eyepatch. His uncovered eye was a dark brown and on his lips he wore a confident smirk.

"Welcome to dragon training." His voice was smooth and charming. Not a usual Berserker. His friendly demeanor made his welcome felt. "My name's Leif and I'll be training you over the next several months. Now before we start there's something I want to make sure you all understand. Many of the Vikings that come through here are scared of dragons."

It was comforting knowing I wasn't the only one. "They come here hoping to crush that fear and they usually do. As big, strong Berserkers, to you I'm sure that sounds great. But losing your fear can be a dangerous thing. When fear is absent you're not as careful; you get cocky. And that's when accidents happen. That's when people get hurt." He paused to look at each one of us. "You need to know it's ok to be afraid. It's not ok to let the fear overwhelm you. But a healthy dose of fear will keep you on your toes. And that's what makes a good dragon fighter."

After his speech I felt sure I would be able to overcome my petrifying fear and fight dragons as well as I fought humans. And with his help I did. Because the training period was so short I didn't have time to perfect my skills and still made frequent mistakes by graduation. But I kept practicing and honing my skills until I was as good as the best of the graduating class. That was always a fond memory. Even though times have changed, I don't think it's one I'll let go.

"When Dagur orders something, it doesn't matter who you are, you do it. So when he called for all young Berserkers of course I had to go. My parents were apprehensive about it, but we had no choice. Standing in line I watched as many prime examples of vikingness were dismissed. I wondered why. What could he be looking for that they don't have?"

Another clear memory. But not such a nice one. I stood in line with all the other Berserkers my age from every village in the territory. Teenagers stretched from Dagur's throne over the rocky ground all the way to the wooden doors. The cavelike room was lit dimly by a large fire pit. Occasionally the embers would crackle and send up sparks that returned to the smoldering fuel as ashes. Dagur the Deranged, leader of the Berserkers was still a teen himself. He claimed leadership when his father mysteriously "disappeared". Short and slightly stocky, the thin Viking was incredibly strong. His red hair he kept short and usually hidden under his spiked helmet. He always wore war paint and surprise, surprise it was Berserker signature blue.

When it was finally my turn I stood before Dagur in war paint and armor, weapons strapped at my sides, the whole outfit of a Berserker soldier. He was slouched in his chair pinching the bridge of his nose. Starting at a whisper and raising the volume at each word he said "Why... can't someone bring me what I need?" His voice rang in echoes around the stone carved room. When he saw me he straightened and his eyes lit up. "Scrawny, few scars, how was she in dragon training?" Leif was standing with a group of guards by Dagur's throne. His eyebrows shot up as he nodded his head and lifted his thumb. When Dagur looked away Leif winked his one eye at me.

"What's your name?"

"Whiplash," I said in a stern soldier's reply.

"She's perfect! Alright everyone out," He demanded waving towards the door. Obeying his order quickly, everyone pushed and shoved their way to the doors where they filed into the hall beyond. Dagur, Leif, the guards and I were the only ones left. I struggled to keep from shaking, I needed to look strong in front of my leader.

"You, my dear, have been chosen for a very special job. You see, in the past our attempts at training dragons have been... failures." At the last word a shadow crossed his face and he pounded his fist on the arm of his throne; obviously it was a hard thing to admit. "But I've devised a brilliant new plan." In a split second his mood changed to ecstasy. "Instead of trying to figure out how to train dragons ourselves, we're going to do what works. We are going to use Berk's way of training dragons." He looked overly pleased with himself but I was still lost in the dark. I tried to keep a neutral face to hide my confusion.

"You, Skirtsash, will be sent to the School of Dragons, founded by Berk to teach people how to train dragons. You will learn everything you can and report to me every month with the information you have collected. After your graduation you will return to Berserker Island with enough eggs from their hatchery to start our own academy. And you will train our dragon riders for battle. Sound good Quickflash?"

Even the dullest Berserkers knows to never disagree with Dagur - no matter what the terms are. "Yes, great," I answered releasing the air I had been holding as a breathy laugh I hoped sounded happy. A very large amount of pressure had been placed on me and I wasn't sure I could handle it.

"You will have to leave tomorrow. They will be accepting recruits for only a few more days. Berk would never allow a Berserker to enter the School of Dragons so we need to make sure no one finds out where you came from. You will be sent to several villages before traveling to Berk so your trail will be difficult to trace. I hope you're skilled in deception because we don't want anyone discovering who you are."

"I..." To my embarrassment my voice broke. I cleared my throat and started again. "I can do it." I didn't sound very convincing.

"You will be going alone. For you to arrive in Berk on time you must leave at sunrise tomorrow morning. We should not have to discuss what will happen if you miss a boat and do not get to the School this year."

"Yes sir."

"You can go now."

"Goodbye sir."

"He needed a young Berserker that no one would suspect was a Berserker. He needed a spy to send to Berk's School of Dragons. So he picked me."

I remember how worried my parents were when I told them what had happened that night.

"You have to be careful," my mother warned. "Don't ever let your guard down. The web of lies you'll be spinning can come apart by one careless mistake."

"You will have to remember that you're there on a mission," my father said. "And you have to remember the consequences if you do not complete your mission."

"Don't do anything to jeopardize your success. Don't make friends. It will make it harder for you to betray them at the end."

"Pay attention to all your classes. You have to teach everything you will learn to many others and you will have to do it well."

"But don't bring too much attention to yourself. You need to blend in with everyone else."

"It's just so much," I huffed in desperation. "I don't know if I can do it."

"You can't think like that!" My mother scolded.

"She's right. You have to do this. You know what will happen if you don't. You can't think for a second that failure is an option."

"It will be so hard all by myself."

"I know," my mother cooed. "But you can do it. I know you can. You're my big tough girl that can beat all the boys."

We all shared a laugh. My reputation wasn't a secret. Everyone knew how I got my name.

"You will need to create a cover story." My father reminded.

"And a new name," My mother said.

I searched but could not find the name of the Berserker's home from the series or game. If there is one, please Feel free to correct me.