A few months had passed since Thawfest. Dagur thought of his friend and his friend's father. The Berserker had always been creative, so he was sure he would think of a way to take care of the Jorgenson father problem.

"I can't kill him…yet. Snotlip would be upset," he mumbled, scratching his chin. "I just need to think of another idea."

Every day since the visit, Dagur had played out strategies in his mind. They ranged from provoking Spitelout in front of Stoick so that the chief would punish him to mangling the man beyond repair. Unfortunately, it was difficult to do anything while the redhead was on one island and his friend was on another. That day was designated for Berserkers to ask questions and bring up concerns, so Dagur was able to busy himself out in the tribe while Oswald dealt with their Vikings. The boy decided that he could try to repair some of the older ships as he considered his options. Looking up as he heard a new noise, Dagur left the lower compartment of the vessel to go out to the deck. He saw a Berkian ship in their harbor. Its ramp was being lowered and the Jorgensons were disembarking. Dagur's face lit up and he ran over to his friend.

"Snotpocket!" he cried, happily tackling him.

They laughed and wrestled for a moment, then Dagur noticed the larger Viking. He made no effort to keep the frown off his face and he got up from the ground.

"No dragon raids today?" he asked, voice sounding a little icy.

Snotlout heard this, but he knew the reason. "Yeah, so we were able to come by."

"I was hoping I could speak with your father," Spitelout said.

Dagur hesitated momentarily. "He's busy," he said with renewed confidence.

"It won't take long."

"He doesn't have time for anything besides answering the other Berserkers' questions."

Snotlout looked between the two Vikings. Spitelout was beginning to frown, but Dagur seemed undeterred by that.

"What if they talk this evening?" the Berkian suggested, hoping he could calm down the hotheads.

The man turned to him, expression softening slightly. "That would be fine. I'll wait. In the meantime, I'll probably just walk around the island."

Snotlout nodded and the father left them. He smiled sheepishly at Dagur's frown as the older boy crossed his arms.

"What does he want to talk about?"

"Probably us. He liked that you showed up for Thawfest, but he was disappointed that Oswald didn't."

Dagur scoffed. "He's never satisfied, is he?"

"It just takes a lot," Snotlout said. He gestured to the other ship. "What were you doing?"

"Fixing floors. It helps out and Dad doesn't complain."

"I can lend a hand with that. I've worked on repairing some parts of ships back on Berk."

Dagur began smiling. "Okay! Let's go."

The pair went to the vessel, but Snotlout realized he had made a mistake in not expecting to be unprepared for what he saw. The entire floor had been removed, leaving just the base of the ship visible. On this base, there were several weapons. Snotlout tilted his head in curiosity.

"Was everything ruined?"

"No, just a few boards."

"Then, how come you ripped up everything and put those weapons there?"

"Because I wanted to put those weapons there," Dagur answered, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Now, when we go out to war–when I become chief since it doesn't seem to be happening any time soon–we'll have extra weapons that aren't even in the way. We could just tear up some boards and get them."

"I like that," Snotlout commented, looking at the array. "How's it been here?"

Dagur shrugged, handing him a board. "Nothing new. What about Berk?"

"Same for me too." Snotlout stopped, remembering something. "Actually, it's been a little different."

"Good different or bad different?"

"The good kind. Astrid hasn't thrown an ax at me in months! I still don't know if she really likes me, but I don't think she dislikes me anymore. It's better with the others too. The twins even invited me over to go yak tipping with them."

"I've never tried yak tipping," Dagur admitted. "Was it fun?"

"Yeah! I think you'd like it. Want to try some after this?"

"Sure!" Dagur grinned.

They worked a little more to finish up the ship. As they did, Spitelout decided that he had a better idea than his son. He would let the Berserkers know that the Jorgenson clan was worth their time. Oswald thought he could just dismiss his son, but he could not. He would pay attention and then their family would have the Berserker Armada on its side. They would be even more powerful than Stoick just by association. The man went around the island until he found a line of Vikings. Important people did not wait in lines, so he bumped some Berserkers out of the way. They frowned at him, but they did not do much. When Spitelout made it to the front of the line, someone caught his arm.

"Who are you?" the Berserker asked. "You don't look like one of ours."

"Spitelout Jorgenson. I'm from Berk."

"Why are you here?"

"Because my son is friends with your future chief," Spitelout answered, standing taller.

"Did I hear that right?" Oswald asked.

The chief got up from his throne and walked over to the man.

"You did. I figured you should know."

The Berserker glanced at the other Viking who was still frowning at Spitelout. "Let him go, Vorg. He's a guest."

Reluctantly, Vorg let go and Oswald turned to the others.

"Excuse us a moment," he said.

Gradually, the crowd began leaving so that the fathers could speak. Once they were gone, Oswald regarded Spitelout with a mix of curiosity and coldness.

"Our sons are friends?"

"That they are," Spitelout stated, smirking. "I'm sure you've heard of my lad. His name's Snotlout."

"No, Dagur's never mentioned him."

The Berkian's shoulders slouched slightly. "Oh, well, it's only a matter of time."

Oswald nodded. "I'm sure of that. What do they do together?"

"I'm not really sure, but they seem to enjoy their time. I saw them wrestling today."

The Berserker felt a sigh growing inside. That was just his luck. Someone to help his son become more violent. He waited a moment for Spitelout to say something else, feeling impatient. When no more information was shared, he put an arm around the Berkian and began leading him out of the building.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention…"

"Spitelout."

"Spitelout. I appreciate it. Sadly, today is one of the busiest of the month for me, so we will not be able to talk for much longer. If I do not see you before your return to Berk, I wish you a safe voyage."

The Berkian was nearly shoved out, then the Berserker began entering the building again. Spitelout stood where he was for a few moments as a frown began crossing his face. Oswald did not think his family was important. The visitor had experienced dismissal from enough Vikings to recognize it easily. Well, who needed him anyway? If the chief would not even speak with him for several minutes, then he could find another chief. It was not as if Berserkers were the only Vikings in the Archipelago. Spitelout could find someone else or focus on getting his son a high position on Berk. Either way, his plans did not need to include the high and mighty Berserker leader. Angrily, Spitelout started walking away from the building and further into the village.

The Berkian did so while the boys worked near the docks. After Snotlout and Dagur put down the last board for the ship, the taller boy excitedly led the dark-haired Viking off towards the yaks. They found a small herd and Dagur stayed back long enough to watch Snotlout's technique. The Berkian pushed one side of the mammal, shoving until it made a half-bored and half-irritated noise. It did not choose to move, so it was turned to its side. Dagur made a face.

"That's it?"

"Well, yeah. It's tipped."

The Berserker gave an exaggerated yawn. "It didn't even chase us first." His eyes started to sparkle. "Have you ever tried tipping a yak in the middle of a stampede? That would be fun!"

Another Viking was walking by at the time, on his way to speak to the chief, and frowned at the boy. He shook his head, then continued going. Snotlout went over and put a hand on the heir's shoulder.

"This is one of those moments where I could help answer some questions," he volunteered.

"What did I do this time?" Dagur asked, looking confused.

"We probably shouldn't start a stampede. If it gets out of control, someone could get hurt."

"Oh, I didn't think about that." The redhead pursed his lips in thought, then brightened. "What if we took some of the yaks swimming instead?"

"That sounds cool! I've never done that before."

The pair picked a yak for each of them and began leading the animal out towards the harbor. When they got to the water, the livestock seemed willing to get in, so the Vikings hopped up on their backs. Dagur rested on the yak so that he could look up at the sky.

"Guess we probably shouldn't tip them now, huh?" he joked.

Snotlout chuckled. "It might make it a bit hard for them to breathe." He paused as his expression became more serious. "I've been thinking about what you said last time."

"Good. I have too. Do you see things my way yet?"

"No, but I get why you'd say that. I wish that the good days were all the time, but they're still nice."

Dagur turned his head to the boy, then looked up again. "You still don't get it. I bet he doesn't like that you're starting to be friendly with the other kids."

"He doesn't love it, but he doesn't hate it. He still likes that we're friends."

"Because he's selfish. He doesn't want us to be friends. He wants my dad to be friends with him."

"Is it awful if he is?"

"Because that's just what we need," Dagur commented sarcastically. "Maybe they'll share tips. 'Aye, Spitelout,'" he said, imitating his father's voice, "'what's the best way to crush your son's spirits?'" The Berserker switched to mocking the Berkian. "'Well, I'd say you do a mix of playing nice, then losing it. That really throws the lads off. Oi oi.'"

"You missed an 'oi,'" Snotlout added, chuckling.

The duo laughed, but it did not last for too long.

"I guess you're right," the Berkian admitted. "It's better if we're the only friends in our families."

"Now, if they wanted to go on a buddy trip and both got eaten by dragons, then I'd say the gods looked out for us." He could see the sad expression on Snotlout's face and sighed. "But I know you don't want that, oh forgiving son, you."

"Do you actually want your dad to get killed?"

Dagur closed his eyes. "Sometimes, I think about him dying. He's scared when it's happening–like he never thought anything could ever hurt him."

Snotlout went quiet for a few moments. It was odd for him to consider that. Even despite everything Spitelout had done, the thought of his death saddened him. He wondered if it was the opposite for the other boy.

"Does it make you feel happier to think of that?"

The Berserker paused. "It doesn't make me feel anything. Maybe bored. That's normally why I start daydreaming anyway." He glanced back over at his friend. "Speaking of being bored…"

Snotlout got the hint and started steering his yak back towards the harbor. The duo brought the animals back to a fenced area.

"Someone's been complaining a lot about their flower garden," Dagur stated. "Since Dad's spending all day talking to everybody, I figured I'd fix that before she bugged him."

"I can help out with that." Snotlout's face turned pouty. "I probably should get more experience with flowers since Mom liked that bouquet I gave her. She's been mentioning wanting some more like that."

Dagur looked at him for a moment, remembering the bet, and laughed. "Better luck next time, Snotlip. Maybe you'll win then."

They went to the garden and began pulling out weeds. As Dagur worked, a misbehaving smile crossed his face. Snotlout could not help but notice it.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," the redhead said, not being believable for a second.

The fact that he was chuckling did not help his point. Slowly, he gave a cocky grin.

"It's just that I wouldn't have lost."

"Yes, you would have," Snotlout insisted, taunting. "Mom's good with knives too."

"Not better than me!" Dagur declared happily.

"Do you wanna bet?"

"I already know."

"Then, you don't have a reason to be scared. Or do you?" Snotlout grinned deviously.

Dagur appeared a little shocked at having his knife skills doubted, but he was also intrigued.

"What's the wager?"

"Next time you're on Berk, if Mom wins a knife competition against you, then you go hunting with me and Dad. We make a good team when we're doing that. Maybe it'll help you not dislike him so much."

"It won't make a difference, but fine. Just know that when I win, I'm marooning him on an island for a day."

Snotlout's jaw dropped. "You can't do that! He'll think I was behind it and be mad."

"Have some faith in me, Snotknuckles. I won't let it trace back to either of us. It'll look like a dragon did it. I can start fires pretty quickly, so his boat will go up in flames. Him being gone will give you and your mom at least a day of peace."

The Berkian felt himself being able to breathe again. His friend saw that and put down some flower bulbs. It was difficult to keep Spitelout away from Snotlout without upsetting one or both of them in ways that would inevitably hurt the young Berkian. Dagur did not enjoy feeling like he was lost on what to do, but he had been feeling that way for some time. Still, he could talk with Snotlout and pretend like nothing was the matter as his mind raced for solutions. Suddenly, Snotlout stood up. He had gotten consumed in the conversation and had not noticed that Spitelout was approaching. To cover up what they had been doing, Snotlout punched Dagur's shoulder. The Berserker quickly went into spar mode, realizing after a few seconds that there was an ulterior motive besides just wanting to release some energy.

"We should head back," Spitelout stated, regarding them coldly.

"Okay," Snotlout said hesitantly. "I thought we were going to stay until later, though."

"I said we're heading back," the man snapped.

Dagur snarled and took a step forward, but Snotlout subtly elbowed him. It was things like that which infuriated Dagur to his core. Everything inside of him wanted to attack the older Berkian, but he could not do that without causing more harm. He clenched his hands into fists and moved back.

"It was fun hanging out again," he said, grumbling.

"I had fun too. See you next time."

Snotlout approached his father, noticing how the man's irritated gaze lingered on the Berserker. For a moment, the boy felt a surprising emotion, but it was difficult for him to describe. He just knew that he did not like Spitelout's anger being directed towards his friend. Spitelout finally turned and they went to their ship. While they did, Dagur finished up his work around the island. That night, Oswald came home, exhausted, but something was still on his mind. Dagur was not in the hut, so that meant he was out chasing chickens. As expected, Oswald found him doing this and got him to stop with a stern look.

"So, you're friends with some Berkian kid now?" he questioned.

Dagur cursed under his breath. He knew Spitelout would go against the plan.

"Yeah," he said. "We hang out sometimes."

"Interesting how this Berkian isn't the heir. Why are you wasting your time with Vikings you aren't going to lead with?"

"Snothat's not a waste of time!"

"You don't even know his name. His father said it was Snotloot or something."

"You don't know his name," Dagur retorted. "I'm just using a nickname."

"Do you really think I care? You should be focusing on other heirs. The opinion of one random Viking won't matter. Future chiefs will matter because they'll either be your allies or enemies."

"He does matter. Why can't I be friends with Snothat too?"

Oswald glared at him. "Did you not hear anything I just said? Time as a chief is precious. I spent hours upon hours with our Vikings. Do you seriously believe I wanted to do that? I did it because it's what we have to do. I'd probably have friends of my own if I didn't need to spend every waking moment working for this cursed island, so how dare you think you deserve to have time for yourself unlike every other Berserker chief!"

Dagur said nothing else. He had already made up his mind. He was still going to be friends with Snotlout no matter what his father said. Oswald could tell and walked over to him. The boy got in a fighting stance.

"It would be hard to explain us both having black eyes tomorrow," he said, anxiety bubbling in his stomach.

Oswald stopped walking, finding the truth in his words. His expression became hateful.

"You've probably gotten too comfortable and think he accepts your mind, but I assure you that it's all in fun for him. It makes him feel better about his lack of power on Berk by having a friend who's not right in the head. You're just a joke to people. That's all. He probably tells the others about you when you aren't there to hear. A tribe's only as strong as its chief. Vikings who learn about your mind will realize Berserker Island is weak. You'll be the downfall of us all."

The chief left and began returning to the village. Dagur slowly lowered his stance, feeling unsure about himself. Their home had stayed safe for so long because of all their Vikings. If people thought their armada was led by an unstable chief, maybe he really would cause ruin for them. Regardless, he had trust for his friend. Oswald was wrong about everything like he always was. While Dagur considered this, Spitelout was considering something as well. He had been for the entire voyage. It was late when his thoughts finally turned into spoken words. The man went to Snotlout's room and shook the boy awake.

"Dad? What's wrong?" the youth asked, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

"That Berserker boy. I don't think you two should be friends anymore."

Snotlout felt his heart sink. "Wh-what? I thought you wanted us to be."

"I did, but I was wrong. His father will never see you as anything besides worthless."

"I don't care," Snotlout stated, frowning. "I'm not friends with Oswald. I'm friends with Dagur."

Spitelout's eyes widened in shock, then he scowled. "He's a bad influence on you. I saw you gardening today. Gardening, sewing, cooking–you haven't even tried to attack Hiccup again to prove how you're superior."

"Because I don't have to do that, Dad," Snotlout told him. "I can get respect from other Berkians a lot easier this way. It's already working."

"No, it isn't. You just believe that because it's what that kid has told you. Well, he's lying. He just wants to see you make a fool of yourself. He doesn't know how to make sure you're going to be alright. Not even your mother truly does. Only I do." The man's eyes became deadly and made a chill go through Snotlout. "So, when I say that you two are going to stop being friends, you take that to heart and make it happen. Got that, Boy-o?"

The younger Berkian felt a lump in his throat and swallowed hard. He shook his head. His ears rang when he was backhanded. Snotlout was yoked forward and Spitelout glared at him.

"Got that?" he repeated.

Despite what Snotlout wanted to do, he nodded his head.

"I got it," he said quietly. "The next time the Berserkers come, I'll let Dagur know we can't be friends anymore."