Oswald stared blankly at the Berserkers. Without another word, he turned and returned to his home. Dagur was still there and had to stop himself from talking to his future self when he heard the door open. He watched as his father walked by quietly before going to his room. PD looked at fD in hopeful shock.

"You know where Heather is?" he asked in a harsh whisper.

The elder pulled out a scroll and showed him, pointing to a landmass not far from theirs. "She lives in a village right here." FD tapped the map as his expression turned unreadable. "It's an interesting place. She's living with loving foster parents there, so you'll have to convince her that it will be better to stay here instead of the home she's used to."

PD's expression was more clear and that of regret. "How am I supposed to do that? She'll hate me as soon as she finds out why she's been living on a separate Island her whole life."

The future Dagur gave him a quick nod. "And that's why you won't be leading with that. You should tell her somewhere down the line but only after you two have reconnected. It'd be best coming from you when she does learn it, though."

The new chief crossed his arms over his chest, looking nervous. FD gave him a warm smile.

"Heather won't hate you when she finds out. She'll be mad, yes, but if she could forgive me in my timeline, you two will be able to be close again."

The next morning, pD filled up a ship with supplies and brought several of his Berserkers with him. For this voyage, he was the anxious Dagur. After giving the Vikings the coordinates, he paced back and forth in the lower compartments of the vessel. After nearly walking a trench into the deck, the Berserker stopped and plopped down in a chair.

"Why did Heather hate you so much in your timeline?" he questioned, trying to distract himself, if moderately.

FD pursed his lips. "I guess that it won't matter if you know. Only because we're about to find her, though." He sighed. "Of course, I don't know how relevant it is and would prefer to not talk about it."

PD leaned forward in his seat. "But if it won't matter, why not tell me? It'll be something to keep in the back of my mind to not do in my future," he reasoned.

The older viking scrunched his face, but conceded with a groan. "In my past, your alternate future, I went to Heather's village, but for a different reason." He balked, taking a breath. "I went to get some supplies for my Berserkers and the traders weren't willing to sell it to me because they had heard of several of my...antics with the Berkians. Easily, I could have just turned and left, but I wanted to strike fear into the hearts of everyone. It felt necessary to prove a point. A point that was: I was a threat to be taken seriously-not some minor inconvenience that Hiccup and Stoick could ignore. They needed to fear me, so to do this, I.."

The elder chief leaned his head back, then looked up again at his past self. "Sorry, I'm not going into this right now. Just trust me, I deserved her hatred, you don't. It'll work out, however, I'd suggest not having 'I'm your brother' be the first thing out of your mouth."

PD's brow rose. "Then what do I say is my reason for coming? Doubt me coming for a chance to hang out with random vikings would be believable."

He received a chuckle in reply. "You can say that you're looking for more vikings to trade with. That's the plan that keeps popping into my head," fD stated.

Nodding, pD rose from the chair and resumed his trench digging. The trip to the island felt like it flew by them. Before the Berserker knew it, the ship was docking. PD held his breath for a moment, preventing it from rising to a Speed Stinger rate. With steps that were attempted to not be trembly, the chief walked down to the island. Several vikings approached him.

"Welcome, stranger. What brings you to our village?" one inquired.

The Berserker thought back to the lines that he had been reciting in his head for half an hour. "I'm Dagur, chief of the Berserker tribe, and I'm hoping to expand our trade groups. I came here to see if you all were willing and able to be our partners in this."

When he was finished, there was silence from the others. Dagur was unsure if the quiet could have meant that they were contemplating on how to say yes, or if they were searching for a polite way to decline.

"Um, sure," another viking agreed, uncertainty evident in her voice. Quickly, she changed her tone. "Yes, sorry. We're just a bit surprised that someone wants to trade with us. We definitely could use the extra inventory since we've been harboring a lot of refugees lately."

PD looked at her questioningly. "Refugees?" he echoed.

"Yeah. Apparently, Alvin the Treacherous attacked this one island, so a lot of its inhabitants had to flee and now they're living here," the Viking informed the Berserker.

"We have a lot of trout and have some of the best craftsmen on this side of the archipelago," another one added. "Can we trade those for some more yak and eggs?"

Dagur gave an absent-minded nod of agreement. "That's fine. We'll figure out the kinks."

Looking past those Vikings, pD tried to see if he could find his sister.

"She's not over here," fD stated. "Right now, how about you just start initiating these trades."

Less than thrilled, pD complied, taking some supplies off of his ship. "Is this why you had me pack so much?" he asked, carrying a large crate down his boat's ramp.

"You got it," fD confirmed. "Now, I'll keep an eye out for Heather. You probably wouldn't recognize her, so I'll tell you when I spot her."

The Vikings began inspecting the goods of one another and a few deals were made. FD's eyes scanned the area until he found his target.

"Here she comes," the man told pD.

"What?" The chief almost spun around, but stopped to not look so suspicious.

Heather went by Dagur with a skeptical look in her eyes. "Why are you really here?" she interrogated.

The chief kept his cool. "What do you mean? We're trading, see?"

He lifted a stuffed rabbit to demonstrate his point. Heather still felt paranoid.

"Berserker Island has always had everything that it's needed and you definitely do not need trout and arts and crafts. Why waste all this time to come here and give up actually valuable items in exchange for useless ones?"

Dagur allowed a smirk. "I have my reasons. Since we're asking questions, I heard about Alvin's attack. Were you one of the Vikings affected or were you already here before all of that took place?"

Heather glanced again at the stuffed animal. "My parents and I lived there for most of my life. When Alvin brought his Outcasts and attacked, we were just lucky to come out alive. We didn't necessarily escape , though."

Perplexed, Dagur inquired, "How are you here now then?"

The young girl smiled fondly at the memory. "I made friends with the Vikings on Berk. Alvin had captured my parents and unless I helped him get the object from Berk, he'd kill them and me."

Dagur felt his blood boil in a way that he never had before. "Alvin threatened to kill you?" the Berserker growled.

Heather hardly noticed the change of demeanor. "Of course, but Hiccup and the others helped me free my parents from Alvin. We were able to stop him. Still," her eyes turned downcast, "Alvin has all of our belongings, including a priceless family heirloom from my mother."

The sound of a voice calling out for assistance came. Turning, she saw her parents by their home.

"The chickens have gotten loose again," Heather's father said.

She turned back to Dagur. "I've got to go help catch them. Bye."

She started to walk away when he followed. "I have a few pretty good chicken catching techniques that I could show you."

Heather chuckled. "Okay, thanks. My hut's right up here." She pointed to a building. "It's the one with the long top."

Mentally repeating what he had learned for memory, the Berserker told her, "Just give me a couple of minutes first. There's something that I need to do."

Heather gave a nod and continued on her way to the home. The chief returned to his ship and closed the door to his study behind himself.

"What are you doing?" fD asked him, confused. "Why do we need to talk?"

"Because," pD began, "I want to know if you think I should go get that heirloom back for Heather. I know that it doesn't belong to our mom, but Heather seemed like she cared about these folks of hers a lot. Plus, I could make Alvin pay for what he did."

FD looked at him and shook his head. "No," he told the boy.

PD's eyes widened. "What? Why not? I thought that avenging others would fall under that 'be good or else' thing that you keep trying to get me to follow."

The older Berserker was unmoving on the subject. "That's not what you need to do. Heather's safe now and so are her parents. Alvin will get what's coming to him when it's his time. Don't try to speed it up."

PD frowned. "He tried to kill our little sister," he protested through gritted teeth. "You can't expect me to just let that go. He's still out there. What if he comes back and tries something again? He could return, more prepared, and win. All because I decided to be overly forgiving."

Sighing, fD said, "You won't be a bad brother for not killing Alvin. From this point on, you can be there for Heather and protect her from various dangers. We just weren't available for this one."

A deranged look went into the teenager's eyes. "Did this happen since you've been here? Don't tell me that I went to go retrieve Oswald while my baby sis and her whole island were almost massacred!"

A scowl began to form on the other Viking's visage. "Don't forget that I'm still you. Heather and her foster parents had already had their encounter with Al before I showed up and like I told you earlier, as far back as I could go, I did. I'd never put Dad before Heather. You and I aren't that different."

This pacified the Berserker chief, nonetheless, he still looked at the older leader with skepticism in his eyes. "There's something that you're not telling me."

FD scoffed. "Make a list. There's enough to fill up a whole scroll. I can't risk messing up the timeline by telling you details of my life, so secrecy is my main practice now."

PD folded his arms. "I kind of get that, but I mean that there's something, in particular, about this instance." He narrowed his eyes, looking deeply into the time traveler's. "This is about more than just not being antagonistic or getting used to being that. This is about me going after Alvin specifically. You really don't want me to. It's so bad, you almost seemed concerned."

FD opened his mouth angrily and then took a deep breath. "We can discuss this later. Right now, you're passing up an opportunity to bond with the same sister you claim to want to protect."

Gesturing to the door, the Berserker shooed him away. He was sent a harsh glare prior to the young chief exiting. Dagur went to the location that Heather had given him and found her out back, chasing various fowls.

"It's fun to chase them, but it's not efficient," he told her.

The Viking girl stopped running and put her hands on her knees, panting. "What would you suggest?"

A devilish grin spread across the viking's face as he approached the birds. The chickens were blissfully ignorant of the Berserker chief's presence and chased one another to their little hearts' content. Shifting his eyes, Dagur saw where the coops were and reached to grab something. Drawing several blades, he threw some in front of different birds, stopping them in their tracks. By doing this, he continued to redirect their paths. Quickly, the avians were herded back into their chicken coop. Heather watched on, amused and impressed.

"How'd you come up with that?" she inquired.

The chief latched the door on the enclosure for the livestock. "I just like knives. Before, I'd chase chickens around, but someone kept getting upset by me messing with them. I guess because of that, I had to find a faster way to get the job done." He smirked while twirling a knife between his fingers. "Works out nicely now. How good is your aim?"

Heather shrugged. "Pretty good, I think. To be honest, I haven't had the chance to throw many weapons before."

Dagur handed one blade to her. "The trick is to see not only where your target is when you're watching it, but where it will be too. If you can anticipate correctly, you can either pin it or block it. Just depends on what your goal is."

Heather looked between the blade and coop hesitantly.

"Do you want to try?" the chief asked her.

Pausing momentarily, she gave a nod of her head. Dagur smiled and reopened the coop, allowing the birds to run freely again. Heather's eyes darted back and forth as they scurried around her and the Berserker.

"Focus on one at a time," he instructed.

The younger Viking spotted a chicken with bright red flowers on its back and a black chest that reflected green. She tossed the knife at it and missed by a mile.

"You need to anticipate further in front of them," Dagur recommended.

Heather frowned and tried a couple times again, improving each time. During the last few minutes, she was successfully able to recapture the birds. Running to prevent them from escaping once more, she locked them in. The chief clapped, laughing happily.

"Well done, Heather!"

She smiled, though it faded as her brows furrowed.

"You could be pretty good with knives if you wanted to train more. Do you have any favorite weapons yet?" Dagur inquired, bringing Heather out of her thoughts.

"Not really. I like axes a lot. The only issue is that I wish they'd have blades on both ends," she divulged.

"That would be cool!"

"What about you? I'm willing to guess knives?"

The Berserker gave a toothy smile, nodding. Heather's eyes diverted from Dagur's for a moment, filled with thoughtfulness.

"Um, how come you're a chief already? You don't seem much older than I am."

She handed the blade back to him.

"I'm not. I ended up becoming chief in the absence of my father, but now I'm the official leader of the Berserkers."

The duo spent the rest of the day just speaking about weapons, various fighting techniques, and whatever odd topic popped into the mind of the deranged youth. At the end of the day, Dagur knew that he was stalling. He kept thinking to himself that he needed to tell Heather who they were in relation to each other, but he continued to find new things to mention instead. Heather still had something that weighed heavily on her mind. Finally, she spoke on it.

"How did you know my name?"

"What?"

"My name. I never said what it was, but you knew it anyway. You said so right after I was done with the chickens."

Dagur sighed. "Guess this is the time to tell her," he mused. "Your parents, are they your birth parents?"

Heather shook her head.

"Right," the chief concurred. "They're not because your birth parents were the chief and chieftess of the Berserker tribe."

The young girl stared at him blankly. "They couldn't be. My adopted family told me that they found me on a boat with a blanket and a horn with a crest on it. If I were the daughter of leaders like that, how would I have gotten lost?"

Dagur felt his heartbeat speed up. "Many things have caused the children of rulers to be separated from their homes, but you really are Oswald the Agreeable's daughter."

Heather took a step back and her face conveyed her confusion. "No, I couldn't be. If-if that were true and I were the daughter of the last chief of the Berserkers, then..."

She trailed off, eyes meeting Dagur's.

"I've really missed you, Sis."

Heather stumbled backwards into a building's wall.

"Earlier you asked me why I came here. Well, this was my reason. I wanted to find you. It's been too long an-and I don't expect an answer today, but I wanted you to know that we want you to return to Berserker Island. Your adopted parents are welcome too-they deserve nothing less for taking care of you for so long. I...Dad and I, we just want you back home, Heather," Dagur blurted out.

When he was done, the chief looked at her with desperation in his eyes. For what seemed like an eternity, Heather was silent.

"This is..something," she eventually said. "For so long , I didn't know who I was or where I was from. I assumed that my birth family didn't want me anymore-that they figured getting rid of me was the best option." Emotion was beginning to be heard in the Viking's voice. "I love my new parents and don't want to leave them behind. Would they really be welcomed to your island?"

Dagur could neither nod in more reps nor faster than he did after this question. " Our island," he corrected, "and of course. We have plenty of room and would love to have you all there."

For one more time, Heather was quiet for a while. "Okay," she conceded. "I'll go. I want to see Dad, our home. I want to get to know the family that I was taken away from."

Tears shone in her eyes and Dagur stepped forward. Stretching out his arms, he engulfed her in a comforting hug. Heather was surprised how nice it was. Even though he was practically a stranger, there was an undeniable fraternal quality about him and it made her feel better. Late that night, Dagur was back in his ship, smiling at the ceiling.

"You win," he told his older self. "You got me our sister back. Tomorrow morning, Heather and I will tell her parents about this and by this time, we'll be home on Berserker Island." Dagur sat upright. "I can tell you right now that I'm going to disagree with some of the things that you tell me to do, but I trust you-or, you could say that I trust myself." He smirked. "But even still, if you can tell me something without the world being turned into an apocalypse or whatever, can you just tell me?"

FD gave a small nod. "I suppose. As of tonight, I still can't tell you too much about why I didn't want you to go after Alvin, but I can say a bit. At this point, you just aren't ready. Can you put up a good fight? Yes, better than good, but one false move and you'll be in a world of hurt. One that's not easy to escape from. If it can be avoided, I don't want you going against Alvin by yourself." He smiled. "But anyway, today was productive. I can already recall the happy memories that you'll have with Heather."

PD smiled as well. "It'll be great to have Heather back on the island." The boy laid back down and closed his eyes, grinning. "It'll be just like old times."