Disclaimer: Don't own HTTYD

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Hiccup leaned against a tree as she marked off another spot on her impromptu map. She closed the book and sat down with a thud, scuffing at her hair. She was too angry to even care that she would have to re-braid it before returning home. Today was the first time she ever valued the utter solitude she endured on a daily basis. None even noticed that she slipped out, most probably didn't care. Hiccup thought spitefully that even if she ran off to be with a man, none would notice. Though, who'd be stupid enough to try anything with Dagur's woman, nobody. Ugh, even being branded as a possession frustrated her. But perhaps she could spend her afternoons here in the forest, instead of sitting in the house. It was peaceful, and there was certainly an air of relaxation here.

Hiccup pulled herself up and continued down the trail, lost in her thoughts until she tripped and fell face first into the ground. Hiccup was a clumsy girl, it was known fact of anyone who had even heard her name, but even she didn't trip over nothing. She glanced back to the fallen branch, the break was fresh, very fresh, and it would take a lot to dislodge a branch of that size. She glanced up the trees and saw a steady path. She rushed to the overhang, seeing a breathing black mass; she cowered for a moment, fumbling with a blade. But then she took a deep breath and stilled herself. She chanted her status like a mantra, as if it would give her strength.

You're the daughter of Stoick the Vast and his shield-maiden wife.

You're the prodigy apprentice of Gobber the Belch.

You're the wife of Dagur, future chief of the Berserkers.

You'll lead the Berserkers one day at your husband's side.

You're a Viking.

You may not be a shield-maiden, but you're a Viking.

It's in your blood, it's your inheritance.

You can do this.

You can kill a dragon.

She approached the beast, her breath caught firmly in her throat. The beats was tangled in the branches, weak from struggling and doubtlessly hurt for its crash. She got closer, and closer, and saw a shredded tailfin. She hopped down to the dragon's level, staring at it in awe. She had done it; she had brought down the rarest of dragons. Oh, Stoick would be eating his own beard when he found out. She let loose a gleeful chuckle but the then the beast stirred with a snort. She started and fell on her rump, hard. The dragon, no, the night fury was awake and his eye was trained on her. Hiccup cowered for a moment and then drew herself up with a dagger in her hands.

"I'm going to kill you; I'll bring your head back and finally get some god-damned respect." The beast watched her bring the bald over her head. Hiccup paused; there was fear, but acceptance and sadness. She closed her eyes and tried again, only to peak and see the dragon drop his head, eyes closed, preparing for what was to come. Hiccup tensed and reading her muscles, and then…..and then…..

She couldn't do it.

Hiccup didn't know what madness came over her but she dropped to her knees and began helping the dragon get untangled from the branches. The dragon remained quite still until she managed to push the last bough off the beast and stared down at it. Within a moment she was on her back, pinned by the massive paws of the reptile, equally pinned under its gaze. For a few heart stopping moments she was convinced this was end. Oh well, better killed by a dragon than her insane husband, though she wondered which would make a better story. She closed her eyes and waited for burning and darkness, but it didn't come, instead she had a roaring screech echoed in her ear before the dragon got off and ran away, alternating between flying and crashing. She sat there hyperventilating. She tried to get up before fainting.

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She didn't make it back until it was nearly dinner time. When she walked through her front door, she was surprised to see Dagur sitting at their table. He noticed he come in and tilted his head back. He was still wearing his helm, sating his night wasn't over. Frankly she was surprised that he hadn't run off to the mead hall yet. He watched her with his annoying haughty glare. Had she been a violent person, like Astrid, she might have thrown something at him for the indignity of it. Hiccup herself really wasn't concerned about her rank as a chief daughter, despite the respect it was supposed to afford her. But everyone who was even remotely okay with her existence constantly pushed her to make use of it, because frankly, it was the only card she had in her arsenal.

"Where have you been?"

"Out for a walk." She replied.

"My father insists that I should be seen with you on my arm at some point. Apparently bedding you isn't enough for this to qualify as a marriage." He told her standing up.

"I can see his point." He offered his arm, which she took, tucking her tiny hand into the crook of his elbow.

"So you're coming with me to the mead hall, tonight." Not a request, she expected nothing less. She nodded demurely, looking down.

She hated the mead hall. Though being the future chief's wife afforded her protection from wandering hands, the snickers and smirks were harder to ignore. No one dared say anything against Stoick's daughter in front of him, fearing his retribution. Dagur didn't care all that much. So she ignored them and listened to Dagur recount some story about a hunt and his frustration at not being able to catch his prey. It hit her all once. The words given to her the night before her marriage came to her.

"Marriage is a compromise child, a game of give and take. But remember, you are a chief's daughter, you are his equal. Do not let him forget that." The woman was a bit of a pariah like herself, a cripple no longer able to do anything but weave cloth for the village. With her mother gone there was no one else to give her the pre-marital talk.

"Men treat their women like property but only the weak allow that. A wise woman rules over her husband, a wiser one rules through him. Remember that, dear Hiccup. You're much smarter than anyone else." The woman had patted her head and finished sewing her wedding dress.

She knew what to do. Hiccup managed to endure the rest of the evening, with her husband eyeing every woman in the room and only paying her mind when another man did. Dagur had little interest in her, but she was still his property and none were allowed to encroach on that. One he was appropriately drunk he staggered away, his weight on her shoulder. She somehow, managed to get him home. He made loud claims about taking his right as her husband but fell asleep after mere tugging at her hair that he managed to unravel. Hiccup sighed and pulled the covers over him. She was still his wife. Once Hiccup was sure that he was settled she snuck out and made her way to the smithy.

She spent all night planning it and the next day working on it, until the smith saw her and chased her out. She hid the work in her weaving room. There were men who might have been brave enough to enter but Dagur believed old superstition and never dared enter his woman's domain. So there she did minor adjustments that didn't require a forge and using the tools given to her as a wedding gift by Gobber. Dagur was busy with his own things and didn't his wife's sudden enthusiasm for weaving. But if all went well, she wouldn't be ignored anymore. And hopefully, being noticed wouldn't lead to an untimely death.

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She had been going to the forge one evening when everyone else was already in the mead hall, when she spotted a girl standing outside the forge. The girl was older than herself but not by much. She recognized her as one of the tavern wenches, a Roman girl, if she remembered correctly. The girl had been stolen from some Roman ship during a raid and now was a slave here on the main island. The two of them weren't so different. The girl deliberately moved in front of the door. Hiccup paused and eyed her skeptically. She was taller than herself and solidly built with an alluring figure. Her hips were wide, her waist small, and healthy sized breasts. There was no doubt what she did as a Roman for a living. As if to enforce the notion, she wore her hair mostly loose, only something young girls and whores did. Hiccup always found her eyes drawn to the girl's strong nose, her most notable feature and her equally strong jaw. Despite the way she wore her hair, it was lovely, thick, dark and shiny. Her eyes were smaller and a sharp hazel color, complementing her olive skin, much unlike her Norse masters.

"Can I help you?" Hiccup asked, shifting.

"Yes, but I can also help you." The girl leaned against the wall of the forge with an impish grin creeping its way up her face.

"Yeah, sure, look just move please." Hiccup attempted to brush her off but the girl was having none of it. But the roman slave laughed at her.

"No need to be hostile. I'm your friend." She informed Hiccup with a teasing shrug. Yes, her courtesan training showed in all of her movements. Despite her buxom size, she moved with a sense of grace Hiccup didn't have. When the slave moved she commanded the attention of the men around her, the movements of her hips were always subtle but poignant.

"Are you, aren't friendships usually something both people know about." Hiccup asked skeptically.

"Usually, but you and I are friends, or we will be, name's Vessa." Then she held out her hand. Hiccup eyed it warily. Vessa her held hand vertically, so she couldn't be asking for something. Vessa sighed heavily and grabbed Hiccup's hand, giving it a firm shake. At Hiccup's baffled expression, she elaborated.

"Roman greeting." She explained.

"Oh, is that how you greet friends you don't know?"

"Don't sound so skeptical ma'am. You may be the chief's wife, but you're as much as slave as me." Hiccup regarded her coolly. It was comforting and distressing that someone viewed her marriage in a similar light. But it was a thought to have someone help her. Hiccup was a wreck and could use help of any kind. It wasn't as though things with Dagur could really get worse.

"What is it?" She asked finally.

"Hmm?"

"What is it you can do for me and for you?"

"It's very simple really. I'm sick of being a tavern girl, a slave, like you. I want you to make me your servant, companion, whatever. You have a trade and I want to learn it." Hiccup listened, it was a reasonable request. She knew many women of rank had handmaids to attend to them and she imagine with the right mistress, a maid could have a pretty decent life.

"And what do I get in return."

"I teach you how to control your husband." Hiccup laughed.

"No one can control Dagur."

"It's more manipulation than control. I've seen him; he's not so different from any other man. He likes sex and violence; both things are something you can give him. You're a petty girl. You can 'make him happy' easily enough. And you can give him toys to play with. You can do it."

"I don't know anything about boys."

"That's where I come in; I'm going to teach you everything you need to know. Your husband will fall all over himself to please you." This was a thought. Hiccup, as well as most of the tribe acknowledged that Vessa was a prostitute and continued her profession here. She would know the ways of men, more than a virgin bride like Hiccup would. As a girl, she had always been told men were controlled by what was between their legs, which had confused Hiccup for the longest time as a girl. It was said that an Empress of Rome had once been in Vessa's profession. Perhaps there was hope for her marriage. Hiccup looked to Vessa and nodded. They shook hands, slaves of different chains.

Hiccup walked into the forge.

Vessa followed.

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Princess: And this is the beginning of a beautiful, albeit professional, relationship. I don't know for sure that Vikings didn't do handshakes, or if Romans did either. I do know, and correct me if I'm wrong, it was a practice that started in the Middle East as a sign of trust, mostly proving you weren't holding a weapon and I imagine it traveled across Europe with Christianity and not something Vikings would have been exposed to at this time. Rome however was all about travel and trade in that part of the world and it would be likely to have picked up on the gesture during their multitude of conquests.

It's also fascinating to me how big Viking society was about cleanliness. Despite many of the jokes in HTTYD, Vikings liked being clean, especially when it came to their hair. Their hair as a rule was kept very well groomed and it was a societal rule that once married, girl had to wear their hair up. They were seriously clean people. Of course it was acceptable to wear your hair down if you were a prostitute. And slave owning was big, a sign of prestige no less, in Viking culture so it is very likely Vessa would have come under Norse ownership if a Roman ship happened to go through their waters, though I imagine she was a slave before too, but it doesn't matter at this point. To be fair, I don't know if Romans made it that far north, though I wouldn't doubt it, but I recall it being mentioned in the books, which I should read, that Romans were known to them. Vessa, a slave/prostitute could have been brought along as entertainment to the crew, especially if one person was of great status.

BTW I don't know exactly if it was okay to marry your cousin in Norse culture, but I imagine it was due to the fact that it was practiced all over Europe, especially among the blue-blooded, and even uncles and nieces, which is worse. So don't be offended, history isn't pretty, hence thirteen year old brides.

Okay, done rambling.

Reviews: I answer all my reviews, so this would be a great place for questions

Guest: Here it is!

Viking Lady: Tell me what you think!

LadyDragonfly: I have quite a bit written in rough already, and I hope I won't abandon this either because Dagur is a hoot to write for. Aww, your kind words make me blush!