It was early in the morning. Hiccup was asleep at his work station, bits of soot staining his bare arms and face while last night's sweat made his hair stick to his skin. Toothless was curled up just a few feet away, his ears twitching as he dreamt of chasing after Stormfly.

Suddenly, the door to the workshop burst open. Ruffnut and Tuffnut barged in, holding something aloft. "Hiccup!" they cried, startling both human and dragon out of their slumber. "Hiccup!"

"Whu-what?" Hiccup stammered, not noticing the sheet of parchment adhered to the side of his face. "What's going on?"

Tuffnut thrust his arms forward. Hiccup leaned away in shock, but once his vision came into focus, he found himself staring at a Terrible Terror. "Branch Hopper came back!" he cried.

It was Ruffnut's turn to throw her arm out; she, however, was holding a roll of parchment. "And she came back with a letter!"

"We don't know who it's from," Tuffnut quickly added.

"But we read it," Ruffnut continued.

"And it has information about Thora!" they nearly shouted in unison.

Hiccup snatched the letter from Ruffnut. "Give me that!" he snapped as he did such. Unfurling it, he started to read the unfamiliar, scratchy writing.

Dragon Riders-

I can't tell you where she is or what happened to her, but know that Thora is unhurt and is being treated fairly well despite being held against her will. I will see that no harm comes to her. Death Dance is also being held, though they are in different locations to make escape less likely.

Please do not try to search for her. I fear that if you come looking, only pain and defeat would befall you.

As he read over the letter, his brows furrowed. "There was no seal or anything?" he asked, looking up at the twins.

They shook their heads. "None at all," Ruffnut answered. "But we do know that whoever wrote this is a left-handed person and that they're definitely from some sort of mildly educated background."

Glancing up at them, Hiccup frowned. "…How do you know that?" he dared to ask. He knew the twins hid some sort of genius behind their mischievous exteriors, but he wasn't sure how much genius it was.

Tuffnut reached over, pointing at the runes on the page. "See how all these letters are slightly smudged? That's because lefties smear ink and charcoal when they write because they're going against the flow of the words." He then looked at his sister for her to explain the rest.

"And you can tell that they're mildly educated because, one, they know how to not only write, but spell things correctly and use proper grammar as well." She flicked a braid over her shoulder. "On top of that, those who have been well-educated tend to have neater handwriting. Whoever wrote this is about our level of schooling, which means they're probably a mildly important person. Maybe related to a chief or a Völva's apprentice. Maybe even a blacksmith's apprentice."

Nodding in agreement, Tuffnut crossed his arms over his chest. "On top of that, whoever wrote this letter knows who we are -or, at least, has heard of us- and knows that Thora's dear to us."

"And vice versa."

"But the question is who wrote the letter?" Hiccup stated, beginning to grow irritated. The twins' deductions were true, but they weren't the answers he was looking for. "Do you think it was Dagur?"

Ruffnut shook her head. "No. Couldn't have been. Totally different style of handwriting going on here."

"And how do you know that?"

She shrugged, glancing away as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Dagur sent a letter to Thora a few months ago, letting her know that he'd be unable to make it to Honeymoon Island. His writing was very crisp, clean, and extremely superfluous."

Tuffnut stuck his tongue out. "Yeah. He didn't need to mention how much he was going to miss—You know what? Shutting up now." He smiled innocently as Hiccup glared at him.

Ruffnut let out a sigh. "It may not have been Dagur who took her, but whoever it is that did take her is taking care of her. She probably told them she was Dagur's wife or the princess of Enda Fartagins."

"Fjarðarins," Tuffnut corrected.

Hiccup was silent for a moment. Backing up, he let himself plop down onto his stool and he reread the letter once more. Toothless crept over, curiously purring as he gently nudged the human. "Guys…Do you remember what Thora said about that prophecy thing?"

"The one about taming a monster and new enemies?" Ruffnut questioned.

"Yeah. What if-"

"That's not so much a prophecy, really," Tuffnut interrupted. "It's more like an ominous—Right. Shutting up again."

Hiccup quietly cursed as he rubbed his forehead. "What if she was taken by those new enemies she was talking about? After all, she said the 'monster from Berk's past' will bring new enemies."

The twins suddenly frowned. "Wait. Did the omen mean new enemies for us or for us and Thora?" Tuffnut asked.

"I…haven't the slightest idea," Hiccup replied. "Why?"

He didn't like the way Ruffnut's face paled or how serious she suddenly looked. "Because, Hiccup…she could have been taken by Troll Hunters."

A month passed. After having been given the grand tour of the ship, Heather and Dagur were then instructed on how to use the weapons; many of them were familiar, being a mixture of ballistae and large crossbows, but others were less so. The chain shots were a bit tricky to use, as if they were coiled wrong, the whole device could break from the malfunction. Luckily, as Heather learned after her second time practicing with one, they were built to be easily fixed.

While the siblings were busy learning how to use the dragon-hunting weapons, Thora was kept busy with patients. A small cabin just off of the brig had been fashioned into a sort of healing room for her, with her satchel and her saddlebags from Death Dance having been brought in for her use. Most of the herbs and roots she had worked so hard to harvest, though, were in ruins thanks to having fallen in the sea and not having been tended to during that time. Salvaging what she could, Thora began treating hunters and Berserkers alike.

The hunters were all in fairly good health, she found, but many of them suffered from strained muscles, infected splinters, and poorly treated dragon bites. She hated treating the hunters, though: They were rude and condescending towards her, refusing to call her by name. They instead called her 'troll' or 'wench' or, when they thought she was out of hearing range, crude names that would make Dagur remove their heads if he knew.

The Berserker warriors, on the other hand, were just as polite as Thora had remembered. They, too, were in fairly good health, though some suffered from spring colds while others had the same sort of injuries as the hunters.

'At least they thank me,' Thora thought one day as she washed her hand after sending a Berserker on his way. She let out a quiet sigh, her ear twitching ever so slightly as she heard her next patient approach.

To her surprise, it was Heather who walked in. Though they had been in close quarters during this time, they hadn't really talked much -there just hadn't been time once Ryker assigned Heather to spy duty. The two exchanged somewhat awkward smiles.

"How went the spyin'?" asked Thora.

"Poorly. I almost got found out." As she sat down, Heather moved her arm from where it had been resting on her side only to reveal torn clothing and quite a bit of blood. "It's just a surface wound, but since it came from a Scuttleclaw tail, I thought it best to have you look at it."

Nodding in understanding, Thora began sorting through the herbs she had. "Good. Scuttleclaw wounds can get real nasty real fast. If you could remove your shirt, I'll get t' work."

Doing as she was told, Heather removed her upper half's clothing. She shivered slightly; the air this far below deck was cold.

"So…are ya allowed t' talk 'bout who you were spyin' on?" Thora questioned as she started cleaning the wound. "Or is it somethin' ya need t' keep confidential between you, Dagur, an' Ryker?"

"It's not confidential," she chuckled before letting out a soft hiss of pain. "I was spying on potential associates to the north of here. Ryker wanted me to make sure they were trustworthy enough for us to deal with them." She noticed a bit of disappointment come to Thora's face.

"Ah. More hunters or providers o' goods?"

"Providers of goods." She closed her eyes; whatever Thora was using to clean the wound with stung. "…I take it you were hoping I had been spying on the riders, though."

"Am I that easy t' read?" she chuckled. Now that the wound was clean, she carefully inspected it, looking for any debris or sign of venom. She found none. Leaning back, she grabbed a small bottle and a clean cloth. "Aye, I was hopin' ya were. But I can't help it…they're my friends an' family an' I just disappeared out o' nowhere. They're probably worried about me an' I'm thrice as worried 'bout them." She used her teeth to open the bottle.

Heather let out a sigh, unaware that she had done so. "I'm sure they're alright," she told her. "After all, Hiccup and the other riders are Hairy Hooligans…they're some of the hardiest Vikings in the archipelago."

At that, Thora smiled. "Aye, you're right. This is goin' t' feel quite cold, by the way." Pouring a bit of the liquid onto the cloth, she started to gently dab it along the cut.

Once more, Heather shivered. "You weren't kidding…But, the pain's gone now."

"Good. Means the magic's still in it."

She cocked her head and looked down. "Magic? You've got magical medicine on you?"

"Not much, sadly, but aye, I do." Sitting upright once more, she corked the bottle and set it aside. "Like ya said, the wound is just a surface one an' no venom had gotten into it. Aside from keepin' it clean, there's not much else ya can do t' help it heal."

Heather nodded in understanding. "Alright. Thanks, by the way." Grabbing her shirt, she started to pull it back on. "Have you seen Dagur lately?"

Shaking her head, Thora tossed the soiled cloth into a bucket of other used rags. "Not since this mornin'. Ryker's had me busy treatin' his crew most o' the day."

"Well, you'll be glad to know I was your last patient."

A groan of relief left Thora's mouth and she flopped forward, her forehead landing on the table with a loud 'thud'. "Thank the gods…"

Heather gave her a pitying look. Even though they hadn't talked much over the last few weeks, she thought Thora was friendly enough and was undeserving of the abuse she suffered from the Hunters. "Hey…I was going to go take a bath. You seem like you could use some relaxation, too, so why don't you come with me?"

Turning her head so that her cheek rested against the table, Thora looked at her. "Really?"

"Yeah." She smiled. "Gods know you deserve one after putting up with those jerks."

With a small laugh, Thora sat upright. "Thanks," she said, "but they're not the worst patients I've had…sadly." As Heather stood up, she also rose to her feet. "There were a few folks on the mainland who make these blokes look like polite children."

At that, Heather frowned, her eyes filled with shock. "Are you serious?" she gaped.

Nodding, Thora followed her out into the hall. "I am. Then again…those patients were other trolls as well as couple grumpy yarbogha…"

"…Yarbowhaddawhat?"

"Yarbogha. They're…Hm. Do ya know what centaurs are?"

"Half men, half horse people."

Thora nodded. "Aye. Well, yarbogha are kind o' like that, except their animal half is a bull. An' I tell ya: Their temperment is just as bad, if not worse, than a bull's."

Heather stared at her, eyes wide.

"No, I'm not kiddin'," Thora continued, able to read the expression. "An' when it's matin' season, they get even more ornery. That's when I had t' heal a couple o' the juveniles who went an' tried t' challenge the lead males. Was even forced t' castrate a few."

Her body shaking with a shudder of disgust, Heather quickly shook her head. "Oh gods, that's disgusting."

"You're tellin' me," she chuckled. Closing her eyes for a few moments, she rubbed the side of her neck.

"Sore?" she asked, hoping to change the subject.

She nodded. "Aye. Havin' t' look down all the time can do that t' ya."

Heather laughed. "What a problem to have."

A cheeky grin appeared on Thora's face for a few seconds before quickly fading away. As they approached the stairs leading to the lowest level of the ship, they could see Ryker coming up them, a towel around his neck. He stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Have yeh-"

"Aye, I've finished tendin' to your men," she answered before he could finish. "Three o' them need t' stay in bed for a week at the very least, but the rest have been cleared t' return t' duty."

He nodded in understanding. "Good." He then looked at Heather. "And how did your mission go?"

"It was almost sabotaged by a rogue Scuttleclaw, but I was able to get some information about the island." She brushed her braid over her shoulder. "I'll give you the briefing after my bath."

His brow rose. "Oh? And why not beforehand?"

She gave him a bland look. "You made me wait," she retorted. "Now it's your turn to wait for me."

Ryker frowned, but nodded. "Very well then. I expect a full report before nightfall." Without another word, he brushed past the two women, heading off down the hall.

Rolling her eyes, Thora shook her head. "Ass," she muttered, hearing Heather laugh.

"He really is," she agreed, starting to head down the stairs. "I much prefer Dagur's company to his, surprisingly-" She suddenly paused, a bit of a worried look on her face.

Thora's brow rose; why did Heather look scared all of a sudden? "Dagur can be a bit…much t' handle at times," she said, "but aye, he's far better company than Ryker. Especially recently. He seems t' have calmed down a bit."

"I've noticed that, too," she agreed, thankful that Thora seemed to agree with her. "Except in battle, of course. He's still living up to his title of 'the Deranged' while fighting."

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, they found a door directly in front of them. It was partially open and the remnants of steam from Ryker's bath were floating out of the room. Both women stuck out their tongues; they weren't fans of his bathing oils.

"Why does he have to use frankincense?" Shoving open the door, Heather shook her head as she walked into the room.

"Because it's expensive an' good at keepin' illnesses away," Thora answered, ducking as she entered after Heather. Being on the lowest level of the ship, the bathing room also had the lowest ceiling. "Lots o' so-called important men love t' bathe themselves in expensive oils. It's a subtle way o' showin' off their wealth while also protecting their health." She shook her head. "More annoyin' than anything."

Her nose scrunching up at the thought of it wasting good money, Heather let out a heavy sigh. "Well, I don't know how they can stand the stuff. It smells far too musty and oddly sour to me." She went over to the far wall, where there was a strange chute connecting the wall to a large, circular tub. At the top of the chute was an odd device that opened up a small section of the hull, allowing seawater to come pouring down the chute. When she judged the tub to be full enough, she closed the hatch.

From the corner of her eye, Thora saw something slither out of the shadows. A pitying smile came to her lips as she watched the elderly dragon make its way to a pile of rocks near the tub. She knelt down beside it, gently petting it; its species was unknown to her, but she felt bad for the creature. After heating the rocks with its fire, the dragon looked up at her with four, tired eyes.

"Thank ya," she quietly told it, continuing to pet it. "I'll be sure t' sneak ya some food tonight, alright?"

Heather saw the dragon perk slightly. "You sneak it food?" she asked, grabbing a pair of tongs.

"Aye. I wish I could do more t' help, but I can't break the poor thing's chain." As the dragon wandered back to its resting area, she stood up. "I'd love t' be able t' set it free, but I'm not sure if it could use its wings anymore. They look severely atrophied."

There was a loud 'plunk' as Heather began dropping the hot rocks into the tub. "Atrophied?" she repeated, brows furrowed. "What does that mean?"

For a minute, Thora was silent as she mulled over how to best explain the word. "So, ya know when ya break a leg or an arm an' it's healing, it gets weaker since you're not usin' it nearly as much anymore?" Heather nodded. "That's what atrophy is, only it usually means somethin' in way worse condition. So, say you've a broken arm and you're stuck in bed with a horrible illness for a few months after. Since you're not usin' your arm very much, it gets thinner an' thinner because you're losin' fat and muscle. Does that make sense?"

"Kind of. So, it's like when a crippled person loses use of a limb and it just gets…well, useless looking because they can't use it anymore?"

"Exactly." She started to disrobe, glancing over at the dragon again. "Most o' the time, dragon wings are extremely muscular along the bone because they're always flyin' around. But since this poor thing hasn't been able t' fly in who-knows-how-long, theirs are thin an' when ya touch them, ya feel nothin' but skin an' bone."

Beginning to remove her clothes as well, Heather frowned. The bath dragon's situation was not a good one for her to hear. "That's no good," she murmured, more to herself than to Thora. "Poor thing should be allowed to roam around and get some exercise at the very least…"

Thora let out a sarcastic laugh. "I can tell ya right now, Heather: These dragon hunters don't care about the wellbeing o' any o' the dragons they capture. Aye, they may keep some in good health, but that's only because they'll sell better or work longer." Holding onto the side of the tub, she dipped one leg into the water. Judging it to be just the right temperature, she climbed in the rest of the way and eased herself down. "The treat the dragons no better than slaves."

Heather sighed, nodding in agreement as she got into the tub. "True…Which makes me wonder what could have happened to Windshear if Ryker hadn't agreed to letting me be an ally."

"Probably the same thing that's happened t' me an' Death Dance." She slumped down, though the water still only reached her waist. Heather noticed that her tail had wrapped around her hair, keeping it out of the water. "End up on different ships, not knowin' how the other's bein' treated…if the other is alive at all. Ya end up gettin' sick with worry an' have trouble sleepin'." She shook her head. "Be glad ya got t' keep your dragon free."

She frowned; she didn't like the sound of that at all. "I could…try to get some information on her, if you'd like?" she offered. "Just because Ryker and the other hunters won't tell you anything about her, it doesn't mean they won't tell me anything." She began to splash water onto her neck and shoulders.

Thora quietly laughed. "If ya want t' try, go right on ahead," she said, "but I don't see it workin'. Dagur's tried before. But, then again…" She paused a moment, her brow somewhat raised as she looked Heather over. "You're definitely the sneakier sibling." She started to rub the dirt from her skin.

Her own brow rose; she was surprised Thora would say that. "I am? I would have thought Dagur was…"

Snorting, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't give me that. The two o' us know just how loud an' obnoxious he can be," she chuckled. "Dagur's not really the quiet an' subtle type. He tries, though; he really does." A hint of a smirk played on her lips. "You, though? You're quiet an' sly an' you've got secrets. Don't tell Dagur, but I think you're more useful t' the hunters than him."

"…What did you mean, 'I have secrets'?" she questioned, still frowning. She began rubbing away the sweat and dirt that covered her skin. "I've got nothing to hide…a-and if I did, it wouldn't be anything of importance." She started to wonder if Thora could see through her act.

'From what the riders and Dagur have told me, she is a witch…and witches have a strange way of knowing the truth, no matter how well a person lies. Is she doing that with me now?' Her cheeks turned a bit red when she noticed that Thora was staring at her. Quickly looking away, she began washing her legs.

"Then how 'bout ya tell me what the riders did t' ya t' warrant ya seeking revenge on them?" Thora wore a knowing look.

Swallowing hard, Heather did her best to avoid looking at the other woman. "Th-they, um…abandoned me. I sent for their, uh, help when we spotted Dagur's armada back on my island. But they never came." Shrugging, she did her best to put on a serious face; why was it suddenly hard to act cold about her friends? "I'll never forgive them for that."

Leaning forward, Thora rested her elbow on her knee and her chin in her palm. "I think ya know what I'm about t' say."

Sighing in defeat, she slumped down until her chin touched the water. "That I'm a horrible liar?"

"Close," she chuckled. "More along the lines o' ya know I can see through your lies. At least, right now I can. The rest o' the time?" She gave her a reassuring smile. "Ya put on a damned good act an' have everyone fooled. Now." She leaned back once more, stretching out her legs; she was careful to avoid touching Heather's legs. "As a witch an' as your sister-in-law, ya have my complete an' utter promise t' secrecy. Tell me why you're really here."

She rubbed the back of her neck, still not completely sure if she should trust Thora. "You promise not to tell anyone?"

"I promise."

Sighing, she let her head fall back against the tub wall and closed her eyes. "I'm here…because I'm actually spying on Dagur and the hunters," she admitted. "It's because of the hunters that Dagur attacked my island. The only reason he attacked us is because a flock of a rare breed of dragon called a Tide Glider had chosen to nest on our island. We did our best to protect them, but…" She sighed again.

"But Dagur had too many warriors. My people are -were? No. Are. Some of us still live- fishermen and fisherwomen. We never had a reason to fight before. Because I had worked under Alvin in my youth and had befriended Astrid, I learned how to somewhat fight, but I was no match for Dagur. I'm surprised he didn't kill me though…instead, he dumped me in one of the fishing boats and sent me out with the tide. No oars, no food, no water…just me and the boat."

As she listened to Heather speak, Thora remained silent. At the mention of Dagur setting her adrift, she frowned. 'That doesn't sound like Dagur,' she thought. 'He's always been the kind to kill his enemies…Unless he doesn't harm women? That would make sense.'

"So, when Windshear found me and nursed me back to health," Heather continued, her voice softer now, "I made a promise to avenge the harm he and the hunters had brought to my people and the dragons. In order to do that, I had to somehow infiltrate the hunters so I could get to their leaders as well.

"But all that was before I knew…before I knew Dagur was actually my brother." Opening her eyes, she looked up at the ceiling. "Don't get me wrong -I still want to punish Dagur in some fashion. His orders led to the deaths of my parents…but, I know he was acting under someone else's orders—this…this Viggo's orders. So now I'm left more confused than anything."

"Ya want t' try an' have a relationship with your brother because he's the only family ya have left, but at the same time, ya want t' kill him for what he's done t' your people," Thora said quietly. "I'm guessin' it's not helpin' how happy he is t' have ya in his life?"

She shook her head. "No. No, it doesn't. I went into this with the plan to one night, slit his throat and disappear. But now? I'm not so sure."

"I can't say I know how ya feel, but I can say that it's alright for ya t' be upset with him, t' hate him with your whole bein'. It really is perfectly fine, especially since he wronged ya so badly." She paused for a moment; why was she beginning to feel angry towards Heather? Plenty of people wanted Dagur dead. Trying to shove the thought from her mind, she continued. "But, it's also alright if ya want t' let him live. He knows he hurt you an' he's goin' t' forever try t' make it up t' ya, even though he knows he never can."

She glanced over at Thora. "Did he…did he tell you that?"

"No. But I know it's how he feels from the way he talks."

"He talks about me?"

"Gushes, more like it." She smiled. "He loves having you around and he really enjoys your company. To be honest…I don't blame him. Not after what happened to him."

Heather's brow rose. "What do you mean?"

Thora shook her head. "I shouldn't have said that," she sighed. "It's…somethin' Dagur told me about his childhood. But I promised t' not speak o' it to anyone." Shrugging, she finally let her hair touch the water. "You can ask him 'bout it, though. Ask him how ya came t' be raised as a fisherman's daughter instead o' a chieftain's daughter."

She nodded slowly. "I may just do that, then…It'd be nice to know why, you know? It's one of the things that's been driving me crazy these last few weeks." She managed a small smile. "Thanks, though…for listening, I mean. And the advice. I know we don't know each other very well, but I'm glad there's another woman around I can talk to -and honestly at that."

"You're better company than the hunters, that's for sure," she chuckled. "You're welcome. What you're doin' is a hard task an' I'm surprised you've managed t' keep the act up this long."

"What do you mean? You've been acting longer than I have!"

Thora blinked, taken aback. "Huh? I haven't been acting."

Heather stared at her, cheeks starting to turn the slightest bit pink. "Wait, so…you're actually in love with Dagur? All your kisses and laughs and stuff with him haven't been fake?"

It was Thora's turn to blush. "N-no, but it's not like that. Dagur's become my friend."

"A friend you're married to, kiss, and bed?" Her brow rose and she wore a knowing smirk.

"I married Dagur out o' necessity," she explained. "He was goin' t' enslave me an' Hiccup otherwise. But…I struck a deal with him. I'd be his wife in exchange for our freedom. But I didn't love him an' he knew this. Over time, though, I've started t' think o' him as a friend. I guess that's a form o' love, since I do love my friends, but I'm not in love with him."

"So…why the kisses and the bedding?"

She shrugged. "Dagur is attractive an' I've always been attracted t' him. And it's not like he isn't the only friend I kiss an' bed." She dunked her head under the water for a moment. "But he's certainly my favorite one t' kiss an' bed."

Heather blinked, surprised by this confession. "You've…slept with your friends?"

At that, Thora laughed. "It's like ya don't even know the dragon riders!" she giggled. "Our group…we're close. Very close. By this point, most o' us have slept with one another, but it's been purely platonic. We enjoy knowin' that we can share such intimacy with each other without bein' judged."

Cocking her head, Heather started to undo her braid. "I…never would have thought that such things could happen between people who are just friends."

"It's not a common thing, that's for certain. Especially on Berk. But, it actually got to a point where we had a very deep group conversation about it." She used her fingers to start combing through her hair. "It basically boiled down to this: We all love each other as friends an' we pretty much all find each other attractive. At the moment, we're away from civilization an' our parents, so as long as we take the proper precautions an' are all consentin', we'll be as intimate as we want with each other."

"Ahh. That makes sense, really. That way, you all are also more comfortable and get to learn what you do and don't like."

"Exactly!" Thora smiled. "It's a rather nice set up, t' be honest. I'm…honestly kind o' hoping we continue it when we eventually return t' Berk."

Heather's smile suddenly faded. "But…What if you don't return to Berk?" She glanced away. "You're Dagur's wife. I would think he'd want to take you back to Berserk."

She sighed, her own smile leaving her face. "True…but…" She half-heartedly shrugged. "I couldn't tell ya what the future holds in store for any o' us. Really -I can't. I don't have my rune stones. I…I can only hope that there's a slim chance Dagur gives up his position as chief or, the even slimmer chance o' him divorcin' me."

Heather gave her a pitying look. "Then, I guess we can really only hope for good things to come."