Sigrid The Relentless - How to Train your Dragon

2. Dearly Betrothed

The news of her mother's death had spread like wildfire. The people of Berk believed she'd gone to Valhalla, eaten by the dragon that took her after she protected her children from the foul beast. She would be remembered fondly, as an example to all mothers, and as a warrior.

It's been eight years since that night. And it seemed that Valka's death had lit a fire in Sigrid's very soul, and she was determined to become the greatest viking that Berk has ever seen. If she had been stronger that night, her mother would still be here - atleast that's what she'd convinced herself.

Stoick saw the fire in his daughter's eyes, everytime she raised the axe that was way too heavy for her with deep grunts, ready to throw herself in the battles of Berk. Eventually, every battle turned out the same; dragons would attack, Stoick would be called, and Sigrid would try to run along with him to the battlefield, which ended in the small girl being picked up and thrown back into the Chief's hut. But every time she'd try again, resulting in a lonesome tantrum in her bedroom, kicking and failing to throw the axe at the closed door.

The - now - twelve old girl was stubborn, to say the least. Exactly like her father, as Gobber would say. The Berkians joked that the bright orange hair had indeed been a bad omen for the Chief's family, as if their fighting spirit showed through in their appearance, warning the outsiders of the raging Viking with a single sight. This became especially true when her younger brother, Hiccup, with deep chestnut hair, seemed to be nothing like either mentioned Vikings. Even at eight years old, the boy was small, hunched over with no apparent muscle on his body. Sigrid yelled, burped after chugging a horn of yak milk, and threw axes every morning. Whilst Hiccup stuttered, spoke softly, was insecure and seemingly no good at anything...well...Viking.

But today wasn't about that. No, today Berk would be the honorable host of the Chief of Berserker island, as they were every year for the signing of the annual peace treaty. Four years ago, Oswald the Agreeable - Chief of the Berserkers - decided to bring his son, Dagur, with him to these signings, which in turn made the children of Berk's life miserable. The boy was a tyrant, unhinged and filled to the brim with burning mania, so unlike his gentle father. Ever since his first visit, he had proven the Berkian's joking theory to be correct once more, red hair is a bad omen.

"But what if I just happened to be training when they arrive, would that be a problem?" Sigrid tested her father, following him around Berk as he prepared for the Berserker's dreaded arrival.

The girl would use any excuse to get out of seeing the deranged boy again, which in turn really tested her father's patience.

At least Hiccup took it on with little complaint - and a lot of fake smiles - even if he had more reason to hide from the red-headed tyrant, who threw knives at his head any moment he could. Target practice, Dagur claimed.

"Yes, that would be a problem." Stoick's tone told Sigrid that this was not a time to argue. But like her father, Sigrid was stubborn. "It'd be very impolite."

"Well, tell them I'm dead. Can't be impolite then!" Sigrid grinned as if she just concocted a master plan.

She watched her father's thick brow furrow, large fingers reaching up to rub the lines, sighing at his daughter's antics.

"You're staying with us, and that's final."

Sigrid groaned in despair. Maybe she could bribe Hiccup to hit her over the head with a hammer, but then she realised he probably wouldn't be able to lift it. She could ask some of the other children, but she didn't really know them, so she couldn't trust them enough to not snitch to her father about her plan.

Stoick's ceremonial belt, engraved with their tribal crest - the Monstrous Nightmare -, hung proudly on his firm stomach, as he stood at the dock of Berk with a wide stance, watching the ships in the distance come closer. The dark skrill crest was clearly noticed on the fabric of the flag that wiggled back and forth on the large ship as the wind pushed it along.

At his side stood his tense daughter and son, both glancing back and forth towards each other nervously, they really weren't looking forward to this. Sigrid had been forced into a ceremonial outfit of her own for the first time, with a long light colored fur pulled over her shoulders, held together with Monstrous Nightmare crests of her own. She felt slightly uncomfortable to be dressed up in front of Dagur, of all people. She'd already mentally prepared for the uproar he'd cause as soon as he caught sight of her outfit.

But it turned out that the embarrassment of wearing special clothes for the Berserkers was the least of her worries. After a day of trying her hardest not to kill Dagur at every snide he took towards her younger brother, the Berkians and Berserkers had settled down in the great hall, where the peace treaty would be signed by the Chiefs, and they would leave Berk until the next year to come.

"We have an announcement." Stoick spoke, his voice booming with his strong accent, as he rose from the chair after Oswald the Agreeable signed the scroll.

The Berserker Chief sat besides him with a smile, seemingly excited about the news that was already known to him, but unknown to the confused children at the table.

"Oswald and I have come to an agreement, one that will settle the peace between Berk and the Berserkers once and for all." Stoick started, as Sigrid leaned in curiously, her brother at her side.

Dagur didn't seem to care much about Stoick's announcement, as he preferred to pick at the tip of the small blade he carried. Yawning obnoxiously before staring at the Chief's daughter, seeing if she would react at his antics - positively or negatively, it didn't matter.

"In eight years time, our eldest children will marry to unite our tribes as a part of one another.-"

Sigrid's heart plummeted.

"-In the time of Sigrid's twentieth year. On the day of the peace treaty signing, Sigrid will go with the Chief to Berserker Island to marry Dagur, where she will stay."

At least one of the children seemed delighted at the announcement, as Dagur turned towards the girl with a wide grin. Sigrid didn't return that same excitement, in fact, she only sank deeper in her seat with a deep frown.

She couldn't believe her father would do something like this to her, did she do something to anger Frigg to where she would curse her with a fate like this? She must've, or else her future wouldn't look so gleam.

Eight years was a long time, and she not-so-secretly hoped that final year would never come. The day she'd have to leave her family and tribe behind, never to see them again. If only Dagur wasn't...like that, the marriage wouldn't have been half bad. But he was like that, so Sigrid was sure she was doomed.

During her twentieth year of living, she would be taken away from Berk, and forced to live the life of a Berserker Chieftess, besides a maniacal husband, and forced to bear him children, and fight in all his chosen wars. She'd lose her freedom, but Berk would be safe.

If only her mother was here, she would've never allowed this to happen, would she?