Being chief came with responsibilities. These also came with the territory for being the heir. That was why Dagur was out in the tribe, trying to see how he could be useful. It was safer to be out of the hut. Little problems kept popping up all around the island. On their own, they were fine. Together, they irritated Oswald. The previous night, Dagur found out exactly how much the chief had been angered, so he wanted to avoid the next evening being the same. First on his to-do list was to deal with the trading station problem. The stands kept breaking apart whenever heavier items were put on them. Dagur went to the area and removed some of the weapons from a stand whose trader had stepped away. For fun, he balanced one mace on his head while checking the boards to find a weak point.

"Got you!" he declared happily.

There was a wet spot where the wood had rotted. Dagur put the mace on the ground and went to the forest to gather some new lumber. Instead of cutting continuously, he decided to try out a new method. Dagur threw an ax into a tree, then removed the weapon and ran back to where he was originally standing. Each time, he hit the tree in the same spot, deepening the cut until it came crashing down. Dagur laughed wildly when it fell, then started chopping it to pieces. He paused for a moment, noticing someone near him. They did not say anything, so he did not either and kept going. The boy brought down the lumber to the trading post. To his dismay, he saw that the trader was back. Dagur could already tell that she had questions for him.

"Dagur," she said, frowning a little, "where's your father?"

"He's tired today, but I can help if something's wrong."

He knew that she did not like this plan, but the Viking still wanted help and her options were limited.

"I've been telling the other traders that they shouldn't make weapons for the younger Berserkers."

Dagur blinked at her, then frowned. "Why don't you want them to have weapons?"

"Because it's dangerous," she answered, shocked that it had not been obvious.

"Not if they're good at it."

"No, it's still dangerous. They could hurt someone else or themselves if they had something like an ax."

Dagur's frown took on a more confused look. "Well, what did you want help with?"

"Convincing the others. Can you do that?"

The boy paused, looking at the other traders. "Yeah…" he said, trailing off.

He was not sure if he even fully understood why this was the request, but if he did not fix the issue, then it would just reach his father and irritate the man.

"Okay, everyone," Dagur said, "no more axes for the kids. Just use blunt objects now like mallets."

"No," the first trader said, groaning. "I meant no axes or anything else."

"We didn't say we agreed with that," a different trader said.

Some more of the Vikings started to argue, annoying Dagur. He cleared his throat loudly for them to quiet down, but they did not stop talking.

"Shut up!" he yelled, more ferociously than he intended.

The Berserkers regarded him in shock. Dagur tried to remember what Snotlout had said and took a deep breath.

"Let's figure out the other toys and things they could play with. Ooh!" he exclaimed happily. "You could make little weighted nets!"

"What for?"

"Because then, they'd have to work in teams. One kid puts the other in a net and tosses 'em into the water, then the one in the water gets to practice breath-holding."

Dagur started to laugh as he imagined all the fun he would have with that. He stopped when he saw the disturbed looks from the people. A familiar redhead stepped forward.

"That's a crazy plan," Ansson said. "Where's the chief? You know you can't do this."

The heir glared at him. "I can. I'll figure this out, so we don't need to bug him."

Ansson just sneered. "I'm going to find him. Nothing will ever get done if we let a lunatic like you solve our problems."

Dagur's cheeks burned, but he felt more nervous than angry when he saw the older Viking start heading towards the chief's hut. Quickly, he caught his arm.

"I said I'll handle it!"

"I don't care what you say, Dainty. You're making this worse. I'm getting Oswald."

The boy's heart pounded in his ears. "If he finds out I made this worse, he'll be even angrier," he thought. "Just give me a second. I'll come up with a different solution."

Intrigued, Ansson stopped and crossed his arms. "If you can answer this question, I won't go get him."

"Okay, what's the question?"

"Why did I say you're making this worse?"

"Because you don't like me."

Ansson turned and Dagur nearly tackled him.

"I'll try again," he insisted. He frowned, thinking hard. "I…said something wrong?"

"You always do. What was wrong this time?"

"I…"

The redhead tapped his foot nervously. He could see the others watching him with matching expressions of concern. Like normal, they understood something he did not. Only one person did not look like this. Herald had noticed the crowd and was coming over to them. In the large group, he could not see what was going on very well. He missed that Ansson started chuckling at the boy.

"You're such a freak, Dainty," the bully taunted. "You don't even know how messed up your head is. I could bash it in and it would probably work better."

Dagur heard some soft murmurs of agreement. He wanted to find something to say, but he could think of nothing. Maybe that really was the problem–his thoughts.

"I followed you earlier and saw how you couldn't even chop down a tree like a normal Viking," Ansson commented. "Can you actually be sane for at least one day?"

Dagur turned red again and in horror, noticed as Oswald began approaching the large group.

"What's going on?" the man asked.

Ansson smirked at Dagur and spun to face the newcomer. "Chief, he started suggesting that the kids try to drown each other for fun."

"I didn't say that!"

Oswald lifted his hand to stop Dagur from talking. The man went over to the traders and spoke with them, clearing up the issue with toys and giving them an idea for stuffed yaks which they could trade to the children instead of weapons. This satisfied everyone, ending the tension and confusion that had been building. By this time, Herald had gotten over to Dagur. He saw how sad the boy looked and put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's all right, lad," he said.

"No, it's not," Dagur grumbled. "I messed up again."

"You're learning. No one gets everything right the first time."

The words did not make the redhead feel much better. His gaze remained on Oswald. The chief began leaving and gestured for Dagur to go with him. The heir said a quick goodbye to Herald and followed after his father. He did not want to anger him more. No one else could tell, but Oswald had heat from his rage coming off of him. It was in his eyes. Dagur thought he possessed a magical power to be the only person left on the island who could see that. Once they got to their hut, Oswald closed the door.

"I have been bombarded with questions and problems for this entire week," he said, voice tense. "Do you really think I need you getting involved and making things more complicated for everyone?"

"I was trying to help."

"But you don't help," Oswald stated, irritated. "You never do. Whenever you're involved, I have to fix what you've done, then deal with the first issue."

"What was wrong with what I said?"

The older Berserker got quiet, frowning at him. This filled the boy with frustration.

"Why won't you ever just tell me?" the redhead asked, exasperated. "You want me to change, but I don't even know what you want me to do differently!"

Dagur realized his mistake as he saw more anger flash in Oswald's eyes. With matters like this, he knew what was wrong. His father might have been unwilling to teach with words, but he did with actions. From experience, Dagur knew certain tones of voice could enrage the man. From observing, he knew the types of moods Oswald had. It was important to know the distinction between rage and worsening irritation. For the latter, which was what the chief had currently, Dagur had learned it was safer to not dodge. Maneuvering would only change irritation to rage and that was a far more dangerous state. So, he stayed still as a fist hit his face. The boy took some pride in how it did not cause him to become dazed, but he still hit the wall behind him and felt blood trickling down his lip. He looked up and Oswald glared down at him.

"Why are you so crazy that I'd need to explain every miniscule detail?" he chief questioned. "Can your mind truly process so little?"

The words stung and caused anger, but Dagur said nothing. Like he expected, Oswald was too tired to stay violent. He just wanted to be left alone, so the man pointed to the door.

"The last person I want to be around right now is you. Find something harmless to do."

The Berserker wanted to ask what type of activity would be harmless, but he knew he would not get the answer. Therefore, he decided to consider this good luck and headed out to the training area. At least then, he could work on getting stronger and no one would complain. Everyone always left whenever he got there anyway. That day was no different, but it was a little different for Dagur. His sword slices were more unhappy than anything else. After a few minutes passed, he noticed someone again, but this was not Ansson.

"Hey!" Snotlout greeted.

Dagur turned to the boy, giving a smile filled with surprise. "Hey! I didn't think you'd show up here."

"I didn't either, but my dad wanted to visit."

"How come?"

"He wanted us to hang out. He'll probably walk around the island while we do."

Dagur's face turned a little pale. "If Dad sees him, it'll just be another reason he's annoyed," he thought.

Snotlout noticed the expression and was quiet as the Berserker hummed softly, feeling nervous but not wanting it to be shown. Maybe it would be fine. As long as there was enough time between the conversation and later, Oswald might not get upset. Snotlout's brows started to pinch together as he noticed something.

"Were you in a fight?"

"What?

"You've got a split lip."

"Right, that. Sorta," he mumbled.

Though Snotlout was not necessarily satisfied with the answer, he dropped the subject. "Are you going to show me around the island? I've never been here before."

This excited Dagur some and he nodded. "I didn't think about that. Yeah! Come on, I'll give you the grand tour."

The Berkian happily followed him out of the training area. Dagur led Snotlout to some buildings.

"This is where we keep the huts."

"You have a lot," Snotlout said, mouth gaping.

"We've got a lot of people." Dagur pointed at one building. "I still think there should be some trick with the doors. That way, only Berserkers who live there can get in. Anyone else gets hit with a mace." The boy started laughing, then he stopped as quickly as he had started. "No one else agrees."

"I think that would be cool," the shorter Viking commented, causing a smile to appear on his friend's face.

"I say we make you an honorary Berserker, then you can vouch for the idea."

Snotlout laughed and nodded. "I'd be up for that!"

They kept going around the island, then the dark-haired boy pointed at the docks.

"Are we going to head that way too?"

Dagur hesitated. "Some of the Vikings who hang out over there are jerks."

"They don't scare me," Snotlout said, puffing up to make himself look larger.

"They don't scare me either, but it's just annoying being there."

"What if we caught some fish? Then, we wouldn't have to be around them."

Dagur thought over the idea. His father would not complain about fish. It could even be a peace offering to hopefully calm him down by the evening.

"Okay, let's go."

The Vikings started heading towards the docks. Dagur smiled at Herald who had gone there to help someone haul a large catch onto their fishing boat.

"Herald, this is my buddy, Snotpouch."

"It's actually 'Snotlout,' but the first part's right," the younger boy informed the man, grinning.

The large Viking looked at the pair and smiled as well. "Any friend of Dagur's is a friend of mine. Welcome to Berserker Island, Snotlout."

This made the Berkian swell with pride. He quickly waved goodbye and ran after Dagur who was heading over to a smaller boat.

"It's good weather for fishing," Herald called over to them. "This haul is the third of its kind."

"Nice!" Dagur said, excited. "We might even be able to cook some fish before you head back to Berk, Snotlip. We've got some unique ones over here that I think you'd like."

"I could always eat!"

Herald wished them luck as they raised the small sail. Once they were out there, Dagur pulled out a worm that Snotlout had not seen him grab earlier. He dropped it into the water on the side of the boat and stared. Then, he remembered why he did not go fishing often. It was boring to wait. The boy began getting fidgety.

"Are you okay?" Snotlout asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Dagur groaned and put a hand to his forehead. "We're going to be out here forever! We'll die of old age before we catch anything."

The Berkian chuckled at the dramatics. "Maybe we'll get lucky and a water dragon will scare everything this way or give us something to fight."

"Yeah! That would be amazing!"

Snotlout decided to not tell the other Viking that he had been joking since he seemed so genuinely thrilled with the idea. Even still, as he regarded the Berserker, he found his thoughts returning to the split lip.

"Were the jerk Vikings the ones you were 'sorta' fighting?"

Dagur got quiet before looking at Snotlout. "Do friends lie?"

"Huh?"

"Do they lie?"

"I don't think so."

This put a small frown on Dagur's face. "What about keeping secrets?"

"Maybe, but they probably don't have to." Snotlout paused, lifting an eyebrow. "Is this all to keep from answering?"

Dagur was about to say something when he saw a scale glimmer from the sunlight. Excitedly, he grabbed a net and dropped it over a small school of fish. He laughed in triumph, holding the net up high in the air.

"Now, we can head back. Hoist the mainsail, Snothat!"

The Berkian did as instructed and Dagur steered them back into the harbor. Snotlout followed Dagur as the larger boy went to a garden. He grinned at some of the herbs as he showed Snotlout.

"Do you like tarragon?"

"I don't think I've had it."

"This'll be extra fun then!"

Dagur cut some with his knife and led his friend towards an area with fire pits set up.

"We use this area to cook."

Snotlout started getting ready to help out, but he noticed that he was ill-prepared for Dagur's cooking style. To start, the redhead tossed several fish into the air, slicing them before they could fall to the ground.

"Wouldn't it be easier to cut them when they're laying down?" the Berkian asked, eyes glued to the scene.

"Yeah, easier and duller. You should give this a try."

Curiously, Snotlout tried out the new method and found that he did enjoy the challenge of trying to still cut the fish properly.

"I'll have to show this to Mom and see how she does."

"You should make a bet that if she misses more than you do, you get an extra burly cake for dessert."

"Yes! I'll let you know how it goes!"

Dagur grinned in anticipation, then made a fire. He stabbed the fish with long sticks to place over the flame. Afterwards, he lit up with an idea.

"We should add something to make the presentation of this fun when it's done. I'll be right back."

The boy hurried off to another garden, but this was not one for vegetables or herbs. Instead, it had flowers. He gave careful consideration over which he would pick, then got a few. Dagur was about to go when he stopped and grabbed a handful. Before he could leave, he spotted Ansson.

"Why are you just stalking me everywhere today?" the heir asked, annoyed.

"Because you're entertaining. Why do you have flowers?"

"I'm going to put them on some fish."

Ansson laughed. "You really do live up to your name, Dainty."

"Stop calling me that," Dagur ordered angrily.

"Make me. Oh wait, you won't, will you? Chief Agreeable would scold you for attacking one of his Berserkers. Don't want to disappoint dear daddy any more than you do any other day." Ansson tapped his chin. "You probably have some cool knives on you. I want two of them."

"I'm not giving you any unless they're digging into your skin."

The bully looked unfazed. "Threatening people is a bad look too, Dainty."

"I didn't even attack you. Threatening isn't bad."

This made Ansson laugh. "You really don't understand anything, huh? It's almost sad." The laughter faded as his eyes narrowed. "I'm either being handed the knives or I'm telling the chief."

Dagur doubted Oswald would stomach any other disturbance that day, so the price was worth it in the long-run. Bitterly, he handed over the weapons. He had a dozen more on him anyway, but it was the principle of the matter. Ansson looked proud of himself and left.

"See ya around, Dainty."

Dagur had to stop himself from throwing a knife into the back of the Viking's head. Instead, he returned to where the fish was being cooked. Snotlout saw his long face and frowned.

"What happened?"

"Talked with someone while I was getting these." Dagur put some of the flowers on a plate, then handed the bouquet over. "If you miss more than your mom, she can get the bouquet. That way, the bet's fair."

Snotlout accepted the flowers, but he still was frowning. He wished he had gone to see what had happened. All of a sudden, the taller boy looked so down. For the first time to Snotlout, he seemed unconfident. His eyes were on the ground before he rose them to meet Snotlout's. The question he asked took the Berkian off guard.

"Do you think my mind's messed up?"

Snotlout's eyes widened in surprise, then he quickly shook his head. "No, I don't think that. Well…you're definitely different from other Vikings I've met, but I don't think that's a bad thing." He felt himself getting a little angry. "That one jerk said it was?"

"It's not just him." Dagur frowned as he sat down. He stoked the flames, watching them. "I'm always doing something that the others say is wrong, but I never know why."

"Have you asked them?"

"Of course I have!"

"Okay, my bad," Snotlout said quickly. "Just wanted to check."

Dagur's frown fell as he realized what he had done. "Sorry. I ask over and over, but no one ever explains it. So, I keep guessing and I guess wrong… a lot."

Snotlout found himself being surprised by this information.

"When did you start caring what others thought?"

"It's not really that. I mess things up. I need to figure out how to stop. I'm going to be chief and I can't even figure out how to solve a simple problem the traders are having."

Snotlout could not understand the feeling of having a tribe rely on him, but he did relate to not wanting to ruin anything. He sat down by the Berserker and bumped his shoulder.

"I know I can't be here all the time, but I could help," he offered.

Dagur glanced at him, a little unsure what he meant. "How?"

"If there's something you don't understand, you can ask me and if I know, I can tell you. Then, you'll at least get a few answers."

The Berserker's eyes widened hopefully. "You'd really do that?"

Snotlout nodded happily. "Because I'm an amazing friend," he boasted. "You'll realize that soon."

Dagur laughed. "That does sound pretty amazing." His smile faltered slightly. "And you won't think I'm dumb for not knowing already?"

"Nope."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Dagur grinned and bumped Snotlout back. He stopped smiling when he noticed the other boy become tense.

"Snotlout," Spitelout called, "I'll be waiting on the ship."

"Okay, Dad," he said, turning to look at his father. "I'll be there really soon."

The elder Berkian nodded with a knowing look in his eyes, then left. Dagur frowned after him, then his expression softened when his gaze landed on his friend again.

"Does he hit you?"

"Wh-what?" Snotlout asked, snapping his head to face the Berserker. "Why did you ask that?"

"You always seem jumpy around him and I didn't see anyone else on Berk who would've caused the bruises I saw when we sparred."

Snotlout felt like his heart was going to beat so quickly that it would explode inside of me. He wanted to deny this, but friends did not lie, so he tried to understate the facts. The boy forced himself to shrug.

"I mean, I think most parents on Berk give their kids at least one whack when they do something wrong."

"Doubt it. If Stoick did that to Hiccup, he'd die. I'm surprised that he'd allow other parents to be rough."

Snotlout was silent, eyes on the fish in front of them. The only sound was of the crackling embers.

"He doesn't," he finally admitted. "Stoick cracked down pretty hard on this one mom when she started hitting her kid, Gustav. He's not okay with stuff like that."

"So, your dad told you to keep quiet so that he didn't find out?"

"No, he said that real Vikings don't ask for help."

Dagur scoffed. "Like he'd know what a real Viking is. He has to feel special by beating up a kid."

"He doesn't really beat me up," Snotlout mumbled. "It's just…sometimes." His voice started to sound more adamant. "But I don't want him to get in trouble."

"Why in Thor's name don't you?"

"Because he's my dad."

"Does he act like it?"

"Yeah! He just gets angry. When he's not angry, he's fun."

Dagur did not look convinced. "Can't be choosy when he wants to be a good dad. He either is or isn't."

Snotlout sighed, then gestured towards the huts with his head. "Does your dad get rough too? Is that how you got that split lip?"

The Berserker expected those questions after his. He nodded his head.

"And you don't tell anyone since he's chief?"

"No, I don't because he told me not to."

Snotlout looked at him in confusion. "Why not? He's in charge. Who's going to punish him?"

"It's about his reputation. He's 'agreeable.' Can't be that and yell at everyone, so he plays nice when he's out and about, then gets home and lets out everything he held inside all day."

The Berkian was horrified with what he heard. "Is that why your mom left?"

"Yeah, he was hurting her too and she didn't want that for my sister. He only agreed to let them leave if I stayed so that it would look like they just didn't get along and it wasn't actually his whole family leaving him."

Another silence fell over the boys. Then, Dagur broke it with his voice.

"I still think you should tell Stoick. If your dad gets in trouble, good."

"I just don't want to cause it to happen. He wouldn't forgive me, then we'd never have the nice moments either."

Dagur felt bitter and crossed his arms. He had no way of protecting his friend while the boy was on Berk.

"He's not doing that if I'm within earshot or range to see him. I'll throw a knife into him."

Snotlout was a little worried, but it also felt nice to hear. "Thanks. I'll get your dad with a mace if I see something too."

Dagur laughed. "Sounds like a deal to me."

Despite what he wanted, Snotlout knew he had to leave. He grabbed one of the fish off the fire, enjoying the smell. After grabbing the flowers which might have ended up in his mother's possession, he gave the Berserker a sad smile.

"It won't be like this forever at least."

"It won't be long at all if I have anything to say about it," Dagur said, a determined look in his eyes.

"Good luck with your dad."

"You too."

Snotlout returned to the ship with his father.

"Things still going well with you two?" Spitelout asked, regarding the bouquet in confusion.

Snotlout nodded. "I'd say we're getting to be even closer friends."

"Good. A friend who's a chief is a good way to get power in this world, Boy-o. You're doing well."

Snotlout smiled and went off to the edge of the ship to watch the waves. Those moments were nice. Spitelout did not always insult or hit. Sometimes, compliments and bonding could happen.

"That's enough, right?" the boy wondered. "I don't think we really need more than that. I'll prove it to Dagur next time he's on Berk."