Vanaheim. It was a word that would have meant nothing to the Berserker chief until several hours earlier. It was just a noise really. He might have even thought it was someone sneezing. It changed from an odd sound to a place with potential–the potential to have proof for his sister. The young man was not looking for much. He only needed something that would satisfy her curiosity about their father. Their hunts had gotten too dangerous. Regret was an unfamiliar emotion to him, but there were few things he regretted more than dragging her into the search with him. So far, the Berserker had managed to keep her and their dragons safe, but how long until their luck ran out? He was unsure and would not risk her life that way. He was her brother and her chief. Being either was reason enough to protect her. Being both just meant that doing anything less than that was beyond unacceptable. Too much time had been spent without him fulfilling those duties. Not another day could pass like that.

Therefore, Dagur had gone to Dragon's Edge to find Hiccup. He expected the Berkian to look at the former Berserker chief's journal, confirm that it was full of nonsense, and convince Heather that the hunt would be fruitless at best and lethal at worst. Dagur did not expect to hear that there was something of use in between the riddles. He did not expect to find a hut. The redhead especially did not expect to be told to consider the idea of Oswald being alive. It had been over three years since he had seen him and their searches had resulted in no signs of life besides the journal itself. The idea of Oswald still living was almost more painful than it was hopeful. Looking at the hut made Dagur's heart race faster than a Speed Stinger could run.

Hiccup and Fishlegs were closer to the hut than Dagur was. He had suggested that they get something to eat when they looked at him in surprise and mild concern. The Berserker was stalling and they knew that. He could tell that they knew, so he tried humor instead to pretend like the entire thing had been a joke. Dagur did not want them to know how scared he was to open that door. So, he walked up as confidently as he could manage, he put his hand on the wood from the shipwrecked Berserker ship, and he…lowered his head. He could not do it. The redhead was panicking and barely concealing this fact. His father might have been behind that door. He had no idea what he would say to him. He had no idea what he even could say.

Dagur never sent out someone to search for the man. Not once had he ever regretted that. He had been happy when Oswald disappeared. Sure, he was nervous because it forced him into a position faster than he was prepared for, but it was a position of power that he had always desired. How could he look into his father's eyes and expect to see anything but hatred? He had no idea what happened to him. Anything could have happened. Maybe the man desperately needed his help and his own son was not there to provide it for him. Dagur could not forgive himself, so how could he expect to be forgiven? If Hiccup had not practically ordered him to open the door, the Berserker was sure that his rant would have continued until he felt even more lost.

Dagur still did not want to open the door, but Hiccup and Fishlegs had gone there because of him. Making that trip a waste of their time would have been an even greater inconvenience and unfair. But he was horribly anxious. Dagur walked back over to the door and looked at Hiccup again. With his eyes, he pleaded with the other Viking to not make him enter, but the rider encouraged him to continue. The nerves were so strong that Dagur had to try to meditate. It ended too quickly to be very useful, but any little bit helped. The Berserker's hand moved to the handle and he opened the door.

"Uh, Daddy," he said, unsure what he would find.

Maybe he would find a corpse in a seat, a skeleton on the floor, or an ax being thrown at his head for surprising the man. He found none of those. Heart pounding, Dagur looked into the hut and saw a man standing by a wall with a dragon drawing and writing on its surface. He was leaning over a table, reading something on a scroll. Hearing the sound of the visitor, the man turned. He had dark hair pulled back into a thick braid and a graying beard. On his left shoulder, there were three bear claw tattoos in blue. He had the same markings on his forehead and a hooded cloak over his shoulders. Dagur stared at the man in surprise. In an instant, he ran over and engulfed him in an embrace.

"You're alive!" he exclaimed, laughing in both joy and relief.

After a moment, he heard a voice he had not heard in years.

"Dagur?"

"It's me, Dad."

Arms went around the younger Berserker as the elder returned the embrace. The redhead did not want the hug to ever end. His throat got sore and relief washed over him so much that it was nearly overwhelming. Oswald was the first to end the hug. He moved back, hands on the chief's shoulders. The man looked at him closely, trying to take everything in. The redhead appeared so different from the last time his father had seen him. Oswald's eyes moved and took in the new armor, the chieftain markings, the choppy haircut and beard…the scar. His left hand lifted to the right side of Dagur's face. Instinctively, the Berserker tensed, but the touch was soft. A pained look was in Oswald's eyes.

"My boy," he said sadly. "Who did this?"

Dagur let out a weak laugh. "My bad life decisions mainly. I can explain more when we get out of here." The laugh ended and his expression became sad. "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. I'm really sorry. I-I don't have anything to say that would make it all right. We have so many Berserkers. I should've sent out search party after search party or gone myself every day until I found you. For some of the time, I couldn't go anywhere, but as soon as I could, this should've been my top priority." He swallowed hard. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I know that's too much, but I hope you know I really wish I'd done things differently and–"

"Dagur," Oswald said, getting the other Berserker to stop.

His face was scrunched up in sadness. Oswald had never seen him look so miserable.

"I forgive you, Son."

Dagur's eyes widened hopefully. "You really forgive me?"

"How couldn't I? You took care of our people. That's what I hoped you'd do. Look."

Oswald walked away for a moment and grabbed two scrolls. He handed one to the chief.

"I wrote this for you. If we weren't able to be reunited before I went to Valhalla, I wanted you to know how much I love you."

Dagur blinked in surprise. "You do?"

"Of course, I do. You're my boy. I love you and your sister with all my heart. I wrote this one for her," he said, lifting the other scroll. "Where is she? I'm surprised she's not here with you."

The redhead paused, frowning a little. "Wait, you expected her to be here?"

"Naturally. Why wouldn't she?"

Before Dagur could answer, Oswald left the hut. He went outside and saw the other two Vikings. In shock, he saw Toothless. He stumbled back a little, getting caught by Dagur who had followed him out. A wide smile crossed the elder's face.

"A Night Fury! Magnificent!" As his attention turned back to the Vikings, he tilted his head. "I'm sorry. I can't put a name to your faces."

"That's understandable. It's been a while. I'm Hiccup and this is Fishlegs."

Oswald's eyes widened. "Little Hiccup? You've grown so much, lad. As have you, Fishlegs. And for you two to have befriended dragons! I know Stoick and the Ingermans are filled with pride."

Fishlegs puffed up happily. "We actually did more than befriend dragons. We even ride on them."

The brunet's jaw dropped. "Now, it's not nice to play tricks on people. Are…are you being serious?"

"Very serious," Hiccup assured him, hopping onto Toothless's back.

Oswald watched them in awe. "Vikings on the backs of dragons. I never thought I'd see the day. I've been spending my time here, fighting off Grim Gnashers that are trying to kill the elderly dragons. I've always thought dragons were misunderstood creatures. I'm glad to not be the only one anymore."

"We might be able to get the Sentinels to force the Grim Gnashers to stop attacking dragons if we show them that they're dangerous," Hiccup suggested.

"I like the sound of that," the man said.

He turned to his son who was still frowning. Dagur was deep in thought and his mind raced.

"Dagur," Hiccup called. "We're going to see if we can get the Sentinels' attention."

This snapped the Berserker out of his daze and he went over to the Triple Stryke. He motioned for his father to approach. Impressed, Oswald did and petted the reptile's head.

"A remarkable dragon you have," he complimented.

"Thanks. After we take care of the Grimmies, want to ride back with me?"

Oswald's face lit up and he nodded. Full of amazement, he watched as his son and the others took to the skies. They found the Grim Gnashers targeting older dragons and fired blasts at them, drawing their attention. As soon as they had it, they led them to where the Sentinels were stationed. The stone dragons began to move, hearing the sounds of fighting. They roared at the Gnashers, scaring them off. Content, the riders flew back to where they had left Oswald. He grabbed a bag of fruit from his hut and eagerly got onto the Triple Stryke's back. Dagur patted his friend's head.

"Let's not do anything too wild, Strykie. It'll be Dad's first time riding a dragon."

The Triple Stryke roared in understanding and gently took off. Oswald felt his stomach enter his throat a bit, but he tried to swallow it back down.

"Sorry, taking off is the worst part," Dagur said. He gave him a sheepish smile. "I'm really bad at early warnings."

Oswald shook his head. "It's fine. I think I'm feeling better now. Being up here is fantastic."

"We just might need to cover ourselves in fruit first to get them to let us pass."

The man smiled in remembrance. "You used to love those fruit baths."

"Yeah! They were the best. I still do actually from time to time."

Dagur stopped talking when a Sentinel flew up to him. Strykie, Toothless, and Meatlug hovered in the air, worried that they would not even be allowed to go to collect the fruit. Their concerns were unnecessary because the dragons bowed their heads and moved back, allowing them to pass.

"We earned their respect," Hiccup said, happily shocked.

"It's just been an extra great day then!" Dagur cheered. His smile started to fade as he turned to look at Oswald. "But I think we really need to talk, Dad. Why did you think Heather would be with us?"

"She's my daughter. It seems odd that she wouldn't. She is safe, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she's fine…what's the last thing you remember about her?"

Oswald tapped his chin. "She was singing a song. She has a beautiful voice just like your mother had."

Dagur felt the blood rushing from his face. "That's what you remember? You don't remember her not being on Berserker Island or anything like that?"

"Not being on Berserker Island? That's odd to consider. It's her home, Dagur. Where else would she be?"

The redhead started to feel himself getting nervous again. Oswald noticed this and patted his shoulder.

"Whatever seems to be troubling you, we can deal with it once we're home."

"I really think I should tell you now."

"It's been such a long time since I've seen you. For now, I don't want to hear about anything concerning. Let's just be happy."

Guilt hit Dagur as he nodded his head. He wanted to get it over with and tell his father, but he felt it would be selfish to deny him the simple wish of just being happy for a little while. Oswald spent the rest of the flight talking with Hiccup and Fishlegs about how things were going on Berk. When they landed on Berserker Island, one of the soldiers told them that Heather had already left. Dagur did not even say a word before jumping back onto Sleuther's back.

"We'll be back, Dad!" he called. "We have to get Heather!"

The former chief hurriedly followed them out of the stables, heartbeat speeding up. Dagur knew that Heather was flying straight into a trap. He cursed himself.

"I should've brought her with us," he thought angrily. "I thought her staying behind would keep her out of danger, but I didn't even think about what she'd be doing in the meantime."

Anxiously, the Berserker and Triple Stryke kept flying at top speed until they reached the Northern Markets. Dagur used his usual methods of violence to interrogate someone and found out what they needed to know. With this information, the three were able to find Snotlout and Hookfang. They saw that they were above the sea, making Dagur's heart stop for a moment. If Snotlout was there, Heather was below the surface of the water. Strykie already knew to dive without having to be told. To his relief and the relief of his rider, they found Heather and Windshear alive. The dragon wrapped his tail around the cage, pulling it up and into the sky. Dagur had never felt so fortunate to have a strong dragon than at that moment. Heather realized that they were going upwards and looked at her brother with gratitude. Again, Dagur let humor hide the stress he had felt in those previous seconds, joking that it was a bad time of year to go for a swim. In a lighter mood, the group began dealing with the Flyers and tossing the Dragon Eye lens to one another until Trader Johann caused Snotlout to drop it into the water. Despite what Hiccup wanted to do, they retreated, being too outnumbered to win the impending battle. On the way, Dagur flew alongside Heather. She noticed the twinkle in his eyes.

"You look happy. What happened?"

"We found Dad."

The younger Berserker thought she had misheard him. "You found him?"

"Yeah, he's alive and well…mostly."

"What do you mean mostly?"

Dagur sadly glanced down. "His memory's not working right. He remembers you singing like Mom."

"He's never heard me sing "

"I know! He doesn't remember you not growing up on Berserker Island."

"Did you tell him?"

"I was about to, then he asked me to just let him be happy until we got back. Then, we had to head out to find you. I didn't want to send you in without a heads up, though."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

The rider's face was unreadable. Dagur was worried that she was upset with him. It was possible that talk of her not growing up in their homeland reopened old wounds. He stayed silent as they parted ways with the Berkians who went back to the Edge. Minutes passed quietly before Heather spoke up with a nervous look on her face.

"Considering his mind, did Dad seem…"

"Crazy?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"No, just like he has false memories."

Heather nodded and her heart kept pounding until she landed at the stables. She saw her father was still there. She had his hair and when an overjoyed smile spread over his face, she saw she had that too. The rider nearly felt petrified. Had Dagur not put a comforting hand on her shoulder and offered an encouraging smile, she doubted she would have been able to approach the man. Oswald embraced her as soon as she did. Tears ran down Heather's face. Finally, she moved back so that she could see the other Berserker better. She could absolutely tell that he was their father. Both she and Dagur had his eyes and her brother also had his nose.

"Where did you go?" she asked.

Oswald paused a moment before answering. "I think that I went on a voyage to find something to bring back for you. Only the very best for my daughter."

Heather's smile faltered briefly. The man did not notice and put an arm around her shoulders. When he did this, he lifted an eyebrow.

"You're soaked to the bone, dear. What happened?"

The Viking hesitated with her answer, but Dagur cut in.

"Just had to deal with something real fast. That's where Hiccup, Fishy, and I were going, but everyone's okay now."

Heather shot him an appreciative look. Even if Oswald did not know it, it felt like a first impression to her and she did not want it marred by him knowing she had been so reckless. Fortunately, the father was satisfied with this answer.

"What have you been up to, Heather?"

"Well, I made a lot of new friends with the Berkians. The Razorwhip back there is my dragon, Windshear."

Oswald walked into the stables and up to the dragon. "She's stunning. Can I pet her?"

"Please do."

The Berserker happily patted the dragon's head. "My children…dragon riders. Proud wouldn't even begin to describe how I feel. I know your brother took good care of you in my absence. I'm sorry that I was away for so long, but I'm glad I'm back now. We have a lot of catching up to do." His face brightened even more. "While I was away, I came up with recipes that I dreamt of making for you both. We must do that tonight. I'll get started on one right away!"

Oswald strode off to his old hut. Berserkers gawked at him when he walked by, each one too stunned to say anything.

"Hello, Vorg!" he greeted.

The captain waved, speechless. When he saw the younger chief coming up, he turned to him in shock.

"Oswald's back?"

"He is. Hiccup and Fishlegs helped me find him."

"He seems…very happy."

Dagur understood his meaning and nodded grimly. "I know. I'm not sure how long it'll last."

Heather heard him and put a hand on his shoulder. "It might last for a long time. Let's just enjoy dinner and then you can tell him."

Unsurely, her brother nodded his head and they entered the home. Oswald was already beginning to prepare the meal.

"You changed the place a lot, Dagur," he called out, bending down to grab some pots, "but I like what you did with it. I already checked my room and saw that it's been untouched, though. By Thor, it might be cleaner than the way I left it!"

Heather turned to Dagur who blushed slightly. "I might not have had the heart to change it," he admitted. "In case he ever came back, I wanted it to look nice for him." He raised his voice so that Oswald could hear. "Want some help in there? Heather and I both know how to cook."

"No, no. You two just relax. Feel free to come in here and talk with me, but I'll swat away your hands if I see them touch so much as a plate before it's done."

The siblings entered the kitchen, Heather doing so with excitement and Dagur doing so with some hesitation. Seeing Oswald happily cooking was an unfamiliar sight, but it was one the raven-haired Viking adored. He had a happy grin on his face as he began slicing up the fruit. Observing his skills with the blades, Heather noticed that her brother might have inherited something else besides looks.

"So," Oswald began, looking at Heather, "what's been your role in the tribe? You've always had such great ideas for the children."

Heather caught herself before almost correcting him. "Dagur's given me the position as his second-in-command."

A warm smile appeared on the father's face. "I'm happy to hear that. I worried when you two were little. Sometimes, when one sibling is chief or the chieftess, it causes tension."

Oswald started a fire and put the fruit slices in the pot, letting them simmer over the flame with sugar and a small amount of water until they became a compote.

"I know my own mother and Uncle Haggard did not see eye-to-eye very often. I think he resented her for being in charge, so I'm glad that's not repeating itself with you. How have you liked leading, Dagur?"

"It's been nice," the redhead said. "I had to go through a learning phase for sure, but I think I've gotten the hang of it now."

"I always knew you would. I'm glad you two are friends with the Berkians as well. Friends can make the difference between joyful and lonely existences." He chuckled. "I still remember when you and Hiccup would play as children. I think you scared the poor boy half to death, but he was always a good sport about it. It makes me happy to see that as you grew, your friendship only got stronger."

Dagur gave a sheepish grin. Happily, Oswald took the fruit off the fire and put it over some burly cakes. He plated them elegantly and put them in front of the two Vikings.

"Dig in. Don't feel the need to spare my feelings if you don't like it." He laughed. "I know that your mother never did. She was the first to tell me that my cooking was terrible. You two must have gotten your skills from her. As much as I'd like to take credit for that part of who you became, that would be a blatant lie."

Heather chuckled at him and took her fork, digging into a burly cake with the syrup on top. The bite was delicious–not too sweet or tart. It was the perfect amount of tanginess.

"This is delicious!"

Dagur eagerly nodded his head in agreement as he kept eating. "It really is! Wish you'd had these fruits sooner!"

Oswald smiled and began enjoying some of his own food. As he did, he smacked like the redhead remembered, but he did not complain this time. Even if the sound was not enjoyable, Dagur enjoyed knowing it meant that their father was back home.

"I suppose it took me so long to cook because I never had the need," the eldest man said, looking at his son. "When your mother was not preparing a meal, you were, and then Heather joined you. When I was on my own, I was forced to cook food I would be willing to eat or to starve. The latter wasn't too promising."

Heather looked up from the plate. "What was Mom like? Is she where Dagur gets his hair color from?"

The father smiled fondly. "Yes, and his flair for the dramatic. She was just as fiery as her hair. I loved her more than life itself. She was brilliant, brave, and funny. She always knew how to make me laugh. The entire tribe adored her."

Hesitantly, the rider asked, "How did she die?"

Oswald's expression saddened and he blinked several times before answering. "There was an illness which swept through the island. She continued to be brave. She was our best healer and took care of as many Berserkers as she could before it finally spread to her. By then, it was too late. She thought that she would be able to help the others and then handle it herself." The man took a shaky breath. "I didn't understand at first why she was separating herself from the rest of us. I wish she'd told me, but she said that she didn't because she knew I'd have tried to heal her and we both might have contracted the illness."

Heather reached across the table to touch his hand. A stray tear fell from his eye which he wiped away.

"You were so young when it happened…a month shy of four, I believe. I wish you had been older to have more memories of her."

Subtly, Heather glanced at Dagur to see if this information was accurate. He gave a small nod of his head to inform her that this was true. His expression was mostly unreadable, but the other rider could tell that he was unhappy. Their father looked at him.

"But Dagur was five, so he understood what was happening. That was a rough time for all the children. I think it was harder for him because he knew he was supposed to protect them one day. He felt responsible and after losing her…"

Another tear fell and Oswald took a drink of water. Clearing his throat, he gave Heather's hand a light squeeze and smiled at her.

"But she lives on in your courage. She'd be so proud of you, Heather. I know I am."

When they finished eating, the man yawned. He started to collect the plates when the siblings stopped him.

"No, Dad," Dagur said, "we've got this. You just rest. It's been a long day for you." He paused. "But…before you go–"

"We just wanted to say again how much we love you."

Oswald grinned and put his arms around the pair. "I love you too. Sleep well."

Contently, the father went back to his room. Dagur and Heather got the dishes and began clearing the table. As they cleaned them, the chief glanced at his sister.

"We agreed that I'd tell him after dinner."

"Yeah, well tomorrow is technically after dinner too. He said he wanted to be happy for now. Why not just let him be for the entire day? There's no rush."

"I'll tell him in the afternoon then."

"Or…"

"Heather," Dagur scolded.

"Dagur, just consider this," she said quickly, "why tell him? He's happy. Even if these memories aren't real, they're pleasant ones. It's a fantasy that he wants to live and I want to live it with him. The way he was talking, it was how he'd have spoken to me if he'd known me my whole life. I've imagined talking to my dad like that since I was a little girl. For it to actually happen…"

Heather trailed off, feeling emotional. The older Berserker saw this and sadly regarded her.

"I'm sorry that you didn't get that in real life, but do you really want to live a lie?"

"I don't see it as a lie. It's more…what would've happened." The Viking could tell that Dagur was still uncertain. "We'll tell him eventually, but I want to bask in this for a little bit. Can we just do that for a week? If he remembers on his own, then it'll mean it wasn't meant to be."

Horror flashed on the chief's face. "He can't find out on his own," he said in a harsh whisper. "It has to be me telling him."

"Then, you can. Just…after a week. Seven days. That's all I'm asking for. Please, Brother."

Seeing her face, Dagur could tell how much this meant to her. He tapped his foot anxiously and glanced towards the back where their father was resting.

"I should tell him," he thought. "I should go and tell him right now, but I can't. I owe this to Heather. It's my fault that this life is a lie. Letting them live it for a little is the least I can do."

The young man nodded his head, causing Heather to smile in excitement and hug him.

"Thanks! This means so much to me!"

Heather began going to her room as well. The Viking did not even live there anymore. After the first few weeks of going home, her brother made another hut for her when she found where she wanted it to be located. Going back to her old room just seemed more special this time. She was excited for the next day and could not wait for it to start. As Heather got ready for bed, Dagur tensely dried the dishes and set them back up.

"Dad can't remember," he thought, frowning. "I hope he keeps forgetting this entire week. I have to be the one to tell him this time. I can't let him find out on his own again. I just can't."