"Come on, Chief. It's tradition." Gustav pleaded.

The Thor's-day Thursday celebrations were in full swing, and everyone was thuroughly enjoying themselves.

All except for one.

It was a bitter sweet day for Hiccup. Blaming himself for not listening to his father's talks of a "cheif's duties," honestly hoping he'd never have to put them into practice.

He was to give a brief address before the celebration started, but he choked, finding the words difficult. We're it not for Astrid and his mother's support, surprisingly Spitelout's as well, he wasn't sure if he would be able to go through with it. But the crowd cheered nonetheless, excited for the day, and went about the village to try their luck at all the games of skill and chance.

Astrid chose to forego her usual events so she could stand beside her chief and friend, simply enjoying the day. Until Gustav came running over to them, a wide grin plastered on his face as he made the offer to spar against the chief in the wrestling tournament if no one else would. Hiccup was completely taken aback by the idea, tempting as it was, as the Wrestling Tourney was one of Stoic's favourite events.

"I've learned a lot from you, and I want to prove it." Gustav tried again. "Plus, it's tradition for the Chief to be the first contender. The tournament can't start officially otherwise."

Stammering Hiccup tried to think of another excuse but failed as he'd already said them all.

"You should do it, Hiccup." His lips thinned, finding Astrid harder to ignore. "He wouldn't want you pouting on the sidelines. It's okay to have a bit of fun."

"Alright, alright. Fine." Hiccup relented, if only to satisfy them. "But don't expect me to go easy on you, though."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Chief." Gustav headed towards the arena, turning back to urge him on faster. "Come on! The tourney is supposed to start at noon, and we still need to prepare."

"Have fun." Astrid called as Hiccup headed towards the arena.

"I'm going to regret this." He muttered.

"This is gunna be great! The Chief of Berk versus the Captain of the A-Team." Gustav bounced on his feet while slowing his pace to match Hiccup's stride.

"Yeah, yeah. The match for the ages. Hey, how are your dragons doing?"

"Oh, they're doing fine." Gustav shrugged. "Kraken's been doing much better, lately. That scuffle with the rouge scaldron a few weeks past really did her in for a while. But she's back on her feet again, and she's even testing her wings. I think they're still a bit sore, though. She only gets maybe a foot off the ground before she gives up to rest again."

"She'll get there eventually."

A startled shout bounced off the buildings as Hiccup was knocked to the ground, Dagur ambushing them halfway down the path, giggling giddily as he helped his brother back on his feet. He was excited for the wrestling match and even more so when he heard who else would be joining them. Astrid's smile broadened as she waved him off, Hiccup giving her one last pleading look as they practically dragged him through the gates.

"This should be quite interesting." Chuckled Valka.

"What should?" They were startled by Fena's question, her barefeet treading softly along the path they didn't hear her approach.

"Good morning, Fena."

"What have you been up to?" Astrid laughing at her wet hair sticking out at odd ends, the collar of her shirt soaked through.

"I was doing that bobbing for apples bit, over there. I made a bet with Tuffnut." She admitted, wiping her face on her sleeve.

"Did you win?"

"I lost. But it was fun, though. So," Fena grinned, "what should be interesting?"

"Hiccup's competing against Gustav in the wrestling tourney."

"Oh." Fena faltered, blinking several times before pursing her lips in thought. "That should be interesting."

"It starts at noon, but they just dragged him off to go get ready, so they might start a bit late. We should go find a seat." Fena had no further plans, as it was her first Thor's-day Thursday she was more-so getting a feel for it. But if the chief was participating in an event then it must be worth watching.

She followed after the others, making their way to the bleachers where they found Heather reclining against the rail of the arena's rim. A perfect front row view and a frown etched on her face as she stared at nothing in particular.

"What are you thinking about?" Astrid sidled up to her, jostling her a bit but not breaking her concentration.

"Debating who's going to kill who first."

"What happened now?"

"Nothing, yet." She scoffed. "My brother enlisted that trapper guy to fight against, so it's really anyone's guess how it will end." Heather still held some reservations about Eret, but after the drauger incident, she thought she could possibly tolerate him. Maybe. "Sure, Eret has the height and build, but Dagur is--well, Dagur."

"They're going against each other?" Astrid was quite surprised. Eret was quite prideful in boasting of his skills, but after settling on Berk she found he kept more to himself.

"Dagur persisted." Sighed Heather. "Thought he'd make a more entertaining match than going against the locals who signed up."

She looked about, noticing the present company, or lack thereof.

"Hiccup's not joining us? Or did he get suckered into some chiefly duty."

"In a way." Astrid shrugged, looking down to the group of contenders preparing for the event. "Gustav managed to convince him to hold up old traditions, so he's facing off against him for the first fight."

As it was a test of raw power and skill, all contenders had to surrender any weapon and armor, striping down to their trousers to ensure there were no cheats. Hiccup's metal foot was considered a form armor and was exchanged for a simple wooden peg, courtesy of Gobber.

"Gustav actually convinced Hiccup to compete? Poor kid, Hiccup might have to fit him a limb or two." Heather looked Gustav over, noting how he had filled out a bit since she saw him last. His hair was slightly shorter and shaved off on the sides and around the back, leaving a section at the top to do as it pleased, but she found it suited his face. Made him look more mature.

He and Hiccup had similar builds, so it should be a fairly even match, Heather figured.

"Not this time. Gustav will take this one." The women looked to Astrid in shock, a sad smile on her face. Watching as they painted red marks along Hiccup's chest and arms, just like the ones he wore when they started the Dragon Racing.

"Really?" Heather wasn't too sure if her friend was serious or not, but took the bait. "Alright, I take your bet. I say Hiccup wins."

"We'll see."

Gobber hobbled to center stage, gaining everyone's attention.

"As is customary, the Chief shall face off as the first contender. Oh, Stoic would have loved this." He turned to Hiccup as he and Gustav came beside the blacksmith, Gobber sniveling so much he was shaking. "He'd be so proud of you."

Gobber wept uncontrollably, even with Hiccup patting his shoulder, the smithy was unconsolable. It was fairly awkward as he tried to blow the horn to signal the start of the event but kept crumbling into sobs with a pittiful sputtering.

Spitelout, finally having enough, marched up to Gobber and took the horn from his shaking hands.

"Oh, would you just -" He sounded the horn, and the match began as he dragged Gobber off to the sidelines, still weeping like a baby.

There was only one rule, that both parties had to still be able to stand by the end of the match. Otherwise, anything goes.

The two circled each other, Hiccup getting a feel for the alternative leg, testing its weight.

Taking his chance, Gustav struck out with his left hand, catching Hiccups arm with his right as the chief went to deflect. Wrapping his leg behind Hiccups knee, he brought him to the ground, straddling his waist to pin him down.

Hiccup dodged the coming blow to his nose, catching Gustav's arm to twist it in such a way the lad cried out. He snaked his one arm around Gustav's to keep it locked, and with the heel of his palm delivered a heavy blow to the boys chest, effectively knocking Gustav off.

As he coughed and sputtered Hiccup circled behind him, wrapping one arm over the warrior's shoulder and the other under his arm, forcing his back against his chest, pressing his knees into Gustav's calves when he tried twisting them out from underneath.

"I thought'ch'u said y'weren't going t'go easy o'me, Chief." Gustav wheezed.

Those words struck as sharp as whip, and it was game over.

Hiccup faltered.

His grip loosened just enough for Gustav to bring his elbow down on Hiccup's hip, causing him to let go entirely as he yelped.

Gustav struck a quick jab to Hiccup's jaw, forcing him back far enough for Gustav to twist his arm and force Hiccup face first into the dirt with his knee on his tailbone.

It was quiet.

Everyone was on the edge of their seats to see how Hiccup would get himself out of this one.

But he didn't.

He didn't even try. He only shifted in the dirt until the horn sounded, signaling the end of the match.

The crowd cheered happily, as there was no prize to be given they only cared about a good show, as opposed to who actually won.

"He's been having an off day." Astrid clapped softly along with the crowd. Heather staring down at her friend in the arena, her face twisting with a mixture of disappointment and concern.

Astrid wanted him to try to enjoy himself. She knew the first holidays were the hardest, but she thought this was a perfect opportunity for him to work through it.

"If that's an off day, I'm curious to see what a good day looks like." Even though the fight was quick, Fena found it well rounded. And if this was not the young chief's best, then she was both intrigued and intimidated to see what his best was. All the stories she'd heard of him held a little more weight after seeing even a fraction of his skills.

Hiccup sat in the dirt breathless, rubbing his bruised hip until Gustav offered his hand.

"Thank you, Hiccup, for the honor." Hoisting the chief to his feet, Gustav raised their hands in victory, grinning as the crowd cheered once more.

Gobber started sobbing yet again as they came to the sidelines, pulling Hiccup into a bear hug while crying out how proud Stoic would be. The chief groaning and protesting as he tried to escape the smothering hold, making many chortle and snigger at the sight as the next contestants were called forth.

Dagur eagerly bounded about the arena, roaring with the crowd. Proudly showing off the traditional Berserker markings he bore, with an added Defenders flair in homage to his wife back home. Although, the hair on his chest made it a bit fuzzy.

He continued to hoot and howl while Eret steadily made his way to the ring. His markings were few in comparison, and to many Berkians they were quite foreign. What caught Fena's eyes most were how they only seemed to be placed on the right side of his body. There was not a single mark of paint on his left breast, shoulder, or arm.

She caught the sound of several young girls giggling to themselves, giddily watching the event below. Or at least, keeping a close eye on the contenders. They were going back and forth between each fighter. Discussing their skills and abilities, their strengths and weaknesses, but more importantly, who would make the better husband.

Only one had admitted how much she admired their young chief, but was shot down quickly as the others pointed to Astrid standing not too far off. The general didn't seem to notice or didn't seem to care, and the young girls went back to their debate.

They did seem to have enough respect for those few who were taken, but did mention how they should visit their neighbors in hopes of finding other Berserk warriors of similar spirit and drive as their visiting King. Dagur still prancing about proudly down below, beating his chest and growling in anticipation.

According to them, Gustav was the best choice, closer to their age, single, strong, and very easy on the eyes, they sang. But he seemed more focused on his training and leading the A-Team to notice any of their advances.

Eret was tall and handsome, they stated, though quite a bit older. But that, mixed with the fact that their father's were still wary of the foreign renegade, only made him that much more desirable. That being said, many agreed that they weren't about to go toe-to-toe with Ruffnut Thorston for him. So they settled to fantasize from afar.

Fena deemed it as idle chatter, the wandering thoughts of young teens desperate to grow up. Scoffing at their further comments, yet she couldn't stop the nagging feeling tugging at her chest, and she bristled as she tried to tune them out.

The horn sounded, and the second round began. A rhythmic drumming rose from the benches with people stomping their feet, banging their fists, or bashing their shields. All to the time of a rallying tune, building the hype and making the air electric.

Dagur rolled his shoulders, shifting on his feet. Eret's fingers flexed as they sized each other up, seeing who would make the first move.

Dagur stepped forward, swinging his fist at Eret's shoulder. His experience telling him to test reflexes and get a feel for his opponent. He was not disappointed, though surprised, when Eret merely slapped him aside. He tried it a second time and was again deflected.

Eret had heard of the well-known Berserker fighting styles, even facing off against one or two as a trapper, but each had their own flare that couldn't be predicted. So Eret held his defense while he figured out Dagur's. One thing he bet on was a Berserker's temper, and sure enough Dagur's nostrils were flaring. It was slow and even as the King tried to control his breathing, but the subtle twitches told Eret that he was going in the right direction.

A Berserkers rage was famous, not something to take on lightly, but Eret was more hoping to tire him out from exertion than anything else.

Dagur rushed at him, a rapid fire of hard fists aimed directly for his head, which Eret blocked steadily. Dagur wound back for a heavier blow but Eret only went with his momentum, guiding his fist around him. Dagur stumbled but gripped Eret's wrist, using him as an anchor to swing back around on the trapper and with both feet he lept up and dealt a solid kick to his back.

Eret tumbled into the dirt as Dagur fell back with a sturdy thud, the Beserker quickly springing to his feet and with a cry charged at his opponent with a knee to his gut.

Hiccup found his way through the crowd just in time to see the women wince and cringe from witnessing the impact. He lazily draped an arm over Astrid's shoulder, placing a soft kiss on her forehead when she turned to look at him.

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay. I guess." Wrapping her arms around his waist, Astrid looked up at him.

"I'm proud of you." She gave him a tender kiss, resting her head on his shoulder. "Who do you think your dad would root for?"

Hiccup thought a moment. Watching the fight below.

"He'd probably place his money on Dagur. He's seen him fight before. Eret's light on his feet, suprisingly, and he has great reflexes. But my dad would bet on Dagur for sheer determination alone." Hiccup thought of all the misadventures he'd had over the years, with Dagur being close behind everytime. "You could drop a mountain on that guy and it still wouldn't be enough to stop him."

"It's a Berserker trait." Heather grinned. Call it what you will, determination, stubbornness, stupidity, Berserkers wouldn't stop until they got what they wanted.

"What about you, Fena?" Astrid asked the healer. "Who do you think will win? Fena?"

She didn't hear them. Her sights set intently on the fight below. Following each move they made. Her knuckles turning white as she gripped the rail, take long shallow breaths, licking her lips before chewing on them absent-mindedly.

She had not heard a word of what they said, she didn't even notice the chief join their little viewing group. Even as they started chuckling at her actions, she had no recollection of anything beyond the match in the arena below.

"How much you wanna bet on who she's rooting for?"

"Please, that's not even a gamble."

Eret may have underestimated him. The Berserker was roaring and prowling, but his rage was tempered. A level of patience that he had not expected, even having spent the last few days with him and the chief in counsel.

"Don't quit on me now, Feret." Dagur mocked. "We've only just started!"

He pivoted, aiming his shin for the trappers side. Eret beared the brunt of it with gritted teeth. Before Dagur could back off to hit him again Eret took hold of his leg, using his weight to topple the king in a rather awkward position and hold him there.

A bright beacon in the stands caught Eret's eye and for a brief moment he looked away. Glancing upwards to find Fena leaning on the rail, her pale hair shining in the sunlight amidst the crowd. He felt the intensity of her gaze as her mischievous eyes fixated on him.

His mouth twitched, a sudden spark in his belly slowly spreading. Dagur took Eret's pause as his moment to strike, a hard fist pounding against Eret's inner elbow, causing the trapper to release his hold on Dagur's leg. To which he placed his foot on Eret's chest propelling him off.

Dagur rolled onto his feet, facing his opponent who had one knee in the dirt and was panting heavily.

Ah, beautiful distractions, Dagur thought, to bad it will be over so quickly. I was actually enjoying this.

Dagur wound back, putting everything he had for one last blow to end the match.

His grin vanished.

This was not supposed to happen.

Eret had caught his fist, the glint in his dark eyes brought only one thought to mind.

"Shit."

Eret forced himself upwards, headbutting the king on the chin. He stumbled back, spitting out blood and cradling his jaw as he watched Eret take a stance. His grin returned, bloodied but no less raving in excitement.

"Yes!" He boomed, his manic laughter bubbling through. "It's about damn time!"

Throughout the whole fight Dagur had noticed Eret stayed only on the defensive, which irritated him. Why join a fight if you're not going to put in any effort? Dagur was elated when Eret steadied his clenched fists before his face, broadening his stance and tensing his shoulders. Something caused a shift in the trappers demeanor, and the Berserker had a good feeling he knew what that something was.

If that's what gets you on, Dagur giggled to himself, but you'll still have to earn this fight!

A gutteral war cry burst from Dagur's throat as he surged forward like a charging bull.

Eret held his ground.

The Berserker lept in the air, his closed fist poised to strike on the downward momentum, but it did not hit its target. Eret caught the incoming fist and this time pulled him closer to bring his knee to the king's stomach. Dagur heaved and doubled over on his release, sprawling on the ground as he recieved a firm kick to his backside.

Eret took both Dagur's wrists in one hand, gripping his shoulder to physically put him onto his knees. Forcing his throat into the crook of his arm and holding him there until he either surrendered or the horn sounded.

The air was thick with anticipation. The crowd had gone silent. The only sound Eret heard was his and Dagur's ragged breathing.

The horn sounded.

Like a crashing wave the crowd burst to life with cheers and hollers, Eret releasing his hold, patting Dagur on the back as the king choked and sputtered.

"Oh, come on! What was that?!" Heather fumed, suspicious of the sudden take down as this was not outcome she was hoping for.

"Yes!" Hiccup pounded on the rail, a grin stretching across his face. Astrid watching him with a curious smile. "What?"

Her eyes smiled with her at seeing her friend finally enjoy himself, and she couldn't help but laugh at him as he continued to hoot and howl in a way that would make Dagur proud.

"What did you think, Fena?" Valka cast a cheeky glance to the young woman beside her, having a good idea about it already.

"I hate him." Fena pouted.

The three turned to look at her oddly, her words feeling even more out of place with Valka's hearty laughter bouncing off the walls.

"What? Why?" Questioned Astrid, trying to put the peices together, but they didn't seem to fit in her mind.

"Does this have anything to do with the little tussle from yesterday?" Valka purred. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, dear. Although, I suggest you get it sorted with him before it gets out of hand."

Fena scoffed, looking like a fish gasping for air as she tried to come up with an excuse. Seeing Valka's smirk only grated on her nerves more and with a snort she left the group standing there, watching her leave without fully understanding what the problem was.

Dagur's throat was raw, making any noise he made sound like an oar scrapping against the sands. But the discomfort didn't stop the Berserker from crowing on, as he and Eret made their way to a washing well just outside the arena.

"Woo! Great thundering Thor, finally a worthy opponent! You, my friend, are tough to crack. Either I'm losing my touch or the defenders I spar with are making me weak." Dagur husked. Cupping a handful of water to rid himself the taste of iron, spitting out the remaining blood.

"I'm sure she noticed." Dagur met Eret's crooked glance with a teasing grin. "I saw you look at her. Then suddenly you're not holding back? A worthy win well earned."

Astrid was right, then. He wasn't very subtle. He could still feel that burning in his core, climbing up and down his spine. He didn't care about the outcome of the fight to begin with, only participating because Dagur wouldn't leave him alone otherwise. But when he noticed her in the stands, watching him, he felt as though he had to win. He wasn't entirely sure if she was watching him specifically, but something inside him wouldn't believe otherwise.

Eret scoffed at himself, splashing the cool water on his hot face, a smug smile playing on his lips.

"And if your wife were watching, I'm sure the win would be yours."

"Oh, without a doubt."

They were caught off guard by the sounds of high pitched giggling and prideful boasting, the source of which was Gustav being pulled along down the road by a young girl. She was beaming up at him with eager eyes, listening intently to his mindless ramblings.

"Looks like someone else found an admirer." Dagur shook his head, never imagining he'd see the day. Splashing his face once more he took his leave, slapping Eret on the back and disappearing round the corner to find the others. The trapper left staring at his reflection in the waters, letting his mind wander.

Fena had no idea where she was heading. All she knew was she needed to escape from Valka's taunting. That cursed tree of a woman was wrong, she assured herself. She was not thinking of anything. She was simply enjoying the event. It wasn't her fault the fighters were exposed for the whole world to see, putting themselves on display like that. It was hardly appropriate. Yrsa would be scolding her for even thinking of attending such a scandalous display.

She stopped just before the corner, rubbing her temples.

"This is ridiculous!" She scolded herself. "Utterly ridiculous."

She paced on the spot. Part of her crying out to go find him. Another voice deep inside screamed at her don't be a fool! She had never felt such a heated longing that spread from her fuzzy head to her tingling toes. What was she supposed to do with it?

She needed to get out of the village. Head for the cove, and dunk herself in the cold ocean. That was the idea, until she rounded the corner.

Of course he was there. Still dressed in not but his trousers. His broad back to her, glistening in the afternoon sun, and unaware she was there. Her breath hitched as he wet the back of his neck, rolling and stretching his shoulders. She had mocked him before of the furs he'd worn, true they added more bulk to his frame but not much she realized. Her mind going numb watching his barrel chest rise and fall as he heaved a great sigh, grabbing a nearby scrap of cloth to dry his face.

A clamour close by broke the spell, making Fena jump out of her skin thinking she had been caught. She was relieved to find not a curious group of people sneaking up on her, but to see Gustav being pulled into a small shed by the collar. His lips sealed in a kiss, his admirer not willing to take no for an answer.

There was a pang in her heart at waching the door to shed seal shut. Why was she jealous of the boy? She didn't want that kind of attention. Did she?

She didn't know what she wanted, really, but her dizzying thoughts always seemed to land on Eret. His eyes, his smile, his hands, his hair, his kiss. Stupid boy! He started all of this. She would tell him. That was it. She would tell him how stupid he was and then she'd get over all of this nonsense.

She turned about, ready to march up to him and tell him off, but he was gone. She had only looked away for a second and Eret had vanished from his place by the well.

She crept closer, a rather silly thought crossing her mind. Did he fall in? But that didn't make sense, she could see the water level from here and there was no shout or splash. So where did he go?

"You're drooling."

Fena let loose a startled yelp, turning frantically to find Eret standing behind her. Meeting his warm impish stare with a cold bitter scowl.

"I am not." She snapped.

"Pretty close. You have a wonderful habit of staring, you know."

"How could I not, with you dressed as shamefully as you are."

"I didn't make the rules for the event." Fena pushed past him a few steps, trying to add space between them. "But I couldn't possibly break a sacred tradition and leave everyone so disappointed."

She glared at him, his expression never failing as he backed against the well. Finding it all rather amusing how quickly her feathers were ruffled.

"You're mocking me."

"You make it very easy."

Her face twisted, flustered and annoyed with his cheekiness. She was still set to tell him off, but her eyes began to wander over the front view he gave her, glancing at each scar he proudly wore over heavy muscle. She couldn't keep count of them all, varying in size and length and depth. Though most seemed to be common in nature there was one that left her curious. He caught on where her eyes had landed, clearing his throat in hopes to draw her attention elsewhere.

"What did you think of the match?" Crossing his arms in such a way they blocked off her line of sight. Fena blinked rapidly, stumbling to form a response in her stupor.

"I thought it was fine, I suppose." She hoped to regain some dignity, but it was too late. "A bit showy, but you fought beautifully—feircyly. You, you were feirce. I mean, uh, you were great. Um—What did you think of it? The fight, that is. I was told it wasn't your first choice." Chewing on her bottom lip to steady her shakey breathing.

"Good. I thought, anyway. It's always interesting going against a—" He was cut off. Stumbling back against the well as she all but lept on him, pressing her lips firmly against his. He was stunned trying to process what was happening and as soon as he started to give in she pulled back, panting heavily as her eyes danced about his face.

"You taste like sweat." She quipped.

"Really? I wonder why." He teased, only egging her on as she closed the distance again. Pressing herself harder against him so he had to lean against the well wall to keep them from falling over, deepening the kiss.

This is what he wanted, isn't it? His minds eye flashed back to the day before.

She had been right. After the night at the spring, something inside of him wanted to be closer to her. And it only grew stronger as the days went by. He was restless and desperate, just like she was as he felt her hands roam further down his chest. But he recalled the look on her face, and he knew this isn't what she wanted.

He took her wrists just as her hands had settled on his hips, resting on the waist of his trousers. Gently he pushed her off, her eyes watching him in frustrated confusion.

"Not like this." He said softly. "You don't want this."

He kept her wrists in a lose grip to give her the choice. As he'd experienced before with several other women whose advances he refused, they would be outraged at the idea of being rejected and would stand to assault him instead. Though they were usually on the lighter side and so their physical attacks didn't have much effect.

Fena was fairly capable though, so he prepared himself for some solid blows. After all, he did start the whole thing.

Her face screwed, he could feel her start shaking. She was angry, as she had a right to be, but it would be far worse if he didn't stop it. He wouldn't lose her again because of one stupid mistake.

His hands slipped to hold hers, brush his thumb across her fingers.

"Don't get me wrong," he assured, "I'm thrilled to have you here. To have my old friend again, alive and well. And showing some interest in me. But I think you're right. About feeling restless, that is. And I think you're feeling it to, no thanks to our little mix up yesterday. But maybe we should take a day or two to ourselves. Try to figure out what we truely want."

There was a crisp sting streaking across his cheek as she backhanded him.

"Bastard." Fena hissed.

That stung worse than the hit, but he wasn't giving in. She took a step back, her lips quivering in a snarl, her fists shaking at her sides. He didn't move, only watched as she took another step back, then another. Her eyes snapping open, red and glaring viciously at him. Shaking her head Fena turned on her heel and stormed off, nearly knocking Heather over. The young axe-maiden had set out to find him for answers, hoping she could get it out of him as her brother gave nothing away. However, upon witnessing the harsh slap to the face, her mind came to its own conclusions.

"So tell me," Heather stared at him across the path, "did Dagur let you win to try and impress her?."

He ignored her. Since their arrival she's had it out for him. He'd gotten used to it, there were many locals who thought ill of him still, no matter the assurances. He absently ran his fingers over the branding. For the rest of his life he would be marked and that would be all anyone would see.

"You got off easy. If it were me, you wouldn't be standing." Heathed scorned. If he could convince Dagur to throw a fight then what else could he convince people of. "Honestly, what were you expecting? That no one would notice? You may have everyone else fooled, but I'm not buying it. Your hiding something."

"And you're not." He bit. "I've heard your stories. Of who you were and what you've done. Why do you deserve mercy and no one else? Who divined you as judge?"

"That is different." Heather fought. "I attoned for my past. I made it right—"

"—And I haven't? Tell me, how is it you can allie with them if you cannot trust their judgements?"

"It's not that I don't trust them, it's just—"

"—just what?" He challenged. There was nothing wrong with a little ego, he felt. A boost in one's self at what they've accomplished, what they've overcome. It's when the ego becomes bigger then the person that problems arise, that he understood personally.

Heather scowled under his stare, trying to think of a response, but she found none. Eret shook his head, doning his shirt once more he stood before her.

"Thats what I thought." He brushed past, leaving her behind.

She felt like a child who had just been scolded when she didn't do anything wrong. Replaying it over and over again, arguing with herself the things she could have said. She almost missed to two disheveled heads poking out of the shed doorway, cheeks flushed and shoulders bare. They had heard the hit and raised voices and they feared they were caught. They ducked back inside when Heather noticed their presence, feeling even more flustered knowing she had an audience.

"We heard nothing!" Gustav waved out the door before closing it again.

The courtyard was quiet. Which left Heather feeling restless. And now knowing it was not as secluded as she first thought she set out to look for Windshear in hopes of finding some sense of solace. Since Hiccup appeared to be in a better mood, perhaps she could convince Astrid to a little game and vent out her frustrations.