Season One, Episode 4: This is (Not) my home: PT 1

Two days, six hours, and...approximately thirty-seven minutes after the event, Azula was still thinking about that hug.

She lay in her borrowed bed, staring at the leaky ceiling. The sun was barely over the horizon, and she could hear Chief Stoick moving around outside the door, speaking to Hiccup as he was getting ready to head out. She had become accustomed to his routine, and it was a little startling that the recent dragon attack had not changed it at all. Azula had learned over the past day that these dragon attacks were actually quite common, common enough that the Vikings simply accepted them as a normal(if painful) part of life. Azula had initially been appalled, but almost immediately that shock had faded to a more resigned disgust. Of course these savages wouldn't see anything strange about regularly being attacked by perversions of sacred animals.

This recollection sent an itch through her limbs, and she immediately recognized it as the urge to get up. Back at home, she'd have been out of bed already, practicing her firebending. But there was nowhere for her to do that here, and she didn't really want to interact with the Chief if she could help it. Best not to give him any more reminders that there was essentially a freeloader in his house, contributing nothing–

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, fighting back the frustration and focusing her eyes on the ceiling. What had she been thinking about?

Oh yes. That hug.

Hiccup's father loved him. Naturally, she knew that fathers love their children. Her own father loved her, of course, and that was why he had gone to such great lengths to turn Azula into a weapon, the greatest the Fire Nation would ever know. She didn't receive hugs. She received training and discipline, as was required for the child who would one day rule the Fire Nation. Mother gave out hugs, but only to Zuzu because he was weak, like her. Father was strong and did not give hugs, and Azula was strong like him.

Chief Stoick gave hugs, apparently, and his child was this–this skinny fishbone creature! Yes, it all made sense. That affection made people weak, just like Father said.

It made sense, and Father was right. Which was obvious, because Father was never wrong.

Time to move on.

Yes.

Move on.

Ugh.

She threw the covers from her body and set about getting herself ready for the day. Even this simple procedure was poisoned by her surroundings. It was so much harder to just get ready when she didn't have any servants to do anything for her. She couldn't even get her hair into a proper topknot(why were those things so difficult?)or into the braids everyone around here wore, and she had no-one she could ask for help either. Well, she could ask Hiccup, but that was a disgusting thought, or perhaps the Chief–

No. Absolutely not.

For now, she simply tied her hair into a simple ponytail. It would still make her stand out though, and not in the way she should be standing out. There was just so much that she didn't know about life in this place, and it was affecting her performance. She had to be the perfect princess so that when she returned home(she would return home, no matter what that alien moon said about it)she would do so as a triumphant hero and not a failure. And part of being a princess was gracefully adapting to new situations. So far she'd tried to remain separate from the tasks and chores(she had chores, now)of everyday life here, but that was clearly a flawed strategy. A firebender had to embrace the flame to control it. Perhaps the same could be said about life here?

She nodded to herself in the reflection of her golden flame-pin, the nearest thing to a mirror she had at the moment. From now on, she'd not only take part in the inane challenges Berk was throwing at her. She'd excel at them.

No matter what.

BLAM!

Azula's moment of peace was destroyed and its cinders were left to slam against her ears, as Hiccup burst into the room, looking around wildly. Without any explanation, he began rummaging through a pile of junk in one of the corners.

"Excuse me, but can't this wait?" Azula growled, with no small amount of indignation.

"The day is now ruined," came the cryptic reply.

For Hiccup, his day had really started only a few minutes ago. Oh, he'd been up for around an hour before that, awkwardly picking at some boar leftover from last night's dinner while Stoick scoffed down entire mouthfuls like a starving thunderdrum. As usual, the meal was shared in awkward silence. Was it just him, or had these meals become even more awkward since that deal with the tree and the dragon-kidnapping?

Dad was good at many things, but stopping to ask "how did you feel about being plucked up like the last chicken wing and carted across the sky?" was apparently not one of them. Hiccup wasn't sure how he felt about it himself. He'd wanted to impress Dad, and while it was technically quite impressive to escape airdrop by Nadder, it came uncomfortably close to the area of worry which was where all kinds of un-Vikingly things lived. Like feelings.

But no, the day had really started when Stoick swallowed his last mouthful of boar, tossed the bone down on his plate, and then casually said "the Berserkers are coming in today."

He then swallowed the last of his watered-down-beer, stood up, tightened his belt, and began to make for the door as if he hadn't just changed Hicup's entire plan for the day. Or the week. Or the month.

"What!?" Hiccup bolted up from his seat the second the world started making sense again. "Dad! Dad, dad, wait! I, uh, must still be hearing things from when that Nadder dropped me because it sounded like you just said the Berserkers were coming. As in the Berserker tribe?"

Stoick let out a long sigh, not turning to face Hiccup. He raised a thumb to his temple. "Hiccup, I know you don't get along well with them–"

"Now there's, there's an understatement."

"–But there's some business I need to discuss with them. And besides, Berk could use their help. Chief Oswald and Dagur will probably be arriving in a few hours–"

"A few hours? Dagur?" Hiccup suddenly found that his lungs were keeping the air inside hostage. He skirted the table, rounding on Stoick. "Dad, when were you going to tell me all this?"

"I'm telling you now, son," Stoick said firmly. He began to move away, a living tide that once in motion could not be stopped. He pushed open the door and stood for a moment in the frame. "Try to adapt. There's nothing to be done about it, they've already sailed most of the way here by now. Just stay sharp. I know that Dagur has it out for you, so just stay alert."

And then, with a final mumble that might have been a "Love you," Stoick stepped out of the door and was gone.

"And that brings me to the present," Hiccup finished, kneeling on the floor. Azula's room had been the spare room before she had claimed it, and it still had a bunch of bits and pieces from Hiccup's various projects lying around that he hoped she hadn't fiddled with. Azula herself sat on her bed, making a show of listening while trying to fix her hair. Idly, Hiccup thought that Azula had pretty nice hair, all things considered.

"I shouldn't have to point this out, but I'm clearly missing crucial facts," Azula said, keeping her eyes closed while she fiddled with her hair. "I haven't the slightest idea of who this "Dagger–"

"Dagur."

"Excuse me?"

"Not Dagger," Hiccup corrected, holding up a thin metal pole with a loop at one end. "It's Dagur. Dagur the Deranged. He's only the son of the Berserker Chief, and he seems to make it his mission in life to make me miserable." He sighed, trying to think of the best way to explain to Azula that Dagur was a psychotic villain wrapped in murderousness with a good heavy smearing of sadistic cruelty, nicely marinated in unchecked aggression. "You know, the last time Dagur was here he tied me to a barrel, grabbed some knives, and used me for target practice."

Snrk.

Hiccup jerked his attention towards the strange sound and found Azula covering her mouth, biting back laughter.

"That reminds me of something I once did with my brother," Azula said. "I had him place an apple on his head while Mai tried to knock it off with one of her knives. You should have seen their faces, there was so much tension it was simply marvelous! But they deserved it, making those faces at each other when they thought I wasn't looking." she sighed, a sound that felt very much like she was reminiscing back to pleasant times and not repenting on her actions.

Why is this person in my house?

He suddenly considered that Azula was perhaps not the ideal person to vent to if he expected sympathy. That stung a little, but he was kind of beginning to understand that his housemate lacked certain qualities that other people possessed. Like empathy. But hey, least she was on his side, sort of? A horrible mental image surfaced in Hiccup's head, an image of Azula and Dagur working together to torment him. He was tied up like a snoggletog ornament, and Azula and Dagur both had sticks, and they were both whacking him until–

Hiccup shook his head. No time to get distracted. He stood up, not finding anything useful in that pile of junk, and shrugged towards Azula. "While that's a touching story of...terrifying amounts of sibling rivalry, I'm really hoping to avoid something like that this time. I was thinking of putting together some kind of..." he brought his hands up in front of him, swirling them in front of his chest like he was wrestling with an invisible ball. "Some kind of weapon. An Anti-Dagur weapon–"

"So tell me, is his aim exceptionally good or exceptionally bad?"

"W-what?"

"You said he used you for knife practice, correct? But I don't see any terrible injuries on you. So either he has a very good aim and missed on purpose, or very bad aim and missed by accident. So, which one is it?"

"Does...does this matter?"

"It will matter if he has a knife. Honestly, I shouldn't have to tell you that." Azula rolled her eyes, sitting forward on the bed.

Hiccup shrugged. "As much as it felt like he was trying to kill me, he probably wouldn't want to get in that kind of trouble. So his aim must be pretty good, I guess." He hadn't actually thought about that, but now he was feeling a little worse about his odds of designing an anti-Dagur weapon. "Thank you so much for bringing that up."

"Hmm, interesting. That makes things more difficult I suppose, but it's not anything I can't deal with." Azula pushed herself off the bed and stood up, facing Hiccup with a serious look on her face, arms crossed in front of her. "Normally I'd leave you to your own devices, but it seems you're in luck. I had just determined to overcome any challenges this island could throw at me, and now the universe has seen fit to take me at my word. I'll deal with this problem for you."

Hiccup swallowed. "Uh, I hope I'm not, like, misunderstanding your point here, but I don't know if I really...if I really want your help?" He shrugged, averting his eyes from the intensity of her glare and spitting out his next sentence. "I mean the last time you helped me got me thrown into the woods. At night. By a dragon."

"Uhm. W-well, that was different," Azula handwaved dismissively, though the motion was slightly more frantic than Hiccup thought was strictly necessary. "This time, I will deliver perfection." She suddenly dropped to one knee, placing one fist against the wooden floor. Hiccup could have been imagining things, but he could swear there was a sudden scent of smoke.

Hiccup stood back, quickly. This was getting weird fast, he felt like he was entering a pact with some kind of demon. Of course, logically, he knew that Azula wasn't a demon, but–wait, did he know that? What if she was some kind of Helheim-spawn? Was that a possibility? That would explain the fire and attitude...he shook himself back to the present as Azula stood up, dusting off her knuckles.

"Alright, alright," He grumbled. Even he had to admit to himself that he hadn't put up the best defense. But having her offer to help was kind of nice. It was almost like having a friend at his back, even if that friend was a witch who had tried to set him on fire as an apology. He shrugged.

"It's not like I can stop you."

"Correct," came the reply, Azula's voice regaining it's smugness at an alarmingly rapid rate. "But I'll need to learn more about–"

Learn.

"OH NO!" Hiccup yelled, standing bolt upright. He'd just had a horrible, horrible thought, ALMOST as bad as the thought of having to face Dagur later today. He faced Azula, face pale.

"What?" she raised an eyebrow. "Do I have something on my fac–"

"I...think we're late to class."

After a haphazard, lung-burning, leg straining run to the beach, then a more-haphazard, more-lung-burning, more-leg-straining run back to the Dragon Arena when they realized no-one was at the beach (no dragons in it yet, not the season) it turned out that yes, yes they were late to class. Hiccup slammed himself up against the Dragon Arena railing, where down below he could see the other youths of Berk were paired up with their partners and hitting at each other with wooden facsimiles of actual Viking weapons.

"WELL LOOK WHO DECIDED TO GET OUT OF BED!" Gobber's voice rung up to him, the older Viking locked in combat with Astrid (Don't get distracted). Astrid was throwing herself into each and every attack, screaming out a warcry with each swing. SHe'd always been intense. Despite that, Gobber was fending her off and yelling at Hiccup at the same time without breaking stride. "GET DOWN HERE AND START BASHING! WE'VE GONE AND STARTED WITHOUT YOU!"

"WELL, YOU KNOW, I THOUGHT I'D LET YOU GET A HEAD START!" Hiccup yelled back, then added in a much lower tone, "It would go and be weapon training today, wouldn't it?"

Azula passed him, heading down into the arena. "I would have thought you'd be happy. This is exactly what you need if you're going to face Dagur, though I agree, it is a little late to hope you get anything useful out of it. Come on."

"Oh no, I can't wait to start...swinging sticks at people. And having sticks swung at me," Hiccup continued, following Azula down the stairs. "It's the other people I'm worried about. Who knows what could happen when all this–this raw Viking gets unleashed. Dangerous things, I tell you!"

Hiccup realized after he'd said it that his statement could potentially be taken as an insult to his partner's competence. Fortunately, Azula's only response was a dry chuckle as she stepped into the arena in front of him. Hiccup followed her, and soon was surrounded by the not inconsiderable sounds of many young, hormonal Vikings hitting on each other. With weapons, that is. This meant it was only slightly louder than the other kind of 'hitting on' each other.

"GRAB A WEAPON–Baldur's Bracegirdle, Astrid! calm down!" Gobber called over to them, defending against a furious combo of swings from Astrid as he did so. "I DON'T CARE IF YOU CHOOSE AN AXE OR A SWORD, AS LONG AS IT'S MADE OF WOOD! I DON'T WANT TO SEE ANYTHING ELSE–Alright Astrid, take a deep breath–AND START GOING AT EACH OTHER!"

Hiccup glanced at the weapons rack by the wall. There were shields, and the normal stock of axes, swords, and hammers. He recognized some of these, having helped craft them himself at Gobber's forge. But today there was a different rack set up, from which hung several wooden weapons. There were quite a few hammers, several axes, and a single wooden sword available. It seemed the sword was the weapon of choice for most of the youths today.

"So, what do you go for, are axes your style or are you more of a hammer sort of girl..." Hiccup began to drawl, but trailed off as Azula strode up and grabbed the only remaining sword.

Hiccup's shoulders slumped.

"It'll never compare to firebending, but the sword is the only weapon I'd allow myself to wield," Azula said, looking down the length of the wooden sword. It drooped in her hand, apparently heavier than she was expecting. A smirk cut across her face. "To be completely honest, I think that learning to use a sword could be really fun. Zuzu had some lessons with a broadsword, and they always seemed simple enough. I expect I'll be a natural."

"Oh good, glad someone's happy," Hiccup replied, looking disconsolately at the weapons rack. It wasn't that he'd had his heart set on the sword, but he'd always had a secret fantasy of being a heroic sword-wielding hero, like Beowulf. Or Dad. Oh well. He grabbed a simple wooden axe, and gave it an experimental swing with his right arm, the way he'd seem Astrid do it.

"Harr, take that, Air," he continued.

And then the tap-tap of feet against stone was his only warning as he was immediately attacked by Azula, who wasted no time coming at him with a reaching lunge. It was by sheer reflex that Hiccup ducked back, barely avoiding. But even before her lunge was completed, Azula twisted her stance moved into a wide swing, and this time Hiccup countered with a panicked swing of his own, slamming the "blade" of his axe against her sword. To his surprise, Azula's sword went flying out of her hand, spinning end over end in the air. That would have been great, except that his own axe ALSO went flying from his hand, soaring up into the air in the opposite direction.

And then to make things worse, Azula's flying sword slammed into the back of Fishlegs' head.

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Fishlegs screamed as if he'd been hit by a real sword. "FATALITY! FATALITY! I'VE BEEN KILLED!" Before falling over on his face.

Azula's cheeks colored. "My grip was off."

"Yeah."

Thwack!

Fishlegs was alright, fortunately. It had only taken Azula a few minutes of caretaking under duress to ascertain that. While she was busy, Hiccup had occupied himself with the thoroughly distracting sight of watching Astrid's body. Move. As she fought. He watched her move as she fought, it wasn't like that. She was breathtaking, the way she could throw so much of herself into every attack without being embarrassed because she knew what she was good at. Her braid and bangs would catch the breeze...

And Hiccup had found his stomach doing more flips than Astrid's axe.

Of course, that had been a few minutes ago. Now he was back to frantically trying not to die an embarrassing death via training sword, his wooden axe flying from his hand for what felt like the fiftieth–

Thwack!

–Fifty-first–

Thwack!

Fifty-second time. This time he even tripped over his own feet, sprawling out on his back. Oh good. At least his opponent wouldn't gloat about it, right?

"MY VICTORY IS COMPLETE! YOU WILL NEVER RISE FROM THE SUFFERING OF YOUR HUMILIATION!" Azula laughed down at him, holding the sword to his throat. "Honestly, I'm beginning to get bored."

He grit his teeth, unable to stop the overwhelming surge of frustration. His hands just weren't doing what he wanted them to do, and they couldn't even hold onto the axe. What was he doing wrong? Was he just that weak?

"Well good for you," he said, sprawling back and just staring at the overcast sky through the roof of the Dragon Arena. "I'm beginning to think I'm not the natural-born warrior everyone thought I was. What an earth-shaking revelation this is."

Azula withdrew her sword, frowning. "Are you insulted? You know I hate to sound like Ty Lee, but a positive attitude goes a long way. If you sulk too much your face will freeze that way, and no-one wants that."

"Well I have soooo much to be positive about, where would I begin? Strong body, hands that move the axe EXACTLY how I want it, the list continues!" he paused, taking a deep breath. "You wouldn't get it. You're off in your own world, and I'm here in mine."

If Azula was at all affected by his comment, she didn't show it. Perhaps having zero empathy had its benefits. "Hmm, well, if that's the way you want to be, then I can't stop you from making yourself miserable." She stuck the tip of her sword in the ground beside her and leaned on it, inspecting her nails. "I can give you a suggestion though."

"And what would that be?"

"Stop trying to fight with your right hand when you are obviously left-handed. I don't know if you're just fooling around or copying someone else, but quit it, it's embarrassing."

Hiccup blinked. He'd just been copying what he'd seen Astrid do, was that why the axe felt so...off? Was that why he was having so much trouble?

"How did you even notice that?"

"Really? I've seen you write, draw, tie ropes, eat...more than I really wanted to, honestly. Do you think I'm that unobservant?" Azula sat down next to him, kneeling beside his head. She frowned, and her expression went all odd for a second as if she was uncomfortable. "Listen. It's your first day. I'm a prodigy, and I obviously haven't learned everything at once, so–so it's alright if you can't either." The last words were almost a whisper, and she promptly stood back up once she was done saying them.

Hiccup frowned. If it wasn't coming from the girl who set people on fire as an apology, he'd have thought she was trying to make him feel better. But that was ridiculous. Either way, he felt like if he pointed that out he'd just ruin the moment. Ugh. He pulled himself to a sitting position.

Just as he did so, a horn blared. Hiccup froze.

"That-that was from the lookout tower!" Fishlegs piped up, saying what Hiccup already knew. "That means there are sails on the horizon!"

The Berserkers were here.

Berk's docks were always busy. Fishing boats, trading vessels, and the occasional raiding longboat were all common finds at the docks. However, it was uncommon to see a large number of boats by volume, as it was considered pretty unwise (and rightfully so) to clump all your wooden boats together when there was a constant threat of attack from large fire-breathing reptiles.

So when Hiccup arrived at the hill overlooking the dock and saw it clustered with Skrill-sailed black ships, his brain took a moment to process what he was seeing.

"Ah, this must be the Berserker Armada," Azula nodded at his side. "As expected."

Hiccup blinked at her.

"Anyway," she continued, "Dagur will probably try to find you early on. He carries a grudge against you because your Father crushed his, and feels that taking it out on you regains some of that lost honor. He'll want to establish his dominance early on. Thus, curtailing Dagur now will not only satisfy your desire for personal safety, but it will also place you in a politically advantageous position in the years to come."

Hiccup continued to blink.

"What? Is there something on my face? I'll admit there's probably a part of him that just enjoys violence, but–"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW ALL THIS?" Hiccup asked/yelled, finally finding his voice.

Azula smirked. "Oh, that. I asked Fishlegs, then made some basic logical connections based on the information he provided. He seemed like he'd hold the most useful information as he's always spouting trivia of different sorts."

"Wh-when did you ask him this?"

Azula's smirk grew to enormous proportions, looking as smug as the first cat to discover cream. "Come now Hiccup. I asked him in the Arena when I was checking on his head. It turns out that near-concussions make for marvelous verbal lubricant."

"I–how did you–but–" Hiccup found himself at a complete loss for words. Instead, he turned away from her, moving his attention back to the docks in front of him as he processed the information he'd just been given. He'd never really thought of it like that. The way Azula put it, Dagur bullied him because he almost thought of him as...a threat.

"Okay," he said at last. "Terrifyingly efficient information-gathering methods aside, let's assume you're right. Now we just have to spot Dagur before he spots us."

"Well I'm afraid I can't help you with that," Azula said, flicking her fingernails. "I have no idea what he looks like."

Hiccup peered at the veritable swarm of Berserkers unloading from the armada. It was hard to make out anyone from this distance (internally, he ran through a few ideas for a far-seeing device) but he was sure he'd be able to spot Dagur when he saw him. There was no-one else quite that ugly, or who walked with quite that sinister stride. He just had to make sure that he spotted Dagur before Dagur spotted him–

"Hello Hiccup."

Hiccup didn't jump at the sudden voice mere feet behind him. He had nerves of steel, and three hundred years of Viking's blood running through his veins...okay yeah, sorry, no-one could read that with a straight face. Hiccup jumped like Snotlout that time he'd sat down on Gothi's knitting needle, except with far less justification because as he span around, arms flailing, Hiccup realized mid-spin that this was actually not Dagur come to ambush him. It was in fact his dad, Stoick the Vast.

"Oh, hi, Dad. Just saying his to the Berserkers. You know, from a distance."

"Chief," Azula said by way of greeting, lowering her eyes in perhaps the most demure she ever was.

"I was looking for you two," Stoick said, taking in a deep breath. "Well, actually I was looking for you." He pointed at Azula, who stiffened. "Hiccup, I won't force you to say hello. But you, girl, come with me."

Hiccup caught Azula sending him a sideways glance that somehow spelled HELP ME in an angry demanding tone, to which he sent her back a helpless shrug that said HOW? and she replied with a glare that said THINK OF SOMETHING–

But then time was up and Stoick was walking away, motioning for Azula to follow him. She sent him a glare that was a mixture of irritation and apologetic helplessness, and followed Stoick down the hill. Hiccup watched them go, then sighed.

Just can't give me a break, can you Loki?

This was a terrible blow to operation Combat Dagur, but...positive thinking? Hiccup was good at positive thinking. He had to keep the BEST outcomes in mind. Maybe Azula wouldn't be gone long. Maybe she'd be back in a few minutes, and then he could create his anti-Dagur weapon (he had some ideas. A ballista should do the trick) and then he could beat Dagur, and then everyone would look at him and be like "oh wow, I thought Hiccup was useless but he's actually a real beefcake Viking" and Astrid would say "I think ballista are hot" (she did, he'd overheard her talking to Ruffnut one time) and then–

"Well hello, Hiccup."

And now this time Hiccup span around, flailing his arms in purely JUSTIFIED terror. Loki had apparently decided that today was the day that Hiccup would pay for every sin that he'd ever committed in his life, because there, wearing his trademark horned helmet with his trademark sneer and flanked by his trademark beefy thugs, stood Dagur the Deranged. The young Berserker was taller than Hiccup remembered him, and his face now had some extra scars to really ensure that he would always win "Archipelago's Ugliest" at the next Thing. Hiccup tried to tell his heart to stop wriggling free of his chest.

"Dagur! Oh, Dagur, hi, Dagur," he mumbled.

Dagur wouldn't outright admit it, but he was glad to run into Hiccup.

The sea voyage to Berk had been miserable; nothing but constant drizzling rain, with only the laconic grunts of the fellow Berserkers and the screech of distant dragons to break up the monotony. To make things worse, he had to have a conversation with his Dad, who had instructed that Dagur be on his best behavior and not to break any legs this time. And then on top of that, he'd insisted that all the Berserkers refer to him by that horrible nickname "Oswald the Agreeable" instead of the far superior "Oswald the Antagonistic."

It was enough to make him ill.

So the minute he stepped off the boat, he'd yelled at Ugg and Mugg (his favorite bodyguards, with big arms and small brains) until they'd remembered to follow him, and gone in search of his way to vent. And Odin's blessing, here he was, all alone on a hill.

"Heya, Hiccup!' Dagur said cheerily, already feeling the stress leaving his body. Look at those twiggy arms! And was he shaking? Then he remembered that this fishbone creature's father had somehow beaten his own dad in actual combat, and all his good mood vanished like ice under dragonfire.

"Yeah, hi, Dagur..." Hiccup warbled.

"You already said hi, Hiccup," Dagur said, crossing his arms. "You know repetition makes me angry."

Hiccup squeaked, eyes going wide. "Oh, well, that's sad. Bad. Yeah. I'll just be going now. Have fun!"

"Wait wait wait, I know a way for you to make me feel better..." Dagur grinned. He was probably enjoying himself too much here, but would anyone blame him?

Hiccup slumped. "Can...can we not do this? I was thinking that our dynamic was getting a little tired, and I don't know, maybe we'd like to shake things up a little. What if instead of you always antagonizing me, we got along? Huh? Wouldn't that keep everyone on their toes?"

"Hmm, interesting proposition..." Dagur tapped his chin in mock consideration. "NO WAIT! I have a better idea. Ugg, Mugg–"

He snapped his fingers.

"–Get him."

Unsurprisingly, Hiccup immediately turned and ran. Dagur let out a long, trailing laugh. Oh Thor, he had missed this. He burst into a run, chasing after the smaller boy. He'd definitely gotten faster since last time.

This would be fun.

After following Stoick, Azula found herself seated at a table in the great hall, trying not to gag from the constant smell of smoke. There was no chimney, just a hole in the ceiling that let the smoke escape before it became too intolerable. Just another reminder that this place was literally a backwater. Stoick stood in front of her, but it was another man that paced back and forth at the opposite side of the table. He was shorter than Stoick but just as wide, sporting a white beard tied up in intricate knots.

"Where are you from?" the man said, leaning forward and placing both hands on the table.

Azula frowned at his proximity. "I am from the glorious Fire Nation, home of Agni's chosen."

The man looked back at Stoick, who shrugged. The man then turned back to Azula, producing a map and spreading it in front of her.

"Can you find your home on this map?"

Azula peered at the map, as if she was seeking through it. It was all an act, of course. She already knew that the Fire Nation wasn't on this tiny map, not when the moon here was different. Fortunately, this map seemed to be exclusively detailing the Barbaric Archipelago, which meant she could say that her home wasn't here without giving away too much. SHe didn't know what the point of this interrogation was, but it was making her uncomfortable.

Finally, she looked up. "I'm afraid not. I believe I'm from outside the Archipelago."

"How did you get here at Berk?"

Oh. That question.

"I found her on my doorstep, Oswald," Stoick interjected. "She was tied up and left there, but she says she has no memory of how she got there."

Oswald peered at Azula, pursing his lips. "Is that true?"

"Y-yes," Azula said in reply. It was, every time she tried to think how she got here, it was like there was a mist that blocked her thoughts. Some sort of traumatic amnesia, no doubt, but it unsettled her. Her mind was her greatest asset, if it was keeping secrets from her then who could she possibly trust?

"And you say you're a princess?"

"Yes," Azula replied, crossing her arms in annoyance. "If I might ask, what is this all about? Am I being accused of something?"

Oswald was about to answer, but Stoick spoke first. "No, no girl. We're trying to help you. Chief Oswald has been to many different places. I'd hoped he'd know something about where you're from, or how to get you back."

"She looks Asian, so that would be my guess. The black hair..." Oswald got a faraway look in his eyes, seeing something that wasn't there. Azula didn't like that look. It was the same one she saw on her mother's face whenever she spoke of her life before her marriage.

"Azula, show him the...thing," Stoick prompted, and Azula huffed. It was amusing that such a large man was so uncomfortable discussing her...gifts like that. But she was always ready to display her firebending, so she held up her left hand, and willed her qi into her palm. On cue, a ball of orange fire hovered there, as easily as breathing.

Oswald stumbled back with a shriek, and Azula grinned.

That was the first part of this conversation that she'd enjoyed.

Hiccup had gotten WAY faster than Dagur remembered. The little twerp was somehow staying just ahead of Ugg and Mugg, who themselves were constantly getting their large bodies in each other's way. Right in front of him, Ugg swiped a hand at Hiccup, but Hiccup threw himself to his knees in an admittedly rather impressive display of self-preservation, whiffing the grab by inches.

Ugg then proceeded to trip over Hiccup, and Mugg then tripped over Ugg, and Dagur crashed into both of them, and the end result was a great big pile of useless Berserker lying in the muddy streets of Berk.

Hiccup got up first.

"DON'T JUST LIE THERE!" Dagur yelled, struggling to get around the mountainous bodies of his own bodyguards. "GRAB HIM!"

But Hiccup was already scampering away before the instruction had even made it past Ugg's thick skull.

The giant of a man stood up, looked around slowly, a dazed look on his face, before turning to Dagur. "Hiccup...gone."

"YES I CAN SEE THAT!" Dagur yelled, forcing himself to calm down. Hiccup couldn't have gotten far yet, there couldn't be that much energy in those skinny little legs. He was probably hiding somewhere. Hiccup had always been good at hiding. "He has to be close by."

Ugg looked around, spinning around like he expected Hiccup to be behind him somehow.

"Don't see him."

"OF COURSE YOU DON'T! BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO STUPID TO GRAB HIM WHEN I TOLD YOU TO!" Dagur's bad mood flared up again, the beginnings of a proper Berserker rage coming on. "Unfortunately, YOU ARE AN IDIOT! Say it after me: UGG IS AN IDIOT!"

"Ugg is an idiot!" Ugg repeated happily.

Dagur growled, breathing heavily. He had to calm down. They were in the village now, and it wouldn't do to be yelling and screaming where everyone could see. That would make witnesses. If he couldn't tear apart the town looking for Hiccup, he'd have to bring Hiccup to him. But how?

"Oh, hey Dagur!" an annoyingly nerdy voice piped up. Dagur whirled to see Fishlegs coming around a corner, jogging along without a care in the world. Looking at his fat little body and tiny little legs made Dagur REALLY wonder how the Hooligans had managed to beat the Berserkers in the war. Probably the power of friendship or something.

Wait.

"Oh, Fishface–"

"Fishlegs," the idiot corrected, cheerily.

"WHATEVER! Anyway, you know Hiccup, right?" Dagur asked in a sing-song voice.

"Um, yeah, everyone knows Hiccup," Fishlegs nodded. "He's the Chief's son, after all. Are you looking for him? It would be great if you guys became friends, it would show there were no hard feelings after Chief Stoick beat your dad in the war."

Dagur tried VERY HARD not to punch the lardball.

"So, did you need something?" Fishlegs continued.

"Yes, actually. I need YOU!" he snapped his fingers. "Ugg, Mugg. GET HIM."

Ugg and Mugg for once actually displayed why they'd been picked as bodyguards, that is, their grip strength that was approximately equivalent to a gronckle's jaws. Both of them laid meaty hands on Fishlegs' shoulders. The boy whitened.

"W-what's going on?"

"Never you mind, little Fishfood," Dagur crooned, then turned to the surrounding streets and alleyways. He took in a deep breath. "As long as a certain SOMEONE shows up, NOTHING WILL HAPPEN TO YOU."

He sneered, then turned to Ugg and Mugg. "Take him to my ship."

As they stormed off, a barrel in the street groaned. This day was turning out to be the worst one ever.

Author's Note: I have decided to make these chapters more episodic. The idea is that each little 'plotline' will be resolved in 1-2 chapters, rather than dragging on for 4 or so. The downside of that is that the chapters are way longer now.

ANYWAY we get to see some of Dagur and his dad, Oswald the Agreeable. It's unfortunate that Oswald isn't long for this world, but no-one knows that. Also Azula is trying to fit in now. Hopefully she doesn't go insane.

NEXT EPISODE: Hiccup has to make his move, Dagur and Azula have their faceoff. Which borderline insane sadist will come out the victor? WHO KNOWS?