Leaders need skills. These skills could vary from combat and battle strategy to problem-solving and negotiation. The common factor was that they had to exist. For Berk, Hiccup knew that his father was a skilled warrior and that he was not. So, he had to find another skill. The heir was working in the forge again with Gobber and kept thinking over things he could do.

"I have to be good at something, Gobber," he said.

"You're good at plenty of things," the man told him with an encouraging smile.

"Like what?"

"Well…like that," Gobber said, gesturing to the mace. "No one can cool off a mace like our Hiccup."

The boy was unconvinced and pursed his lips into a straight line. "I need a skill that involves more than just dumping something into icy water. Anyone can do that."

"You overestimate the twins. They'd somehow knock over the water and then burn themselves as well as everything else."

This put a small smile on the heir's face. "Okay, maybe, but they're still more athletic than I am." His smile faded and he appeared determined. "Maybe I can put in extra hours at the arena."

"And get yourself killed?"

"No, but I need more practice than the others. I haven't killed anything yet."

"Some vikings are late bloomers."

"I'm fourteen. This seems less like late blooming and more of a bad omen. Could you give me more pointers when the others are home?"

"I can, but I've told you most of them."

"I'm not sure what else I can do then."

"Just practice. No one starts out great at killing dragons. We have training for a reason."

"I bet my dad started out great," Hiccup mumbled.

Gobber could not disagree with him. He had known Stoick since they were kids and the viking was always quite the fighter. Despite being five years younger than the blond, the Berkian had been able to fight alongside him easily and even save him several times. Back then, Gobber had never been jealous or wished Stoick was less skilled, but he was starting to wish that if only for the sake of the current heir. Sadness covered Hiccup's face.

"Everyone else is strong and can fight, and I'm just…me."

"There's nothing wrong with being you."

"Tell that to the others."

"They'll see it too and wonder how they didn't from the start."

The viking's words were nice, but Hiccup was not sure if he believed them. People would not just change because it would be a nice thing to do. If he did nothing, he would just keep getting older and disappointing more Berkians. As much as he hated to think of it, he would be chief one day. If he had his way, Stoick would stay in charge for all time or at least until Hiccup had an heir of his own. Yet, things never seemed to go the way he wanted them to, so he had to prepare for that. When he heard a sound, he knew that meant they had to stop for the day. The Berserkers were there to sign the treaty. Last time, the visit had actually not been terrible to Hiccup. He remained in one piece and Astrid was not even told about his crush on her despite what he feared would happen. Suddenly, an idea came to him. It seemed foolish and dangerous, but maybe that just meant he was starting to think like a Hairy Hooligan.

The vikings left the building and found Stoick on his way to greet the visitors. He shook hands with Oswald as usual and noticed an absentminded look in his eyes. Glancing to the side, Stoick saw Dagur who looked like he was irritated. That was nothing which surprised the chief, but he did also feel a coldness between the father and son. He chose to ignore this and went to start leading the way to the Great Hall. As he walked, he noticed Hiccup was not behind him. He stopped to see what was wrong.

"Hiccup? Is everything alright?" he asked, concern in his voice.

The boy nodded. "I'm fine, Dad. Could you give us a minute?"

"I can," the chief said, still feeling uncertain.

Stoick glanced at Oswald, but the man just looked as though he had not even heard anything. Hesitantly, the Berkian leader started walking again to the Great Hall, followed by the guest and his friend.

"How have things been, Oswald?" he inquired.

He got no response.

"Oswald?"

"Hm? Did you say something?"

The chief just frowned for a moment. "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong? No, things are fine."

With the dull tone that was used, the Berkian could not believe this was the truth.

"Have you changed your mind regarding traveling?" he asked.

The visitor seemed to become even more down because of this. "No, but I haven't gone anywhere."

"Maybe that's for the best."

Oswald felt himself getting sidetracked as he saw vikings walking around. "Do you ever wonder if other cultures are very different from ours?"

"Not particularly. I've studied some so that relations with them can be smoother."

"Things can be pretty busy around here," Gobber added. "There aren't a lot of chances to research things from around the world when dragons could be attacking at any time. Scrolls are flammable too, so it might just speed up our deaths if we're surrounded by them."

Oswald did not speak again until they reached the building.

"I found out there are lands where people speak a language called French."

"French?" Stoick asked.

"It's a beautiful language. I've never personally met a native speaker, though. Traders brought scrolls from those areas and had picked up on some words, so I learned a few of the pronunciations. I've heard of the delicacies they have and some of their royal families. There's so much out there to discover."

Stoick just nodded, not really sure why the topic of conversation had gone to languages. He glanced at Gobber who looked to be equally confused.

"Are you ready to sign the treaty?"

"Oui."

"We?"

Oswald sighed. "I'm ready."

While they were in the Great Hall, Dagur was looking at Hiccup in mild confusion.

"Why didn't you want to go with them?" he asked. "The blond one's not in the killing arena, so I doubt we'd be spending any time over there."

"I know," Hiccup admitted. He felt himself losing his nerve and tried to regain this. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Okay…" Dagur dragged. When he got no immediate follow-up, he frowned. "What?"

"Would you help me become a fighter?" Hiccup blurted out.

He regretted his decision to say that as soon as he had, but it was too late to take it back. The older heir blinked at him for several moments. Hiccup started to feel relieved, almost convinced he had been misheard and would not have to reap the consequences of his words. This was not true, though. Dagur had heard him and had only been too shocked to respond. He had been trying to turn Hiccup into a feared viking for years, but even he had to admit that it seemed pretty one-sided. The boy was certain the smaller heir would thank him eventually–probably when he was crushing the skulls of his enemies and thinking back to their childhood days. Still, he had noticed Hiccup's hesitancy with wanting to participate in things that involved violence. The only thing the Berkian seemed good at was swimming, so to hear him say that he wanted to learn how to fight felt like he had been in a dream.

"Really? You want me to help you fight?"

This was Hiccup's chance to change his mind. If he said it in a gentle enough way, maybe he would not offend the Berserker and also not have to undergo whatever deranged plans he had for him. Of course, if he did that, then he would stay the way he was and he wanted that even less.

"Yes," he said, head low at first before raising it so that his eyes met Dagur's.

Dagur looked at those eyes and saw determination. It was something he understood and he grinned.

"You'll learn by fighting me."

"You?" Hiccup asked, becoming ashen.

"Unless you want me to go get that stocky boy and tell him it's fight you or die."

"No, no, that won't be necessary," Hiccup assured him.

"Thought you might say that," the bigger boy said, grinning. "Where do you want to go? I vote on the forest. Let's go there."

Before Hiccup could agree or protest, his arm was snatched and he was getting dragged off to the woods. Excitement coursed through the Berserker as they ran. This was going to be so fun. He looked around for a good spot and stopped when he was satisfied he had found one. Dagur let go of Hiccup and got into a fighting stance. When the other boy looked lost on what to do, he frowned.

"Punch me."

Hiccup seemed unsure of that and tried to make fists out of his hands. When he raised his left hand, the older viking shook his head.

"What's wrong?" Hiccup asked, confused.

"You're left-handed, aren't you?"

"Yeah, so I thought I'd use this one."

"Boring! Everyone would expect that. You can punch with that one too, but you should also learn how to punch with the right."

Dagur went over to a tree and attacked it, alternating between his right and left hand with the punches. When the tree was dented, he turned back to the Berkian and grinned.

"I can punch out someone with either hand. I can show you if you don't believe me," he said, stepping closer.

The brown-haired boy moved back. "That's not necessary. I believe you."

"Good, then use both hands."

Hiccup balled his hands into balls, but they only made his companion frown more. Dagur grabbed his hands and tucked in the thumbs, then straightened it so that the knuckles were aligned with his wrists and forearm.

"Are you trying to break your wrists?"

"No," Hiccup said, feeling even less confident about his decision since even this was trickier than he expected. "I haven't really tried this before."

"You're lucky I'm here in that case. I've been punching things and vikings for as long as I can remember. Try a hit. This time, I won't move so that I can see how strong you are."

"Aim for your stomach?"

"It doesn't really matter."

Hiccup tried to not take offense at the implication that getting punched in the face by him would not hurt. Dagur had not actually meant it in a way to make him feel weak and was just pointing out the obvious since he did not seem to notice. Still, he was surprised by somehow feeling it less than he had thought he would. If he had not seen the fist go into his stomach, he would have been unconvinced it had happened. He scowled at the pupil.

"If you're not going to try, I'm not wasting my time."

"I did try," the Berkian insisted, feeling frustrated that it had not been evident.

Dagur paused and was unsure if he wanted to laugh at how pitiful the punch was or just feel bad for the smaller boy. This indecision of a reaction left him just scrunching up his face. Hiccup let out a sigh and relaxed his hands, letting them fall to his sides.

"I know," he said, dejected. "You've never seen a viking be weaker than a blade of grass before."

When the other heir said nothing, Hiccup started walking away and back to the village. He had embarrassed himself enough for one day.

"I didn't say that," Dagur said. "Grass blades are a lot more puny than you are."

This did not really make the boy feel better, but he did stop leaving. "I still haven't killed any dragons."

"Still?" Dagur tilted his head, brows furrowed. "Maybe fighting isn't for you."

The Berkian's shoulders slouched forward in defeat. "It's a way of life here. I can't just not fight. I'd basically be renouncing my entire tribe."

"You might not always have to fight when you're chief." The boy's eyes lit up. "Ooh, when Stoick's gone and you're chief, you could make inventions all day to stop the dragons and you wouldn't even have to fight anything. Plus, as chief, you could just order an execution for anyone who tried to fight you. The best fights end in death anyway, so you'd just be cutting out the middleman along with their throats!"

Dagur started laughing at this idea, thoroughly thrilled by the thought. Contrarily, nearly everything he had said horrified the other boy.

"I wouldn't execute the other Berkians," he said. "I'm really in no rush to be chief. Dad's the leader of the family. I couldn't imagine ever replacing him."

"You should be more imaginative."

"Do you really think about leading in Oswald's place?"

"Constantly."

Hiccup did not really expect such a quick response. "Did he say when you'd be in charge?"

Dagur frowned and kicked a patch of dirt. "No, we've barely spoken in a while."

"What happened?"

The Berserker ignored the question and kept talking. "Do you like French?"

"What?"

"Never mind. Anyway, Dad would probably die before he gave me the throne." His frown faded and he looked back up at Hiccup. "Well, oh pleasant one. If you don't want to kill everyone, I guess you could become a peaceful leader like my dad. It wouldn't be nearly as fun, but it's another option."

"I guess I haven't considered working on diplomacy very much. I could probably do that well," Hiccup mused.

The Berserker yawned. "Have fun with that. When I'm chief, everyone will know who's boss."

"Won't that build resentment?"

"I don't care."

Hiccup was about to say something else and stopped himself. How Dagur chose to lead was his decision. He just wished that his fellow future chief did not mean what he had said. The young warrior did, though. His people already disliked him, so he was used to not being anyone's favorite. At least as chief, they would have to stop making fun of him. They might still dislike him, but it would be better. He could be a hated chief, but he refused to be a disrespected one. Still, he doubted that he would actually kill any of his people, but that did not mean he would not break some hands and other bones. By the time they mended, lessons would be learned.

"What if you have to wait for your dad to get a lot older before you take charge?" Hiccup asked, not quite sure if he wanted to know the answer to the question.

Dagur mulled this over. "I'm not sure. What'll you do if Stoick drops dead and you have to take over sooner than expected?"

Hiccup frowned. "I don't like thinking about him dying."

"Yeah, but it could happen."

"It doesn't mean that I like to consider it often, though."

"That just means you haven't thought about it," Dagur said with a smug smile.

The Berkian did not want to admit he was right, but judging from his look, he was already aware of that. The only thing more terrifying than the thought of Stoick dying was knowing that it meant Hiccup would have to take his place. Sometimes, he envied the other teenagers and how they would have no responsibility outside of protecting the rest of their families. Not him. He would have to protect the entire tribe if something happened. There would be no time for grief. He would have to be strong for everyone else.

"That's why I want to be a good fighter," he finally answered. "I haven't invented enough things to be sure they'd work yet. If I can fight like the others, then I'll be a good enough heir and chief for Berk."

"I'm fine with fighting more. I wasn't ready to stop anyway."

"But you saw what I could do."

Dagur made a face. "That's just because you didn't put your body in it. It was all shoulder. Those are weak punches for everyone–well, not really everyone, but I'll admit my other hits are stronger."

Hiccup tried again and put more of his weight into the blow. Given that his weight barely existed, this made only a small improvement. The Berserker was starting to get frustrated by this lack of success.

"You work in a forge all day. How aren't you stronger?"

"When you find out, please, let me know," Hiccup said, exasperated.

Dagur frowned and tapped his chin. "He's got to have some strength," he thought. "How do I get that to pop out?"

A devious grin appeared on the older boy's face as an idea came to him. He got out of his fighting stance and brought out a knife. Hiccup's eyes went to the weapon, unsure if it would be used against him. Dagur just licked the blade and glanced over at the village.

"You know, I bet the other Berkians don't punch that much harder than you do. If our armada came, they'd kill you all without breaking a sweat."

The boy tensed, thinking of the warriors. Their army was significantly smaller than the Berserkers'. Those vikings were known for their armada and numbers. Berk might have had some better warriors on their side, but sheer numbers alone could be a major advantage in battle. The Berserkers had fifty thousand warriors ready at a moment's notice. Hiccup was not even sure they had half a thousand vikings. Dagur's voice took on a taunting tone.

"Berk is pretty tiny, but I guess it'll be nice to control."

"You can't take over Berk."

"Uh, yeah, I can. It won't even be hard. I mean, are you going to stop me?" he asked, towering over the other viking.

Hiccup said nothing and Dagur frowned before smirking.

"Thought as much. Anyone who doesn't like the idea of me leading will die." He looked up in thought. "So, that'd probably mean I'd have to kill a lot of you guys. For instance, your pops definitely wouldn't surrender. He'd just have to surrender his life then. Not that I min–"

Dagur stopped as a fist went into face. Hiccup was glaring at him and had gotten back into the best fighting stance he could execute. If the Berserkers wanted Berk, he would fight them even if he doubted he would win. He was not going to let anyone conquer his home and kill his family. Dagur put a finger to his lip to wipe the blood off, then looked at it on his hand. He started laughing, making Hiccup wonder if this was a prelude to his attack.

"Way better. Keep practicing and you might take someone's teeth out next time you do that," the redhead said. He heard his name be called and started going back towards the main part of the island. "Come on. Our dads are done."

Hiccup was stunned for a moment, wondering what had just happened. His heart was beating in his ears and he felt like he might pass out. Dagur noticed he was not being followed and glanced over his shoulder.

"What are you waiting for? It's rude to not say goodbye to us."

Deciding it was better to not question this, the Berkian snapped out of his confused state and began heading back with the larger viking. When they got to the docks, Stoick saw the red on the Berserker's lip and lifted a brow. Before Dagur boarded the ship, he went over to Hiccup.

"This is the last freebie, though," he mentioned in a quiet voice. "Next time we fight, we really will."

Nerves shot through Hiccup when he heard this, only feeling more disturbed when he saw a genuine smile on the other viking's face as he left. Was this not a threat? Why did he look so happy? He had just threatened their home and gotten punched for it, yet he was acting like this was all in good fun. Well, it was not for Hiccup. The younger heir felt a headache coming on and was relieved when the Berserker ships were out of sight.

"Did you two get into a fight?" Stoick asked, trying to not sound as excited as he felt.

"Barely. He was talking about…" Hiccup trailed. He thought, "Dad would probably think it was a silly thing to get angry over. I just hit someone who wasn't moving. That's not impressive. He kills dragons almost every day." "It was nothing," he said.

Stoick watched as the boy started heading back to the forge, being followed by a confused Gobber. On the visitors' ship, Oswald was considering what he had seen and what that meant. If Hiccup could fight now, then he really was quite the heir. Peaceful, inventive, and a fighter when it was asked of him? How had Stoick been shown so much favor by Odin whereas he only had the attention of Loki? While he was considering this, Dagur was in the lower compartment of the ship, finding new hiding spots for knives. There was no point in being on the deck. All he would hear were the waves and to his surprise, he found himself missing the sound of his father's scoldings. At least it meant he knew he existed. Now, he was not so sure if he did or if he was practically a stowaway on the ship and a hidden newcomer on the island. He shook his head to clear it of these thoughts. He had better ones to focus on anyway.

This was the first split lip he had gotten that excited him. Hiccup had potential–more than the Berkian even saw in himself. It could be a lot of fun being a chief along with him. Dagur would have a fellow chief to spar with and laugh with about old times. The only things standing in their way were the current chiefs. At least they were temporary obstacles. Out with the old and in with the new. Soon, both would be long gone and distant memories and all the Berkians and Berserkers would be able to do is bow before their future chiefs. Now, that was a thought which brought a half-crazed but wholly excited smile to the boy's face.

"Just a few more years," he said to himself, chuckling. "This is going to be even more fun than I thought."