Chapter Text
There were dragons when I was a boy.
There was Magic when I was a girl.
There were great, grim, sky dragons that nested on the cliff tops like gigantic scary birds.
There was Magic in the wind that whipped past leaves, whispering spells of fortune.
Little, brown, scuttly dragons that hunted down the mice and rats in well-organized packs.
Magic deep in the seas, waiting for an unsuspecting life to give immortality.
Preposterously huge Sea Dragons that were twenty times as big as the Big Blue Whale.
Magic made of dragon’s spirits, to protect and watch over ones that still roam the land.
Some say that they were bloodthirsty and vicious, always looking for their next victim.
Some say it is the spawn of Hel, with evil seeping from its very core.
And we will change that.
For the world does not see the dragons for what they really are.
The world does not yet see Magic for the beauty that it truly is.
That is why we will do whatever he have to make sure they are safe.
We will fight for the Dragons, and our Magic, until the world is ready.
We will protect them until our last dying breaths.
* * * * *
Saga wiped the drop of crimson from her eyebrow.
The side of her head throbbed in pain from the sudden thwack it made against the wooden board. She swayed, the entire deck swayed, rhythmic waves gently rocking them to and fro.
“I guess I miscalculated how far this thing extends.”
She met her brother’s gaze with a glare. Wind tousled his tangled brown locks just as it whipped past her own ears, strong and sailing them Eastbound.
“Your spyglass privileges have been revoked.” She snatched the cylindrical object from his hands. He dove for it, just as she predicted. She held him back with her forearm and held the spyglass just out of reach of his lanky limbs.
What she had forgotten to calculate was the strength behind those arms. He merely had to tug her arm out of the way to take it back into his grasp. The spyglass, however, didn’t follow through with his plan. He bumped the thing and it slipped from both of their hands.
The siblings froze, her arm still stuck out between the wood beams and his elbow still in the crook of her armpit. When the spyglass shattered against the deck below, they both flinched despite the anticipation.
“Good going,” he winced, shoving her shoulder into the wooden boards below them as he sat himself back up. The second she made eye contact with one of the sailors below, she sat up as well. At least up in the birdsnest, she wasn’t able to hear their curses about having to clean up another broken object.
It wasn’t like it was her fault every time. Throwing an ax at the barrel of mead was her brother’s idea, she did not dare him to do it no matter what he said. Sailor Buforg’s mace getting thrown overboard was neither of their faults, he was simply a hotheaded man suffering the consequences of his own actions. He shouldn’t have thrown it at them if he cared that deeply for it. Yes, the crates falling over below deck was her fault, but does it count if it was her own belongings?
“Saga.”
She jumped at the loud call of her name, especially as it came from Chief Oswald himself. She peered below the birdseye, her eyes landing on his hands that were resting on his hips.
Her brother peered over the edge of the birdseye for only a second before he lurched back. “Oh yeah, he looks upset. Good luck with that one.”
“You too, Hexus.”
Saga nearly snickered at how quickly the color drained from her brother’s face.
With little hesitance, the two of them scurried down the ladder onto the deck of the ship. Saga nearly landed on shattered glass when she stepped down if it weren’t for Hex’s tug before she landed.
“What’s the charge now, Chief?” Hex crossed his arms half-heartedly, having been through situations like this plenty before. Saga stood there quietly, arms crossed behind her back.
“No charge. Though I do have a feeling that we are nearing our destination.” Chief Oswald looked out at the crystalline waves, shining like diamonds against the unusually clear skies. “It would be a lot easier to tell with my spyglass.”
Saga flushed when Oswald gestured to the shattered glass at their feet. She was never a good liar, she wouldn’t have been able to hold up under the questioning of who did it. As if either of them needed to be questioned this time.
Oswald sighed. “You are lucky I have spares, and that I know this route by heart.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. Not surprised, but not angry. “Another hour or so and we will be docking. You two should get cleaned up. It may not be a first impression, but you need to make a good one nonetheless.” His eyes drifted to Hex during the last part of that statement.
Saga couldn’t miss the way Hex pursed his lips before he nodded. A retort sealed behind them, if she knew her brother at all. The second he looked back up at Oswald, the expression was replaced with a cheeky smile. “Loud and clear.”
Hex and Saga were able to walk below deck after they cleaned up their spyglass mess. Despite the tenseness in his shoulders and the curl in his lip, Oswald did not raise his voice at either of them. For that, she was grateful. As a matter of fact, Saga was grateful that Oswald hadn’t brought his son with them either. Apparently, Dagur was too upset to board the ship and stayed back on Berserker Island. Saga didn’t mind his absence, not one bit. It made the trip through rocky waters far smoother.
Above deck, she could see the sea span out for miles, feel the rocking waves beneath her feet. But below deck was possibly the least fascinating part of the journey, it was darkness lit by few candles and her insides tossed around with every sway of the ship. Sea salt and mildewy wood smelled better than the quarters they walked past to get to their own.
Their mother was already turning the corner before they could reach the doorframe. She could hear a pin drop from four rooms away, so it was no surprise that she recognized her own children’s footsteps.
“Where have you been?” she spoke quietly, as gravelly as her voice had always been. “We will be docking soon. You are supposed to be getting ready.”
She looked half ready herself, her hair still down in the dark frizzy curls that Saga had never once seen her cut away. Though, the dress she wore was much finer than the ones she wore for their trip. Forest green instead of the light brown she typically adorned. ‘Finer clothes for a finer occasion,’ she had told them when she handed them the clothing the day before.
Fine occasion was not the right word Saga would use to describe such a thing as this.
Ysolda took their hands and pulled them into the room, not giving either of them a chance to protest before she was petting down Hex’s scraggly brown curls and pulling Saga’s hair up and out of her face. Another second and she was tossing their outfits onto their laps.
That was how it was with Ysolda, especially when she was set on her schedule. Saga and Hex both learned early on in their childhood to keep up with her, no matter if that made them five minutes late or five hours early. That was how the two of them were dressed by the time that Ysolda was done with her own hair, giving her time to throw a hairbrush at Hex and sit Saga down in a chair in front of her.
It’s part of her routine, Saga reminded herself. The forest green dress she wore in similar fashion to her mother’s, the braided bun Ysolda put her hair in, the golden jewelry she strung around her neck and hung from her ears. You’ll be back in your own clothes by nighttime.
By night, she would be in bed. A bed made of freshly chopped wood, not decades old oak. Blankets made from the fresh fur from a bear or a yak. The bed would smell of fresh wood, not of musty books. A fresh start, her mother had told her, over and over again.
A fresh start.
“I don’t think green suits me,” Hex said, pulling on the sleeves of his green tunic.
“You are my son. Of course green suits you,” Ysolda responded. Green did in fact not suit him, but Saga decided to wait until later to point that out. “Let’s get out of the way, the sailors need room to move our things above deck.”
Upon hearing that, Saga felt relief wash over her. No more nauseously swaying deck, no more stench from such an enclosed space. She nearly wanted to bolt to the latch door once their mother ushered them out.
The air chilled against her face as she stepped onto the deck. Late September, yet it had slowly started to feel like Snoggletog the farther they traveled. Saga expected as much, as it was the first thing Ysolda warned her about.
“Berk reaches the clouds.”
Saga’s heart jumped as Hex’s voice chimed from beside her. She glanced at him, but his eyes were glued to the ocean behind her.
As she turned, she saw exactly what Hex was talking about. Berk did reach the clouds, the wet heap of rock narrowed as it climbed higher into the sky, round and sharp and cutting a hole through the clouds surrounding it.
As if they had not just gone on a week long journey to get to this destination, everything finally sunk in at that moment.
“It was my home, years ago. It will be yours, too.”
Saga turned her head back toward her brother. He did not break his gaze from the island, though his previously stoic expression had slowly morphed into wrinkled brows. That spark of fear behind his eyes was slowly starting to show, he had tried so hard to hide it until he saw Berk in person.
Hex looked back in her direction. “Do you think that this will be different?”
“Yes,” Saga responded. Of course it would be different.
“A good difference?”
She froze. A million different ways it could go, a million different things she could say. The longer she stood silent, the more solemn he grew.
He wanted the truth, he always wanted the truth. But the truth…
“Only if you make it good.” Ysolda walked in between them, gently placing her hands on both of their shoulders. “Clean slate, now nothing can touch your happy thoughts anymore.”
A sailor shouted something to the others on the ship, something about steering the ship in another direction, Saga didn’t pay close enough attention. The latch door squeaked open again, Saga and Hex turned their heads towards the noise near simultaneously. They watched as Chief Oswald climbed above deck, steadying himself and rolling up his sleeves as another sailor approached him. Something about porting. Saga had already grown used to ignoring the sailor talk over the course of her trip.
Behind Oswald, sailors came out from the latch door carrying their belongings above deck. It was happening, really happening. She was sure the last week was enough time to prepare herself, but clearly it was not.
By the time they were all above deck, Berk was right in front of them, looming over the ship as they circled the coast. Saga couldn’t help but be captivated. The peak of the island was covered in light snow, but the forest below was lush dark green. Clouds broke around the top as they passed, gray and gloom.
She didn’t listen to a word that came out her mother’s mouth as she spoke to Oswald about something concerning her return. Hex’s shoulder brushed hers, she followed his gaze to the rocky cliffs that encircled the entire island. Waves crashed against the rocks, some jutted and some smooth. Parts of the cliffs stuck out more than others, one extending farther out than any other. They watched as the port came into view and the ship made a wide turn, forward bound for the docks.
This is it, Saga thought.
At least it looks pretty.
—
On the other side of the Berk, Hiccup was struggling to get himself out of the warm comfort of his bed.
Today is not a good day for new arrivals, the boy thought somberly, pulling his pillow over his head to try to drown out Gobber’s booming voice downstairs. After the dragon raid the night before teamed with a thunderstorm that he for sure thought ripped up a few trees in the forest, he was absolutely exhausted. But his father said that thunderstorms and dragon raids were not excuses to postpone arrivals, especially when the new villagers were already at sea. You couldn’t just turn a ship around and try another day, Hiccup could understand that part.
It wasn’t like he minded newcomers on Berk. In his fifteen years, not a single newcomer arrived on the island unless it was a newborn baby, so having new residents that weren’t screaming out of hunger or were covered in their own drool wasn’t that common. His father treated it like a momentous occasion, if Hiccup was someone who could get excited for this kind of thing, then he would have treated it that way too.
Admittedly, he might’ve been a little excited about their arrival if it weren’t for the whole “moving from Berserker Island” thing.
Berserker Island. Y’know, where the people are berserk?
Although, it truly was a gamble. Chief Oswald was well-tempered and even gentle in some ways, his brother-in-arms General Kadrin was respected but kind. Oswald’s son Dagur was anything but. Maniacal, violent, obnoxious… the list goes on. He told himself for weeks to trust the gamble, to not automatically assume that whoever they were would be the worst of the bunch.
Knowing it was better to get it over with than dwell on the inevitable, Hiccup shot up, not bothering to make his bed as he changed into clothes that smelled less damp and hurried down the stairs. He haphazardly pulled his fingers through the knots of his frizzy hair, giving up once he got to the front door. He struggled to pull on his boots while his father waited outside and Gobber fixed his peg leg for the walk down to the docks.
The three left mere seconds later as the thoughts that had previously plagued Hiccup’s mind came back with a vengeance. He was informed about this arrival two weeks prior through Gobber one day while working in the forge. The two of them were swamped with making furniture for the house while his father had a crew start on building the house at the end of the village, right below the hill where his own house stood.
Of course he had many questions about the family, but very few were actually answered. The little he got was that there were three of them, a family. A mother and two kids. The only reason they were moving to Berk was because of the passing of their father, but he wasn’t sure if the children were his age, younger or older.
Hiccup tried not to make assumptions about the family before meeting them. He really did, but sometimes people will say anything to make a psycho look like a saint. He couldn’t trust Gobber’s bias.
They made it to the docks as the ship turned into the port. They all waited in silence, it seemed like that particular silence only ate away at Hiccup more, ate away and ate away at him until he was just his bones and he finally asked the question on his mind that no one had directly answered yet.
“They’re from Berserker Island, right? So doesn’t that make them a little… y’know…”
Stoick beat him to the punch. “Berserk?”
“Yes, exactly that.”
The booming laugh that escaped Stoick nearly made Hiccup’s skeleton jump out of his body. “Stop worrying, son. We’ve been at peace with the Berserkers for years.”
That’s not what I was trying to say.
Stoick clapped him on the back in some sort of reassurance, but it got lost before it had even reached him. The force nearly made Hiccup fall over, but he regained his footing quickly. Could he really be surprised that his worries had fallen on deaf ears? This was his father, after all.
So as always, he stood there and worried until the ship docked in the harbor and the loading plank lowered onto the deck. He told himself that it couldn’t be that bad. Maybe the children really were just children and he had nothing to worry about.
As long as he wasn’t Dagur, he would be fine. Dagur, or…
Hiccup spotted dark green movement on the ship, clothes made of a fine type of fabric, he could tell even in the distance. Chief Oswald was the first to step onto the deck, barely a glance into their direction before he turned and extended his hand to a woman. Her hair was dark, a brown hue only visible when it reflected in the sunlight. It was tied back into a braid that nearly reached her knees, a golden thread braided into it. There was only ever one woman from Berserker Island that wore her nobility so proudly. What an odd coincidence.
Wait.
The woman turned her head, a small smile on her face outstretching farther as she met eyes with Gobber and Stoick. Hiccup recognized her immediately.
Oh, Thor. Ysolda Magtire, the wife of General Kadrin, Chief Oswald’s brother-in-arms.
He was the one who passed?
A high ranking Councillor and her… two children?
Hiccup saw movement out of the corner of his eye from the loading plank, that scraggly brown hair he despised just barely in view. Hexus freaking Magtire. Even from the side, he couldn’t miss the swoops of brown hair and that stupid beat up cloak.
Lady Ysolda had a rounder belly, yet Stoick had not mentioned her being with child. That must have been what he meant when he said two children. Hiccup looked up at his father, but he did not get anything in return.
Was this why he was so vague whenever Hiccup tried to ask his questions? Because he knew that this was possibly the worst idea imaginable. Dagur’s best friend, living on the same island as the kids that scatter in all directions when he walks by? As far as he knew, Fishlegs was still having nightmares about the rotten cod that Dagur shoved down his throat because he couldn’t get out of the knots Hex tied to keep him held down.
When he was finally able to wipe the look of betrayal off of his face, his eyes were back on the loading deck. Hex turned around halfway down the deck with his hand placed on his hip. He was talking to someone, but Hiccup couldn’t see much else from over the side of the ship.
Hex rolled his eyes before he stalked back up to the ship. He was barefoot, to absolutely no one’s surprise. What in Odin’s name had Hiccup just seen? Did the guy believe in ghosts, or was he really just talking to nothing?
So not only was he violent, but he was also mental. Fantastic.
“The day is here.”
Hiccup startled at the voice suddenly just feet away from him. He tore his gaze away from the ship, but neither his father nor Gobber were next to him anymore. Further down the dock, Lady Ysolda embraced the two of them in hugs that they took with grace.
Dad never hugged anyone, Hiccup thought, not even me.
“Welcome back, lass.” Stoick pulled away from her embrace. “Your face shines bright despite it all. You have always been a strong one.”
Her face did indeed shine. She smiled brightly as she always did, her smile lines creating wrinkles underneath her eyes, on her cheekbones. The smile was short lived, but her eyes never became dull.
“How is he?” Stoick asked, his voice quieter than before. As if everything Hex had done was some sort of secret.
“He will not bother another person on this island. I told him what you told me, he knows that time in the dungeon will follow whatever he creates.” Lady Ysolda lifted her head just slightly, like she was confident in her answer. Though after Hex’s imaginary conversation that he just witnessed, Hiccup was not trusting it.
Hiccup looked back at the loading dock just in time to see Hex appear again, two crates stacked on top of each other in his arms. This time however, a girl walked alongside him. She only carried one crate in her arms and they both adorned the same forest green shade of clothing that Lady Ysolda wore. As he peered closer, he found the girl’s black hair unrecognizable.
Hiccup furrowed his brows. The ghost in question.
“And there they are,” Gobber said, turning their attention away from their conversation.
Lady Ysolda let out a discontent sigh and placed her hand on her hip, in the exact manner as Hex had done before on the loading deck. “Shoes, Hexus!”
Hex halted to a stop and set the crates down on the dock, the dark-haired girl not far behind him. “Where’s the fun in that?”
And then there he was, striding down the deck like he owned the place, that stupid half smile he always had plastered to his face growing even more prominent the closer he got.
Hiccup didn’t find himself looking at him, though.
Hex and the dark-haired girl looked astronomically different. His eyes and hair color were the same as his mother’s, as were nearly all of his features. There was no doubt that he was her son. But that girl…
In the years that the Magtire’s had spent time on Berk for the treaty signings, a daughter was never mentioned. She didn’t look much younger than Hex despite her short height, maybe around Hiccup’s age. He remembered Kadrin, it’s hard to forget the face of such a high ranking Berserker. His red hair and green eyes had mistaken him and Oswald for brothers countless times.
This girl had none of those features. She was not a Magtire.
She hid behind Hex as they approached, Hiccup could only see her braid splayed over her shoulder. By the Gods, Hex looked atrocious. As if that beat up rag of a cloak could cover the green silk pants and tunic that bagged over his body. It almost looked like a potato sack with the way he slouched. Hiccup tried his best not to show his amusement at the realization that Hex knew just as well as him how utterly terrible he looked.
“May Loki be playing tricks on me,” Gobber started. “You sprouted like a tree since I last seen ya!”
Hex pursed his lips at the comment. “That’s the thing about growth spurts, they make you taller.” His eyes darted between Gobber and Stoick, before they ultimately landed on Hiccup. Hiccup tensed underneath his gaze, despite it being unreadable. “He looks overdue for one, though.”
The moment Lady Ysolda turned her head, her eyes lit up. He wished he could be confused why he was invisible until then, but it was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Hiccup,” Lady Ysolda started. She stepped past Stoick and Gobber until she was in front of him, her hands on her knees to further reach his height. “Oh, my. Your freckles grow more prominent with each passing year.”
“Thank you?” Hiccup stepped backwards.
Lady Ysolda had lived on Berk for a time years ago, in that time she had grown close with Valka, Hiccup’s mother. She never failed to mention how he looked like her, or how similarly they acted to one another at times despite never meeting her himself. He wished that for once, she wouldn’t mention his hair color or his mannerisms. She was a kind woman though, she had never once been hurtful to him. He had to give her that, at the very least.
“I assure you, there will be no problems. If there are, you will tell me. Right?” Lady Ysolda told Hiccup as she straightened her posture. Hiccup’s eyes widened as he was suddenly overwhelmed with gazes burning into him.
It was thanks to Hex’s chortle that the attention diverted. Lady Ysolda turned, Hiccup could only assume the look on her face was some sort of disgruntled.
“What do you find funny?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Hex said earnestly. He glanced behind his mother and Hiccup froze under his gaze. “No problems. You’re not worth time in a cell.”
“Exactly,” Lady Ysolda said as she stepped toward Hiccup again. “We expect no trouble out of you.”
Hex rolled his eyes as his mother ruffled his matted hair, only making the mess worse. She pulled at the hand clutched around Hex’s shirt sleeve, gently pulling the dark-haired girl out into view.
“It has been a few years, but I am sure you remember my daughter. Saga,” she said, introducing the girl. Apparently, re-introducing.
“Aye, I do.” Gobber nodded. “Never seen someone climb up a tree faster. Or jump down from that height without breaking a limb.”
Saga. Hiccup remembered that name, sometimes Hex said it in passing. He never thought about it, because Hex never said she was his sister. He didn’t say she was anything, so Hiccup could only assume that she was one of his friends from Berserker Island.
How could she be his sister? She didn’t even look the part.
“How are you, Saga?” Stoick asked, the gentleness in his tone catching Hiccup off guard. Lady Ysolda had to nudge the girl to get her to look up at him. Her height made her have to tilt her head up, just like Hiccup had to do when he would talk to him.
“I’m okay,” she mumbled with a slight shrug of her shoulders.
“I know that this is all new to you. As your Chief, I want to help you with anything you might need.”
The conversation died out in Hiccup’s ears once Lady Ysolda started talking again. His brain fogged with confusion as he looked at the family in front of him. It was hard enough having to process the fact that Hexus Magtire of all Berserkers was now going to be living on his island, but now there was another Berserker whom he knew nothing about. Was there a reason she never came to Berk? A worse version of Hex or Dagur, or a possible scandal?
But then he remembered, he didn’t really care. If she was a Magtire, then she was a Magtire. That meant he had to stay away. As far away as physically possible.
That was why once he became invisible to them yet again, he found his opportunity to slip away. Quickly and quietly, he slipped through openings between buildings and homes until he made it back to his own.
Hiccup rushed inside and slammed the door. He had only been awake for maybe an hour, but somehow his life was turned upside down. Hex was supposed to stay on Berserker Island, Hiccup was only supposed to endure his torment for one day out of the year.
He wanted to believe his father, he really wanted to believe that Hex would not act out again. But by tomorrow he will reunite with Snotlout and everything will happen all over again. He will join in on Snotlout’s games and he will get away with it because he’s Snotlout. All Hex had to do was point his finger in Snotlout’s direction.
Maybe he could hide under his blanket for the rest of his life? Or maybe he could hitch a ride in a barrel next time Johann was in the harbor? With daily scrutinizing, judging glares and disappointed words, he wanted nothing more than to disappear anyhow.
He was invisible enough, he could get away with it. Right?
—
“Welcome home.”
When the Magtire’s stepped inside the house, they were in the living area, with a small oak table and three chairs in the corner. The rightside wall was lined with tables and an icebox, a makeshift kitchen on an island that would have normally held group meals. A rocking chair sat in front of a fireplace with freshly chopped wood laid on top of the mantle, a wide hall was to the left where three bedrooms were hidden behind sturdy oak doors.
Hex looked up at the ceiling. “So no loft?”
Stoick nodded and Hex’s face lit up with a smile. Finally, finally he would get his own room. He hadn’t had his own room in a decade.
“Take a minute to look around if you’d like. We didn’t think we’d need to make a nursery since your room, Ysolda, is big enough to be one until Hex gets his own place. You’re turning eighteen soon, right son?” Stoick asked, setting some crates down next to the dining room table.
Hex raised a brow. “My seventeenth birthday isn’t for another-”
“Perfect. So once her child is old enough to have their own room, you’ll be moved out.”
Wow, okay. Harsh.
Sure, Hex had done a few things in the past. But he never directly did them himself. He wasn’t the one shoving rotten cod down someone’s throat, or lighting people’s hair on fire. He was just holding them down or lighting the matches. That had to count for something, right?
Besides, he had no interest in continuing to do those kinds of things. The past was long behind him, he'd rather not end up in Berk’s dungeons. With a new home came a new beginning, everything that happened before needed to be simply forgotten.
“He will stay as long as he needs,” his mom intruded, placing a gentle hand between his shoulder blades.
He shrugged off her touch as he busied himself with grabbing a crate of his belongings. “Shouldn’t be too long now. I am almost old enough to sail.”
The look on Ysolda’s face changed, if only for a moment. Irritation, or maybe inevitable doom. She never told him he couldn’t sail, but it wouldn’t be her choice once he turned eighteen anyway. A year and a week. Her baby would only be seven months old, not yet old enough to leave her bedroom in the first place.
“Find yourself a bedroom,” Ysolda ordered, changing the subject. Hex wasted no time to start heading towards the hall, something that Saga had already seemed to do as she was nowhere in sight.
The hall was short, consisting of two doors on both sides and one door at the end. The door to the left was already open, he could hear Saga’s quiet shuffling coming from inside.
When he peered inside, he saw a bed pushed up against the wall, underneath her window that looked out to the forest. Next to the head of the bed was a wardrobe. Against the wall next to the door was a desk and chair. It was overall simple and small, but Saga had not asked for much when asked if she had wanted anything specific for her bedroom. Her back was turned to him, completely unaware of his presence in the doorway.
“A forest view,” he said, breaking the silence. “I haven’t a clue why you chose this room. Hmm.”
Saga turned to him with a roll of her eyes. Journals and parchment were scattered all around her, edges singed and spines charred. When it came to packing, there wasn’t really much to pack.
“A village view,” Saga said, nodding her head towards the bedroom across the hall, its door just slightly ajar. “You get to have Berk citizens staring at you day in and day out. Excited?”
“Very,” Hex responded sarcastically. He glanced around the room again, slightly shadowed in the afternoon light. “So you didn’t even give me a chance before you took your choice in bedrooms? You could have been a little fair.”
“Since when have we ever been fair?”
“Good point.”
Saga sifted through the crate, pulling back her hand to reveal three glass vials slipped between her fingers. Water sloshed around the petals inside as she flipped them into her palm and set them on the table. Her table.
Her wardrobe, her walls, her window, her bedroom. No more “don’t set a foot past this line of dirty socks,” no more listening to her mumble to herself or that damn charcoal pencil scratching against parchment in the middle of the night. How he dreamed of getting his own room, it was the only thing he was looking forward to out of the entire move.
He would no longer have to fight over shelf space, nor would Saga nag him for how messy his side of the table was. Charcoal pencils would no longer get crushed under his feet in the middle of the night and Saga wouldn’t trip over the shoes he never wore. Finally, his own space.
When he opened the door to his new bedroom and dragged his crate inside, he finally looked around at what would be his bedroom for the next year. A bed, pushed up against the window. A wardrobe, next to the headboard of the bed. A table and a chair, right next to the door. The Hooligans hadn’t done anything different there when setting up the rooms. He couldn’t really fault Saga for not making many grandiose requests, considering the circumstances behind the reason for them.
Hex set the crate on the floor, crawling over the bed in order to unlatch the wooden shutters. The village below was bustling with Vikings, weapons thrown over shoulders and children weaving their way through the crowds. A mother walking with a stroller, an old man sitting and waving to the passerbyers. The young Ingerman Cousins, who had always cowered and hid away when the Berserkers would visit for the treaty signing. No, when Dagur would look for victims to torment and Hex would follow behind him like a shadow.
It would be different this time, it had to be. Berk needed to forget about everything and give him a second chance. It’s like his mom told him: he was just a kid.
He was just a kid who needed everyone to forget about what happened, or at least realize that he didn’t really do anything.