Vicious

He'd known from the moment his father had told him that Dagur was on the island that the next couple of days were going to be a nightmare. The feast had been a disaster. And a very demanding test of self-control. It still blew his mind, the way he treated his men, especially the girl. Like if they were his playthings that he could do whatever he wanted with them.

It was only now that they were in the privacy of their home that he dared speak his mind.

"Dagur must go," Vicious said. It had taken a lot for him to not punch the smug bastard in the face over the dinner but he'd contained himself; for his parents and the repercussions that would loam over the entire village if he engaged the chief of the Berserkers into battle; he even considered the girl who obviously didn't need more stress in her life. She was being married to Dagur after all. That was worse than death. Worse than being tortured to death.

Glum sighed. "It's not as easy as just kicking him out."

"He brought his armada," Ruthless said with a roll of her eyes. "As long as he has that, we don't want to risk an attack.

The answer did not satisfy Vicious. He crossed his arms and sat down, his armor clanking. "I say we set his armada on fire," he mumbled.

His mother's eyes darted towards him and pinned him with a cold glance. "Don't you dare bring the beast out."

Vicious' nostrils flared and he started arguing back. "She's not a beast. She saved my life. Plus, because of her we made peace with both the Meathead tribe and the Berkians."

"Son…"

"And destroying Dagur's armada would be easy. I'd just bring her out in the middle of the night and light everything on fire. None of them would be expecting it. Some of our men could start slitting throats here. Or even lock them up, whatever you think works best."

"If it were up to you, you'd set them on fire too," Ruthless said wryly.

Vicious shrugged, not denying that he wouldn't like to see them burn. Sweet, sweet revenge. He could still remember the fight from years ago that had started it all (although little things had been leading up to it). Dagur had almost taken his head. Luckily though, he'd missed enough to not kill him. Instead he'd almost left him crippled. And still the lunatic insisted that it was only a 'graze.' How was almost splitting his spine a 'graze?' Ever since that day when they were twelve, Vicious knew that there was something really wrong with the heir to the Berserker tribe. Something that couldn't be cured.

"He's a monster not a man. I would feel no guilt in killing him."

"Of course you wouldn't," Ruthless said. "I'm sure most of his men would even thank you."

"Or do the deed for you," Glum added. "As I see it, it's only a matter of time."

"Why haven't they done anything now? He treats them like expendable cattle. They outnumber him a hundred to one. What's stopping them?"

"Tradition," Glum said, walking over to the fire. He bent down and fed it more kindling.

"Fear," Ruthless added. "Respect for his father."

Glum ha-rumfed in agreement. "Oswald the Agreeable was a great man. He was severe but just and he cared for his people."

"Too bad a man like him married a terror like Pandemonium. That's where Dagur gets it from, you know," Ruthless said, her nose upturned as if she smelled something repugnant. She was clutching the chair handle hard enough to crack. "Prideful cow. Always thought she was better than everyone else because she could cleave the heads off of dragons with one single stroke." She snorted. "I could wield a sword before she could even walk."

Vicious gave her a look before he continued on with his argument. "We'd even be doing the rest of the tribes a favor. Odin knows that Dagur is just bidding his time before he attacks the Berkians. That's why Stoick and his son wanted to form an alliance. They see the battle coming a mile away."

"Be that as it may," Glum said with a hint of weariness in his voice. "We are a neutral party until Dagur does something outwardly antagonistic."

"His mere presence is antagonistic," Vicious muttered, crossing his arms, but at their warning looks, he threw his hands up in the hair. "Fine! I'll leave it alone and avoid the fucker until he leaves. Happy?"

"Not particularly," Ruthless said. "This isn't a picnic for us either." Her eyes flashed in anger as she remembered the day where she'd thought she'd lost her son. "Don't think for a moment we've forgotten all the harm he's done you."

"Sometimes I wonder," he said wryly. "Why else would you make me escort him to his room?"

This time Ruthless backed away, shaking her head with clear disapproval. "Oh no boy, don't pin that on me." She jerked her thumb her husband's way. "That was all his doing."

Glum shrugged, leveling his son with an unrepentant look. "Now, son. Just because Dagur is here, it doesn't mean we'll be lenient and let you get away with burning down a dozen of our own ships."

"It was an accident!" he exclaimed although even he couldn't sound convincing and he winced.

"Mmhum," he said and turned towards his wife who was slowly getting moodier. He wrapped an arm around her waist. "It's getting late. Why don't you go to your room and rest? Tomorrow will be just as demanding a day."

Vicious immediately stood up and made his way out of the room. The touches and looks hadn't gone unnoticed by him and he knew how to take a hint. Still, he couldn't stop from making a face at the thought of what they were going to do as soon as he was out of eyesight (didn't really matter if he was out of earshot. He'd learned that a long time ago).

His room smelled like wood and heather and he breathed it in slowly, noticing the small vase by his bed. A smile graced his lips (the first in days). His mother might like to appear the strong warrior in front of everyone, but when it was just her and the family, she was such a sweetie. It was kind of funny but nice – knowing that there was a part of her that she only felt comfortable enough showing in front of him and his dad.

Slowly, his fingers worked his armor off: shoulder plates, buckle, wrist spikes, and his prized helmet made of iron. He draped his heavy furred coat over the chair and collapsed on his bed.

Gods, he hated Dagur.

Rolling over, he rubbed his face up and down with his palms, as if trying to rub away an ugly memory. Unfortunately for him, all he could do was think back on the feast and how much he'd wanted to jump across the table, challenge Dagur in a duel, cut him up, and then feed him to Pyra. Then he would have freed the Berserker tribe so they could choose a more suitable chief. And then there was the girl. The princess.

Merida

"Merida," he said a loud. Pretty, now that he thought about it. But foreign on his tongue. His felt himself drift off, pensive and not all together peaceful.

Vicious had been ignored for a full thirty minutes and he was just about ready to explode. The only thing keeping him in check was his mother's firm hand on his knee. His eye twitched but he resigned himself to his fate. Instead, of glaring holes into Dagur, he reached out and filled his plate with another chicken leg. He bit into it viciously.

He wished Pyra was around. She knew how to have a blast. He chuckled darkly. At least Dagur wasn't having fun either. It looked like he was steadily getting pissed.

He was brought out of his raging thoughts when he heard Dagur finally give in and yell, "Guard!" One of his men was shoved forward and Vicious watched the Viking gulp nervously.

"Yes Dagur sir?"

"Where's my trophy?"

Ah, the girl. That's what had been pissing him off.

The man looked uncomfortable. "Umm -,"

Dagur narrow his eyes and before anyone could blink, he'd struck out, stabbing the man in the shoulder. Vicious immediately moved to stand, his hand on his knife, but his mother held him back. He bit back a growl of frustration and instead sat back down, feeling outrage for the Viking who was very obviously trying to hold back his cry of pain.

"Here she is!" someone else cried and everyone turned to look at the new arrivals. The Viking that had called was female and she was looking towards the other's bleeding shoulder as if she herself had been stabbed. But she wasn't what drew everyone's attention. It was the girl. Earlier he hadn't managed to get a good look at her. He'd only known she was young and fair with blue eyes. Now he could see that she was younger than him, with a magnificent head of red curls that fell midway to her back. She was wearing a dark blue dress that looked of a foreign design.

Suddenly, someone else cried out, "Merida!" Vicious turned to look only to see one of the Vikings hit the red-head and drag him out of the room. The girl had made a move to go to the man but the Viking female stopped her. It was then that Dagur got a good look at her face.

The girl had a dark bruise forming on the left side of her cheek and her eyes were ablaze with a fire of such deep hatred that Vicious couldn't understand how Dagur was still standing. Immediately he knew he liked her. She had spirit.

Dagur didn't look scared at all which Vicious thought was stupid. You should never underestimate an enemy. No, instead Dagur was smiling as if he found this whole thing funny. "Ah," he called. "My lovely Firehead! I'm glad to see you cleaned up. You were starting to smell. Milkweed! Bring her over here to sit next to me!" The room was quiet as they watched the Viking called Milkweed shove the girl forward.

The girl stumbled but recovered quickly and, holding her head high, walked forward with so much grace and dignity that Vicious immediately suspected that she wasn't just a commoner that Dagur had picked up. She took her seat next to Dagur leaning slightly away from him, not even sparing him a look.

Dagur didn't seem to care. He reached out and gently caressed a curly lock of hair from her face. This made her react violently and she slapped his hand away, a scowl on her lips. A dark look crossed over Dagur's face before it passed and he settled back down, grinning at the uneasy looks on his host's faces. "Isn't she something? I got her in one of my last raids. She's the daughter of some king or something from the savage lands to the west. I plan to make her my wife. Men!" he called turning to them, a dangerous look on his face. "As chief, don't I deserve a princess?" There were murmurs of agreement and he laughed: long and cruelly.

Vicious hated that laugh. There was a loud clank and he turned slightly to see his mother had slammed her drink down hard enough to crack the table.

"So you kidnapped yourself a bride?" she asked. Her tone was anything but veiled and the disgust and outrage was palpable.

Of course Dagur noticed and he narrowed his eyes. "Yeah? What of it grandma?"

This time, Vicious couldn't help but stand up and point an accusing finger at him. "You will show my mother respect. You're a guest here and she is the chief's wife."

Dagur's lip twitched before he quickly smiled and held his hands up in surrender. "Right. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"You know perfectly well what came over you, you lying bastard!" Vicious spat, his composure breaking. Everyone at the table had stopped eating and was now watching them with growing alarm. Most looked like it was the end of the world. Vicious couldn't blame them: he had a short temper and Dagur was insane. That did not make for a good combination.

Dagur's eyes narrowed but the smile wouldn't leave his face. It was starting to creep everyone out, including the girl as she stared at him with her lips pressed tight.

"That is enough," Glum said, his loud voice cutting the silence like a sword. He glared at each and everyone, gaze lingering on the two main culprits. "Dagur, you are to respect my wife or you will leave my lands." Dagur looked away but nodded stiffly. "Vicious." He straightened up into attention, knowing before he even looked at his father, that he was in trouble. "You are dismissed from this table. Go."

He didn't even try to fight the verdict. If anything he was grateful because he wasn't sure he could hold back hitting Dagur for another moment. He nodded stiffly and turned towards the door. Not before he saw Dagur's triumphant little smirk. He would have shouted some departing words if it weren't for the fact that he also saw the girl staring at him. Her eyes were wide and clear and intelligent.

She looked, appreciative and she inclined her head towards him slightly.

She'd thanked him, Vicious was sure.

His room suddenly felt stuffy. He needed to go for a walk. Swinging his legs forward, he grabbed his fur coat and armored up. He picked up his sword. You never know if you're going to run into Dagur, he thought as he secured the sword around his waist. He decided he wanted to avoid the awkward situation downstairs and instead climbed out of his window. It was easy enough. He'd done it many times before.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, he took off running towards the woods. He slowed to a walk when he came near the long house. He was just passing by some Berserkers when he overhead some of them talking. He paused, catching wind of something interesting.

"…heard the yell. I think she broke his nose."

"Well by the sound of it, I think he broke hers back."

"Savage little girl, she is."

"I still can't get over the fact that she made Dagur sleep in another room."

"Perhaps this whole 'marrying and outsider' isn't such a bad thing. She'd make a good match. Much saner. The people will like her."

"Balance out all the hate, hum?"

"Possibly."

Vicious didn't realize he was grinning until he felt his cheeks ache. He knew he'd like the girl. The voices grew dimmer as he snuck away quietly into the forest. The girl – Merida – had gotten in the punch he'd been denied. Good for her.

He side stepped a torn down tree and headed confidently down a worn down path of his own making. It was late evening when he finally made out the faint outline of the abandoned watchtower resting forlornly on top of the far cliff. He ran the last couple of yards and pit his fingers in his mouth to whistle.

It echoed in the air and he waited for a couple of seconds.

A roar answered back and a genuine smile broke across his face as he saw Pyra fly down from on top of the watchtower. She immediately ambled over, nuzzling her face against his hand.

"How are you doing, girl?" he asked, scratching her magenta colored snout.

His Monstrous Nightmare leaned in further.

"Yeah, I've missed burning stuff with you too. Want to go for a ride?"

Of course she did.

Anonymous: You would think Merida would be more resourceful but this is literally her first time being alone. Ever since she was captured, someone has always been around her. Plus she just got smacked around and molested. Most people would probably be too shell shocked to even move. She probably could have gotten the knife, but it would be too big to hide. They would have found it on her anyway. At least with the needle, she can hide it and get some comfort from it. Thank you very much for your review and I hope you continue enjoying the story.

Nar: Hello first timer. I'm so happy you like the story. I hope you continue reading and enjoying (despite the fact that Hiccup will probably only be mentioned here and then). This is mainly a story about Merida and her having to grow up in a strange world that treats her like an object. I wanted to explore how to she would feel and how she would respond. I also wanted to explore Dagur's character because he's so crazy and his family and life is such a mystery. But this is just me rambling. I hope you liked this update.

irrelevantAssasin: Thank you so much. I think you'll be happy to know that I believe I'll be updating every Saturday and Wednesday. We'll see how it goes.

A/N: Well, so there you have it. I've officiously introduced Vicious who is actually a character that could potentially link Merida with Berk if I ever do decide to let Merida meet Hiccup. It's an option now at least. Next chapter should be a Milkweed chapter! Drop a review if you can. I love them.