Sigrid The Relentless - How to Train your Dragon

5. Nightfury

Sigrid was about five years old when she was able to carry her first axe. The weapon was small, fit for more delicate hands, but for her still a bit too large. 

The firstborn child of Chief Stoick the Vast was stubborn, much like her father. Every raid, when the vikings sound their horns and dragons invaded their land, Sigrid was prepared to go out there and fight. The problem being that she was merely a child, and there was no way that anyone would allow her to go out there, especially by herself. 

Tonight they had another attack, and little Sigrid jumped out of her bed with excitement. Her father had long tucked her in, and by the slamming of the front door she could tell he must've left already. As usual, Sigrid was left home with baby Hiccup, who stayed silent in his crib, fast asleep. 

Sneaking downstairs, the lass tried her best not to wake her baby brother, and grabbed her new favorite axe from the floor, that she put there because she couldn't reach the weapon rack. 

"Aaaarghh!" Little Sigrid cried out as she burst out of the doors, axe raised above her head. 

If she were to slow down, she'd surely fall backwards, as the weight of the axe was still a bit too much for her smaller body. Suddenly, the girl noted that she wasn't running anymore, but levitating, higher and higher. 

"AAAH!" She screamed, frustrated that her plans were foiled. 

The axe was pulled from her tiny hands, and her baby blues made contact with the mean greens of another. 

"Daddy!" Sigrid whined, struggling in Stoick's large hands. "I can do it, please!"

"You're not doing anything, young lass." Her father spoke sternly, pointing a rough finger towards her accusingly. "You're staying home."

"But dad!" Sigrid whined as she was pulled back inside, almost waking her brother as she was thrown back in bed.

Stoick sighed. This had been the dozenth time that she decided to run out there into the battlefield. When she grows up, she'd make a fierce warrior for sure. But she wasn't there yet, way too young, even for Berk's standards. But it seemed that no matter how many times the Chief tried to explain this, his daughter just didn't understand, or simply refused to. 

"Go to bed." He demanded, pulling the covers over her figure, which she kicked off immediately.

Ignoring her protest, Stoick went back downstairs to return to battle. The people of Berk needed him, and here he was playing children's games with his stubborn offspring. Tiny footsteps followed behind him, she wasn't giving up so easily. 

"Sigrid, no." Stoick scolded, as his daughter glared at him.

"But daddy, I can help!" Sigrid insisted.

She meant well, Stoick knew, and he couldn't be angry at her for it. He sighed, kneeling down as he put a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

"You can't, lass, not yet." He spoke, seeing the sadness in his daughter's eyes. 

He needed to do something to cheer her up, but what? Glancing over to the crib, where his son slept soundly, Stoick got an idea. 

"I need you to stay home-" he started, his daughter pouting , "-and take care of your brother, can you do that?"

Sigrid's eyes widened, still glistering with tears, but now filled with purpose. She quickly nodded, but paused as she glanced up at her father, hands clasped together behind her back as she spoke.