It had only been six years when I declared, in staunch, bear-hearted belief, that I knew everything in the world. The solution to every problem; the tactics to any strategy; the yin to every yang; the answer to every question.

True enough, there were a few murmurs in the crowd, a couple of eyes rolling in the dark, some chuckles spouted almost beyond earshot here and there. No matter the shame, no matter what veracity, it couldn't possibly bother my six-year-old brain back then what The Great Hall thought of me.

In front of me, as far as my two eyes were concerned, stood, in uniform fashion, everything that had ever mattered.

Row after row of Vikings standing in glorious and envious spectacle, lifting tankards of ale in ever-living reign of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third.

There would lie in the hall a feast for the ages.

I knew, just then, being one true heir to Chief Stoick the Vast, that I was going to conquer the world.

...

It is in moments precisely like this where I wish somebody had popped my bubble sooner.

Now, am left eating those words up.

There wouldn't be an answer to the question.

Either I open up and risk Jacob and Lisa affirming me as a permanent fixture on their who-not-to-ever-trust-like-ever list, or lie, reassuring them I am as much as a victim of the moment as they are.

Ah, how I wonder, which would be the better option to pick…?

-Anybody who chose the former – do yourself an obligation and hang your head down in shame -

Yes. I'd tell them a lie, but I'd also tell them part of the truth as well: that dragons are not who Jacob and Lisa think they are.

Actual dragons are much, much worse.

Hoping to mask my current conjecture, my expression shifts and turns to stare at her, deadpan.

"Yes, yes. I… could have said something earlier, Lisa. Use my voice." For the sake of making an argument, my front paws dig into the hoarseness of the wooden planks, soon lifting me up. I straighten my back – my foul shadow, rising over the bedridden girl, to which she slumps at. "B-but… you must understand my position here."

If human ears could perk, hers would.

"My… k-kin," my figure weakens, ears partially drooping at the noun, "I am not like them, not in the slightest. I mean, you would be lucky to find a few who are, if at all." My raggedy breath quakes under my sigh. "You see, they can't exactly… talk, or think, for that matter."

Lisa's eyebrows arch down, head tipping to the side. She asks, rather weakly, soothing her throat: "W-what do you m-mean they c-can't think?"

I chance a deadpan gaze at her. "Oh, they can think. But not in the way you'd like them to. They can think about their next meal or their next hunt… all perfectly well. But they wouldn't think about you," weakly, my tipped finger points meekly at her, "instead, they think about what they can do to you. They… they beat you up, kick you limp when you are down, berate you for not being a mirror image of them. Strong warriors, they asked for – I apparently didn't meet that criterion. Needless to say, I was shunned. Practically cast out from my own home," my eyes stare off into the distance, "they didn't want… kin like me. Didn't want a change to the status quo. Stuck to what they knew of and lived off that," I exchange looks with her again, "hmph, what's for me to say? It worked."

We barter glances – one indifferent about the whole thing and one concerned about said indifference.

I may have gone off on a tangent and told a synopsis about what amounts to my life story right in front of her, but I couldn't care less.

It feels nice to let out things that shouldn't be once in a while.

Locking things up inside is never a good thing.

But then, it hit me. Not answering her question.

I scuttle to find the words. "In summary, Lisa, they do shitall for change. Reason, even. And it would only take a single glimpse of you before they make you their supper. Not a very appetising one at that!"

At that, she stares at me in horror.

Hah!

…

Shit.

Scrambling, I try to save face. "Well, can't say for myself, of course. I am only going off on what they said. That it tasted good, though unfulfilling. Said it tasted like… tuna."

She maintains her stare.

"What?" I fold my front hind legs, masking defensiveness. "Not my fault they decided to eat Vikings."

Her face makes the in-betweens of a scowl and one of bewilderment. "You are weird."

"What, the part about eating humans or…"

"Both!"

That left my sarcastic high-horse slapped with a reality check right quick, leaving me no other choice but to settle for humility. "Ah."

There reared at me Awkwardness' ugly head again; this time, however, the relationship seemed eternal. Her shoulder looked to remain forever cold.

Going by the expression on her face, I have only sought to establish her scepticism even further; her look only radiates scorn.

Over there, on the bitterness of the cabin floor, we stood in silence. And in silence did we remain.

It's ironic.

I have become the very thing I have worked to destroy. But I shouldn't be expecting anything less by now.

Life doesn't look to appease those who are earnest.

If anything, life works to go against them. Well, sometimes.

It's the embodiment of a wild child. A psychopathic, senseless wild child.

And be that as it may, I dare say it wouldn't have it any other way.

Gods.

I really have done nothing for myself but dig a bigger hole.

It'd take some form of persuasive genius on my part to break this ice.

Apologising first and foremost would be a good start. "Look, I… I am sorry about what I said. It hadn't come to mind how alienating this must feel to… norm-"

It was just then when Lisa decided she had other plans.

"N-no, no, A-angel," she says. "I… I c-couldn't care less about what you s-said. E-even if you told m-me your family flat-out… killed for sport, I wouldn't bat an eye. What m-mattered, to m-me at least, was the way you said it – you were clearly lying. Sounded like you were trying too hard."

In moments, the fantasy world I had crafted for her shattered in an explosion of glittering white. Utterly decimated.

She's smarter than I give her credit for. The accessor… has become the accessed.

As all of this chugged along, I debated with myself whether or not I should tell her the truth.

Damned if I did, damned if I didn't.

Smart.

In seconds, I decide:

Yes.

The mouth that was once reluctant opens.

"A—" I stutter. "All right, Lisa, you got me. I will… come clean. There was no dragon family, no murderous kin, though that wouldn't be far off, actually - and there wasn't any cast out; but… there were Vikings," I raise a pointed claw at her, "and… oh, by Thor… to you, this story will probably sound just as mad."

My eyes gloomily slouch, partially downcast.

A finger touches my chest, making me look up.

A smile had spread shakily on Lisa's face, though, more of the hysterical kind. "Honestly, at this point, I'd believe just about anything. What with you and… the existence of talking animals. Just... weird. However crazy, I am in."

My eyes spread wide. "You sure?"

She weakly nods. "Positive."

Having got her approval, I toss my thoughts in a jumble, eyes wandering to the side: how exactly did I end up in what may as well be three quarters across the Scandinavian Seas?

A solitary claw ventures little over the lower of my jaw, lightly tapping on it. Where do I even begin?

Glimpses of time pass, unsure of what to make of my dilemma. Then, as if lightning had struck, a revelation finally came upon me, one that'd surely make me hit myself on the head over later on.

When better to start than the beginning?

As I shared my plight with Lisa, I did my best spare her the sparest of detail. Don't want to be labelled as a repulsive liar again, no sir.

My name, my people, my village, my culture, my faith, my past – everything I could have thought of.

That tagline is reserved for people the likes of Ruffnut and Tuffnut – even Bucket for that matter.

But… it wouldn't have hurt to avoid some of my more… personal moments in life, right?

…

Well…

Whatever the case, the point of it all yet remains.

That sometimes, truth can be stranger than fiction.

She looks to me, expression slightly dulled. "Y-you know," she starts. "You are r-right. Your story is kind of crazy," she adjusts for a more comfortable position on her bed, letting out her mouth a held breath, "but… I know b-beyond doubt now that you are t-telling the truth."

I frown. "What makes you so sure that all of it was true?"

Her response was almost immediate.

"Well, i-it's how y-you s-said it again, I guess. N-not once did your face say otherw-wise."

"Since when did you become so good in psychology?"

Now it was her turn to frown. "I was never good at psychology. It was just a matter of common sense."

I reel back, flabbergasted.

"Oh."

Again, I've been bested in the art of comebacks. What's more to love about this girl?

Under my breath, a murmur escapes. "Tala frá gøra meira af sér…"

Her eyebrows arch. "What?"

"Nothing."

At that, Lisa straightens her pose, magically pulling out of herself unkempt strength to lift herself up.

As swiftly as the conversation started, as does swiftly the room sift into silence again. Lisa folds her lips.

Not finding anything in me that I wanted to start again, she gives it a crack. "So…"

I turn to her.

"Umm… a-any idea what to tell Dad?"

Oh, gods.

Jacob.

I had not even begun to consider his role in all of this yet. He could now be working against me for all I know. Bringing at the front doorstep a mob, hiring a band of mercenaries – I-I don't know. Anything could happen.

My head cranes to her, shaking. "No."

"Oh."

I let out a sigh. "Where is he anyway?"

"In the woods. H-hunting for deer hide. Dad went right a-ahead when you passed out," she points a finger at a half-empty bowl on her night desk, coughing a little, "needed more coin f-for more of that… 'magic' juice over there. H-has always kept my coughing at bay – doesn't outright cure it, d-doesn't make it worse either. Just… l-lessens the symptoms. Think that's the m-main reason why we are crippled financially. P-put simply, the cost to supply r-ratio is… well. Let's just say that Dad and I are the end result. For now, my throat's a bit better. Though, whether it'd stay that way is another thing entirely,"

I chuff. "Huh."

"Mm."

She shifts for a more comfortable position on her bed. Her expression then shifts, morphing into one with foreboding.

Her mouth holds itself half-open.

"You know, if this keeps on going, i-if this ends up being routine… I don't think I am not going to m-make it."

Ugh. Just when I thought I have broken her out of that trance. "How so?"

"My drink… it can o-only do so much before my body renders it obsolete," she answers. "It's… it's not working as well as it u-used to."

"Ah."

In silence we began, in silence we remain.

So, we sit, counting sheep as the time dragged by.

And, it was in those precious, surmountable seconds before realizing…

I am a bumbling, forgetful moron.

Can you believe it? I forgot about her diary. And the damned ingredients I drew on it!

"Lisa…"

"Yeah?"

"Remember the time I went off suddenly to write in your journal?"

"Uh… I think I s-succumbed to a minor c-case of passed-out-itis for a bit…? Dad d-didn't tell me anything."

"Oh, right. So you wouldn't have known…"

"Known what?"

I lean in slowly to her. "That I wrote the cure."

Her mouth stands open in utter awe. "No… you are shitting me."

"Nope."

A sharp lungful squirms out her ragged breath. "Holy…"

"Mm-hmm."

"Do you… do you mind if I...?"

"Oh, no, not at all." After my little voyage to and fro her night desk, I plop the diary onto her chest. "Here you go."

What initially was the energetic yet impatient Lisa became a shell of her former self. Intently, she focuses in on the journal, determined to decipher the ingredients needed to fix herself.

Sometime later, her expression morphs into something else. Not in the way I'd like it to, though.

Instead of relief, she wears one of pity.

Unsteadily, she unfastens her aperture.

"Hiccup, I a-appreciate what you're trying to do here, but… but you are killing me with these ingredients." I tilt my head sideways, trying to understand her. "I… they may have been common to f-find back in… Bork?"

"Berk."

"Yeah, Berk. The stuff may have been cheap, may have been abundant, maybe even harvested. I-I don't know what the crop situation's like over at your place, but they c-cost a small fortune over here. Ginseng and all the rest… y-you'd be lucky to find just one."

"Lisa."

"Yeah?"

"You're going to make it."

"Y-yeah, it will just take a million other obstacles to get there."

"We will get through them."

She looks down on herself. "I hope."

As the sentence goes quiet, a dreadful stillness fills the void once again, neither party knowing what to say.

If I had a piece of groschen for every time this conversation has propelled itself off the cliff, I'd have enough to buy Lisa's medicine myself.

Then, out of the blue, Lisa's hand covers her mouth, trying to hold back a…

Chuckle.

Soon, it turned into all-out hilarity.

She laughs and laughs as if all the soil on this earth had turned into fluffy kittens.

What is up with this kid?

Since there's nobody else here to say it, I will. "Uh… are you okay?"

"No, no. I m-mean yes!" A sudden cough breaks her resolve. "I just thought about s-something funny."

"What's funny?"

She lifts her arm up slowly, a finger aiming its scopes at me. "You."

I point a claw at my chest. "M-me?"

"Yeah. You."

"What did I do?"

"You existing. You and your… talking."

I think I felt myself offended at that. "Look, I may have a slight problem with my… emotions… but you don't have to hammer my problem in."

"I am not trying to h-hammer in anything."

"Then what else could you possibly be laughing at?"

She shrugs. "Talking animals. Just the concept."

Lifting a hand up, she motions it like a sock puppet. ""Hey, uh, sorry to intrude, but, care to spare a moment to talk about the mating pr-ractices of cockle birds?""

She breaks into honest laughter. "Now that'd be something worth telling in a tavern."

My eyebrows raise. "Wait, wait, wait; you drink?"

"Drank," she corrected, lifting a finger. "A-and I only did it once. Never again. Thought I would only dislike the taste, not outright despise it. Far too overrated for its own good. I… I get the getting-tipsy part, but getting there… good L-lord. May as well not have started drinking in the first place. Dad was far too busy receiving the courtesy of the townsfolk to understand my plight. I mean, w-who am I to judge? He did."

Wait, Jacob has a party trick? "What did he do?"

"He told. Stories, I mean. It was p-practically obligation once he set foot in the hall. Used to always tell the tavern all about h-his own little world… before I, well, you know."

I know I should never allow my no-good nosey ass to get in the way, but it was too tempting not to resist. "Were they good?"

"Oh, definitely. His stories brought about all sorts of re-responses. Some laughter… some tears. But at the end of the day, his s-stories were all good fun. That's the general consensus, I think."

"So… he works as a bard," I guess.

"Wish he was… but nope."

"Surely, an author?"

"Nu-uh," she rebukes. "L-like I said, he's a hunter by trade."

Not comprehending, I remain slouched – slightly dumbfounded. "Wait… so, your Dad… writes stories in his pastime – something that he enjoys, right?"

"Yep."

"And… he wrote good ones that he proved everyone could enjoy, correct?"

"Uh-huh."

"So… remind me why isn't he an author again?"

"I…" Lisa pauses, pondering her next words. "No, actually, now that you m-mention it… why isn't he an author? Wait, wait. Why wouldn't he be one? There's n-nothing stopping him."

A gaping mouth fastens itself onto her face. "Holy. Shit. Why haven't I thought of this earlier? Why hasn't Dad thought of this earlier?"

She looks at me for an opinion, to which I shrug at. "You are telling me."

She puts her hand on unbraided hair. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph."

"Mm."

She turns. Facing the wall.

"Oh, and Lisa?"

She turns back at me.

"Please don't tell anyone I can talk."

"A..." she starts. "Alright. I won't... blow your cover."

I sigh in relief. "Thank yo-"

Jacob, rather rudely, barges in into the bedroom, carrying what looked like gauze and a touch of alcohol in hand.

Lisa and I were so caught up with our own theoretical conclusions, we never considered where we were now.

And we paid the price: two pieces of jolts and a quarter portion of scream to the side. "BY THOR!"

He himself had a little shock as well. "Christ Jesus, sorry!"

Lisa looks at him with a frowned, slightly annoyed expression – apparently, she couldn't care less. "W-where have you been?"

"To get your dragon friend here some bandages and relief. The bear trap left quite the impression on his leg. Had a friend who had some to spare… what about it?"

"I thought you... you know what? Forget it. I j-just… wanted to a-ask a question. Can I…?"

"Alright, shoot."

"W-wh…" she begins before coughing a little. "W-why haven't you tried publishing any of your stories yet?"