Dagur kept walking until he saw some red hair under a small helmet.

"Ansson," he called.

The man turned around. "Chief Dainty–"

"Not in the mood for your insults," the other Berserker snapped. He took a deep breath. "My lens. Do you remember where you put it?"

"Your lens?" Ansson glanced upwards. "I'm not sure if I have it."

"Don't play games. I know you do."

"Hmm, it's a little foggy for me." A mocking smile crossed his face. "Maybe if you tell me how exactly I took it, that'll jog my memory."

Dagur frowned. "I'm not doing that. You probably put it on your ship somewhere. Just look."

The older redhead shrugged and glanced back. "Don't know and don't want to look either. I've taken so many things from you. They all start to blend in. I might have even thrown it away. Could just be wasting my time."

Feeling himself becoming more frustrated, the chief tried to remain calm. "Ansson, this is serious. We can use the lens to keep Berserker Island safe." When the other Viking said nothing else, he snarled at him. "So, find it," he said, through gritted teeth.

Ansson puffed up. "Is that an order?"

"It's a mercy if I decide to not start breaking your bones until you return my lens!"

The other Berserker's eyes widened slightly. Ansson looked conflicted. He wanted to press more, but he saw that he was playing a dangerous game. Dagur could tell that he knew this and also felt conflicted. He did not want Vikings to be afraid of him anymore, but Oswald was, so did it really matter if someone like Ansson was as well? At least his fear would be beneficial and the chief had tried to be peaceful initially. After a brief moment, Ansson reached into his pocket and brought out the lens. Dagur caught it when the item was tossed to him. Without saying anything else, he turned and began going back to where he had left the Riders.

"Are you okay?" Hiccup asked, noticing the steam coming off the Viking.

"I'm fine," he said, more roughly than he intended. In a less hostile tone, he spoke again. "I got the lens."

Dagur handed the item to the dragon trainer, who then put it in the Dragon Eye. The group moved to enter one of the buildings so that they were out of the direct sunlight.

"Mind doing the honors, Bud?"

Obliging, Toothless lit a low flame, letting the light go through the Dragon Eye. It projected onto a wall, shifting as dragons were shown. The Berkians looked at one another in surprise.

"What is it?" Heather asked.

"It's a Titan Wing Dramilion," Astrid told her.

"So, that's the King of Dragons?"

"I guess so," Hiccup supposed. "And this is showing where it is."

"Then, let's head there," Astrid suggested.

"I'll come with you," Dagur offered.

"Don't you want to stay with Os…" Hiccup trailed off, seeing his friend's unhappy expression.

"Heather," Dagur said, "would you be cool staying here with him?"

"I wouldn't mind. Maybe I could help him calm down some."

"All right," Hiccup said. "Then, I'll let my dad know and we'll head out."

The Berkian began walking where he had seen the fathers go. When he reached the building, he entered and saw the two friends. Oswald's cheeks were flushed and a cup was in his hand. There were also several empty ones near him. Stoick looked at his son.

"You seem like you learned something."

"We did. We found the King of Dragons. We're heading that way if you want to come with us."

Stoick shook his head. "I would, but if the Flyers and Hunters already know about it, they might be on their way to Berk. I need to return, but I wish you luck."

The chief began to stand and Oswald's expression remained tense.

"What we spoke about…"

He paused, looking at Hiccup, then Stoick again. The other man sighed, understanding the request.

"Can stay between us."

"Thanks, Stoick."

The redhead just nodded. "I'll see you before too much time has passed. It won't be three years again."

Oswald was too lost in thought to respond, so Stoick continued to leave and went with Hiccup to the stables. They got on their dragons' backs and either went to Berk or to find the Dramilion.

"It doesn't really make sense that the Flyers would be by our home if the King of Dragons is out here," Dagur said, frowning.

"You're right, but maybe they're just planning an attack," Hiccup suggested.

The Berserker was not sure if he agreed, but the group kept flying. They stopped when they reached the island. It was bereft of any large dragon.

"This can't be right," Fishlegs said, looking over the paper again. "It has to be here. This is where the map was showing us."

The twins shook their heads.

"Looks like our Fishlegs can't read a map," Tuffnut scolded, sucking his teeth.

"And to think I married him," Ruffnut said, crossing her arms.

Dagur looked at them in confusion for a moment, then turned back to Fishlegs. "The Hunters might have found it."

"But if they did, why wouldn't they have attacked?" Astrid asked.

The friends went quiet, no one certain how to answer.

"The best plan right now is to head back and guard our bases," Hiccup said. "I don't think there's anything else we can do."

Dejected, they began to fly away from the island. They remained in silence as each considered what their enemies' plans could be for them. After nearly half an hour, Snotlout broke the silence.

"It's the Dramilion!" he called out.

His friends followed his point and saw the dragon floating on the water.

"He's injured," Hiccup noted sadly. "We have to help him."

Sleuther let out a roar and Dagur patted his head.

"Strykie's got it covered."

Swooping down, the Triple Stryke gently wrapped his tail around the dragon and began lifting him.

"Where do we take him?"

"Defenders of the Wing Island," Hiccup suggested. "We have friends there with a dragon healing bay."

Toothless went in front of the others to lead the way. With a frown, the dragon looked up into the sky.

"What's wrong?" Hiccup asked, noticing his change in demeanor.

Letting out a low growl, the Night Fury drew the Riders' attention to the sky as well. It was becoming windier and darker. Far away, there were soft sounds of thunder.

"There's going to be a storm soon," Astrid realized. "We've got to reach Caldera Cay before it hits. I don't think the Dramilion will make it if he has to be flown through something like that."

The group picked up their pace, but so did the storm. Thunder got louder and they soon saw flashes. Snotlout looked around nervously.

"Great," he commented sarcastically. "Just what I need–another lightning bolt to the head. Was I just having too much luck this week, Thor?!"

"Don't test him!" Fishlegs insisted anxiously. "He didn't mean it, Thor. Please, don't smite us while we try to protect this poor dragon."

"You probably just convinced him to by pleading," Tuff told him, frowning.

"We should just ask Loki for help," Ruff offered.

"Good idea!"

"No, it isn't," Hiccup said. "The last thing we need right now is Loki's attention. Let's just stay out of the clouds and we should be fine."

The Vikings and dragons flew lower and faster until Defenders of the Wing Island came into view. When it did, the group landed and were quickly approached by Defenders. They immediately saw the wounded dragon and brought it to their healing bay. Mala noticed the visitors, greeting them warmly.

"Hello, Mala," Hiccup said. "We found the King of Dragons that the Hunters and Flyers were looking for. They left him to die, so we were hoping you'd be able to help."

Nodding, the queen's eyes moved to the sky. "We are also happy to offer shelter to you and your friends. This weather is far too dangerous for flight."

"Thanks." When the Berkian turned to the group, he realized something. "You haven't met Dagur. He's chief of the Berserkers."

The redhead went over and smiled at the Defender. She smiled back and extended her hand.

"And you're Queen Mala," he said, shaking her hand and surprising her.

"You know me?"

"Know of you at least. This is actually our second time being around each other. Nice to have an official introduction."

Mala had a perplexed expression on her face as she considered what he had said. "When did we meet?"

"You and a guy were at the Northern Markets."

The queen's eyes widened. "And you were the man in the cloak."

"Yeah! Cloaked guy at your service, Your Majesty," he said, adding flair with a bow.

Mala smiled, amused at the gesture. "I wanted to thank you for intervening. We had not realized so many enemies were there. I often send Defenders to the Northern Markets or go myself to purchase supplies."

"Happy to help." The chief let out a quick laugh. "It was also fun to club the one Hunter without them realizing that I was their enemy."

The queen chuckled with him. "There truly is always a joy in attacking foes." With a slight frown, she noticed that Fishlegs was getting in the way of her healers. "Perhaps, I could show you all to the guest huts."

Though he looked disappointed to leave the dragon, the Berkian went with the others. They were led to several buildings, but Dagur did not enter.

"Is it not to your liking?" Mala inquired.

"It's not that. They look great. Really. I just like to stay up late. I still can't figure out the dragon problem. I went to an island with a dragon skeleton that was way bigger than the Dramilion's. If it's the King of Dragons, who did those other bones belong to? The Odin of Dragons?"

Mala's expression became inquisitive and she brought a hand to her chin. "Perhaps, it is merely another Titan Wing dragon." Glancing up, she lifted an eyebrow. "You said that you saw a large dragon skeleton? Were you on Vanaheim?"

Dagur got quiet, recalling that it was a secret. The queen's expression softened.

"It does not need to be hidden from my Defenders. I have told Hiccup Haddock of its existence."

"Oh, then yeah. Thanks for that. Going was pretty helpful."

Mala glanced towards the huts with a sigh. "Of course, I had requested that he and the other Berkians not go there at all, let alone bring more Vikings."

"It's not his fault. He just took me there to help with a family issue."

The explanation raised more questions in Mala's mind than it did ease her concerns, but she saw that the chief looked to be deep in thought.

"I am going to help the others with the Dramilion," she said. "If you would like to talk about something–and are less prone to poke the reptile than Fishlegs Ingerman–you are more than welcome to join us."

Dagur chuckled. "I think I'm less pokey than Fishy. Thanks for the offer. For now, I'll probably just hang here with Strykie."

He patted the dragon's head and Mala nodded, letting him have his space. The Berserker's mind wandered to his home as he stared into the clouds. The weather was terrible. Rain began to pour down and Sleuther lifted a wing to shield his friend. Dagur gave him an appreciative smile, but his eyes held no happiness. They had a faraway look in them. Sleuther gently nuzzled his head against the Berserker's. It seemed like the dragon could instinctively tell whenever something was wrong. They stayed out for a while before finally entering the hut. While the group had gone to find the dragon, Heather had gone back to get Oswald. She saw that he was frowning at the cups on the table, then he noticed her presence.

"Heather?" he asked, surprised. "You didn't go with the others?"

"No, I stayed behind." She paused with a hopeful expression. "Are you feeling any more at ease now?"

Oswald's expression remained the same. "No. We should go sailing," he said. "Could we do that?"

Heather felt uncertain about this. "What if we did it tomorrow? It could give you today to relax."

Oswald shook his head. "No, tomorrow might be too late. We need to find somewhere quiet to talk. There are too many ears here. Someone might overhear us."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't tell you right now. The ears," he whispered.

Heather glanced around them, catching his paranoia like it was a contagion. "Maybe he heard someone else talking about a coup," she thought. "Okay, I'm fine going sailing with you. Let's not be gone for too long, though. The sky is starting to get a little dark already and it's nowhere near night."

"I don't need much time."

The father and daughter went to the docks and boarded a ship, Oswald immediately going to the mast to hoist the mainsail. As Berserker Island shrunk into a speck, he scowled.

"Dagur and his followers will plot to kill us."

Shocked, Heather was quiet for a few moments until she shook her head. "No, they won't."

"They already are planning it. I'm certain they are."

"Dad, they wouldn't do that."

"There was a coup already," he said tensely. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Heather cringed and sighed. "I didn't want to stress you. We handled it. The coup could have been much worse. Thankfully, no one died from it."

"Good, but you also didn't tell me that Dagur was with the Dragon Hunters, who we just were going against on that island."

"He was, but he's not anymore."

"He's just convinced you of that, Heather. Dagur went on raids. Did you know?"

A pit formed in the younger Berserker's stomach. "Yeah, I know."

"Do you know what happens in raids? Vikings get slaughtered."

"I know that, Dad. Trust me, I know."

"Then," Oswald began, bewildered, "how can you have faith in him now?"

"Because he's trying to be a different person."

"He can't be a different person. He'll always be who he is. There's no changing that."

Heather's expresion turned into a frown. "It's been really hard for me to forgive him. Before, I thought I never could, but I was wrong. If you give him a chance, I think you'll see that you can forgive him too."

Oswald was not looking at her. Instead, his eyes were widening as he looked past the Viking. Quickly, he grabbed Heather by the shoulders and moved her behind him. A large wave crashed into the ship. Oswald firmly held her hand and grabbed onto the helm. The ship was nearly turned to its side.

"I didn't realize the wind had gotten so strong!" the man told her, having to yell to be heard over the sound of the crashing waves.

Sounds of thunder soon accompanied. Heather tilted her head up at the sky, seeing how much it had darkened.

"We have to head back!" she suggested. "We're just going further into the storm at this rate."

Oswald could barely hear her, but he could guess what she had said. Pointing, he gestured for the Rider to go to the mast. Heather began adjusting the sails like Oswald had told her to do in the case of a storm. With this aid, he was able to turn them around, bringing them in the direction of their home. Lightning flashed too close for comfort and hurt Heather's eyes. She squinted, still trying to see well enough to spot waves before they hit the vessel.

"Another on the left!"

As Heather had warned, a large wave hit the deck. It pushed the younger Berserker into the side of the ship. She clung to it, trying to not get thrown off the vessel. When a stronger wave came, Heather's feet left the deck. In a panic, she realized that she was about to be tossed overboard. Oswald caught her hand before this could happen. Pulling her back to the ship, he hurried over to the helm again. The Viking fought against the vicious waves and the torrential winds which affected his vision. He kept Heather's hand in his right and the wheel in his left. Suddenly, he let go of his daughter. In horror, Heather watched a lightning bolt come down from the sky and hit the man, making his body jolt violently. After a torturous amount of time, the shaking ended and he slumped against the helm.

"Dad!"

Heather felt some relief in finding that he was still breathing, but they were in no less danger. Carefully moving the Viking so that one arm was around him, she began to work at the helm. Heather tightly held onto the spokes of the wheel, not daring to let blood circulate in her knuckles lest they both be flung from the ship. Releasing a stressed breath, Heather saw a glimmer of the sun setting and their harbor on the horizon. She lowered the anchor and caught the attention of some of the soldiers.

"My dad's unconscious," she said, voice sounding as stressed as she felt.

Not needing to be told anything else, Vorg and several others went on board to carry the Viking. They carefully brought him to his hut, then set him down on the bed. Heather sincerely thanked them and sat at his bedside, holding his hand in hers.

"Please, be okay, Dad," she quietly prayed.

For the entire night, Heather did not move from that spot. In the morning, the Berkians and Dagur got ready to leave Caldera Cay. They said goodbye to Mala and flew off, but as the Berserker got on Sleuther's back, he felt the queen touch his hand.

"Leaders cannot often confide in others regarding their concerns," she stated, a warmth in her voice. "My offer from last night still applies. If you need to talk, you are welcome to return."

Dagur gave her a small smile. "Thanks, Mala. You're welcome on Berserker Island if there's ever anything giving you a rough time too."

The Defender smiled at him as he and the dragon flew into the sky, heading a different direction from the others. Their flight seemed like it went by in mere seconds. Dagur wanted more of an excuse to stay out so that he did not have to see Oswald's fearful expression, but he could not avoid him forever.

"Would it be pathetic if I just stayed on Dragon Island until the week's out?" he asked the dragon.

Sleuther glanced at him with a knowing look. Sighing, the redhead had him fly to the stables. Dagur patted the reptile's head and began to head down to the village. He did not see Heather or his father, but Vorg found him.

"Chief," he said.

Dagur instantly saw the worried look in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Heather and Oswald went sailing. He got hit by lightning and has been unconscious since they got back."

Chest tightening, Dagur ran to the hut, going to the man's room. He saw him there with Heather still holding his hand. Gently, Dagur put a hand on her shoulder, getting her attention. She had not even noticed him.

"He's been like this since a lightning bolt hit him. I-I shouldn't have agreed to go sailing," she said, guilt consuming her. "I saw the clouds–knew it would be a storm, but I still said we could go."

Dagur held her shoulders so that she faced him. "Don't think like that. Dad's stubborn. If he wanted to sail, you agreeing or not wouldn't have changed it. He'd have been on that ship no matter what."

"Do you really think so?"

"I know so."

The chief saw that this was offering some comfort to his sister. Looking down, he saw their peacefully sleeping father and how his expression was nothing like Heather's which was laden with stress.

"Get some rest," he told her. "I'll stay here with him and wake you up if he's conscious before you are."

"Are you sure? What about the Flyer?"

"I can interrogate him any time. Right now, I want you to have a chance to rest. You both were in that storm. We need to make sure you're okay too. You're not hurt, are you?"

Dagur lightly grabbed Heather's head, turning it to check for any signs of bruising or blood. She let out a soft chuckle.

"I'm fine." Reluctantly, she added, "I'll just rest for a few minutes."

"Or for however long you need," Dagur corrected, frowning slightly. "You know you can't pull all nighters, sis. Like I said, I'll get you if something happens."

With a thankful smile, the brunette went to her room as her brother took her place at their father's side.

"You and those ships," the redhead said quietly. "Could never keep you on land."

He saw that Heather had put a damp cloth on the man's forehead and changed it out with a fresh one.

"Come on, Dad," he encouraged. "You have to get up. We just got you back."

Seconds turned into hours as the silence clawed at Dagur's ears. It hardly even seemed like the father was snoring.

"Of course, he picks now to not be noisy for the first time in my life," the chief thought unhappily.

As the blanket of darkness came over the island, Dagur heard some sounds. Oswald tossed and turned in the bed, face contorting into a pained expression. The younger Viking stood up, nervously not knowing what to do. If he woke him up, maybe he would mess up something in his mind. If he did not, it was possible the man would hurt himself. The second option was too troubling, so Dagur risked the first. He gently shook Oswald's shoulder.

"Dad," he said. "Dad, get up. It's just a nightmare. It's not real."

When he said this, the man sat straight up. Oswald looked around the room in a daze. Dagur was quiet, giving him time to adjust. He knew how it was to wake up from nightmares. Sometimes, it was disorienting. Oswald's eyes regained the look of clarity in them. He brought a hand up to his shoulder where the chief was still holding him in case he fell backwards. Oswald wrapped his hand around Dagur's wrist. An odd expression was on his face, but the redhead quickly saw it change to a recognizable one.

"You deceived me," the older man said, stunned. Gradually his grip became tighter and his tone turned to a growl. "You tried to make me look like a buffoon."

"No, I didn't want that," Dagur assured him. "I–"

"You let me think that Heather grew up on our island. You acted as though you'd protected her for her entire life. You were going to let me believe that lie."

Oswald twisted the wrist as he got up from the bed. Dagur felt his nerves going wild.

"If I can wake up Heather, we'll expla–"

"You have the audacity to say her name?!"

The redhead shrunk slightly because of the rage. Oswald bared his teeth, then his eyes widened and he let go of Dagur to put a hand over his own mouth.

"She's gone," he said, horrified. Tears welled up in his eyes. "My little girl is gone."

As the tears fell, the redhead felt his heart breaking.

"No, she's not, Da–"

Oswald roughly grabbed his chin, stopping him from turning to the door. "Don't you dare finish that sentence," he hissed. "My child is lost. Dead! She's dead because of you."

Dagur just shook his head as a nauseous feeling hit him. Oswald's glare was so hateful and there was nowhere to go to hide from its reach.

"I-I'll show you," the younger Berserker offered.

Dagur stumbled back as Oswald shoved him.

"I don't want more of your lies! You had me pretend that my daughter was alive–pretend that you don't belong in Niflheim!"

The man shoved the redhead again, harder so that it knocked him out of the room. Oswald continued until they were outside. Dagur wanted to tell him that he did not kill Heather, but his words meant nothing to the man. The chief was in a panic. He could think of no solution. Anything he might do would only make it worse.

"Sh-she didn't die," he said quietly.

A stinging sensation covered the left side of his face as Oswald brought back his open palm.

"Stop lying to me! I have no family now because of you! At least be Viking enough to admit what you've done!"

The sounds drew the attention of some of the Berserkers. Herald got there when Oswald delivered another loud slap.

"Chief!"

"I can handle this, Herald," Oswald answered, but the man was not talking to him.

He shoved Dagur again, moving his feet to trip the other Berserker. When the redhead hit the ground, he saw the soldier approaching. The other man was about to grab Oswald's shoulder when Dagur shook his head. Hesitantly, Herald moved back. Oswald remained oblivious to this and just glared at the Viking.

"On your feet," he ordered.

Dagur miserably looked up at him. "I'm sorry," he said, throat burning.

"You don't have it in you to give a sincere apology. On your feet."

The redhead unsurely stood up and Oswald got into a fighting stance. Seeing that Dagur was not beginning an attack, the older Viking scowled at him.

"You won't fight? You'll just run me through when I turn my back, is that it?! I won't let you! This ends now!"

Dagur saw Oswald lunge but made no move to avoid him. Instead, his throat was grabbed and he was pulled towards the man.

"Admit that you killed her!" Oswald roared. "Admit that you wanted to, you lunatic!"

"I…didn't," came the hoarse response.

Furiously, Oswald pushed him away and balled one hand into a fist. He drew back his arm, then stepped into the punch. At the last second, he held the attack, letting it hover in the air. Too quickly for Dagur to move her, Heather had gone between the two Berserkers. The fist was an eyelash away from her face. Oswald's arm shook and his eyes widened.

"Heather? Y-you're–"

"Alive," she finished. "Dagur didn't kill me."

Oswald's eyes got watery, but he scowled again and he looked around the brunette. "He tried to kill you. Move out of the way, sweetie."

"Not if you're going to keep attacking my brother."

The man shifted his gaze to look her in the eye, seeing how the Viking was serious. Then, he locked eyes with Dagur again.

"That monster doesn't deserve to be your brother. It's no coincidence his name is so close to Draugr. He's just as evil."

Oswald turned around and headed to the docks in a rage. Frowning, Heather stopped watching to look at the redhead. He was trembling and cleared his throat to keep his voice from cracking.

"I-uh-I'm gonna go for a fly."

Heather caught his hand to stop him from leaving. Again, a wave of guilt washed over her.

"I'm sorry," she said, voice sounding heartfelt. "We should have told him sooner."

Dagur did not say anything. He was facing away from his sister, but she saw his other hand quickly lift to wipe his eyes. With a small nod of his head, Dagur freed his hand and went to the stables. Miserably, Heather closed her eyes and let out a deep breath.

"What do we do now?"