A/N: Sorry it took so long to write such a tiny chapter ^^; life hasn't been too kind to me lately.

In Reply to Jaks: I got rid of the prologue on and AO3, because I was told a few times that it was kind of lame and boring. As for the pairings, well...They're in the description lol.


Stoick rubbed his temple with one hand, the other clenched into a fist as it rested on his thigh. His eyes were closed and his jaw was tight as he did his best to keep from erupting into a raging tirade at the teen in front of him. As he slowly breathed in through his nose, he could hear the gentle tinkling of Thora's metal trinkets as she shifted in her seat. He knew she must have been biting her tongue as she waited through the tense silence, because she soon let out a quiet, pained curse followed by a whispered 'yuck'.

Finally, he let his hand fall onto the arm of his chair and opened his eyes. Right away, he noticed the two spots of blood on the neck of Thora's tunic –she had, indeed, bitten her tongue too hard. Ignoring them for now, he sat up a bit straighter, his eyes locking onto hers.

"You said the only wounds the two o' you got were minor?" he questioned.

She nodded, doing her best to match his gaze, but every once in a while, her eyes flitted away nervously. "Aye. I treated 'em before coming here, though I sent Hiccup t' Gothi t' get a leg wound stitched."

His brow rose ever so slightly. "And was it Dagur who gave him that wound?"

"Hard t' tell, t' be honest," she admitted. "It was a clean enough cut, so it could have been Dagur, but there was so much jumpin' an' rollin' around taking place, he could have easily gotten it from a rock or a shrub, too."

Stoick nodded in understanding, scratching his beard. "And the others…?"

"Unhurt. They weren't there for the confrontation." She brought her tail around and began fiddling with the tuft of fur at its end. "I'm fairly certain Dagur wouldn't be alive if they had been, though."

"That may have been for the best," he admitted. "If you lot were able to make a quick escape and gone unnoticed-"

"-The Berserkers would have thought him killed by a dragon," she finished for him. "Aye, I thought o' that too. But I don't think they would have believed it. For all his deranged-edness, Dagur's an excellent warrior and has damned good survival skills." She shrugged lightly, remembering the state that she and Hiccup had seen Dagur in. "He had already been on the island for some weeks when he found us an' the only wound he gotten in that time was easily treated."

His brow visibly rose this time. "You treated his wound?" he questioned, his tone dry.

Her cheeks darkened and she looked away, wincing as she bit her tongue. "Er…I tried t' tell him it was worse than it was," she explained, "but he was havin' none o' it. So…aye, I treated it."

Stoick rubbed his forehead; she knew he was annoyed.

"Either way," she continued, "what happened, happened. We can't change that. But we can work on not makin' the same mistake twice."

The annoyance remained on his face as he stared at her. "Oh? And what mistake would that be?" he demanded, leaning forward almost menacingly in his seat. She knew this to be one of his intimidation tactics; she had seen him use it before with the leaders of other tribes as well as her father. Not to mention, he had done it plenty of times in her youth when she or Hiccup had gotten in trouble.

She fought the urge to shrink back, knowing this was as good a time as any to work on both her self-confidence and her authoritativeness. "Not tellin' the Berserkers 'bout us trainin' dragons."

"Is that so?" he retorted, crossing his arms. "What makes ya think it was a mistake?"

"If we had told Dagur about them in the first place, we would have been in a better position t' explain the non-violent benefits o' becomin' friends with the dragons," she answered. She swallowed hard, unconsciously gripping her tail as she forced herself to remain sitting upright as well as making her eyes stay fixed on her uncle's face. Her insides, however, felt as if they were a swarm of bees buzzing around. "Aye, he may not have been very receptive t' the idea right o' way, but if we had introduced it slowly –throughout his visit here- he may have warmed up t' it a bit.

"An' with that in mind, it's definitely somethin' we'll need t' do come time t' renew the treaties with the Bog-Burglars, the Bashem Oiks, the Thunderheads, an' the Meatheads," she told him. "We need t' show them that most dragons are peaceful creatures, not the monsters we used t' think they were."

Stoick let out a heavy sigh, slouching back in his chair as he rubbed his temple once more. "I see Hiccup's been rubbing off on ya," he told her, his tone surprisingly gentle. "It was so easy for you teens t' befriend the dragons. Most o' you hadn't seen them kill your friends or your loved ones…"

Thora glanced away, knowing that her uncle was thinking back to his late wife. "I know it's not an easy thing, tryin' to be allies with them," she quietly told him. "I know plenty o' Hooligans who still have trouble accepting it –or even downright hate it. But you've seen the good they bring! With their help, Silent Sven was able to get his fields ready for springtime in just two days an' Bucket and Mulch were able t' fill the storehouse with the largest cache of smoked meats in –probably- Berk's entire history!"

Holding up his hand, Stoick silenced her. "I'm not saying I haven't seen the positives," he told her, "but what I am sayin' is that the other tribes won't see it the same way. They'll see it as a sign o' aggression, thinkin' we mean t' utilize the dragons for war." Pushing himself out of his seat, he turned his back to her and headed over to the far wall, where he kept many bottles of various shapes and sizes.

"Well, then…we show them it's not?" Thora sounded unsure of her own words. "I mean, if they see us playing with them or using them for labor…"

Stoick shook his head as he unstoppered one of the taller bottles. "Think o' this way, Thora: Before we became friends with the dragons an' they were attackin' us every other week for food, how did ya feel if you came across one in the forest? Even if it was asleep or doing somethin' completely harmless?"

She frowned somewhat. "I felt…scared," she admitted, leaning over in an attempt to see what he was doing. "I didn't know they could be friendly back then."

"And how did you feel when Hiccup told you he had befriended one?" He glanced over his shoulder at her, brow raised. "I know he had t' have told you before anyone else found out."

Her cheeks darkened and her gaze fell to the floor, a guilty look on her face. "I thought he was a bit insane," she mumbled, half-lying. She glanced up as her uncle came back over, offering her a wooden cup. Taking it, she smelled its contents. Wine.

"Now imagine bein' a chieftess and hearing that one o' the nearby tribes was starting to train dragons, who happen t' be one of your biggest enemies. How would that make you feel?"

"Angry…betrayed…" She took a sip of the wine.

He nodded slowly. "Do you see where I'm coming from now?" he gently asked her. When she nodded in return, he took a drink from his own cup. "You need to keep in mind that not everyone is going to share the same point of view as you. As a future Völva, you need t' do your best to see things from everyone's perspective –not just yours and Hiccup's. Do you understand?"

"Aye," she murmured, her eyes fixed on the deep purple liquid in the cup. Her cheeks still burned, but she knew he was right –after all, Stoick was chief of Berk.


Thanks to the Screaming Death's excavation of Berk, the island was left riddled with tunnels. Most of these tunnels had been filled in with help from Fishlegs and his friendship with a herd of wild Gronckles. A few of them had been left open, however, upon the discovery that they had become new wells or created shortcuts to the far reaches of the island.

One tunnel in particular, though, had an even more special reason for being left empty: It led into the side of the same mountain the Great Hall had been carved from and into a small cave system filled with hot springs. Stoick ordered Gobber and the other craftsmen to find a way to bring light to the area, as the caves had very little natural light, but it had actually been Snotlout who came up with a solution to the problem, however: Braziers filled with Monstrous Nightmare saliva which can burn for long periods of time without running dry.

With it being Woden's Day and not Saturn's Day –the usual bathing day for Vikings- the pools were empty. This was fine enough with Thora, who preferred to bathe by herself anyway. A quiet sigh left her mouth as she sank down into the water, her eyes closing in bliss. Warm baths were a luxury for her these days, since her time with Gothi took up so much of her day and her free time was usually spent studying.

'I could live in here,' she thought, resting her head against a stone. 'I don't think I've ever had a bath this warm, let alone one so effortless. I guess that Screaming Death was good for something…'

Almost lazily, she plugged her nose and slid under the hot water, a shiver running down her spine as her face was submerged. She remained under the water for as long as her lungs would allow before surfacing once more, a small gasp leaving her mouth. Grinning, she reached over her head and grabbed her washcloth.

Outside, Death Dance was making some noise.

Thora cocked her brow and tilted her head, listening to her dragon as she scrubbed her arm. Happy, guttural noises made by other dragons echoed down the cave. She smiled; Death Dance was just chatting with some friends. A quiet hiss left her mouth and she looked down at her arm; fresh blood began rolling down her arm from a cut she didn't know she had.

"Well that's lovely," she muttered, pressing the washcloth against her skin. After a few minutes, she pulled it back and watched the cut, waiting to see if it would bleed more. When it didn't, she let out a sigh and rinsed the cloth.

And then she let out a curse as a blur of peach and blonde splashed into the water. The waves it made crashed over the startled Thora, who had thrown her arms in front of her face in an attempt to shield herself from harm.

"Aha! You should see your face!" cackled Ruffnut. "You were all, 'Ahh! Don't eat me!'"

Lowering her arms slightly, Thora saw the other teen standing some feet away, buck naked and her hair unbraided. Rolling her eyes, she threw her washcloth at her, managing to hit her in the face.

"You are a massive jerk, ya know that, aye?" she chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"Nah." She waded over, sitting down next to her friend. "That'd be Snotlout. I, on the other hand, am purely delightful!"

Thora snorted, giving her a light nudge with her tail. "Oh, don't even," she laughed. "You're about as delightful as pungent onion."

"Ooh, delightful and delicious! I'll take that!"

Laughing even harder now, Thora shoved some of her hair out of her face. "How did ya even know I was in here?"

Ruffnut shrugged as she stood, having to reach around the rock to grab her own washcloth. "Ran across your uncle and asked him if he'd seen you. Ack!" She fell back into the water as Thora, using her tail, tugged on her hair. "Now who's the jerk?"

"Payback's a wench, isn't it?" Thora teased, grinning innocently.

"Yeah, yeah," she chuckled, shoving her own hair out of her face as she returned to her spot. "Anyway. Stoick said you went to take a bath here, so here I am. Tuffnut would be here, too, but mom roped him into helping Uncle Bucket and Mulch seal hunt today."

She nodded in understanding as she scrubbed at a stubborn bit of dirt. It soon became apparent to her, though, that it wasn't dirt, but rather a light bruise. "I hope they catch a couple. Seal's always a nice change o' pace t' all the fish an' cured meats during the winter."

"Yeah. Not to mention, I could really use some new seal-skin boots."

"Hate t' say it, but Áslaug an' Fáfnir already laid claim t' the next batch of new seal skins."

Ruffnut frowned and paused in her scrubbing. "How do you know that?"

"Áslaug told me the other day when she was measurin' me for a new under-gown."

"Ahh…Damn. I wanted those boots…" She slumped back against the rock, pouting. "Wait…I can see why Áslaug would want the skins, since she's a seamstress 'n all, but Fáfnir? He's just an old twit. What does he need them for!?"

Thora cocked her brow, grinning slightly at Ruffnut's offended state. "He does have a grandchild on the way, y'know," she gently reminded her, "so he probably wants t' make a waterproof sling or somethin' for the babe."

"I guess that makes sense." She started to wash herself once more, but still wore her frown. "So, new subject: What was it like spending almost the whole night having to make sure Dagur didn't kill Hiccup?" She blinked, looking over at Thora as she let out a loud groan and sank down into the water. "That bad, huh?"

She peeked up at Ruffnut, only the top half of her head left above the water as she nodded.

"At least you got a fight out of it! That had to be fun, huh?"

Standing up, Thora reached over the rock. "Oh, yeah, real fun! I got held at knifepoint as Dagur swore t' make me his queen –just after he finished killin' my cousin, that is. Oh, an' that jerk has me convinced he's either got an enchanted asshole or an invisible bag." She grabbed a clay jar from amidst the pile of her clothes before plopping back down.

Ruffnut snorted. "An enchanted asshole?" she cackled. "Why's that?"

"Because he kept pullin' weapons out o' his ass!" She glanced over at Ruffnut, having to use her tail to keep the blonde from falling into the water, she was laughing so hard. "I'm serious, Ruff!" She couldn't help but giggle as well; it was a ludicrous idea.

Ruffnut, still laughing, was forced to wipe away a tear of mirth. "Are you—are you sure he just didn't have a hip quiver or somethin'?" she questioned. "I mean, with how tall you are compared to him, maybe you just missed it?"

"Hard to miss somethin' like that when he constantly pulled me against him throughout the night."

A wicked grin came to Ruffnut's lips. "That doesn't mean you saw it. If he pulled you against him, you could have felt it. Then again, if you did feel something, it could have just been him happy to see you. It's easy to get the two confused sometimes."

Rolling her eyes, she lightly splashed Ruffnut. "Very funny, ya pervert."

"What? I'm just saying." She shrugged, still wearing the grin as she watched Thora start to work the contents of the jar into her hair. "Hey, you got more of that stuff?"

"I should. I usually bring two jars just in case. Check my clothes."

Pushing her hair out of the way, Ruffnut climbed atop the rock and rummaged through Thora's things. "So did Tuffnut lose the dragons before or after you left him at the cave last night?"

"After. Except Death Dance…Silly thing wanted new armor." From the corner of her eye, she watched as Ruffnut slid down the side of the rock and back into the water, holding the other jar. "Speaking of Tuff, though…Did he seem at all…off t' ya last night?"

Ruffnut cocked a brow as she started to slather her hair in the semi-oily substance. "Uh…no?" she replied. "Why? Was he weirder than normal with you?"

"…A little."

Concern came to Ruffnut's features. "In what way?"

"Er…he was really worried 'bout me."

"Worried about you?" she repeated.

Thora nodded, feeling her cheeks grow hot. "He got really worried about me running into wild dragons without Death."

"It's a valid concern," Ruffnut replied, twisting her hair into a long rope. Coiling it around her hand, she shaped it into a bun and let it sit atop her head as she relaxed against the stone. "You haven't had the same training as us, so you don't know what sort of reactions wild dragons have to us. Not only that, but you're still fairly new to riding a dragon, so even if you had Death with you, it's hard to say how you would have reacted."

Thora frowned slightly; Ruffnut was making as much sense as Tuffnut had, but it still annoyed her. "Just because I'm not a dragon rider doesn't mean I'm helpless," she grumbled. "We were raised t' fight them, an' even though we don't do that anymore doesn't mean I've forgotten how."

"No one's saying you're helpless," Ruffnut replied, frowning as well. "It's just…we don't want you hurt. Yeah, you can fight and stuff, but dude, what we're learning about dragons is actually proving some of the stuff in the Book of Dragons wrong."

Her brows furrowed. "…'Wrong'?"

Ruffnut nodded. "Yeah. Turns out, Bork wasn't entirely right about some dragons. That, or he just didn't know about some stuff." She quietly snickered. "Like, did you know Monstrous Nightmares can read your mind?"

Thora cocked her brow. "…What?" She couldn't tell if Ruffnut was joking or not thanks to her giggles.

"I know!" she laughed, eyes wide. "Who would have thought those hotheaded dummies would be capable of such a thing?! But dude, it's totally true! I was running away from one last night, but it read my mind and kept running to the place I was running to!"

Thora snickered, rolling her eyes –this was sounding more and more like a joke. "Are ya sure it just wasn't flyin' ahead o' ya?" she questioned, humoring Ruffnut and playing along.

"No way, man. I was in a dense, tree-covered area. It wouldn't have been able to see me if it was flying. I'm telling you: It read my mind!" She shook her head, her bun sliding off the top of her skull. "I thought I was going to get eaten for a moment there, but I managed to scare it away."

Her brow rising, Thora began to wonder if Ruffnut was telling the truth; her jokes never lasted this long. "So, ya really think it was readin' your mind, then?"

"Yeah. How else would it have known where to go?" She began to rinse her hair. "But yeah. So, there's one thing Bork didn't know. He also didn't know about Typhoomerangs, so there's that."

"Well, Typhoomerangs are relatively new t' Berk. It seems they only stop here for a short time t' lay their eggs an' raise their young before goin' back t' Eel Island."

Ruffnut stared at her, a frown on her lips and a dull look in her eyes. "Ugh…you sound like Fishlegs," she grumbled. She gave Thora a light shove; having caught her off guard, though, she sent the half-troll toppling sideways into the water. She snorted when Thora surfaced, her hair hanging in front of her face like a grey curtain. "That's a good look for you."

"O' course it is; it hides my face," retorted Thora, her voice sounding somewhat echoic under all her hair. Using her tail, she lifted her hair out of the way and flicked it back over her head.

"Could be worse. You could have the Jorgenson face."

She stuck her tongue out at her comment. "Ugh, don't even. I'll take my half-troll, half-Belch face over the Jorgenson face any day. At least, mine doesn't make children cry."

Ruffnut snorted before bursting into a cackling fit. "Do you think when Snotlout was born, do you think his mom burst into disappointed tears when she saw his face?"

Thora shrugged, combing her fingers through her hair with a small smirk. "I sure as Hel would cry if I pushed somethin' like Snotlout out from betwixt my legs." She then paused, ignoring Ruffnut's raucous laughter. "Then again, I'd probably be cryin' anyway…I mean, can ya imagine shovin' somethin' like that out o' ya?" She stuck her tongue out and shuddered. "An' then there's the after-"

Ruffnut clamped her hand over Thora's mouth, a disgusted look on her face despite her remaining bits of laughter. "Don't go there."