Dagur and Sleuther returned to Berserker Island, observing its people. While the chief was glad that they were able to help the Berkians, he was relieved that his vikings' resources could now stay with them. The fact that the Hairy Hooligan Tribe barely tried to regain the gold that they lost also made him want to take his back sooner. So much was in Dagur's mind and very little of it was good. Sure, he had said what had been on his mind to Hiccup, but he did not feel the slightest bit better. If anything, he almost felt worse. At least when he was keeping everything to himself, the cards were on his own table. Now, he kept thinking that it would be awkward the next time he saw the Dragon Riders. Whether it would be or not, it was highly unlikely that he would see any improvement from the last time. With the Berkians' odd feelings for him on his mind, he continued to notice that his own Berserkers still were giving him wary glances. It annoyed him to the point of wanting to snap at them, although he was aware that it would only exacerbate the issue. Instead, the Berserker chief tried to find ways to distract himself. Training with his dragons helped a little, but not as much as he hoped. Heather popped up in his head more than she was invited and Dagur felt more depressed with each visit.
He was starting to give up on the idea of he and his sister being a family. She hated him and there was nothing he could do to change that-apart from ruining her opinion of their deceased father. Rather than continue to semi-wallow in misery, Dagur remembered Caldera Cay. "I never thanked them for the map and, come to think of it, they probably want that back." he thought. The chief stopped sharpening his knife to go to the stables. He was swarmed by the excited Skrill, Gronckle, and Triple Stryke, being nearly knocked to the ground by them in their playful tackles. Once they stopped, the viking got up. "Strykie, I forgot about going back to the Defenders of the Wing Island. We need to head over there. Are you up for it?" Since the dragon was, Dagur mounted his saddle and they flew off towards the other island. It took them only a little while to reach Caldera Cay and they landed nearby the village. Defenders were standing guard, letting the chief see as their countenances changed from suspicious and ready to attack to recognizing and inviting. "Hello, Dagur the Deranged." Throk greeted, stepping to the forefront. The Berserker gave a nod and smile, "I wanted to return this map and thank all of you for letting me use it."
The Defender gladly accepted the scroll and Dagur started to leave. "Could you stay for a while? Our queen would like to speak with you." Throk informed him. The chief's brow rose, "Do you know what about?" He received a shaking head as an answer and agreed to follow Throk over to see Queen Mala. The ruler was sitting on her throne, speaking to a few Defenders that appeared to be asking favors/questions of her. She looked to be entirely bored with their constant inquirings, though still was polite to her vikings and did her best to be engaging. The Defender's face brightened as she saw the visitor and she rose to stand. "It is good to see you again, Dagur the Deranged." the queen told. "Same goes for you, Mala." Dagur said, "Throk told me that you wanted to talk about something." The queen looked hesitant for an instant, then it vanished amongst blinks, "Yes, I like to understand the mentalities of my fellow leaders, so I would appreciate it if you and I could speak about our opinions of leading a kingdom. We could walk around more of this one while we converse." The chief thought it over, briefly, "Sure, doesn't sound like it'll do any harm." He followed the Defender and started to stroll along the land.
"Would you ever find it necessary to leave your island, permanently?" Mala asked. Dagur was by her side and sort of shrugged, "I hope not permanently, but I've left my vikings for a while in order to keep someone safe. Besides something drastic, I don't think anything could keep me from there for too long." The queen seemed intrigued by the answer and it invoked a follow up question. "What is the longest that you have been away from your people?" she inquired. "Three years." Dagur stated, "But that was during the whole 'keeping someone safe' thing. What about you? Have you ever been gone for a while or would you?" Mala pursed her lips together in thought, "I have never strayed from Caldera Cay for very a very long duration, but, I suppose, I would if the situation warranted such an act." The queen looked behind her to the Triple Stryke that was trailing them. "While I know that Hiccup Haddock claimed the dragons enjoy flying you about, might I inquire as to if you know why? It seems peculiar that anyone would cherish having to carry someone around whenever and to wherever that person pleases." Smirking, the chief replied, "We don't make it like an act of servitude. As for my dragons and I, we've found common enemies and common friends. Kind of a symbiotic relationship. They know that I'll try to make sure no hunter or anyone else goes after them and they, in return, help me protect my vikings and go find more hunters to stop. They're more my friends than pets, honestly."
A small smile tickled at the corners of Mala's mouth, then her brows rose, "You pluralized. What other dragons do you have?" More than a small smile went over Dagur's face as he started talking about his companions, "There's Bluebolt, he's a Skrill and the first dragon I'd ever befriended, and Shattermaster, a Gronckle and the first dragon I've ever ridden." He gestured back to the Triple Stryke, "He's Sleuther, but is normally called 'Strykie'." The dragon lowered his head to be pet and Mala complied. "I guess, you've never ridden on a dragon before, huh?" Dagur commented. Shaking her head, the Defender continued to pat Sleuther, "I have not." The chief noticed that Strykie seemed to be taking a liking to the queen and a thought popped into his head. "Would you like to? We could do a quick flight around the island and land back here?" he offered. Mala's mouth opened slightly to speak and her eyes twinkled. Quickly afterwards, the sparkle dimmed and she closed her mouth, "Defenders have never flown on dragons. We have always been protectors of them, not riders." The Berserker shrugged, "All right, but if you ever change your mind, just let me know." Dagur looked at her and saw her reluctance to deny the opportunity. "Maybe I'm wrong, but you sort of look like you want to."
Mala looked at the vast skies and imagined herself beyond among the clouds. "While the prospect is enticing, I should not go against traditions." She tried to appear more positive and glanced at her guest. "Do you believe in traditions and prophecies?" she asked. Dagur oscillated his hand front to back, "Not really the prophecy part, but I've used some signs before. As for the traditions, It depends on what they are." The queen eyed him, curiously, "Do you have any traditions on Berserker Island?" Nodding, the viking responded, "A few." He moved the same hand to his eye and other arm, "That's why I have these tattoos. It's always been tradition that the chief or chieftess in the bloodline get them before becoming leader." Mala looked at the markings and her eyes lingered on the one on his arm. "What about you?" Dagur questioned, snapping her back into reality. A light dust of pink faded over her cheeks, "Yes. The reason that the warriors and guards dress in the way that they do it to be as inconspicuous as possible and able to blend in. It has been a tradition of ours for longer than I have been alive." Mala ran a mildly self-conscious hand across the edge of her short hair, "As I am sure you have noticed, we Defenders often utilize functionality in the place of vanity."
Dagur looked around at the vikings, "It's a smart idea to stay discreet." Glancing at the queen, he added, "Personally, I really like the look." Mala smiled, "Would you care to go with me as I make sure the trainees are coming along well?" The chief was up for the venture and the two went to see the vikings. An older Defender was instructing them on how to spar with one another, properly. "Spars always seem great. Do you get to do many?" Dagur inquired of the queen. Mala shook her head, somewhat solemnly, "Many of my Defenders find that it would be far too disrespectful to ever even spar with a viking of royal blood. When I have the time, I train with faux humans. What of you, Dagur the Deranged?" The Berserker was still watching the people go. They fought relentlessly against each other and yet, they knew just when to stop and were very good sports about victory and failure. "I wouldn't really consider myself as having done a spar, per se, but I've always wanted to fight someone when you're both friends." Another twinkle shone in Mala's eyes and she walked to a vacant location on the training grounds. Once where she wanted to be, the Defender set up some dummies and weapons. All the while, Dagur was observing, rather curiously, her antics.
"What are you doing?" he finally asked, unwilling to take the suspense longer. Mala had just completed and turned to him. "Since neither you nor I have been able to spar against one of our subjects, perhaps we could spar against each other." she told. Dagur was about to agree and go over there, but stopped. From the corner of his eye, the viking saw a Speed Stinger that was lit aflame, running in a circle. "I'm not in the right mindframe for a fight that won't end in someone dying. I don't want to accidentally hurt her." he thought, sadly. "It's kind of getting late, Strykie and I should probably head back." Dagur stated. "There. As soon as we're gone, they're most likely be glad to get rid of us and this question'll never be brought up again." Despite wanting the musings to make him feel positive, a large part of him wished to stay and learn more about Mala. Thusly, he loathed the idea of never being invited again. Disappointment was on the queen's face, though she ended up hiding it well. "Let it not be said that we have kept you here against your will." she told, not unkindly, "I have enjoyed your visit, Dagur the Deranged. Please, do come again sometime soon." Dagur felt an odd twinge of excitement in his chest and he grinned, broadly, "Would next week work?" Mala smiled, surprised, "Um, yes, that would be very nice."
All the way to Sleuther's saddle and up in the air, Dagur had wide, happy grin on his face. As soon as they were almost a mile from Caldera Cay, the chief slapped his palm against his forehead. "Why did I suggest coming back?! Who knows how bad the hallucinations will be by next week? I might not be seeing anything that's real." He let out a groan of annoyance. Throughout the flight back, he thought of different explanations he could give to rationalize his lack of returning to Defenders of the Wing Island. None of them seemed right. "I don't have a good reason not to go-you know, besides telling her that I'm seeing things." He rubbed a hand over his face, "Definitely don't want to say that, but I don't want to lie either." Just as the Berserker and Triple Stryke landed in the Berserker stables, Dagur had made up his mind. "I brought it up, so I'll go. Next time, though, I probably won't." While he was not sure if he had seen it correctly, Dagur was fairly positive that Sleuther had rolled his eyes. "I'll have to make sure that we don't do any sparring. Wouldn't want to imagine Mala as a hunter and then attack her." A nearly dreamy expression went over his face, "However, it sure would be nice to spar against her. That was cool the way she took out those hunters." Sleuther yawned and began nudging Dagur out of the stables. "Fine; fine. Good night, guys." the Berserker waved.
Over the next week, before their inevitable return, Dagur was getting fed up with a lot of his Berserkers. Everywhere he went, they were keeping an eye on him as if he would attack them as soon as they turned their backs. Only the eldest and youngest vikings trusted him. This was due to the former having been around long enough to know what is and is not a threat, and the latter having not been around long enough to develop paranoia. Either way, Dagur found himself enjoying checking in on the elders and children to make sure that everything was all right. Their trust was beginning to grow into liking as they watched the sincerity of his actions. Still, with so many others, Dagur could not wait to go to Caldera Cay once more. After one of his visits with an elderly couple, whose daughter and son had perished in battle, Dagur walked around for a bit. Mainly, the chief was trying to find a peaceful place to think and meditate. Such a place came in the form of a cave in the center of the island. For as long as Dagur could recall, it had been there. The thing that constantly vexed him, though, was that no one would venture in or build anything in the area. Yes, it was rather poorly lit, but that is to be expected from a cave. Well, Dagur enjoyed the quiet, solitude of a dark cave and went in.
Surprisingly, it was not as dark as he had assumed it would have been. A pale, bluish light was emanating from somewhere, although its source was unknown. Also, it was far colder in there than it was outside. "Probably just the lack of sun." Dagur figured, "Of course, that doesn't explain the light." He started to follow it and heard a low growl. Stopping, he realized that in front of him, stood a massive construct of ice. The chief went to touch it, to see whether or not it was real. Before he could, an earthquake occurred. Dagur thought that he had heard another noise along with the shattering stalagtites, but left before he could be certain. "Guess, I'll stay out here for now." he said to himself, grumpily. The rest of the time went by and Dagur and Sleuther got ready again to travel to Defenders of the Wing Island. Upon arriving, they were greeted by Throk and the other guards. "Welcome again, Dagur the Deranged. Our queen has, excitedly, awaited your return." Throk informed him. On the way to seeing Mala, the Berserker started up a pleasant small talk with the Defender. Throk seemed practically shocked at first, but wound up enjoying the conversation.
He quickly quieted down his chuckles as they approached Mala and he bowed, deeply. The queen smiled brighter than she sun and went over to the chief. "I am glad that you have come back." she told. Mala and Dagur went to the healing center and she showed him some of their techniques. "Are you just having me do this to help take care of your dragons?" the Berserker joked, laughing. Mala chuckled, quietly, "No, I am acclimating you to my culture. Also, now that you are aware of these, you can use them whenever you please. Including, should Strykie, or your other dragons need medical aid." Dagur gave a, mildly, surprised, though grateful smile, "Thanks. You should come to Berserker Island sometime." Again, he mentally slapped himself for suggesting such a thing. If she came, she would notice the crazy looks he gets from nearly everyone. What was going on with him? He was normally so good at keeping his mouth shut, unless he wanted something to be said. Mala pondered over the idea of visiting his home, "I would like that. Perhaps, next time, I shall visit you." Giving an awkward smile, Dagur kept applying ointment to an injured Deadly Nadder.
The Berserker tried to change the subject and thought, quickly, "Hey, Mala, what do you do with that water filled with eels? I had noticed it when we were walking, but forgot to mention it." The queen peeked up from the Gronckle that she was tending to, "That is part of our Defenders of the Wing King trials. Another tradition we have maintained. Although, it flunctuates between being for kings and queens. For every leader who was born into this position, their future spouses have had to prove themselves by completing these trials. While some have opposed the notion of proving one's worth, I see it as a way to ensure that the impending leader is quick-witted and skillful. The challenges can be daunting to some, however. Would you care to take a closer look?" Nodding, Dagur followed Mala to where the trials took place. Even though he could see where a lot of vikings would not want to participate, they seemed intriguing to him. "These kind of look fun, Mala." he divulged. A temptation to speak more on the matter of the trials tugged at the queen's throat. Dagur noticed her change in disposition, "What's wrong? It looks like you really want to say something." Mala blinked a few times to clear the demeanor, "It is nothing."
Dagur eyed her with skepticism, using an expression that made the Defender laugh. She caught herself as soon as the sound escaped her lips, regaining her composure, "Fine. There is something that I wish to tell you, but now is not the appropriate timing." The chief complied to her wishes and did not press the matter. After a bit, the two went near the training grounds again. "What's your favorite way to kill hunters?" Dagur asked, eying the weapons in the stadium. His question had taken Mala off guard and she nearly laughed again. "I am not sure. Usually, I am equipped with this sword, so perhaps disembowelment. What of you, Dagur the Deranged?" The Berserker smirked, "You can just call me 'Dagur', if you want. Um, I like a lot of ways. Most of my favorites are the same that would freak the Dragon Riders out, so I tend to keep those to myself." Mala glanced about them and leaned forward, engagingly, "I am far from one to become uneasy." Smiling, disturbingly, the chief told her his top five. With each one, the queen was more and more fascinated. "You are quite the creative man, Dagur. I shall have to try number one, if you do not mind." The Berserker grinned, "Not at all. Knock yourself out, or, moreso them." Again, Mala suppressed a chuckle and the rest of their day was pleasurable.
Dagur stayed in Caldera Cay for a few days this time and the following week, a Defender ship pulled into Berserker Island's harbor. The Berserker chief stood in the docks and felt butterflies in his stomach. For some reason, he had been really enjoying his and Mala's time together. The queen disembarked with a box in her hands. She too had been having fun seeing Dagur and felt excited that she would again. Never before had the Defender been to Berserker Island. She was welcomed, warmly, by the chief. "Mala!" Dagur was about to hug her and stopped, "How was the trip?" The queen noticed the contemplated embrace, "It was very nice." She held out the box and placed it in the chief's hands, caressing them on the way back. "You didn't have to do this, but thanks." he said, opening it up. Inside the box, was a sharpening stone. "Since you carry so many knives, I wanted to give you something that you could utilize. This type is especially effective and only found on our island." Dagur beamed, "It's great." His smile faded, "But, what makes you think that I carry a lot of knives?" An almost ornery grin spread over Mala's face, "I make certain to note any weapons on a visitor's person. My eye has been trained to see them even when hidden very well-which yours are."
Dagur looked at the stone and back at Mala. The Defender was shown around the island, promptly. "And here's our trading station. You can find a lot of stuff, here." Once they had finished the tour, Dagur brought Mala to the stables. "You can finally meet the others." They entered the stable and the Skrill and Gronckle flew over, happily. "Bluebolt, Shattermaster, this is Mala." the chief introduced. The queen patted their heads and they stayed with the dragons up until the evening, just talking about their perspectives on matters. When their reptilian visit was over, the two went to Dagur's hut. He opened the door for Mala and she entered, contently, smelling the air. "Did you prepare something?" she asked, surprised. The chief nodded and showed her to the table, then set down some food. "Thank you." she told, taking a bite, "This is very good." the queen said, eating more. She and the chief dined and conversed. Once, he actually got Mala to laugh for a few seconds before she stopped, largely because she was unable to. "Why do you try to be so proper all the time?" Dagur questioned, having noticed her habit prior.
The Defender glanced away for a moment and then back to Dagur, "It is because our culture has always attempted to exude an air of nobility. Of course, this is not necessarily true. For a long while, vikings were married off after being smote over the head with a club." The chief's eyes widened, "Harsh." "Quite." Mala agreed, "But despite this, it is even more vital that the leader be as formal as possible." Dagur looked into her eyes, "Well, you don't have to feel like you need to be 'proper' here or around me. Just be your normal, wild self." Feigning offense, Mala smiled, "I am not wild." The chief scoffed, jokingly, "As if! I've never seen anyone actually like my kill stories, talk about disembowlment the way that you do, or not be creeped out by my laugh. Face it. Beneath all your royalness, we're not too different." The Defender made a face at him and, playfully, punched his arm. "Aha!" the chief exclaimed, "You're loosening up already." His eyes showed a sincerity to his next words, "Mala, you're too cool of a person to think that you need to be something else. It's been really great hanging out with you." The queen returned his look and sighed, "I shall try your 'not being proper' for a few moments to see how it is. Although, I will need for you to commense this."
Dagur complied, "Besides being really smart and a good fighter, you're beautiful." Mala turned bright pink and spun around so that he would not see, "I was not expecting 'unproperness' to involve such compliments." she admitted, embarrassed. The chief went to her side, "Hey, I'm just being honest and being that is hardly ever being proper." Gradually, the heat lessened in Mala's face and she looked at him, taking a deep breath, "Well, I find you to be extremely clever, very brave, and most alluring. I would be speaking fabrications if I were to say that I am not also attracted to your muscular build." She stepped closer and ran a hand up his strong arm, sending a tingle up Dagur's spine. A pale hue of red found its way to his face and Mala smirked, "With all these kind things said between us, might it mean that we are beginning a relationship which is more than platonic?" The Berserker stroked his beard, "I think that it might. What are your opinions on that?" She grinned wider, "They are most positive. Have you any objections?" Dagur's hands moved to her waist and pulled her closer, "Can't say that I do." Mala's arms wrapped around his neck. Both leaning in, they nuzzled their heads against each other's, tenderly. Then, they brought their faces close together, indulging in a kiss.