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Sins of the Fathers

Summary:

Spitelout is a dick. As it turns out, Oswald wasn't so agreeable either. Their children vent to each other over a drink.

Notes:

Assume that the Riders don't leave the Edge at the end of the series.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Snotlout didn’t really like his father. To be honest, nobody seemed to. He used to think nobody liked Spitelout because they all thought they were better than him, but ever since Snotlout saved the Riders from the hidden ballistas, he’d come to realize it was actually because Spitelout thought he was better than everybody else.

Beserker Island was holding a celebration for the defeat of the Dragon Hunters. Seeing as it was their island that had been the center of attack, everyone had banded together to rebuild what was lost in the fighting. Now everything was finished, and they were holding a thank you party.

Snotlout saw Heather talking with the Riders off to the side, and was about to join them when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Do you see that, boyo?”

Snotlout suppressed a flinch. “See what?”

Spitelout rolled his eyes. “They don’t want you around.”

Snotlout brushed his father’s hand off his shoulder. “You don’t know that.”

“What? You think they would’ve started talking without you if they did want you around?”

Snotlout wavered. Thor, he knew this was bullshit, but he was starting to doubt…

“Snotlout!” Dagur shouted. He threw his arms around his shoulders. “Hey, man, what’re you doing all the way over here? Come join the party!”

Snotlout grinned smugly at his father. “Right, see you later Dad, I have things to do.” As they walked away together, he leaned into Dagur and whispered, “Why are you helping me? You don’t even like me.”

“I heard the whole thing.” Dagur sighed. “I get it. Dads can be pushy and annoying sometimes. Don’t let him get in your head.”

“Didn’t you kill your father?”

“No, but sometimes I wish I did.” Then Dagur broke into his signature cackle.

Snotlout reeled back, but didn’t get the chance to question him as they joined the Riders. Fishlegs smiled at them. “Hey Snotlout! Uh, hey Dagur,” he added.

Heather punched Dagur on the shoulder. “Nice of you to finally join us.”

“Oh, you know, lots of chiefly duties to do around here. Kept me busy for a little bit.”

“Just glad you’re here.”

About halfway through the evening, Snotlout realized something. They weren’t going back to the Edge after this, they were going back to Berk. Which meant he had to spend the night at his dad’s house. Snotlout did not want to do that.

Mead was being passed around, so he grabbed a glass and started chugging it. He knew mug or two wouldn’t get him drunk, but they didn’t drink except to celebrate around the Edge, so he was pretty sure he could get away with posing as a lightweight.

As everyone was getting close to leaving, Snotlout made sure to act as drunk as possible. Fishlegs sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay, Snotlout?”

“Yeah, m’fine,” he slurred.

“Okay, you’re way too drunk to fly.”

Astrid yelled, “Well, he’s not flying with me!”

“Nobody was asking for that!” Fishlegs yelled back.

Snotlout yawned and leaned on him. “I just want to go to bed.”

“Aww, are you a sleepy drunk? That’s adorable.”

Dagur suddenly plopped down next to them. “He can stay here. I’ve got an extra bedroom.”

“Are you sure?” Fishlegs asked. “I can always fly him home. Wouldn’t want to burden on you.”

“No, no. It’s cool. Besides, he has a dragon. He can just fly home tomorrow morning.”

“Is that okay with you?” Fishlegs asked him. Snotlout nodded tiredly, relief flooding through him. “Okay, just making sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night, Fishy,” Snotlout called as he got up.

Dagur hoisted him to his feet. “Alright let’s get you to bed.” As soon as they were out of earshot of the others, he said, “I know you’re not drunk, Snotlout. You can drop the act.”

Snotlout snapped his head up, and quickly stopped leaning on him. “What? How did you—”

“I’ve seen you drunk before, at a different celebration. You’re an emotional drunk, not a sleepy one. Everyone else was too drunk to remember that.” Dagur held up a hand when Snotlout started to ask a question. “Before you say anything, I’m letting you stay because someone who puts that much effort into not going home is clearly avoiding something. Or someone. I’m not completely heartless.”

Snotlout sighed. “We were going back to Berk. I don’t have my own hut there.”

Dagur raised his eyebrows. “Oh. Got it. Avoiding your dad?” Snotlout nodded. They made their way to Dagur’s hut. Once inside, Dagur asked, “You want another glass?”

Snotlout readily accepted it as they sat down together. He took a sip, then asked, “So, uh, I thought your dad was called Oswald the Agreeable?”

Dagur let out a singular laugh. “Agreeable to everyone but me. The only thing he liked more than treaties was making me doubt my own sanity.”

“I… thought you liked being Dagur the Deranged?”

Dagur smiled joylessly and sat back in his chair. “Oh, now I do. Back then though?” He looked up at the ceiling. “I guess we’re having this conversation.”

“We don’t have to.” Snotlout wanted to hear this, but he knew how uncomfortable it would be to have someone pressure him to talk about his own family history.

Dagur shrugged. “You’re already here. I met as well.” He sighed. “You know I was bullied as a kid, right?”

“Yeah,” Snotlout answered. “I was kind of surprised considering you seem like the type to just behead someone for that sort of thing.”

“Yeah… I wasn’t always like this. When Heather was born, I sort of took that as a threat. My parents were spending all this time with this new kid and ignoring me because of it. I didn’t like her back then. I was kind of a harassment to her and my parents, but I didn’t do anything of consequence for a year or so.

“Then my mom died. There was a dragon attack, and our house caught fire in the struggle. Mom and Dad were both off fighting, but Dad noticed and brought Heather and I outside. He took her with him, because she was still too young to be left with me. When my mom realized the house was burning down, she thought Heather was still inside. I tried to stop her from going in, but I couldn’t get the words out in time. The house collapsed around her.

“Our mom died because of Heather. That’s obviously a twisted perversion, and I see that now, but when I was five that was all I could think. I lost it. I put her on a boat and sent her out to sea. Obviously, Oswald wasn’t happy, but instead of treating me like a child that was driven to the breaking point by grief and trauma, he told me I was insane. He was driven by grief too, but even after he calmed down he never treated me the same.”

Snotlout’s jaw dropped. “Woah, woah. Wait, did you recognize Heather when you attacked her village?”

“What? No. It had been 17 years, and Heather is a fairly normal name.”

“But when you learned she was your sister? Did you not remember any of that?”

Dagur sighed. “I’ll be honest, I remembered everything. I planned to kill her when she stopped being useful. Then, I spent more time around her and got fond of her. And even though she was lying, she seemed like she’d put everything I’d done behind her so I figured I could do the same.”

Snotlout pursed his lips. “So… is that how you got your nickname?”

“No. Oswald just kept calling me insane, so my little child brain decided the best course of action was to lean into it. After a few years I earned the title of Deranged. I got kind of sadistic and obsessive, as you may know. When Oswald disappeared, as much as it put pressure on me to lead, I was glad he was gone. That’s why I claimed I killed him instead of sending a search party.”

Snotlout sighed. “I wish I could kill my dad. Spitelout would literally rather me be paranoid than happy.”

“Cheers to that.” Dagur clinked glasses with him and they both took a huge swig of mead. “So, what about you?”

“Well, mine’s obviously not a villain origin story,” Snotlout said. Dagur cackled at him. “My dad’s entire thing is just because Stoick was the one who became chief instead of him. He’s insecure about being the second choice and he’s been trying to project that onto me my whole life. In short, he raised me to be a huge jerk. I’m starting to unlearn it, kind of. It’s a lot of work and I have a lot on my plate as it is. I was also pretty misogynistic for a while.” Dagur gave him a funny look. “It means thinking women are inferior. The Wingmaidens taught me it. Not even sure Astrid would know what it means.”

“Huh, never heard that one.” Dagur took a sip of mead.

Snotlout continued, “I thought for a long time that he was just doing what was best for me, teaching me the way Jorgensons do things. Apparently he was just putting a lot of pressure on me to be the best, and to put other people down while doing it. One time, we were doing this competition that Berk has for children. It was mainly a thing just to show our skills at things like axe throwing and other Viking shit. That year, we added dragons into the mix, and I sort of knew that Hiccup was going to beat me, but Spitelout wouldn’t have it. He threatened me, and I think Hiccup overheard and let me win. I’ve never bothered to ask.”

“Why wouldn’t you ask?”

“Well, I’m not an amazing liar, and if my dad ever found out I didn’t win by myself, I don’t even know what he would do.” Snotlout put his head in his hand. “I just wish he would stop actively encouraging me to be an asshole.”

“At least you’re catching yourself now,” Dagur suggested.

“I guess.”

“No, I mean seriously. There’s like, four steps to getting better at things. Unconscious incompetence, conscious incompetence, conscious competence, and unconscious competence.” Snotlout gave him a weird look, but Dagur just waved him off. “It means that the first step is not noticing, then noticing and wanting to change, then changing purposely and actively catching yourself, then finally just doing it without thinking. I figured that out while working on my anger issues.”

“Where are you?” Snotlout asked.

“Being honest? I’m still wavering between conscious incompetence and competence. I have to work really hard not to lose it on people now, but every now and then I slip back into it. Heather usually tells me to shut the fuck up and go meditate.” Dagur sheepishly scratched the back of his head. “Sometimes it even happens just in my head. I’ll have to be like ‘no, you don’t have to yell at that person,’ or ‘just imagine you’re throwing axes in your head,’ or ‘stop being angry at yourself for liking guys, it doesn’t matter.’” He slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes squeezing shut.

Snotlout stared at him for a second before dropping his gaze to the floor. “It’s cool, I do too.”

Dagur laughed nervously. “Really? I could’ve sworn I’ve heard you talk about—”

“Yeah, I like women too. Bit of both.” Snotlout awkwardly sipped his mead.

Dagur nodded slowly. “Yeah, no. Just guys for me.” He blinked hard, taking measured breaths. “It feels good to say that out loud. Oswald didn’t see it as acceptable, but I’ve been rolling back the restrictions as fast as I can without seeming like I’m…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Which is just another instance of me hating myself for it. Cut it out, Dagur.” He started knocking his fist against his temple.

Snotlout grabbed his hand out of the air. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Dagur sighed and lowered his hand back down to rest on the table. “I’ll admit, Berk is a lot more accepting, but I get it. It’s hard.”

Dagur nodded. “Have you told anyone?”

“Oh, uh, the Riders know. A couple people on Berk too.”

“Spitelout?”

Snotlout cringed. “I mean, yeah. He knows. I was prepared to give this whole speech about how I didn’t care what he thought and he just told me that he figured it out a long time ago.”

“Okay, that’s good.” Dagur grinned at him. “So, does Fishlegs know?”

Snotlout hid his face behind his mug. “I said the Riders know!”

“Hey, I just thought since you’re together…”

Snotlout opened his mouth in surprise. “How the Hel did you know that?”

Dagur just raised an eyebrow. “Oh come on, Snothat. It wasn’t that hard to spot.” Snotlout glared at him. “Sorry, Snotlout. Listen, I’m unlearning being an asshole too.” He rolled his eyes and gestured for Dagur to continue. “You guys are just really close. Like, Hiccup and Astrid close. I assumed.”

“I guess you assumed right. We’ve been together for a little while. The Riders know. No one else does. Well, except you, apparently.” Snotlout shook his head. “How are you so perceptive?”

Dagur shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d say it runs in the family but Heather is about as perceptive towards that sort of thing as a stack of bricks. Every time I’ve tried to come out to her has failed. Once I literally said that a guy was hot and she was like ‘well he is on the back of a dragon.’”

Snotlout laughed. “So, any romantic prospects for you on the horizon?”

Dagur shook his head. “Um, no. I really try not to have crushes, not because I think it’s wrong anymore, but because the last time I had a crush I almost destroyed the archipelago.”

Snotlout raised an eyebrow. “Uh, what?”

“I uh, I had a crush on Hiccup back in the day.” Dagur stared down at the ground. “By the time I got out of prison I didn’t anymore, but the obsession ate away at me from the inside out. I don’t want to risk that happening again.”

“Okay, to be fair you aren’t evil anymore.”

“True. But I know with my tendency to get obsessive, that’s probably not the best thing to put on another person.” Dagur put his head in his hands. “All of this because of a house fire.”

“All this because my dad couldn’t stand being the second-in-line for chief.”

Dagur laughed. “Maybe we aren’t so different after all.” He finished up his mead. “I should head to bed. Lots of things to do tomorrow.”

Snotlout nodded. “Yeah, me too. So, where’s the guest bedroom?”

The next morning, Fishlegs came to pick him up. “Hey Snotlout.”

Snotlout rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Hey Fishy, what are you doing here? I can make it back to Berk on my own.”

Fishlegs grinned. “I know, but we’re not going back to Berk. The Riders are going back to the Edge and I figured I’d come tell you.”

Snotlout nodded. He turned around and saw Dagur coming out of the door to his hut. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Dagur! Thanks for the hospitality!”

Dagur jogged over. “Yeah, no problem. Come back any time.” His expression drifted into something far more sincere. “Good talk last night.”

“Yeah, good talk.”

After Snotlout and Fishlegs got into the air, Fishlegs asked, “What did you two talk about? I thought you were drunk.”

Snotlout waved him off. “Nothing really. I think he just meant that we came to an understanding that we didn’t have before.”

With that, they flew off into the morning sun.

Notes:

In the research of this fic, I learned that an old name for mead was ambrosia and/or nectar. Percy Jackson fans, do with that what you will.

(Also, I'm in desperate need of someone to rant about Heather's timeline to. So, if you're interested leave a comment about it.)