A/N: Are ya'll enjoying the shorter chapters? Or did ya'll prefer the longer ones? Just curious to know is all~

"Is—Is that Ryker's ship?"

"You mean, 'Is that my ship?' Why yes, sister, it is!"

Heather's eyes were wide as she stared out at the massive ship before them. It was so large, it needed a second, smaller ship attached to its hull to help keep it stabilized while sailing. Instead of a regular prow, there were two, enormous battering rams made of metal jutting out into the ocean. To counterbalance the battering rams' weight, the stern of the ship had two huge structures made of wood and spiked metal; she thought they resembled the twin tails of a Hideous Zippleback.

"Dagur…that ship alone could carry an entire village with room to spare," she gawked.

Beside her, Dagur wore an enormously greedy grin. "I know!" he cackled. "Isn't it great? And it gets even better! You see all that metal on it?"

She nodded.

"It's dragon proof."

Her brows furrowed and she looked over at him. "What? But it looks like oxidized copper to me. How can it be dragon proof?"

He shrugged. "To be honest, I couldn't tell you. I'm guessing it's some sort of combination of Gronckle iron with other metals. You can try asking Ryker when we get on board."

She nodded slowly, but still remained unconvinced that the metal was dragon proof. She had seen dragon fire rip through trees, tear through earth, and cut through even the strongest of metals like butter. How could this be any different?

"Just think, sister," Dagur spoke, setting his hand on her shoulder. "With that ship under our command, we'll be able to bring back the honor Hiccup and the dragon riders stole from our people!" He still wore a look of excited greed, but there was a strange look of hopefulness in his eyes as well. "And think of all the dragons we'll be able to capture with the machines on that ship! Windshear being the exception, of course. I'll make sure she flies free forever."

She frowned once more. "Wait, we're going to be capturing dragons?"

He nodded with a shrug. "It's part of the way the Grimborns are making me pay them back," he explained. "I capture a couple dozen dragons for them to sell, take out any possible enemies that may come up along the way, and then I'm free to take this ship back to Berserk. It's a pretty good deal, you got to admit." He chuckled, patting her shoulder. "But don't worry! Like I said, I'll make sure Windshear flies free."

"I take it you plan on capturing the dragon riders of Berk?"

"Of course," he said, a sinister sounding giggle leaving his mouth. "How else am I supposed to get my revenge?"

Doing her best to remain seemingly only partially interested, she shrugged and looked back out at the other ship. It was getting bigger with each passing minute. "True. I just thought you'd be seeking it out against Hiccup and Hiccup only -since you said he and Stoick are the offending Hooligans, after all."

"I can see why you would think that," he agreed, "but they all had a hand in lying to me. Hiccup, though, will certainly get the slowest, most painful revenge." He then somewhat frowned. "Well, alright. Not so much painful as it will be humiliating."

"Why is that?"

"Thora would kill me."

"Your wife?"

He nodded. "She and Hiccup are related somehow. Cousins, I think? Though I'm not entirely sure it's by blood." He shrugged. "They do say that the bond between friends can be thicker than the blood that binds a family…"

Heather glanced up at Dagur in time to be pulled against him in a tight hug.

"But that's not true for you and me!" he laughed. "The blood that binds us is stronger than even the strongest of metals! Isn't that right, sister?"

She let out a sound that Dagur -thankfully- mistook as an agreeing laugh. "Should we, uh, gather our things, brother?" she wheezed, hoping he'd release her. "Don't want to arrive unprepared, after all."

Dagur suddenly let go of her, a serious expression on his face. "You are absolutely right," he told her. "We can't just show up unarmed and looking like we're helpless babes to such a magnificent ship!" He slammed his fist into his palm, looking determined. "We need to look intimidating and worthy of sailing on such a vessel! I need to go find my biggest ax."

Before Heather could say another word, Dagur hurried away and disappeared down the hatch leading below decks. Shaking her head, she sighed and looked back out at the ship. By now, it made their ship look like no bigger than a rowboat.

'These next few weeks -or even months- are going to really put my acting skills to the test,' she thought, her eyes narrowing somewhat. 'Now I have more than just Dagur and his crew to fool, but these Grimborn brothers and their men as well.'

She glanced over her shoulder towards the stern of the ship. Windshear was sitting near the rudder, her head shoved into a barrel that had once been overfilled with fish. 'First and foremost, though, is guaranteeing mine and Windshear's safety. I can't do this without her.'

Turning her back on the massive ship, she went over to her dragon. Hearing her rider approach, Windshear pulled her head from the barrel and made a soft noise at Heather. She was unaware of the scales, bits of fish, and small bones covering her scales but the sight managed to make Heather laugh.

"You are such a messy eater," she quietly told the Razorwhip. She stuck her tongue out as Windshear attempted to nuzzle her with her dirty snout, but she was able to dodge. "Ew, Windshear! You know I don't like it when you cover me in fish guts."

Windshear laughed, the sound oddly metallic. Dipping her head back into the barrel, she snatched up the last of her meal before standing up and walking over to the edge of the ship. She craned her long neck over the rail, dunking her entire head into the ocean. With a small bit of shaking, she was able to clean her face of any and all fish particles.

"That's better," Heather chuckled, now allowed her dragon to nuzzle her. "You have to be clean, anyway. We're about to meet some very important -and dangerous- people."

At that, Windshear narrowed her eyes. She growled quietly, turning her head to stare at the new ship.

"I won't let them hurt you," she quietly promised her. With a quiet sigh, she rested her head against the side of Windshear's neck. "If they so much as even try to lay a finger on you, I'll cut their hands off. Do you understand? I'll keep you safe."

Heather was unaware that she was being watched. Just a few yards away stood Dagur, a look of concern on his face as he watched his sister. Thanks to being out in the open ocean, he had been able to hear every word she spoke to Windshear.

'She really cares for that dragon,' he thought, frowning ever so slightly. 'Their bond reminds me of that between Brother Hiccup and the Night Fury. Only…there's something different about their relationship. Does it have anything to do with how they met? Or maybe it's because Windshear doesn't need Heather in order to fly. They can both be independent of one another while Brother Hiccup.'

Lightly shaking his head, he let out a sigh and walked over to the pair. "Hey, sis," he chirped, putting on a smile. "Brought you your ax! Thought you'd like to keep it on hand when we meet up with Ryker."

She smiled. "Thanks, Dagur," she replied, taking it from him. "So…it's just Ryker I'll be meeting today? Not Viggo?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Viggo's not much of a man of action. He prefers to hang back and let ol' Rykie do all of the hard work while he handles negotiations, inventory -that sort of thing, y'know?"

"So, essentially, Viggo is the brains and Ryker is the brawn?"

"Exactly!" he laughed. He then grinned cockily. "It's a shame it has to be split between the two of them, isn't it? Meanwhile, you and me have the brains and the brawn!" He laughed again, putting his hands on his hips. "Why, they best be lucky we're their allies and not their enemies!"

She chuckled. "Yeah. Otherwise, they'd be totally screwed," she said, also wearing a boastful smile. "After all, two brains are better than one."

"That's the spirit!" He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, starting to lead her towards the prow of the ship once more. "Come along, Windshear! You're a part of this important occasion as well, don't you know!"

Blinking, Windshear cocked her head before following after the two of them. She wasn't quite sure what was taking place or the significance of it, but she knew whatever it was meant good things -hopefully- were coming to her rider.

Heather bit her lower lip, her stomach beginning to churn in anticipation. Their ship was brought round so that it floated parallel to the massive hunter ship and the sail was drawn up to slow its drifting. Men called out to one another and ropes were tossed down to their vessel so that it could be anchored to the larger ship for the time being.

A man stepped up to the railing, his bald head glinting in the midday sunlight. "I'm surprised you got here so fast, Dagur."

Dagur grinned proudly. "It seems the gods have been favoring me lately," he called back, "and so they granted us a speedy trip!" He could just barely see Ryker's eyes fall onto his sister. The proud look remaining on his features, he wrapped his arm around Heather's shoulder's once more. "Speaking of the gods favoring me…I'd like you to meet my sister! Heather the Unhinged!"

Windshear poked her head between them, making an almost pout-like noise.

"And this is her dragon, Windshear! I think they'll be amazing assets to us!" he continued. "Though, I suppose it'll be better for us to talk once we're all up on the deck of that beautiful ship, eh? Don't want to wear out our voices shouting back and forth."

With a nod, Ryker stepped back. "Send down the ladder," he called.

Heather turned to Windshear. "I want you to stay down here, girl," she quietly ordered, "just in case something goes wrong. I want you to be able to fly free, alright?"

"Nothing's going to go wrong," Dagur assured her. "But, I don't blame you for wanting to take precautions." He looked at the Razorwhip. "I'm not your rider, so I can't tell you what to do," he told her, "but it is a good idea for you to maybe stay down here -at least for a little while, alright?"

Nodding, Windshear pressed her snout against Heather's forehead.

"I'll give you a signal when it's safe," Heather promised. "For now, just stay low." She then turned to Dagur as the dragon walked off. "You should go up first," she told him as the rope ladder was tossed down to them. "You are the chief, after all." The tone of her voice betrayed the nervousness she felt and she mentally cursed herself for sounding weak.

Dagur set both hands on her shoulders, gently forcing her to look him in the eye. "Hey," he told her, voice soft, "it's going to be fine. I've already established a partnership with these guys, remember? They need me and they're not about to toss me to the side in favor of stealing my sister and her dragon. Alright?"

Heather didn't know why, but the look of compassion and understanding on Dagur's face made her felt reassured…and guilty. He was truly believing her act. She slowly nodded. "Yeah…Yeah, everything's going to be fine."

Smiling, Dagur gently pressed his forehead against hers before pulling back. "Now, come on. We've kept them waiting long enough." He reached out and grabbed the ladder, beginning to climb it. When he was halfway up, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Heather was following him and he grinned when he saw that she was.

"Bring it on deck," he heard Ryker order as he reached the top of the ladder. For a split second, he wondered what 'it' was, but the thought quickly left his mind. Jumping over the rail, he reached down and helped Heather the rest of the way up.

He then looked around, letting out a pleased sigh as he took in the sights of the various deck levels and the weapons that lined them. "Isn't she gorgeous?" he crooned. "Look at all of these ballistae and crossbows and nets! With this, we'll have those dragon riders right in the palm of our hands! Ooh!" A shiver visibly coursed through him. "And to think, this is all ours, dear sister!"

"It's not yours yet," Ryker corrected, his thumbs hooked into the top of his belt. "It'll become yours once you fulfill your end o' our agreement."

Dagur waved his hand indifferently at him. "For all intents and purposes, though, we'll call it mine," he chirped, still looking around with wide-eyed wonder.

Heather, though, remained silent. The only thing she was looking over was Ryker and she wasn't quite fond of what she saw. 'Dragon hide clothes, an infant dragon skull for a belt buckle, and arms thicker than my waist. This is not the sort of man that should be messed with.' She swallowed hard, but kept her jaw set proudly, when she noticed Ryker eyeing her suspiciously.

"You never told me you had a sister," Ryker stated, crossing his large arms. "Why bring her up now?"

"Because, after she was so cruelly taken from my family in her youth, we only recently found each other," Dagur explained. He smiled cheekily. "Isn't this great, though? Now you get two Berserker leaders to help you bring down the dragon riders for the price of one!"

"And yet, she rides a dragon."

"Just because I ride a dragon doesn't mean I'm in league with those other riders," Heather replied, her voice cool and surprisingly bold. "I once called them friends, yes, but that's no more. There's bad blood between us now and I intend to see that blood oozing from their throats."

Ryker's brow rose, though his face showed no emotion. "Alright then," he replied, voice just as stoic as his expression. "Then I suppose we can find some use for a dragon rider o' our own. I'm sure Viggo will be pleased by this news." He turned as one of his men called out from a doorway.

Dagur, however, gawked at her. "Wow…I had no idea you felt that strongly about them!" he chuckled. "This is great! We can both get our revenge!"

"Don't think that'll make things easier," she told him, voice quiet as she listened to Ryker and the hunter speak. There was something being unruly below decks. "Hiccup and the riders are notoriously crafty and intelligent. We both know this. It'll be a challenge to bring them down, even with the two of us putting our brains together."

Dagur proudly puffed his chest out. "Well, I just so happen to be just as-"

"I hate to interrupt," Ryker suddenly said, "but there's something I need to show you, Dagur, and it's refusin' to come quietly."

Eyes widening, Dagur perked. "Oh? What is it?" he questioned ecstatically. "Did Viggo send a Skrill to welcome me into this partnership? Or maybe a boar so that we can feast upon it in celebration?"

Ryker's brow rose once more, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. "Nothing so exciting as either of those," he told him, voice bland. "You'll see once we get down there." Turning his back on them, he led the Berserker siblings through the door and down a couple sets of stairs. Leading them to the middle deck of the ship, which was fashioned to be a sort of jail. It was filled with large cells made of the same, dragon-proof metal that covered the battering rams up top and all were empty.

Except one.

Sitting on a makeshift bed behind tarnished bars was a woman. With a long, cow-like tail and a pair of tusks protruding from her lower jaw, Heather instantly knew she wasn't fully human. Before she could say anything though, Dagur gasped in horror and darted forward; inside the cell, the woman looked up in surprise before also hurrying for the bars.

"Dagur! Thank the gods!" she cried, reaching through the bars to cling onto him.

"Thora!? What in Midgard are you doing down here!? Where's Death Dance? Where are the other riders?" He pulled back ever so slightly, having to reach up in order to cup his face in his hands.

Lifting her own hand -her only hand, Heather saw- she rested it atop Dagur's. "Death an' I were attacked when we were on our way home from herb huntin'," she explained. Glancing past Dagur, she glared at Ryker. "That man had his crew shoot us down. I don't know where Death is now, only that she's got a badly broken wing." She gave his hand a small squeeze. "I told Ryker that I was your wife, but he refused t' believe me."

Turning, Dagur looked at Ryker, giving him a chance to speak for himself.

"You can't blame me," Ryker said, tone defensively. "She could have been any ol' wench who knew your name. But, as even she would tell you, me and the crew have been treating her with the utmost respect befittin' a woman of her status."

Dagur glanced back at Thora, who nodded. "He may not have believed that I was your wife, but he did believe me when I told him tha' I was a Gretasdotter."

"Gretasdotter?" Heather repeated. "I've never heard that name before…"

"Greta the Great," Ryker, Dagur, and Thora answered in unison.

"This wench here is her daughter," Ryker continued, speaking before Thora could explain further.

"This wench is also my wife," Dagur said through clenched teeth. "And I demand you release her right this moment!"

Ryker cocked a brow, looking down at him as if he were crazy. "And risk her escaping?" he asked, tone dry. "That's not going to happen."

It was Dagur's turn to lift a brow. "You really expect me to let you keep my wife -my queen- behind bars as a prisoner?" he retorted. "Not to mention, she has no idea where her dragon is. Isn't it a little obvious she's too big to ride my sister's dragon?" He quickly turned around, wearing an apologetic expression as he looked up at Thora. "No offense meant, of course, my love," he told her. "You're just…really tall and Windshear's…not."

Shaking his head, Ryker let out a sigh. "Give me one good reason why I should let her free, even though she's not about t' escape. She's given my men enough trouble behind bars. Why should I trust her outside them?"

Heather watched as Dagur glanced between Ryker and Thora a couple of times. Once more, he gave Thora a look of apology.

"She's a healer," he told Ryker. "She probably kept that tidbit of information from you?" Ryker nodded. "Figures. You did shoot her out of the sky and injured her dragon, after all. If I were a healer, I'd be loath to help you after that, too." He shrugged, looking away boredly. "As it stands, however…"

Ryker narrowed his eyes and walked up to the cell door. He looked up at Thora, his jaw set in a frown. "Is he speakin' the truth? Are you actually a healer?" he demanded.

"If ya had searched my bag, ya would have seen that I am," she replied, voice cold as ice. "But, aye. I am a healer."

His eyes remained narrowed for a moment as he thought over everything he had just heard. "If you agree to heal my men," he began, speaking slowly as if she were dumb, "I'll let you wander the ship an' even stay in Dagur's cabin."

Thora crossed her arm over her chest. "I'll agree t' that," she replied.

Pulling a ring of keys from his belt, Ryker began to unlock the door. "I warn you, though: This is not me lettin' you go free. You're still my prisoner until Viggo tells me otherwise."

"Understood," she grumbled.

Yanking open the door with more force than what was probably needed, Ryker turned his back on Thora and began walking towards the stairs. Thora ducked out of the cell before going over to Dagur and hugging him tightly.

Heather glanced at them before turning around, watching Ryker's retreating back. "Ryker?"

He paused, barely glancing over his shoulder at her.

"Is Windshear supposed to stay down here?"

"Aye. But don't worry. If you give us no reason t' distrust you, we'll give you no reason to distrust us and she'll be allowed to come and go from her spot as she pleases. Sound fair?"

"Yes. Thank you."

He nodded slightly before continuing on his way.

Turning back around, she found Thora resting her forehead against Dagur's. Heather suddenly felt quite awkward; rubbing her arm, she glanced away and half-heartedly cleared her throat.

"So, uh…Dagur, are you going to introduce me to your wife?" she asked, forcing a small laugh.

Dagur blinked, having almost entirely forgotten his sister was there. "Right! Right. Proper introductions are needed." He stepped back, holding his hand out to Heather. "Thora, this is my long-lost sister, Heather."

Thora's eyes widened. "Wait…your sister?" she gawked.

He nodded, a broad grin coming to his lips. "I know! Amazing, isn't it? All this time, I thought she was dead! But she's alive and better than I could have ever imagined!" he laughed. Pulling Heather over, he gave her a big hug. "And now my lil' sis and I can go into battle like the Berserker chieftains we're meant to be!" He let out a wild laugh followed by a howl.

Thora winced at the volume, but managed a smile. "That's great!" she said. "Though, er, if ya don't mind me askin', Heather: Are ya the same Heather who had been blackmailed into workin' for Alvin some years ago?"

She nodded. "I am. And, judging by your name and the fact you're a healer, you must be the one spoken of by Ruffnut and Tuffnut?" She held out her hand.

Thora took and shook it. "I hope they only told ya good stuff," she chuckled.

"Don't worry. They were raving about your healing skills and your magic. Though…" She rubbed the back of her neck, frowning slightly. "The last time I saw them, they seemed worried because you weren't on the island. I take it this is why?"

A sigh left Thora's mouth. "Aye…I've been stuck here for a few weeks at the very least." She cursed and rested her forehead in her palm. "Gods, the twins an' Hiccup must be worried sick about me…"

Heather gave her an apologetic smile. "They are, but I'm afraid they've got bigger things to worry about at the moment," she told her. "Things like-"

"Like the revenge Heather and I will get on them for betraying us!" Dagur cackled, throwing his arm around Heather's shoulders. "Now that we have a powerful ship and an even more powerful armada under our control, those dragon riders will be all-too easy to—" He suddenly broke off with a nervous chuckle.

Thora did not seem at all pleased by his words.

"Of course, I don't plan on killing them!" he quickly added with an incredible nervous giggle. "I just want Hiccup as my slave and that Night Fury as my dragon."

"We've been over this, Dagur," Thora told him, brow slowly rising. "No discussin' your evil plans involvin' my friends and family around me."

He pouted, but nodded in understanding. "I remember," he murmured, his tone guilty. "I just…got a little excited since I've got my lil' sis back!" He smiled innocently as he shrugged. "Can you blame me?"

"No." Leaning down, she kissed his forehead. "Change o' subject. Let's go up on deck, aye? I haven't seen sunlight or had fresh air in weeks."

"Good idea," Heather agreed before Dagur could try and dissuade them. "I need to check on Windshear anyway. And we can also find out where we'll be staying. Maybe even get a proper tour of the ship."

Dagur nodded, though he seemed a bit crestfallen from the scolding still. "Yeah, that's a smart thing to do," he said. Slipping his arm around Thora's waist, he started to lead them towards the stairs.

Heather followed after them, noticing when Thora rolled her eyes and let out a quiet sigh. 'For being his wife, she doesn't seem as in-love with him as she should,' she thought. 'Then again, Dagur did mention something about this being an arranged marriage? But he's most definitely in-love with her…Hm. Maybe it's something I'll be able to talk with her about later. After all, we're the only two women on the ship. I have the feeling we'll be doing some talking in the coming weeks…'

"Gods, you have no idea how much I've missed you these last few weeks…"

Thora let out a quiet, breathless laugh as Dagur kissed his way along her throat. "I think I've got a fairly good idea now," she replied, letting her fingers toy with his hair. She gently tilted his head back, kissing him deeply.

Grinning against her lips, Dagur snaked his arms around her bare form, holding her close against him. "I can show you all night if need be," he purred.

She rolled her eyes, but still wore a smile. "Three times is enough for now," she chuckled, kissing the tip of his nose. Letting her head rest against the pillows, she let out a sigh. "I'm still thankin' the gods that ya showed up when ya did," she admitted, fingers still playing with his hair.

"…I am too," he agreed, nestling his head under her chin. "You never did tell me why Ryker's holding you prisoner though -aside from the obvious dragon rider thing." He felt her tail grab the blanket and pull it up over them.

"Because dragon hunters have dealings with veiðimenn."

"Veiðimenn?" he repeated, glancing up at her.

"Troll hunters. Or, rather, non-human hunters. I'm not sure o' the exact translation." She didn't quite know why, but feeling Dagur's body atop hers made her feel safe and at ease. 'It's probably because I've been locked up for so long,' she thought. '…But his warmth is enjoyable. And his chest hair tickles…' A hint of a smile turned the corners of her mouth upwards. "Veiðimenn hunt non-humans like trolls, dwarves, elves, satyrs, et cetera because we go against their beliefs an' because they're scared o' us."

He frowned. "Their…beliefs?"

She nodded. "Aye. Most Veiðimenn are Christians an', accordin' t' their god, we're unholy abominations tha' were created by someone called Lucifer…? I'm not entirely sure, t' be honest. Ormr explained it t' me a few years ago, but Sindri interrupted that lesson."

Dagur closed his eyes as he felt Thora's hand slide down the back of his neck to rest on the back of his neck. "That's…not good."

"No. Many o' them fled north, where they could find safety from the veiðimenn." A long sigh left her mouth. "But they've been getting bolder these past few years." She shivered as Dagur gently touched her scarred shoulder.

"And you're sure the dragon hunters have dealings with them?"

She nodded. "They have a mutually beneficial relationship. The dragon hunters give the veiðimenn dragon parts t' use against the non-humans an' vice versa."

"Well, I'm not about to let you be traded off for some gold or whatever. You're my wife and I vowed to protect you." He gave her a gentle kiss, feeling her tail wrap around his waist. "I know I'm doing a bad job of it right now, but-" He suddenly fell silent as Thora pressed her finger against his lips.

She held his face in her palm. "Ya got me out o' that cell, didn't you?" she murmured. "Ya managed t' threaten Ryker enough t' let me roam the ship as I please, didn't ya? I'd say that's protectin' me. Aye, it's different from bein' in the heat o' battle, but I was beginnin' t' go stir crazy in that cell."

Dagur smiled; it was one of his rare, tender smiles. "Keep talking like that, Thora, and I may start thinking you're in love with me," he softly teased.

"Well, you are my brave, Berserker husband," she quietly teased back. "I'm allowed t' swoon."

His brow rose and a bit of confusion came to his face. "…Blame it on spending all my energy and thinking power making love to you tonight, but, uh…what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Thora kissed the tip of his nose with a small giggle. "It means exactly what it sounds like: You're my husband an' ya make me swoon sometimes." She watched as a proud, cheeky grin slowly spread across Dagur's face.

"So…you are falling for me…?" he asked, voice hopeful.

Her brow rose and she rolled her eyes, but she still wore a small grin. "Now who said that? Maybe I just enjoy lookin' at beefy redheads?"

His smirk remaining in place, Dagur once more nestled his head under her chin, his eyes closing. "Well, it's a good thing you don't know any other beefy redheads, now isn't it?"

"I know a few," she murmured with a small laugh. "But, you are, by far, the most handsome of them."

"Of course I am. The gods themselves made me in their imagine."

Snorting, Thora rolled her eyes. "Whatever ya say, Dagur."

"Sleep well, my love."

"Sleep well…my husband."