Mala glared after the viking, then held the Berserker's face in her hands to see if he had been hurt. Dagur gently took her hands in his own and kept watching where the Outcast was going. Gobber approached them, a regretful look on his face.

"Sorry about Alvin. He's always been a troublemaker. I've never understood what Stoick saw in him."

"It's fine."

The chief lowered his gaze to the knife he had disposed of and picked up the weapon. He could see blood on it, but it was not real. Tightly, he shut his eyes and reopened them, confirming that it had only been an illusion. Still, without even thinking, he licked the blade. He stopped as soon as he did. It had been years since he had done that in anticipation of hurting something or someone. Dagur saw Mala's concerned expression. Only, it was not there for the reason he thought it was. The viking started walking away from her. He did not want to, but he did not know what else to do. Due to his speed, Dagur was able to get far away from the two vikings, but Mala was following him this time. She caught his hand and he almost pulled away from her but halted at the last moment.

"Please, don't walk away from me."

"I-I just don't want you to know that side of me."

"I love you. Nothing you tell me will make me feel differently."

"You don't know that," he said, fear in his eyes. "You're the only one who hasn't seen that Dagur–bad Dagur. I want you to only think of me as I am now. If I start telling you about all the terrible things from the past, you might not anymore."

"I won't feel that way. I don't want to know so that I can judge you; I want you to know you can tell me so that you won't feel troubled or alone."

Dagur smiled and hugged her. "Maybe someday. I love you too."

Wrapping an arm around her, the chief began heading to an open area set up for a feast. Before they reached some seats, Dagur stopped. Alvin was in front of him and had his hand extended.

"The stunt I pulled was unnecessary. I won't try to fight you anymore. To being allies?"

The Berserker fought against the paranoia in him. He did not believe Alvin for one second, but it was not about believing him. It was about proving to the others and himself that he had changed. Old Dagur would have slapped the hand away or chopped it off with his ax, then raged war for even suggesting such an idea. New Dagur was still hot-headed, but he could also be reasonable. With a smile he hoped looked less like a grimace than it felt, he accepted the hand to shake. Dagur moved past him to get to the table. There were several to accommodate all the vikings there. One of the tables was large enough to fit the guests and their friends. To the Berserker chief's dismay, he noticed Alvin sitting immediately to his right.

"What are you doing?"

"Sitting," he stated plainly, filling his plate. "We're friends now, right? I mean, you make new friends so easily and friends sit together…unless you feel differently."

Mala's eyes narrowed at the man, but she sat to her husband's left. Soon, the other vikings found seats and began filling their plates as well. Heather had a hard look on her face as she regarded the Outcast, but for the sake of the celebration, she did not speak on this. It was a time meant to be merry. Nearly everyone had piles of food on their plates except for Dagur. His appetite was nonexistent. Alvin side-eyed him and smirked.

"Not hungry? I guess I've never known you to eat a lot."

Dagur did not respond to him and instead just ate a piece of bread, hoping it would help settle his stomach. This caused Alvin to frown, but his expression quickly changed to a smile.

"Hiccup, has your father told you of all the trouble he and I used to get into?"

A small smile crossed the father's face. His son noticed and felt more intrigued.

"No, but I have to know now."

"When we were teenagers, we used to compete with the other Berkians to see who could do different feats," the Outcast explained. "This wasn't really unique to us, but the others would show off by wrestling yaks or each other. We had to be different."

"Well, that would have been predictable otherwise," Stoick chimed in, thinking fondly upon the memory. "Besides, the yaks weren't hurting anyone. It was both useful and impressive to go after the larger dragons. We didn't plan on killing them that time," he quickly added, seeing Hiccup's saddening expression. "We just wanted to scare them off so that they'd stop stealing so much food. Our people were practically going hungry."

"And scare them off, we did! Scared the yak dung out of those Monstrous Nightmares! Stacked on top of each other, we wound up being nearly double their size."

Gobber laughed at the mental imagery. "You could've been the size of the Red Death by doing that."

"Or just shy!" Alvin told him proudly.

Stoick's smile left for a moment. "Looking back, it was really reckless. We could've been killed." He looked at his old friend. "I didn't mean for you to get hurt in the process."

Alvin just shrugged. "Eh, I got a nice claw swipe from it, but it wasn't anything too damaging. Besides, scars tell stories," he said, gesturing to the side of his face. His eyes moved to his left. "Like yours."

Dagur noticed that his gaze was on him, but he did not say anything. So, Alvin continued.

"What stories do your scars tell?"

The younger viking felt his face becoming hot, but he was not sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. He mentally repeated a chant to help himself stay calm. Alvin's eyes widened a little, realizing something.

"I never understood why you did that to yourself."

This got more of a reaction out of the viking who sharply turned with a growl, making the younger Berkians jump. Dagur noticed their response and looked back down at his plate.

"I didn't," he said, under his breath.

A calm voice came out of the Outcast. "Maybe I'm misremembering. You wouldn't recall how it happened, would you?"

Dagur's eyes moved to the knife near Mala's plate and stayed there.

"Maybe we shouldn't talk about scars at the table," Fishlegs said somewhat unsurely.

"Let's talk about family then," Alvin suggested, looking at Heather. "I never apologized for putting your family in danger those years ago. That was wrong of me. If you wouldn't mind, I'd love to hear about what they're like…" He stopped. "Sorry, Lass. I understand if that's difficult. Forget that I mentioned it. You're a very forgiving viking," Alvin commended. "I don't think I'd be able to see someone who killed my family–entire village for that matter–and not want revenge."

"I've moved past that."

"Can you ever really? Every time you see your brother, you'll think about what he took from you. Even if you think you've forgiven him, some of that hatred will always exist."

Hiccup's frown deepened. "How is this helping anyone?"

"I didn't mean to make the dinner conversation tense. I just was worried for Heather's sake."

"Well, I can take care of myself," Heather snapped.

"Weren't left with much of a choice, were ya?"

"You're right," Dagur said, surprising Alvin whose eyes narrowed at him. "I can't erase the past, but that doesn't mean I won't be spending the rest of my life making sure Heather stays safe and is loved. It's all I can do to try to make up for what I've done even though I know it won't ever be enough."

The other Berserker regarded him sadly. Alvin was about to make another comment when Hiccup did first.

"Let's talk about something else."

Shrugging, the Outcast said, "Just thought it would be fun to share tales with everyone. Stoick and I have plenty, though. Remember when we tried to see whose hair would look the most chiefly?"

Stoick chuckled quietly in remembrance. "I do. Thankfully, there were no portraits made in that period of time."

"I'd have burned them if there were," Gobber assured him, putting a hand over his eyes as though he were being forced to see that again.

"Was it that bad?" Astrid asked.

"Only if you valued your sight."

"It wasn't that terrible," Stoick defended. "We just got a bit carried away." Looking at Mala, he elaborated, "It's pretty common for viking chiefs in the archipelago to have a full head of hair for as long as they can. It shows healthiness, so we'd try to see who looked more like a chief."

"But I just never had as much hair," Alvin admitted. "I suppose it didn't matter since I'd have never been chief anyway. Of course, having short hair doesn't mean you can't be one. It just gives you a higher status."

"I guess that's just another tradition I'll be breaking," Hiccup mentioned, chuckling.

"You can't help yourself," the Outcast said, amused. He looked to his left again. "Yeah, there's no shame in not having long locks, but there is some in getting your hair chopped off by another viking. It symbolizes that you've been conquered and disgraced."

The bread Dagur was holding started to have the imprint of his hand as it was crushed by his grip. He did not want to react like he did the first time and make the other vikings wary of him. Alvin leaned forward enough to look at Mala.

"Dagur used to have more hair than you. It went past his shoulder when it wasn't in its thick braid." Alvin tapped his chin, then patted the viking on the back. "I'm pretty sure I still have it at home somewhere. Do you want it back?"

"No," the Berserker said through gritted teeth.

"Really? You were so distraught without it. It suits you better like this, though. With the hack job that I did, your outside matches the craziness on the inside." Hiccup frowned at the Outcast who shrugged again. "I'm just joking. I guess I took Berk's sense of humor when I left."

There was a brief pause before Snotlout spoke, uncomfortably poking at his food. "That's not funny."

"Yeah," Tuff chimed in. "There need to be more parts of the joke. Where's the creativity? The complex subtleties that you have to explain but shouldn't?"

Ruffnut nodded. "I don't know if there's much to be done that can keep this joke alive. It might just be dead."

Alvin turned in his seat to look at the Berkian chief. "Stoick gets my type of humor." The father just had a stern look on his face, causing a frown to cross Alvin's. "Fine, if I'm the only one here who gets the joke, maybe it's in bad taste. Sorry."

Dagur nodded. "It's okay," he said quickly, trying to stay calm.

"You could apologize too."

The Berserker turned to raise an eyebrow at him. "Me?"

"You've apologized to everyone else at some point, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then, you're just missing me." Alvin crossed his arms. "You and I agreed to work together to get the Skrill and attack Berk, but the first chance you got, you stole the blasted dragon and took off. You even forced my Outcasts to join you after you tried to kill me."

The chief felt heat rise in himself again, but he knew for a fact that it was anger this time. "Don't act high and mighty. You were planning on killing us! At least I just got the Skrill and left. I wouldn't even have tried to kill you if you didn't track us down and attack."

"I said sorry. You don't want to make amends?"

With a pause, Dagur considered his words. Unhappily, he thought, "Sure, make me look like the bad one for refusing to do the same. Always a class act, Alvy."

"Sorry," he said, trying desperately to not growl out the word.

Alvin smirked. "You sound insincere, but I'll accept it. I know that's not the best you can do. If I want to really make you sound like you mean it, I'd have to threaten the Berserkers, huh?"

The vikings started to say something, but Alvin kept going before they could.

"You sounded real sincere then–were on your knees and everything. You were so scared that I'd go and kill them in their sleep. I remember when I brought the one Berserker for a show when the guards attacked you." He chuckled sinisterly. "I still think you would've killed them that day if I hadn't told you fighting back would've cost the poor kid her life."

"What is wrong with you?" Mala asked, standing up from her seat. "Everyone here is trying to enjoy the fact that our alliance has led to the continued lives of dragons and vikings alike and yet, here you are trying to stoke the flames of hatred."

"Nothing's wrong with me. It's everyone here who's trying to forget about what Dagur's done and who he is. You don't know who you married."

"I know exactly who I married."

"If you really do, then I'll just assume he threatened to kill you if you said no or you're as crazy as he is."

Snotlout pushed his plate forward. "We helped you when you needed us, Alvin. Despite all the times you came after us–and the fact that you technically only helped us because it was that or not having your island anymore–we still went to get you when Krogan had his guys capture you. You can at least stop making a big deal out of nothing."

"It's not nothing," Alvin insisted. "You're all still harboring my prisoner. If you really wanted to show how you view me as your ally, you would've returned him to my prison as soon as you got the chance."

"He hasn't done anything to deserve being a prisoner anymore," Heather said.

"You, of everyone, should hate him the most. I threatened your family; he killed them."

"At least Dagur has shown genuine regret for what he's done and is working every day to make up for it. You're proud of what you've done."

"Of course, I'm proud. I'd never feel bad for what I've done to him. Clearly, I haven't done enough. I wanted revenge and he still broke out." Alvin glared hatefully at the young chief. "Give me one more day with this madman and he'll be more broken than his brain is."

Hiccup stood up next, pressing his hands onto the table. "Alvin, I asked you all here so that this could be a chance for reconciliation."

The Outcast's expression became calmer. "It's pointless, Hiccup. I know. I tried to rehabilitate him during those years."

At that, Stoick's eyes narrowed and Dagur balled one hand into a tight fist. The other Berkians looked shocked by this information as he continued.

"I didn't plan on him staying there forever. I even told him that I'd release him as soon as I was sure he wasn't a danger to anyone."

"You're lying," the Berserker accused.

"Has he told you about his time there?" Alvin asked the Riders, trying to not smile when there was a pause.

"No," Hiccup answered, "but we figured that he just didn't feel comfortable delving into it."

"Of course not. That's because he doesn't want you to know all the chances he had to change back then. It's true that I threatened the Berserkers once or twice, but it was just because he kept attacking my guards. I didn't know how else to get through to him. I kept trying to get him to see that what he was doing was wrong. I was a kind jailer."

Dagur could not take it anymore. "That is the biggest load of yak dung you've ever had fall out your mouth!"

"You're saying I wasn't merciful?"

The chief started laughing as he pointed to his scar. "Does this look merciful to you? There are a bunch more that you can't see."

"I never attacked you."

It seemed like fumes were coming from the viking's head. "You never attacked?" he struggled to ask, almost trembling with rage.

"Not once."

Dagur felt ready to explode. "You're a cheater! You didn't even let me fight back! You kept saying that you'd kill the Berserkers if I so much as tried to dodge! The only time you weren't attacking me, your guards were."

Alvin smirked, just adding to the younger viking's anger. "I guess it's my word against yours and who would believe a lunatic."

After a brief pause, Gobber asked, "That was really happening?"

The Berserker was still glaring at Alvin when the realization of the moment dawned on him. He had never planned on telling anyone that. They were distressing memories to recall and more embarrassing to share. Only Mala had seen the rest of his scars, but they could have been explained away by assuming they were from battles. All but one of the Berkians looked horrified.

"I didn't know," Hiccup said, voice filled with regret. "I would have–"

"What?" Alvin interrupted, annoyed at the sounds of sympathy he was hearing. "Take him from me? I never would've let you. He was my prisoner. Still is. Yeah, I'd make sure every piece of bread was rotten and that the drinking water was dirty. I'd rip out his hair at the roots just as a reminder that his status as a chief was gone. I'd cut him until it looked like a blood lake had flooded the cell. Like with that scar you all see. Took me four slices to carve it the way I wanted. I'd beat him until I got sore, then I had my vikings carry on in my place. Don't act like any of you wouldn't have done the same. We all hate or have hated him. You'd do best to remember that, because he won't be able to fend us all off without that armada of his. We can drag him back to my prison today, then things will go back to how they were–with Dagur only knowing what time of day it is based on what I'm doing. Floggings in the morning, slashes in the noon, and nights of–"

"Alvin!" Stoick yelled.

The Outcast stopped, hearing that familiar tone of anger in the chief's voice. It was the same one he had heard when he was sentenced to be exiled. Stoick stood up from the table and went over to him, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Let's have a word."

Stoick did not look at him as he entered the Great Hall. Alvin glared at Dagur and his hand twitched. His sword was on his back. If he could grab it in time, he could kill the Berserker. Mala seemed to be reading his mind and drew her own sword, sending the Outcast a death glare. Alvin quickly looked at the group, realizing just how alone he was with this. Scowling, he followed Stoick into the Great Hall.

"What was that?" the chief asked him, arms crossed.

"I was just joking around at first."

"Those weren't jokes."

Alvin sighed heavily. "We used to poke fun at each other all the time and now everyone is acting like this is odd."

Stoick's face took on a look of exasperation. "Because our jokes were between friends and about harmless topics. It's not a joke to talk about the scars you gave someone during his time as your prisoner."

"He could've given them to himself. You weren't there."

"No, but as vain as Dagur was as a teenager, I think the last thing he would have done is self-mutilation."

The Outcast scowled at him. "You hated him, Stoick. You've hated Dagur since you met him. You told me as much."

"It's true. I did feel that way, but things change."

"He tried to kill you! Tried to hurt your boy and you just moved on? I don't buy it. You forget that I was there," he said, gesturing to himself with his thumb. "I know what happened after we caught Dagur. I know how badly you wanted him to suffer. That's why he went with me. You knew me well enough to know that I'd never just forget what he tried to do or how he took over my vikings. You wanted me to hurt him for you."

Stoick closed his eyes, thinking back to that day with some regret. "I knew you'd be furious with him. I thought you would kill him. I wanted him gone and no longer a threat to Hiccup or anyone else on Berk. I wanted you to spend one night lopping off his head, not a lifetime torturing him."

"Don't pretend to be self-righteous now. You'd torture your enemies."

"No, I'd torture vikings I wanted to interrogate. I did that for information. I don't torture my enemies."

"You just kill them because you've got the moral high ground," Alvin said, annoyed.

"Because killing them removes the problem. Torturing them doesn't solve anything."

"But it sure can be nice. You'd have enjoyed it, Stoick. I wish you had been there. You would've liked seeing that spoiled brat of a chief be reduced to a groveling little boy." Alvin's eyes lit up. "He was terrified of me and still is. Every time I threatened the Berserkers, he pleaded with me to spare their lives. You'd have gotten satisfaction from that."

Stoick just frowned. "He was trying to protect his vikings. I'd do anything to keep the Berkians safe. Seeing a fellow chief try to ensure the safety of his vikings wouldn't bring me any joy."

"Since when is Dagur 'a fellow chief' to you? You've always been a vengeful viking. That's what we bonded over as kids. We both were merciless to our enemies. How could you forget what he's done?"

"I haven't. I haven't forgotten a single thing he's done and that includes what he's done recently."

Alvin grunted in frustration. "I suppose Hiccup is in charge now. What he says goes and he's not even chief yet."

"It's not about that," Stoick stated. "Dagur fought with us against the Flyers and Hunters–more than once. When Berk's gold was lost, we were reliant on traders and at risk of going hungry and running out of supplies. Dagur found our gold for us. He didn't have to and could've just kept it for himself, but we've regained what we lost because of him. When we learned that Johann was a traitor and threw out everything, Dagur sent us willow bark so that we could have what we needed to maintain our health. Even though he's attacked Hiccup, he's also helped protect him when I was too far away to. His father might have had peace with Berk, but since Dagur's change, he's had an allegiance with us.

"So, yes, I remember that I used to want to wring his neck myself. I remember how he went after Hiccup, Toothless, and planned to kill me. I also remember how he's helped us in our times of need and how he's still someone we can rely on. Dagur's a chief who I have grown to view as an equal. I won't attempt to change your mind if you're determined to view him in one way, but I also won't stand aside as you threaten him. We're his allies as much as he's ours. If you attack him, you'll attack us too."

Alvin glared. "He really means that much to you?"

"All of us. You're our ally too. I don't want war, but Dagur's changed and I won't be part of him going to your prison for a second time. Honestly, I shouldn't have been part of him going there in the first place."

The Outcast was quiet for a brief moment, then spoke in a low voice. "You're making a mistake, Stoick. Dagur's no good. Never has been." He began walking out of the Great Hall. "I guess it takes a reformed viking to see through a pretender."