Chapter Text
Heather stormed up to the clubhouse, her last resort to find a place where Dagur wasn’t. Her brother simply wouldn’t leave her alone. Be it trying to help with something to cracking a stupid joke, he always seemed to be talking to her. She stomped into the kitchen where Catia was preparing some soup.
Normally Heather would’ve tried to find some way to improve the dish, and attempt to make it better, but she was simply to furious to say anything.
“What’s wrong with you?” Catia asked, dumping some chopped carrots into the pot.
“Dagur,” Heather frowned, crossing her arms with a huff.
“What did he do?”
“He won’t leave me alone!” She exclaimed, plopping down on the table and making all the dishes clatter. “I can’t do anything without him being around. I can’t say something without him turning it into a conversation. I can’t even walk through a door without him trying to hold it for me!”
Catia glanced back over her shoulder at her angry friend. “It sounds to me like he’s just being nice,” she said, confused.
“More like a nuisance,” Heather growled, tapping a wooden chair with her foot. She sat complaining for a few more minutes, until Astrid walked in commenting on how good it smelled. Heather rolled her eyes.
“Oh, hey Heather,” Astrid greeted, suddenly spotting her on the table. “I didn’t see you there. Dagur was looking for you.”
Heather jumped up. “You didn’t tell him where I was, did you?”
“No…”
Heather let out a sigh of relief. “Good. I can’t seem to get rid of him. He’s like a mutant shadow that tracks me like a Rumblehorn.” Realizing that her analogy wasn’t the greatest, she stopped talking and sat back down on the table.
“He just wants to be around you,” Astrid said, pulling out the chair and sliding into it. “To get to know you. He’s a super talkative person.”
“Oh, I know,” Heather chortled. “Believe me, I know.”
“Heather, just because you aren’t the most talkative person does not make it a bad trait,” Catia replied, dropping some crushed herbs into the soup. “He probably just wants to be friends with you, and to be treated nicely in return.”
Heather gave an exasperated groan, leaning back to lay on the table. “I don’t want to be ‘friends!’ He tried to kill me! And he’s annoying with a capital ‘a!’”
Astrid laughed. “Trying to kill you and being annoying are the same amount of bad?”
“You know what I mean! I need your help to get rid of him!”
“You could poison him.”
“No.”
“You could train Shattermaster to chase him off Dragon’s Edge.”
“No.”
“You could booby trap his hut with a slingshot to shoot him out of the atmosphere.” Ruffnut said, suddenly walking into the kitchen. “Who are we talking about?”
“Dagur,” Heather muttered. “And no, I’m not doing that either.”
“You could try being nice to him,” Catia suggested, shrugging.
“I think you’re missing the point. I want to get rid of him.”
“Well, then hire an assassin,” Ruffnut snorted, as if it were the most obvious thing ever said.
Heather rolled her eyes again. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously!” Catia exclaimed, taking the pot off the fire. “Be nice to him! If he gets what he wants, he’ll leave you alone!”
Heather sat for a minute, screwing up her face as she thought. As much as she did not want to be nice to her brother, Catia’s suggestion did make sense. “I guess I could go on that hike he’s been bugging me about,” she sighed. “Maybe he’d let up.”
“Exactly,” Catia quipped, dishing up her soup. “Now, would you like to try this?”
“No,” Heather replied, appalled. “Why would I want to try something inferior?”
“Inferior to what?” Catia chuckled. “The soup you haven’t actually made?”
“I will have you know-”
“Okay, break it up,” Astrid jumped in before they could get carried away. “I will try the soup. Heather, just go and get Dagur of your back. Okay?” She glared at the two of her friends, almost daring them to speak one more word about cooking or soup. It was as if they were mortal enemies the moment food came up.
Both muttered their agreement, and Heather slouched out of the kitchen to find her brother.
. . .
Heather stood at the start of the trail, chewing on her lip impatiently. She and Dagur had agreed to meet early enough to finish the hike before lunch, but as long as it was taking him to show up, they would never get back. She scanned the area again and finally sat down on the ground, firmly deciding never to set a time with Dagur again. Apparently he was completely unreliable. Windshear growled with impatience.
He finally appeared, Shattermaster following close behind. The dragon had jars and baskets strapped to every part of his body. Dagur offered her one of his ridiculous grins, as if trying to make up for being late. Heather decided not to bother bringing up how late he was; there was no point.
“What is all that?” she asked dryly, pointing the bundles strapped to the dragon.
“Lunch!” Dagur smiled, as if it were obvious.
“We were supposed to be done before lunch.”
“I know, but what could be more fun that hiking and a picnic?”
“A lot of things,” Heather muttered under her breath. “Let’s just go.”
The two wordlessly started up the trail, the jars on Shattermaster clanging with every step. Be nice, Heather reminded herself. But how am I supposed to be nice to him? He tried to kill me multiple times! Just…pretend to be nice. You’re good at pretending. Say nice things, don’t use the axe, yeah. Just play it cool.
“Nice day, isn’t it?” Dagur asked attempting to break the awkward silence.
It’d be a lot nicer if I didn’t have to spend it with you. “Yeah, the rain last week really cooled the weather down.” Good grief, Heather, you are so fake!
“This time of year is always beautiful. The trees are just starting to change colors, it’s still fairly warm. I love fall.”
I’d love it if you would fall. Boy, that was corny. “I prefer spring myself.” How on earth is the conversation that’s going on in my head more interesting than the one I’m having with you? Oh yeah, I forgot. You’re boring.
“I always get allergies in the spring. My eyes itch and my nose runs and I have a headache all the time!”
I know what allergies are, Dagur. I’m the smart one, remember? “That doesn’t sound very pleasant.” Not that I care, of course.
“Are you allergic to anything?”
What kind of question is that? Are you gonna poison me or something? “No. I sometimes get seasonal allergies, but nothing like Astrid.”
“She gets it bad?”
Uh, yeah! She almost dies! Oh, you don’t know about that. Perfect, now I get to explain the whole thing. “Not seasonal allergies. She’s allergic to bee stings. The last time she got stung she broke out in hives, and couldn’t breathe. Luckily Gothi whipped up some concoction to counter it, but now she has to carry a little package of it in case she gets stung.” Why did I just say all that? You don’t need to know.
“Wow. I didn’t know allergies could be that bad.”
“I wasn’t here at the time, but apparently she almost died.” Okay, time to change the subject. What to say…what to say.
“I bet that was pretty scary. How’d Hiccup take it?”
How the heck should I know?! I just said I wasn’t there! “I don’t know.”
“What’s the relationship between those two, anyway? There’s obviously some chemistry, but they are so determined to stay ‘just friends.’”
This was not what I had in mind for a change of topic! Why do you even care, Dagur? “To be honest, I don’t even know. I know they like each other, but they won’t come clean about it. They both flirt all the time, but anytime I ask Astrid about she’s like ‘we’re just friends.’” Oh yeah, totally friends.
Dagur snorted. “I don’t know about Astrid, but Hiccup is way into her. I caught him staring at her with this ridiculous, dopey grin on his face. He may as well have been drooling!”
Heather laughed. Did I seriously just laugh? That wasn’t even funny. Well, it was, but I can’t laugh if he said it. “Drooling?”
“Just about! He never says or does anything inappropriate, but he was most definitely checking her out!”
“Dagur!”
“Well, he was! I don’t want to say anything I shouldn’t, but she’s not easy to overlook.”
Eww! Did he just say that? “Are you saying you like her?” Heather knew she looked disgusted, but didn’t care.
“No! Just saying she’s attractive. I mean, your attractive too, but you’re my sister, so I can’t say that without it sounding all wrong.”
Yeah, it sounds very, very wrong. In fact, everything you’ve said sounds wrong. So just stop talking! “You should probably stop. It does sound wrong.”
“Yeah…I heard there was something going on between you and Fishlegs.”
Really, Dagur?! Really!? Can we not talk about ANYTHING else!? “Um, yeah, I guess. Nothing big.”
“So you’re not dating?”
Oh my gosh! You are not my mother! Stop asking me this stuff! You are so lucky I’m trying to be nice! “Sure, we kissed once, but that doesn’t mean we’re dating.” Oh. My. Gods. I just said that out loud. Thor almighty, just kill me know!
“Oh, really?” Dagur smirked at her.
“Yeah, really. It wasn’t a big deal. It lasted like, two seconds. He walked me back to my hut and everything seemed really romantic and it just kinda happened. We never even talked about it.” AH! STOP TALKING, HEATHER! YOU ARE DIGGING YOUR OWN GRAVE! WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND TELLS THEIR BROTHER THIS STUFF!? YOU DIDN’T EVEN TELL ASTRID YET!
“Well, okay. So tell me how you met Windshear.”
Heather breathed a sigh of relief and happily relayed the story, her cheeks still burning.
. . .
The two finally stopped for lunch, Dagur producing a very large meal. The butter he had brought had all melted, and the meat was cold, but since Heather was being nice, she didn’t say anything. She had to admit it was not the most delicious thing she had ever tasted, but certainly no worse than Astrid’s cooking. Her food was very likely toxic.
She finally got tired of talking about herself, and turned the conversation around. “So, why did you stop trying to kill the dragon riders?” she asked, shifting around on her place sprawled out across the blanket.
Dagur sighed and thought for a moment. “I guess it was your fault,” he answered at last.
“My fault?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t until you came into the picture that I started thinking about anybody other than myself. It started out when Ryker started to pick on you, and I just knew it was wrong. As soon as I began to be protective of you, other people started to matter more. When I realized that even I was expendable to Viggo, I was done. I wanted to be in a place where my allies wouldn’t turn on me, and I had support. The only time I had ever felt that way was with you, so as soon as I got the chance, I set out looking for you. So yeah, it’s your fault.” He offered her a goofy grin.
“Well, at least you’re no longer murdering five people daily.”
“I never did that!”
Heather sighed. “Let’s not go there. However, I would like to see the view from the top of that peek, so I suggest we go there.” She pointed to a large cliff, easily accessible with a little climbing.
“Sure!” Dagur agreed. “Race you!”
“I don’t want race.”
“Oh, come on! My sister? Backing down from a challenge?”
Heather glared at him, but he had a strong defense. He somehow mastered the puppy dog gaze while they were separated, and he easily guilted her into it. “Fine!” she groaned, getting up. Giving him a devilish glance, she bolted without warning.
“Hey!” he shouted, scrambling to his feet to catch up with her.
Heather laughed and jumped up a few rocks, agilely scampering across them like a mountain goat. Dagur didn’t know she and Astrid had trained on a cliff very similar to this one. She glanced behind her, realizing that Dagur was easily gaining.
She started to run up a flat incline, trying to be careful on the slick slope. She could hear Dagur behind her, so she kicked a stone loose to stop him. It worked, and he tripped, grabbing a hold of her foot as he did. She tumbled backward with a scream as she slid of the edge of the flat rock.
She hit the dirt below, knocking the wind out of her and she slide a few more feet on the ground. Her right foot stuck in a crevasse between to rocks and twisted as she continued to slide. Her leg wrenched loose and she rolled into another rock, finally stopping.
“Heather!” Dagur shouted, jumping down off the rocks and running toward her. “Are you okay?”
She finally caught her breath, though it was still shaky. She slowly looked herself over, trying to spot any blood. “Yeah,” she whispered, inspecting her scuffed palms. “Why is the world did you grab my foot!?” she glared up at him furiously, knowing he could have gotten her killed.
“I’m sorry,” Dagur defended, "I just wanted to trip you back.”
“It didn’t cross you mind that I could go failing over the edge?! I could have died!”
“I know, I’m sorry! I really didn’t mean to!”
“Why should I believe you?! All you’ve ever tried to do is hurt me!”
“Heather, if I had known that was going to happen I never would have suggested we hike! I know I tried to hurt you, but I promise it’s the farthest thing from my mind now!”
“How do I know you’re not lying to my face?” she shouted back. “I can’t trust you!” With that she stood and shakily brushed herself off, and started to walk away. But the moment her right foot touched the ground, a knife of pain stabbed through her ankle. She pitched forward, Dagur luckily catching her before she fell again.
“I’m fine,” she growled. “Stop trying to help!” She tried another step, and this time the pain was worse.
“Is your ankle-”
“My ankle is fine! It’s sprained, if anything!” She bit her lip and limped a few more steps.
“You shouldn’t walk on it, it might be broken.”
Heather turned and glared at him. “It’s not broken!” With that she stormed, as best she could, down the hill.
. . .
“It’s broken,” Catia confirmed, feeling around on Heather’s swollen and bruised foot. “You’re lucky the fracture isn’t worse.”
Dagur had insisted, after all but carrying Heather down the mountain, that she have Catia look her foot over. Her foot was so swollen that they almost had to cut her boot off. Now he stood in the back of the room, eyeing her with an “I told you so,” gaze.
“Well, wrap it up and let's move on,” Heather grumbled, still angry with Dagur for tripping her.
“I'm afraid it doesn’t work that way,” Catia said with a smile, as she gently put Heather’s foot back in the tube of ice water. “It’s so swollen I can’t wrap it now, and even when I do, you can’t bear any weight on it for at least four weeks.”
“A whole month?” Heather moaned. “What am I supposed to do for an entire month?!”
Catia stood. “Read,” she offered, throwing her friend a sympathetic glance as she left.