Good day! This is my first time asking so sorry if it sounds weird!
Can I ask something related to Hiccup's accidental confession in "Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot"? Maybe his experience in jealousy when Dagur takes a liking to Hiccup's crush?
Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 4
Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader
Words: 2197
Enter scene: Dagur the Deranged
Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, Dragons: Riders of Berk, Twinsanity, Canon compliant/divergent, unedited
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Some people had fun lives-parties, drinks, a lot of mixing with other people-and some people got a full education. You got neither, because you were stuck here, some good thousand years in the past, listening to this.
“It’s so annoying, they won’t stop talking about my father!”
Everyone else cowered away, even his own… Friends. Followers. Parents, maybe. Whoever the men standing behind him were. There was something unsettling about him. He was intense and like a small animal, it made you want to quiet and hide.
“Really?” You asked, parroting him, “I can see how that would be annoying.”
He looked at you with his eyes wide open, an insane look in his eye like he was waiting for you to falter somehow, so you were afraid that staying silent was out of the question.
“You wouldn’t happen to be hiding any dragons? Would you?”
“N-no?” You smiled awkwardly. Barf and Belch were more like one dragon. With two brains. So you were telling the truth, sort of,
A viking about the same age if not a few years older than you stood absentmindedly in the middle of your path, twirling a knife casually, though to you it came off as menacing. A metal helmet that covered all of his head barring his eyebrows, a bright red, and the oblong face below it.
Stripes of blue ran across his right eye. Left eye, from his perspective, your right. You couldn’t tell if it was facepaint or a tattoo.
“I’m sorry, I didn't… Ah, catch your name? Who are you, again?”
From memory, you could recall nothing of him but a few distant impressions. Not even a name. You knew vaguely that he was supposed to be important, and bad news, which set you on edge. He was probably not from around here, given that you’d never seen him before.
“... You don’t know who I am?” He looked almost affronted, fingering the tip of his knife, not caring a bit when the sharp blade cut a small nick into the very tip. You watched wearily as a small bit of blood welled at the entrance of the wound.
“I’m new here, and I don’t usually spend time indulging in politics.”
“Really?” he asked. ‘So you’re unattached?’ his face said joyfully. You weren’t very good at reading between the lines but you could tell that much. You were afraid he might be rid of you, then drag your lifeless body into the woods for the wolves to eat. Then he might eat the wolves.
You shifted from foot to foot uneasily and yet somehow exhaustively in front of a set of large doors, part of some poor viking’s hovel, wherein a large two-headed dragon was now contained.
You didn’t want to have anything to do with it but with all the panic, you felt that you should probably help out.
You’d heard earlier that everyone was evacuating their dragons. When you asked where they were going and if you needed to catch a ride, they told you to stay back and ignore it like the rest of them. So, as per request, you decided to stay out of it.
You might not have known the reason why but you knew it was of the utmost importance. And you had an inkling it might have had something to do with Dagur the Deranged, as he was boasting his name and in the same breath spewing something about treaties and dragonblood.
Privately, though, you thought it seemed incredibly inconvenient and illogical to send all the dragons off the island, especially with how essential they had become to Berk’s day-to-day. There was no way in hel that they could have removed every trace of dragons in Berk in just a day. And in hindsight, they hadn’t. People had been cleaning up for weeks, though you weren’t sure why. Now you knew.
Honestly, maybe you weren’t even sure that the Berk vikings needed more than a day. After all, before the dragon raids stopped, they were rebuilding villages in just a day, on top of all the other insanely laborious things that you needed to do to survive on this island.
Whoever thought it would be a good idea to build the village away from the forest and the rest of the island and fresh water and all the other foresty things people needed to survive deserved to die. Whoever decided it would be on this specific, extremely windy outcropping with only a thin, rickety bridge connecting the two deserved much worse.
“-My armada.” Dagur stood tall, staring off into the sky like he was preaching to some higher power, “Ready with the might of fifty thousand Berserker soldiers!”
Unfortunately, Dagur- he’d caught you as you’d shut the doors, two-pronged tail waving just out of sight. Wrangling dragons wasn’t your strong suit. In fact it was less wrangling and more pushing the Zippleback bodily in the direction you wanted and hoping that by some miracle it listened. Or found something it liked in the same direction.
“However, I can’t seem to find any dragon riders.”
“Well, I haven’t seen any recently“ You tried, voice a few octaves too high and a smidge too cracked. Hopefully, though, it was absent of the abject uncomfortability wracking your beating heart. Also, that was a blatant lie.
“But if there are any, they’re probably afraid?” You avoided looking him in the eye.
“The mighty Hooligans, most efficient dragon slayers, fiercest vikings on the seven seas, afraid? Who knew?” he said, with no amount of hidden glee, “If you’re lying to me, I’ll have your head.”
“On a platter,” You agreed, edging away slowly. Maybe he was insane. But whether he was insane enough was the question. Insane enough not to notice the stiff set of your shoulders and way you leaned back as he encroached on your personal space.
You glared bitterly at a burly blonde man with a large, ram-horned helmet as he snuck past the pair of you plus entourage. You wanted to call him a coward, but the odds, and the company were frightening, so you understood on some level. It didn’t stop the sharp bitter pang from curling in your gut.
At this very moment, you so very badly wanted to be anywhere else. Not pressed against a set of rugged wooden doors, with the too-loud gravel and dried grass crunching under your feet. Most of all, back on your haystack, laying down and imagining you were back in your time at a park, or something, with luxuries like electricity. And running water. And digestible food.
“Ruffnut! Tuffnut-!”
You breathed a sigh of relief as you heard, then saw, when you could muster the courage to turn your stiff neck away, Hiccup, in his red tunic-which he hadn’t seemed to take off since you’d given it to him, which was kind of gross, but whatever, it was his shirt- running down the long end of a spiraling wooden pathway to your right.
The people here did only bathe, like, once a week. Maybe it wasn't whatever. It was kind of unsanitary. You realized bitterly that it might not be so hard to get ahold of some decent bathing water if you weren’t the only one who bathed so regularly.
Hiccup came to a clumsy stop right by you, slightly in front as if maybe sensing your alarm, though really you chalked it up to the steep incline and his difficult to navigate prosthetic leg. You suspected that there wasn’t as much of a solid grip at the bottom as there should be.
“Are you alright?” You mumbled under your breath. He did look stressed. Maybe he was vulnerable to the suggestion of taking a bath. If you were going to spend your time here campaigning for proper hygiene then he seemed like a good place to start.
“I’m-” Hiccup said, half-wheezing from his sprint, “Have you seen-?”
“What are we whispering about?” Dagur spoke loudly. Well, louder than the two of you.
Hiccup winced. You winced too, though probably not for the same reason. The Zippleback stuck in storage behind had started doing something. There was a healthy rifling building up behind the two of you.
“There’s no dragons here!” Hiccup said, then, just as loudly, probably trying to cover up the noise behind him, “My father, the Chief, wants to speak with you.”
“Again?” Dagur threw his head back, obviously annoyed. Then he said, his voice laden with sarcasm, “How about you go ahead? We wouldn’t want to leave this lovely lady all by her lonesome, would we?”
His voice was not lacking in any amount of sarcasm.
“Look, like I said, how about you keep on searching. I’ll stay behind.” Hiccup asserted. He usually tried to take the mediating stance, with varied measures of success. Especially since the island started training dragons and he was put in charge of them.
It wasn’t a lot, but you were sort of relieved he was doing something, because you most definitely didn’t have the authority, inherited or earned, to do it yourself.
Hiccup, though, looked an awful lot like he’d put on a pair of boots that were much too large for him, though the longer he stood there and Dagur stared, the more twitchy he got.
Like a lightbulb went off in his head Dagur grinned down at the two of you.
“Hey, wait-!” Hiccup startled, eyes widening. Before you could react, Dagur had pushed him aside and dipped you by the waist to move you out of Hiccup’s way, which only seemed to frustrate him in a way you hadn’t seen before.
“Thanks,” You said to Hiccup, petting the head of the calmed Zippleback, a-la-Hiccup, as he nursed his eye, fresh and brightly bruised, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Well, I didn’t do much,” Hiccup said deprecatingly, shifting awkwardly where he sat. He was sitting on a crate in the dark cabin. He had taken a pretty bad beating.
You hadn’t sat by either, feeling terrible as Dagur took the excuse to bully Hiccup. Dagur hadn’t taken too kindly to you telling him no either. Unfortunately, now you were nursing a few bruises yourself. The hammer of justice was unisex, you supposed. Except in this case, it was more like the hammer of war.
You really hoped you hadn’t accidentally started something with the Berserkers.
“You said something,” You shook your head, “I think I saw at least five people pass me by before you. I mean it.”
“And I think I owe you an apology,” You laughed awkwardly, backing away from the Zippleback as it lifted its head, deciding that it had had enough time being scratched by your not-so-expert fingers, “I tried to help but I’m pretty sure I just made things more difficult. And got in the way. I didn’t really expect him to start a fight like that.”
“Got in the way? …Got in the way of what? Me talking my way into a fight? Or falling my way to victory?” Hiccup suggested hesitantly after a moment. You could tell he was having a hard time finding the right words.
“I tripped more than you did.” You insisted.
“No, you didn’t. Did you see me? I literally fell into a fist.” Hiccup looked up at you, exposing a still-bleeding cut under his bruise-free eye, which you had sacrificed a strip of your skirt to dab at. You worried it might need stitches.
“Well, at least Dagur’s off somewhere else. Terrorizing other people.” You scratched the back of your neck, cringing as the extra movement irritated your sore ribs.
Hiccup winced, “That was supposed to be my job. To make sure he doesn’t.”
“Oh boy, That’s rough,” You said sympathetically, rubbing the back of your head, half self-consciously and half to make sure you weren’t forming any lumps, “Doesn’t he have, like, a whole detail following him around to make sure he can?”
You exhaled, “Speaking of, is there anywhere… away from him that I could go? Just until the end of the day? He really freaks me out.”
You hoped you said that right. Sometimes you had a hard time translating your modern colloquialisms. And decoding the local ones.
“I think so, I’m not sure, but have you seen the twins?” Hiccup furrowed his brow, “I’ve been, well, looking for them. I might have an idea.”
You sat yourself down heavily on a rock overlooking the cliffs, watching the fleet of Berserker ships sail off into the distance and you pounded your chest with your fist as you tried to calm your racing heart. You hadn’t realized what had happened at first so it had sent you into a panic.
But once you realized, you weren’t really sure all the extra theatrics were necessary. The chicken gore might have been a bit overkill. And the fake beheading. And the almost actual beheading. It was still wild enough that you had to flee.
A regular plain old fake dragon attack would have probably been enough. Genuinely, sometimes you had to ask yourself if you really had ended up in a kid’s show or something much, much worse.
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