Train. That was what warriors did. Real warriors trained until their knuckles were bleeding and bones were practically broken, and then kept going. This is what Dagur was doing. He had to be a great warrior. It was all he had. The other Berserkers did not trust his mind. They did not think he was peaceful or reasonable, so they had to trust that he could protect them. Never again was he going to be humiliated by Ansson the way he was a year ago. The viking had made it seem like any Berserker who believed in him was a fool. Afterwards, the others just laughed at him like he was some kind of joke. They still did a lot of the time. It hurt to be disrespected so much by his own vikings. This was his home, but it did not feel like one.

Therefore, Dagur trained so that he would never be defeated so badly again. No matter what threat he had to face, he would handle it and win. He would not run away or show weakness–not in front of his Berserkers and not in front of his father either. When he finished his training for the time being, Dagur went and got on the ship. It was time to go to Berk, but Oswald was not there. Dagur did not get him. The chief knew what time they were supposed to leave. If he could not stick to his own schedule, then that was something he would have to explain to the Berkians. It was not as if Dagur cared.

He silently sharpened his knives and kept training as he waited. After a while, Oswald sleepily arrived. His face was flushed and his eyelids were heavy. He squinted, almost looking as if he doubted that he was seeing the other Berserker there.

"Dagur?"

"What?" the teenager asked, curt.

Oswald just shook his throbbing head. It had been a long night of mead drinking for no particular reason other than depression. He had to get out of there, but it was the annual peace treaty. He had to stay.

"Nothing," he mumbled.

Oswald went to the helm and clumsily hoisted the sails. In the brisk wind, he lost the rope and tried to grab it. He stared at the flailing item in frustration. To his right, he heard something and looked to see Dagur climbing up the mast. He jumped off, grabbing the loose rope and roughly handing it back to the chief.

"I could've done that," Oswald said.

"Well then I guess I just did it first," Dagur told him, frowning.

The older viking grumbled. "Show off."

Ignoring him, the other Berserker leaned against a part of the ship, crossing his arms. His frown deepened as he looked at the chief.

"You look bad. Are you drunk or something? It won't be a good look with the Berkians if you are."

Oswald slurred his words as he spoke, "Oswald the Agreeable doesn't get drunk."

"Tell that to Oswald the Agreeable."

Head still throbbing, the dark-haired man put a hand to his forehead. "Can you just stop talking?"

A scowl was sent his way and Dagur went to the other side of the ship, but he stayed close enough to the helm to keep an eye on things. His father was not thinking clearly and kept mumbling to himself. After some time had passed, Dagur noticed some unfamiliar rock configurations. He went to the helm and saw Oswald sleeping against the wheel. Moving him aside, the heir steered them back on track. Oswald awoke with a start when he hit the floor and blinked up at Dagur.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm getting us to Berk. Someone has to."

Oswald rubbed his head and scrambled to get up, taking the helm again. "No, this is my ship, Dagur. I'll get us there."

"Well, you aren't doing a good job. If you're too out of it to steer, I'll do it. I'm in no rush to be shipwrecked somewhere," he said, raising his arms in frustration.

The chief did not budge and neither did the heir. If they were steered off their course again, Dagur would take control and not relinquish it this time. Until then, he would let his father stay where he was. The detour caused the trip to be a bit longer, but they eventually pulled into the Berkian harbor. Oswald nearly tripped going down the docks and Dagur laughed, seeing this. Glaring momentarily, the chief regained his composure and greeted Stoick.

Smelling the mead off of him, the Berkian regarded him in mild shock, but he did not say anything. What the Berserkers did on their own time was their decision, but he just needed that treaty to be signed. As long as Oswald was clear-headed enough to do that, he was fine. Stoick gestured to be followed and Hiccup carefully watched Dagur. The boy had gotten even taller, standing with his head and shoulders above him now.

"Great," Hiccup thought unhappily. "Just something else to make him more menacing. I wonder if he's still mad about last time."

The Berkian ventured to speak, recalling how he would have to lead with him one day.

"Um, hey, Dagur. How's it been?"

Dagur was about to grin at the little viking as he answered when he stopped himself. Instead, he crossed his arms and frowned.

"Fine. You?"

Hiccup was a bit surprised by how short he was being with him. "I guess he is still mad," he thought. Aloud, he said, "Fine, I've mostly been helping Gobber."

"Invent any weapons?" the redhead asked, looking intrigued for a moment before boredom covered his expression.

The Berkian just raised a brow at him. "He's getting weirder somehow," he thought. "Um, no, not really. I've just been helping make them stronger and sharper."

"Oh." The Berserker heir looked away before peeking again at Hiccup. He thought, "I want to talk to him more about those weapons, but I don't want to seem too eager. It'll make me look weak. He already saw me crying on our last visit. If Hiccup doesn't think the Berserkers have a strong chief, he might attack with those inventions of his. I doubt it, but there's no telling. He's a cheater, so he wouldn't play by the rules."

Hiccup was still thinking about the tension he sensed as they entered the Great Hall. Stoick slid the scroll with the treaty on it towards Oswald. Taking out a writing utensil, the chief went to write his name. Dagur looked at the way he was staggering to the table. He was about to put his name on the wrong part and then any doubt of him not being under the influence would have vanished. To stop this, the boy snatched the scroll and looked at it while it was in his hands. This was the first time he had actually seen what their treaty included. A frown formed on his face and as Oswald tried to grab it again, he held it off to the side so that it was out of reach.

"Dagur," the chief said warningly. "Give me back the treaty. We want peace."

The teenager looked stubborn and held the scroll up to his face. "This is all we've been doing for each other all this time?" he questioned.

"What do you mean?" Hiccup asked, now curious as to what was being signed.

Dagur showed it to him and pointed at the conditions. "See? There's barely anything on here!"

"Because peace is the ultimate goal," Oswald answered. "That's all we need. What could be better than that?"

"An alliance! You're thinking too small," the boy accused. "Anyone can just not start a war. It's boring, but it's simple. Just don't do anything. What's even the point of having peace, though, unless we can count on each other? You guys get attacked by dragons all the time. Don't you want help?"

"That's actually not a bad idea," Hiccup mentioned, getting a mild glare sent his way and quieting down.

"We don't need your help, Dagur," Stoick said, frowning. "Not after last time."

The boy stopped a moment, head lowering some. "There might be a time when you need supplies or something," he added. His eyes lit up again. "Between your Berkians and our Berserkers, there wouldn't be a place in the whole archipelago that could stop us. Forget that, past the archipelago! We could rule this entire side of the world. We'd be unstoppable!"

Dagur began laughing in delight at the thought and Oswald took the scroll from him. "There's more to life than having power."

"Yeah, gaining power. This is how we can do it." He looked at the group and saw their looks of disapproval and uncertainty. "How am I the only one who's thinking this?"

"Because we're not mad men," Stoick stated, glaring.

The heir glared back at him, feeling himself getting angrier. His fists shook with the desire to hit something or someone. Suddenly, he calmed down and shrugged.

"Fine, it's your stupid choice. You'd be the ones who'd need help anyway. Berserkers don't need anyone, so we'll be okay no matter what. If you don't want an alliance, that's your call, but don't come crawling to us when you're about to get wiped off the face of the earth."

"Dagur!" Oswald exclaimed, horrified by the youth's words. "I am so sorry Stoick. I know you Berkians are a strong bunch."

Stoick barely heard him, instead focusing on the redhead in front of him. He walked up to the boy and considered wringing his neck.

"No one," he said through gritted teeth, "is hurting my vikings. Anyone who thinks otherwise is considered an enemy. Do I make myself clear?"

Dagur glared before hearing something and smirking. "No one, huh? Not even the dragons out there?"

The Berkian chief heard the sounds too and rushed to the door. They were under attack again. That was the second time that week. It was chaos outside, fire being blasted and vikings being roasted. Dagur just confidently strode out the building.

"Come on, Dad," he said. "They don't want or need our help. As long as we don't attack them, that's enough."

A dragon saw him and was about to fire off a blast when he threw a blade into its mouth. Dagur laughed at the reptile falling to the ground. He did a spin to look at all the carnage. It was bad but also great in a way. Vikings were getting killed left and right, but they were on their own. Clearly, they did not want anything to do with him, so why should he care? It was not as if he liked any of them. He had only ever met a handful and barely knew them. So, if they wanted to do this by themselves, have at it.

Dagur skillfully dodged a Nadder spine and looked at it, considering if he would use it on something. He decided against this, remembering what his plan was.

"Still," he thought, "it is a little harsh to just leave them to die. I mean, any group of vikings would be lucky to have someone like me helping them out. Plus, by the time old Stoick's gone and burned up in his ship, I could just have that alliance I want with Hiccup. He probably wouldn't mind. I'd need the Berkians alive for that."

His eyes widened in realization and the Berserker looked around, worried. "Where is Hiccup? I doubt he stayed put. If he's not any better than before…"

Instead of finishing the thought, Dagur went to find his little buddy. Hiccup was struggling to lift a mace and swing it at a Deadly Nadder. The dragon seemed amused at best and annoyed at worst. Before the novelty of the situation could wear thin and cause the reptile to attack, the Berserker heir threw a blade into its eye. The half-blinded dragon cried out and turned to shoot a spine at him. Dagur rolled out the way and charged at the beast, taking full advantage of its new disability and jumping when he was just under its jaw. He rammed a blade up until it entered the Nadder's mouth. It struggled to move away, but Dagur roughly brought the blade down and made a large gash.

The boy began laughing in satisfaction. He was so excited that he had completely forgotten about not wanting to help Berk. Who could focus on stuff like that when there were dragons to kill? For a moment, Hiccup thought Dagur had wanted to help him. Just as quickly, he assumed the action had simply been the work of a violent viking looking for another animal to slay. He did not really take offense, though. It seemed like every viking in the area was engaged in battle. His father looked like what he imagined Thor would have been in the tales of his battles. Each dragon that approached the chief appeared to fall before him, dead just from his very presence. It was both impressive and discouraging. The Berkian heir doubted he would ever be able to do something like that.

Stoick jumped into a burning hut like the warrior that he was and emerged with several children on his broad shoulders and an unconscious parent in his arms. He set them down somewhere safe and returned to the fight by throwing a sword into the neck of a Gronckle despite its thick scales. His success was not shared by the visiting chief. Still not quite sober, Oswald could not consistently find his balance. Twice, he narrowly avoided a dragon burning his arm with a blast before he could move. Finally, his impaired coordination caught up with him and a Hideous Zippleback burned his left arm. The viking yelled out and lifted his shield to stop the attack. He was too distracted to notice that a Monstrous Nightmare had just begun approaching from behind.

Oswald turned quickly when he heard a dragon screech. It was due to a blade being run through its underbelly. He chief stared in shock at his son who was now covered in the reptile's blood. There was a combination of relief and disappointment on the boy's face before he ran off to continue battling. Before long, the dragons had been driven off the island. As Berkians began finding each other to be sure they were alive, the Berkian chief and heir did the same. Stoick silently thanked Odin when he saw that Hiccup had not been harmed in the attack and went over to him. Likewise, the brown-haired boy was overjoyed that his father was not injured. He knew that he would not die, but he always worried about the viking getting hurt.

The reception was not as warm on the Berserker side of things. Dagur was the one to find Oswald as he was in the middle of cleaning off a blade. As much as he liked it when they were dripping with blood, he liked them to be shiny when they were done doing their work. Glancing up, he saw that his father was helping some vikings move rubble off of destroyed huts. Dagur scoffed at him, getting his attention.

"Way to be helpful, Dad," he said, each word soaked in sarcasm.

"Not now, Dagur," Oswald stated, frowning and still trying to clear his head.

"Of course. My bad. Just thought it was funny how you're so useful to the Berkians now when a little bit ago, you didn't want to help them and didn't do a good job of helping them with the attack. If I hadn't shown up when I did, you'd be dragon chow. I wonder if the Nightmare would've thought you were agreeable with its stomach."

Oswald stopped what he was doing and angrily went over to him. "Do you enjoy doing this? Do you like it when vikings are furious with you? Everywhere you go, you cause problems. It seems like you're just naturally inclined to make vikings want to jump off the nearest cliff. Why is that? For the life of me, I have not ever known. So please, tell me. What is wrong with you?"

Momentarily, Dagur looked hurt, but his expression quickly turned to one of a glare. Straightening up, he stared right through Oswald's eyes and into his soul.

"I'm a warrior and a dangerous one at that–something you don't understand and won't either. I'm the one who just showed the Berkians how much more our alliance could mean than this stupid, shallow peace. I'm the one who even suggested it, but I won't be the one to start it–not with Stoick anyway. He clearly doesn't have the same vision I do. Know what he does have, though? The actual ability to be a great warrior. Did you see what he was doing during the attack?" Before Oswald could answer, he continued. "You didn't because you were too drunk and distracted by almost getting killed. How are you even a chief? You've never been put to the test with protecting our people. We don't even have dragons, so you never protect anyone and couldn't even protect yourself today."

The youth's eyes took on a cold gaze and he turned away from the chief. He went back to cleaning his knife and headed towards the ship.

"You should be more like Stoick. We'd be better off for it. He's a real viking."

Dagur did not care if his words stung as he got back to their ship and waited for it to set sail. In fact, he wanted them to hurt. For once, he wanted to be the one to make Oswald shut up and feel like he was not good enough–see how he liked it. He and Hiccup were born to the wrong fathers. If the younger boy had Oswald, they could dream up their inventions and all that peaceful stuff; if he had Stoick, they would probably have conquered the entire archipelago. Yet, such convenience was not the viking way. Besides, Stoick did not have as much imagination as he would have wanted. When Dagur was chief, things would change, starting with that stupidly vague treaty.