Heather brought Oswald his tea, realizing that he was already sleeping with soft snores. She sat it on a table near his bed and then closed the door so that no noise would disturb him. When she did, she saw that Dagur was no longer in the hut. He was outside and Heather joined him.

"We have to tell him," the chief said. "He's losing it."

"He's not losing it," the rider insisted. "He just had a dizzy spell."

"It's like he said, he's never had one of those before."

"He's getting older."

"Oh yeah, because this is all part of normal aging. Go gray, get a few wrinkles, and think your life with your children is a fantasy one. Can't wait 'til I'm his age. Who knows what world I'll be living in," Dagur said sarcastically, raising his arms.

"Fine, maybe this isn't normal, but…"

"There is no 'but,' Heather. We're messing with his mind. I know what it's like for your head to not feel right. It's not fair to do that to him."

"What's not fair is you agreeing to give me this week and now going back on it," Heather retorted. "It's one week, Dagur. Even Vorg mentioned how happy Dad seemed. If this is the happiest he's been, why take it away?"

"Because it's not real!" the redhead said in a harsh whisper. "Every time we smile and nod, agree or do anything else to go along with this, we're just making it worse for when he finally finds out." He paused, pointing back at the hut. "He thought Ansson and I were friends. That couldn't be further from the truth, but it proves that his delusions are going far beyond you not growing up here. What if he'd remembered being pals with the Grimborns or something? We don't know. He might have met them on his travels. He might have gotten up this morning and decided, 'I should go say hi to my best friends, the Flyers.' He could've done anything dangerous and that won't stop until we just sit him down and tell him the truth."

Heather was frowning at the hut. Dagur's points made sense, but they did not change how she felt.

"On the ship," she said, "being there with him was amazing. It was like I'd known him my entire life because he thought I did. Maybe this isn't fair to him. If he's upset with me afterwards, I'll apologize and mean it. I really don't want him to get hurt. I just want to get to know him like this some more."

Dagur looked frustrated. "I get that," The Berserker gestured to the tribe, "but I can't expect the entire tribe to keep this secret until we tell him. Someone could mention something to him or it all might just come back to him one morning over breakfast." Dagur shuddered, remembering his dream. "If that happens, it's not you he's going to be upset with. He'll never forgive me."

"He forgave you for not finding him sooner."

"He doesn't remember anything about me, Heather. He remembers I'm his son." The young man stopped, shrugging. "That's it. Oh, and that my name's Dagur and I like fruit baths. He clearly came up with new childhoods for us both. Dad didn't forgive me, he forgave his sensible son who always looked out for his sister and took care of their tribe. When the memories come flooding back, that version of me is getting thrown off the island along with this one. You saw what happened when he just found out that I let everyone think I killed him. What do you think he's going to do when he finds out I actually have killed people?"

Dagur ran a hand through his hair. This was getting out of control.

"I can't let him find out like last time," he mumbled

Heather's brows pinched together. "What do you mean? Didn't you tell him?"

"I was going to," the chief said miserably. "I was on my way back to tell him, but someone had seen me and got to him first."

"How did he respond?"

The Berserker let out a laugh. "You should be able to see how much he cares about you. Just imagine him finding out that you're probably never going to be seen again." His tone became serious. "I can't go through that again, Heather. Don't ask me to."

Heather put her hands on his shoulders. "I'm not asking you to do that. I'm just asking for a little more time. The week will be over before you know it. That's all I want. I promise that I'll talk with Dad if he finds out before then and seems upset." She gestured to herself. "It shouldn't be as big of a reaction this time. I'm here, I'm back home, and I'm safe. Before, he was probably scared about what might have happened to me. He won't need to be scared because he'll be able to see that I'm fine."

Dagur stepped away from her, a hand covering his mouth. He was muttering to himself. Heather could not make out the words. The intonation of his voice made it sound like he was in the middle of a quiet argument. Abruptly, the redhead stopped.

"We found him yesterday. That means there are five days left starting tomorrow," Dagur stated. "Five days. As soon as those have ended, I'm telling him."

"I just need these five," Heather said. "When they're up, I'll even be there for moral support."

"That'll probably be very needed." The Berserker let out a low groan. "You could get me to teach yaks to dance in the rain if it made you happy. You know that, right?"

"I do, and that's something I really appreciate," the brunette assured him with a smile.

She returned to the hut and Dagur sighed before going up to the top of the island. There was another dragon he wanted to see. In an area of his own for the Berserker children to come and visit, a Gronckle was happily munching down on some rocks. He wagged his tail when he saw the chief. Dagur smiled and patted his head.

"Hey, Shattermaster."

The Berserker took a few rocks and played catch with the dragon.

"Miss flying with you, but I'm glad we still get to have these times together."

Dagur tossed another rock. The third went straight into the dirt. Shattermaster noticed the frown on his friend's face and went over to him.

"Sorry, I know I'm probably not being very fun right now. I'm just thinking about Dad. I can't take this chance away from Heather, but…" The Berserker let out a heavy sigh. "It's like I'm choosing between which one I want to hate me. Wait, and Dad will. Don't wait, and Heather will. Knowing me, I'll probably screw it up and then they both will."

The chief could not stand the idea of depressing the Gronckle more than he probably already had, so even though his friend would have been fine with him staying there and venting, he left to take a look around the village. Hours passed and when it became late at night, he spotted a certain dark-haired man. Oswald had a hand to the bridge of his nose and was looking off at the water. Hesitantly, Dagur approached him.

"Hey," he greeted, startling the other Berserker. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

Oswald shrugged off the shock. "It's fine. I was lost in thought and didn't notice you."

The redhead looked at him with worry in his eyes. "Are you feeling any better at all?"

"I think so. I'm not sure what happened."

Dagur forced himself to not offer his own theories for why the man had felt so strange earlier. Instead, he pointed at the ships.

"Like them? These are new."

"I'm partial to mine from before, but they're nice as well."

Oswald became quiet and Dagur was not sure what type of small talk to start up with him.

"Did you want to be alone?" the chief asked."I guess I did sorta invite myself over."

"I don't necessarily want solitude. I just thought you and Heather would be asleep and did not want to wake either of you." With this in mind, the father turned to his son. "Why is it that you're up right now?"

"I never went to sleep."

"Not at all?"

"I wasn't tired."

Oswald squinted at him. "You must be tired. You have bags under your eyes."

Dagur turned away slightly. "Okay, then I just didn't feel like going to sleep."

"Why not?"

"I've got more things to do. Fixed some watchtowers an hour ago and started sharpening some of the weapons in the armory."

Oswald got quiet again, then a frown crossed his face. "Back on Vanaheim, you said that you made bad life decisions. What did you mean by that?"

Dagur tensed. "Just that I did some stuff I'm not proud of while you were away."

When he did not elaborate, his father lifted an eyebrow. "Is that all? Surely, there's more to it than that."

"Well, yeah there is. I just was hoping you wouldn't ask for the specifics."

The older Berserker crossed his arms. "If what I learned yesterday was any indication, I think it would be helpful if I knew more things about what's gone on in your life. What weren't you proud of?"

Dagur bit his lip and frowned. "I guess you'll probably hear about it from Stoick soon anyway." He let out a sigh. "I didn't take finding out about the dragons on Berk well."

"What was the problem?"

"They lied," the redhead answered. "They said they didn't have dragons and I believed them, so when it turned out that they'd tricked me, it made me look stupid." The Berserker paused. "I decided I'd get my own dragon. Then, Hiccup messed that up, so I decided I'd attack Berk. I kept going after them and nothing was working. We could bring in dragons who'd steal all their metal and we'd still somehow lose. Finally, I'd had it. I was sick of losing and decided it was all or nothing. I wasn't going to lose again. It was Hiccup's turn. I gave him a choice between his dad and his dragon. He couldn't have both."

Oswald listened with wide eyes. The words took some time to register. As they did, the redhead hesitantly regarded him.

"You started a war over a lie?"

Dagur let out a weak laugh. "That sounds so bad when you say it, but yeah."

"What in Thor's name would compel you to do that?"

Oswald's tone sounded confused, but it was also irritated. His son looked away from him and at the ground.

"I thought Hiccup and I were friends," he explained. "When I found out he'd lied and didn't even feel bad about it, it stung. I was sad, then I was also embarrassed. After that, I just got angry. Really angry."

"Angry enough to oppose a peace that's existed since before you were born."

Dagur said nothing and just nodded. His actions back then seemed so immature to him. He had put so much at risk over some hurt feelings. The reminder was nothing he enjoyed.

"Did you bring the entire fleet to attack?"

The redhead looked up with wide eyes. "No, I didn't do that. I left most of the Berserkers here."

Oswald regarded him in shock. "We're known for our numbers."

"It would've been too much. We'd have wiped Berk off the face of the Earth if we came in even with half our fleet. I didn't want all that. I just wanted to make Hiccup pay."

Oswald still looked confused by this. Suddenly, his gaze moved downwards to Dagur's arm. With a pit in his stomach, the younger Berserker realized he was looking at the other tattoo. The older man grabbed his wrist to look closer.

"'Hiccup, Night Fury, Alvin…' why are these written here?"

A nervous laugh escaped Dagur's throat as he wiggled his wrist free. "Uh, that kind of goes along with what I was telling you about. It's my-uh-hitlist."

Horror covered Oswald's face. "Why is 'father' on there?"

"Well, that's the good part at least," Dagur said quickly. "You're one of the only names on the list I didn't put there to remind myself to kill at some point."

The dark-haired man still just stared at him for several seconds. "I think we might define 'good' differently." He looked at the names again. "There are a lot of names. Why did you write 'sister?' I'm assuming Heather was another person you did not plan to hurt."

"Yeah, I just didn't want to forget you two."

"Why would you have forgotten us?" Oswald looked exasperated by what he was hearing. "When did you even make this?"

"In prison."

"You went to prison?"

Though not a yell, the father's voice rose with a distinct note of anger. Dagur reluctantly nodded his head. Oswald let out a sigh, putting a hand over his face.

"Do you realize that no Berserker chief has ever been taken as a prisoner before? Not in all our people's history." There was a slight pause as Oswald lowered his hand to look at Dagur. "You do realize that, don't you?"

The chief felt like he was getting annoyed by the older man's tone…and his expression. His annoyance was mostly from unhappiness and embarrassment, but since those emotions were unpleasant, they quickly became a more comfortable one. Unfortunately, Dagur's comfortable emotion was anger which he was trying so hard to make an unpleasant emotion even if it was hard to fight against the habit. The young man took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down.

"Yes, Dad," Dagur answered, sighing. "I know that I was the first. I'm not proud of that fact, but I know it."

Oswald had a judgmental gaze. "Then, you got arrested for breaking the treaty and decided to write the names of people you hated and didn't hate on your arm. How long was the sentence?"

The redhead hesitated to answer. "How long was the sentence or how long was I there?"

His father let out a low sigh. "Why are those answers not the same, Dagur?"

"It just–"

"So, everything I said first happened and then you decided to escape from Berk and come back to lead the tribe?"

"That's not really–"

"Or maybe you tried to make amends with the Berkians despite clearly disrespecting them more by breaking out of their prison for crimes you committed."

"No, I didn't–"

"Stoick's not the most forgiving man, so I wonder how you were able to bond again with Hiccup and the others. Perhaps, you–"

"Dad!"

Oswald stopped talking, eyes widening for a moment. The redhead's teeth were bared like a snarling wolf and there was an intensity in his eyes which the former chief could not recall ever seeing. Dagur realized what he had done and lowered his head slightly.

"Sorry for snapping. Just...can I tell the story? It would be easier than you guessing."

The father's brows pinched together, then he nodded. "Very well. Explain yourself."

This also annoyed Dagur a little, but he took another breath. "I wasn't imprisoned on Berk. To get my dragon, I worked with Alvin to secure a Skrill. I knew he'd try to kill us as soon as he got the chance, so I took the Skrill and left. Of course, that made him mad, so he attacked and I fought him off. I thought I'd killed him. Turns out, I was wrong and when Hiccup went to get Stoick back, Alvin was there. That's when he arrested me."

As memories filled the Berserker's head, he paused, trying to rid himself of them. Oswald waited a moment, then he asked his question.

"Did anyone on our side die in the war?"

"No, neither side had any casualties."

Oswald nodded slowly. "And apparently relations with Berk were repaired. At least no real harm was done."

The man noticed how he did not hear an agreement.

"Do you disagree with that?"

"It's not that I wanted somebody to get killed. I just…" Dagur felt his face becoming hot from embarrassment. "I wish I didn't spend time in prison."

"Well, you broke the treaty, Dagur. I'm not sure what else you'd expect to happen."

"I expected to go to Berk," the redhead admitted, frowning a bit. "I didn't break any laws with Alvin."

"You still broke your deal with him."

"He was going to kill us. We would have had casualties then."

"You shouldn't have worked with him."

"I didn't plan to for long. I just wanted the Skrill."

"I suppose you didn't think through the potential risks." Oswald paused. "I think I used to tell you to do that."

Dagur became quiet again. He pulled away when he felt a hand brush his scar.

"Is that where this came from? Alvin?"

The younger Berserker nodded his head.

"So, because you were punished once by Alvin, you decided to not accept the rest of the consequences for your actions by escaping?"

Dagur met Oswald's gaze with hurt on his face. "It was a lot more than once and Alvin didn't work alone. I didn't escape because I just couldn't stomach getting ridiculed or because I couldn't wait a couple more years. They made every day unliveable and the sentence was for my entire life. I was never getting out of there. Have you heard about the prison on Outcast Island?"

"I have. It's enough to give the most fearsome Vikings nightmares."

"And that's nothing compared to what spending one night there is like, let alone three years." Dagur put his hands on the sides of his head, grimacing. "I couldn't take it anymore, Dad. There was never a second to just breathe. They were always after me. The first time I had a moment's peace was when I killed my cellmates."

The Berserker realized in horror what he had said. Opening his eyes, he looked at his father. Oswald was not even surprised at what he heard.

"I suppose that if you are a declarer of war and an escaped convict, I should not be shocked by this information."

He sounded so disappointed that it burned like fire fern. Dagur's head hung slightly so that he did not have to see the man's face.

"Have you at least made amends with Alvin?"

"No, I haven't seen him since the last time he was in my cell."

"You should handle that."

The chief shook his head. "I can't do that."

Oswald's expression became scolding. "How do you expect to get better if you run from your problems?"

"I never was released. He'd probably just want to lock me up again."

"You did shorten your own sentence."

Dagur's eyes widened in shock. "What are you saying? That I should've stayed? I wouldn't be here right now if I did. You wouldn't either technically." His voice lowered as his gaze did the same. "It takes a lot for someone on Outcast Island to be considered messed up enough to be sent to their prison. The guards and Alvin still aren't much better."

Oswald tiredly rubbed his eyes. "I don't know what I'm saying. I wish you hadn't gotten arrested in the first place. Since you were, you should handle that like a respectable chief would." A frown creased his forehead. "I would've hoped that your time in prison would have given you more maturity."

With a shake of his head, the man walked away. Dagur sadly watched, then sighed. He needed to meditate. It was too early in the day to already feel this terrible. That was reserved for the afternoon at least. The sunrise mocked him. Fortunately for the Berserker, there was a cave he had easy access to which could help provide a quiet place. Dagur went to the center of the island. It was dark and devoid of other Vikings–two qualities he liked best in a meditation spot. He sat down and closed his eyes.

"He hates me. Stop that. This is supposed to be calming. You're just messing it up like you messed up the Berserker reputation in the world."

The redhead opened his eyes and got up to pace back and forth, grunting at himself. "Come on, Dagur! Just think of something else."

Plopping down again, he gave meditation another attempt. It did not calm him much, but he succeeded in thinking of a different topic.

"We still don't know what the king of dragons is. The Flyers and Hunters might get there before we do and find some way to control it. If we just had some better clue to use…"

The redhead's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone calling outside of the cave.

"Chief!" the voice called again. "Are you in there?"

Dagur sighed softly before going to the opening of the cave. "Yeah, what's going on?"

"Some Flyers were spotted near our territory by the trading station."

Not needing to hear anything else, the chief went down to the area and got his spyglass.

"Check the other sides," he ordered. "I want to know how many we're dealing with."

The Berserkers obeyed the command and went off to see how many enemies there were.

"Why would they be here?" Dagur wondered. "Could be revenge for fighting against them so much. Why so few numbers, though?"

Just as he began thinking of plans to deal with the invaders, the Flyer flew off in the opposite direction. When the other Berserkers returned, they told the chief that the same had happened at the other corners of the island.

"Why were they here if they don't want to attack?" Vorg asked.

"Let's not think that they don't want to attack. They just didn't," Dagur stated. "They're probably planning something bigger and just weren't ready for it yet. That looked like a scout and if you each saw one, they probably were too. Stay on alert and prepare for an attack. I want someone at the watchtowers every hour."

The chief pointed at one construct. "I saw this one unattended last night."

A couple Berserkers lowered their heads in shame. "Sorry, Chief. We didn't think we'd have to worry about them coming here since there are so many of us."

"Don't underestimate them. They're a lot of them too. If we get lazy, they'll get the upper hand. Rotate Vikings so no one's exhausted and it's never left without someone keeping an eye on things."

The other Berserkers gave assurances that they would do this and already began heading to attend to their duties. While they did, Oswald was walking back to the stables. He wanted to look at the dragons again. The man got there and saw his daughter who smiled.

"Dad, I was wondering where you were," she said.

"I just slept so much yesterday that I got up earlier today than usual."

Oswald's expression was troubled and worried Heather. "Is everything okay?"

"I found out about your brother going to prison. Did you know that he wasn't released?"

"Yeah, I knew."

"And you didn't suggest he turn himself in?"

Heather stopped for a second. "After everything, I don't think it would be fair to send him back. He never talks about it, but I've seen him seem really on edge sometimes late at night. I think staying there was rough on him."

Oswald tilted his head at her. "It is a prison sentence. I'd hardly consider it a vacation."

"I know," Heather said, frowning slightly, "but isn't it better that he's here with us?"

"It is. My issue is the example he's setting for the others. The rest of the Berserkers look up to us. We have to show them the best way to live life. We can't afford to make mistakes."

"We all make mistakes, Dad. That's unavoidable."

Oswald looked at the Razorwhip, then the Triple Stryke, eyes narrowing. "Some things are avoidable. He started a war. As second-in-command, what did you say about that?"

Heather worked quickly to think of an answer. "The Berkians did lie. We know they wouldn't attack us now, but it was suspicious."

"So, you went along with his plan?"

Before the rider could answer, another Berserker approached them. "Oswald, we had Flyers come into our territory today."

"Flyers?"

"They're enemies of ours," Heather explained.

"Oh, what about them?"

"They looked like they were scouting," the newcomer informed him. "The chief's keeping people at the watchtowers, but since you were chief longer, I wanted to know if you had any suggestions for us."

Oswald blinked at him. "You wanted to know my idea for this?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I…think the watchtower idea is good."

"Is there anything else?"

"I really am not familiar with these enemies. I'm sure Heather would have better input."

"No offense to her," the Berserker stated sincerely, "but you were chief for years. Even if you don't know them, is there anything more you can think of?"

Another Berserker heard the question and walked over as well. Soon, more Vikings were gathered by the stables, awaiting the man's ideas.

"We're not used to being under attack, Oswald."

"What do we do?"

"Please, there has to be something you can tell us."

Oswald's eyes moved from Viking to Viking. Heather watched from a short distance, but something stood out as strange to her. The man was not answering their questions. His posture was changing to a slouch and it looked like they were trembling. There were so many voices–so many requests for him. Oswald could not catch his breath. It was as though the group was smothering him.

"Dad just got back home after years," Heather said, shooing away the group. "Give him a second to adjust to being here before just asking him a million questions."

Dejectedly, the Berserkers left the stables. Heather shook her head at them, then turned to Oswald. His face was pale and his eyes were wide.

"It was like they were about to attack," he muttered. When Oswald turned to his daughter, she saw panic in his eyes. "I didn't have any guidance to offer them. I'm useless to everyone."

Surprised, Heather had no words as Oswald also left the stables, heading back home with an immense feeling of shame.