PART 1A.
A SECONDBORN STAR.
When Ragnarok's eyes finally fluttered open, the gentle rocking of the ship kept her at ease. It seemed almost familiar now, unlike the way it had throttled her around and made her sick in the past months of travel. Perhaps the movement was the only reason she knew she was alive... here to fight another day.
She hummed in content, her hot breath bouncing off of the wool blankets that were tucked around her, nearly encasing her whole body. She felt pristine. Like a new woman.
❝Luella?❞ Her heavy eyes slowly met the familiar Captain's, his blue eyes shining with an even more recognizable relief. He rose from his chair quickly and she blinked curiously at the prayers of gratitude he continued to mumble until he was by her side. ❝I was terrified you would not wake up, Princess.❞
She didn't attempt to move her swaddled limbs as he softly brushed stray hairs away from her forehead, instead smiling groggily as her vision continued to focus. She was filled with complete and utter peace.
Until she remembered why she was in this state in the first place.
❝My baby,❞ Ragnarok rasped. The blankets began shuddering as she finally moved her lead heavy arms. Her eyes were already watery, desperate for her new love. ❝Where is my baby?❞
❝She's perfectly fine, Princess.❞ Captain Latimer smiled. He nodded to her in utter respect before walking over to the opposite room of the small cabin.
❝She,❞ Ragnarok repeated, a whimper escaping her dry throat at the belief at the man would exit through the door to leave her with her thoughts. A sigh escaped her when he instead knelt to a crate on the floor, rising with a small bundle of cloth in his arms.
Despite the rest she felt restless, her patience wearing thin as every second passed without her child in her arms. She had already escaped her warm confines, her trembling arms reached out to the man for her baby.
It couldn't happen sooner, but eventually soon did arrive as a new and welcoming weight was settled against her chest.
Soft cries resounded from the mother as the newborn looked up at her, her eyes still glossy and sensitive to the natural light that filtered from the small window in the cabin wall. Nevertheless the fresh life weakly grasped at her mother's chest, barely able to even tug at the fabric due to her state.
Ragnarok's sobs only got heavier as the seconds went on, sending Captain Latimer into panic mode.
❝Luella, are you alright?!❞ He missed the small and soft smile that arose on her lips, a discreet one that was meant for her child and her child alone. She protected that smile, a smile so dear that not even the gods watching over her dare peek at.
❝Yes, Captain, I think I'll be okay,❞ she hummed, her voice wavering as her tears slowly stopped. ❝Thank you.❞
The man started as if he did not expect to hear those words from her, yet it caused his shoulders to relax. Ragnarok could tell he was tired. There had been no midwives aboard the vessel of course, the crew not really anticipating to stumble across their pregnant princess, so Ragnarok could only assume that Latimer had gone without sleep to care for her daughter even after being the one to deliver her.
❝O-Of course, it's my duty to attend to your every need.❞
She shook her head as the baby garbled a bit, the child's eyes slowly falling shut once more. It was almost as if she understood she was finally in the loving embrace of her mother who would protect her no matter what. ❝No, Latimer, it's your duty to command this ship, which you can't do on no sleep. I insist you get some rest, really.❞
Captain Latimer didn't want to argue. Not when he felt the bags under his eyes weighing him down. So he simply nodded, stepping forward to tuck her and her child in once more before making his way towards the door.
His pause caught her attention once more. ❝May I ask what you plan to name her?❞
Ragnarok smiled once more, and this time it was one for anyone to see. She had had her second born's name planned for quite some time with the help of her husband. And though her heart ached so harshly for Eret to be by her side in this moment, to comfort her and meet his daughter, she knew that was a privilege she had given up to know of her past.
She knew that Latimer would step in Eret's place, his undying loyalty for her only growing stronger as the nights passed. So she happily indulged the information with him.
❝Eriam. Her name's Eriam.❞
PART 1B.
IN AND OUT.
Three months. It had been three hard, long months upon Captain Latimer's ship. Two of those Ragnarok had been pregnant; constantly seasick and hungry as she supported the life of herself and her beloved child. The third month was not any easier. Nights were full of cries from Eriam, a baby that had been born in the middle of nowhere, out of reach from the gracious touch of any gods. Born in the void, knowing no home. It wasn't any better on Ragnarok. She felt almost lost without her husband, her chief, or her best friend.
There were bright sides though. Captain Latimer was there whenever she called, whenever the baby cried. The constant moving of the ship easily rocked Eriam asleep most times, allowing her mother to conserve some extra energy. Ragnarok could watch the sunset with no obstructions. A sunset that was all hers.
And when the sun inevitably did go down, she still had the light that was Eriam.
Any day now. Any day now and they would be upon their destination, and apparently that day was today.
❝Luellaaaa,❞ Captain Latimer's soft hum came from the cracked door. Ragnarok blinked in surprise, not expecting the sudden outside contact after having cooped herself up inside her room all morning. She noted the way only his arm poked through the crack, smiling softly. Latimer had become her closest confidante during these times, and yet he remained as respectful has he had from day one.
❝Yes, Latimer, come in.❞ He did so with no hesitation, shutting the door behind him for privacy before approaching the two Berkians sitting on the rickety bed. Ragnarok only smiled as he reached forward to stroke Eriam's sleeping head. ❝Is it lunch time already, because I'm really not in the mood for fish. Again.❞
❝Actually, I've come with great news!❞ Latimer informed, suddenly seeming giddy. As if he were the child aboard the ship. ❝You'll be able to taste any cuisine you want as soon as we land at the docks.❞
❝Docks?❞ Ragnarok gasped. She knew what that meant, and even if the idea itself was frightening she was just ready to get away from any bodies of water.
And so her energy suddenly soared, matching that of Latimer's, and she threw her blankets back and rushed to get ready with Eriam in her arms. When she nearly tripped over herself trying to pull her socks up the man chuckled, taking the baby from her arms and rocking her steadily.
Eriam did not have to worry about getting ready, for she had been born into nothing and she had worn the same makeshift cloth for a month.
❝How far are we?❞ Ragnarok huffed as she gathered her things.
❝Any second now, Luella,❞ he responded as Eriam gurgled. ❝I'll give you a moment to stretch your legs, but from there I will fetch for some bodyguards and we will take a carriage to the Palace. I'm not quite sure what the Queen's schedule is like this afternoon, but when she hears the news I'm sure you will be in her arms in an instant.❞
❝Queen...❞ Ragnarok hummed to herself. She knew that everything Latimer told her was true— at this point there was no reason not to believe him— yet at times like this it was hard to wrap her head around the fact.
She was royalty. Who knew how much she had to her name. And yet all she had known for the past two decades or so was Berk. The only family she knew was that she had made.
And it was not a family she planned on abandoning. She was here to fill the gaps in her memories, to put a rest to the mysteries that had plagued the island of Berk since she had washed upon its shore.
In and out, she told herself. In and out.
PART 2A.
INVASIVE INSECTS.
The first day of the week was the hardest for Wileret. He used to look forward to it, for it signaled more time with his family. More time to play with his friends. More time to build his strength.
But now it just meant another seven days without his mother.
It had been a huge risk for her to leave in the first place, let alone the fact that she was pregnant. Wileret knew that she had become deathly ill a few years after arriving to Berk, an ailment that left her bedridden and accepting what was obvious to be her end.
It hurt Wil's heart, knowing that at one point Ragnarok had given up. That's why he had an undying gratefulness to his father, the man who had shown up in Ragnarok's life just in time. It was obvious that his presence helped both her body and mind heal, and the reason Wil was here today.
But she was a strong woman. Anyone on Berk could tell you that. She was probably just fine across the world, experiencing more than she ever had before.
Didn't mean he couldn't worry.
Wileret knew his dad worried. Not necessarily for Ragnarok, but for him. The way Eret made sure to hug his son every night and watch him closer than he had ever been watched before. As if the man was scared that Wileret would crumble apart from the stress of it all.
So then why was Eret letting his guard down around the British soldiers?
They had been stationed at Berk for nearly three (or was it four?) months now, and as each day went by it seemed as if the campsite they lived merged more and more with Wil's own village. They were starting to walk around as if they had lived there for years, greeting Berkian vikings with warm hellos and the knowledge of each other's names. Most of them had even ditched the uniforms, simply walking around in rugged white tees and loose pants the others had provided.
A few of them had even begun helping his dad around the dragon nursery, a job he had taken up after Ragnarok left. Letting strange men around the children of their reptilian friends... for some reason it just did not sit right with Wileret.
❝Ridiculous,❞ he grumbled as he watched a soldier pass by, carrying some of Gothi's medicinal supplies for her. Embla rolled her eyes and patted the head of a small Terrible Terror that had lost its way.
Embla was younger than Wileret by at least three years, but it didn't matter what age she was. She knew that he was being overly bitter at this point, because her own father had accepted the men and she trusted her father more than anyone.
And he was the Chief, so it was hard not to trust him.
❝You look at them like bugs,❞ she responded, causing him to shrug.
❝They practically are. Invasive bugs.❞
❝Some bugs are nice, Willy,❞ Embla noted. ❝Have you ever seen a Ladybug? It's too cold for them here most of the time, but Dad says they grant wishes.❞
Wileret scoffed, but he couldn't help as his mind drifted to those soldiers in the woods from a few weeks back. They had helped the two kids without so much as an ounce of hesitation, before leaving them be and continuing on their way.
❝Some bugs are bad though, Em. What about spiders?❞
❝Spiders aren't technically bugs.❞ Wileret scoffed harsher this time. ❝And even if they were, they help the world a tons. You can't spend your whole life fearing the few bad bugs.❞
He frowned, hooking his fingers under his chin and mumbling under his breath. ❝Then who are the bad bugs?❞
Embla groaned for she knew her friend well, and her friend had not taken her metaphors in the correct context. She could only hope that he would come around in the coming weeks. Because if Embla knew Wileret, then she also knew Ragnarok. And Ragnarok would be livid if she found that the son she raised had been a brat to welcomed guests in their home.
Wileret had to come around.
PART 2B.
A PROMISE BETWEEN GENERATIONS.
❝And how have you been, Wil?❞ Hiccup Haddock questioned with genuine curiosity, glancing to the boy as he munched down on his dinner. The Dining Hall was packed as always, Brits and Berkians alike filling the air with boisterous laughter as they ate, keeping the dragons who could fit inside at bay.
Berk's beloved Chief was not a narcissistic one. He had never been and never would be. Although he most always sat with his closest friends and family at any table they could fit, he would never hesitate to accept any other company that requested a seat. He was a man who believed everyone was good and worth his time.
Now that he looks back at it, Wileret shouldn't be surprised that Chief Hiccup so willingly accepted work with the British men who now took residence in their village. Didn't mean he had to agree.
And Hiccup knew that. Wileret's silent fury was obvious no matter how he tried to hide it, and so Hiccup couldn't help but to feel some sliver of guilt about the outcome of his business plans. He missed Ragnarok just as much as anyone else, and yet he had to remember that he was the one that agreed to let her go. And so he could not let that guilt consume him.
❝Could be better, Chief,❞ Wileret mumbled. Embla rolled her eyes at the interaction before returning to the doting attention of Astrid, leaving Hiccup to chuckle nervously.
❝Oh... well... anything I can do to help?❞
Wileret immediately opened his mouth to respond back, a response that would probably be way ruder than it should be. He looked like a a suffocating fish the way his mouth gaped open, before he finally sighed and shook his head. ❝No... not now.❞
❝Right...❞ A swift paw came smacking at the back of Hiccup's head, causing the man to jolt forward as Toothless snorted in a mocking way. Th dragon gestured to the forlorn looking preteen, the boy picking at his food with disinterest. ❝Wileret,❞ he finally stated after much deliberation with his reptilian friend.
The 12 year old jumped in surprise. Hiccup had just used his firm 'Chief voice,' one that was not heard often among his citizens. ❝Y-Yes, sir?❞
❝I've known your mother longer than you have, longer than your father has. I know more than anyone how strong Ragnarok was, so that is why I let her go. I'm sorry I didn't think about how it would effect you when I made that decision, and so when the time comes, I vow to defend her life with everything I have. Everything.❞
Wil's eyes felt sore from how wide they were stuck. The breath had been stolen from his lungs and his hands trembled with a new realization. ❝You—... you promise?❞
❝I promise.❞
PART 2C.
EMMETT.
The sun seemed to shine a little brighter for Wileret since that night in the Dining Hall. Even if he didn't notice the change, his father did. Eret noted how his son didn't flinch every time a soldier stepped in their line of sight, how he nodded politely to those who waved hello.
Even so, the boy was still gripping onto a few grey clouds.
Those were apparent when he was left with just his thoughts, like now as Embla scampered away due to the call of Astrid. The winds at the dock were calm today, the weather warm and allowing him to dangle his feet over the waters. Far off he could see a Scauldron splash but he paid no mind to it.
This was the same dock that his mother had left from. The same spot she had waved to him from before disappearing.
Wileret could feel himself healing, and he didn't like it. There was no reason to heal when theres was nothing to heal from, when Ragnarok could be back any day. He could look up and see that ship at the horizon— yet it wasn't.
And he was alone— "Hello?"— okay, maybe not.
Wil's head immediately snapped to the man... no, boy... behind him, squinting his eyes to appear intimidating. He didn't want the stranger before him to know that he had been caught off guard, especially when that stranger was a soldier.
Just him and a soldier... alone... near deep waters...
"Saw you by yourself, thought I would give you some company," the soldier smiled with a genuine kindness. Wileret didn't respond immediately, instead grazing his eyes over the boy who stood over him. He was shorter and leaner than most other soldiers scattered around the island, his face more rounded and hair shaggier.
Wil remembered Hiccup's words. "Alright..."
The boy nodded, gently setting himself down next to Wil at the edge of the dock. He kept a decent distance between the two, staying respectful as he began swaying his legs. Now that the boy was right next to him, Wil definitely could tell that the stranger definitely was not as built as his comrades. He cleared his throat.
"How... how old are you?" Wileret questioned. The boy blinked before letting out a small chuckle.
"16. Though I believe I'm coming up on 17, can't quite remember."
That statement was like a punch to the gut that left Wileret out of breath. "16?!"
The boy laughed heartily. "I know, pretty old right?" He joked. "Now that it's confirmed I'm your elder, better treat me with some respect, kid!"
If any other British soldier had said it, Wileret would have probably snapped. But the teen in front of him had no bad intent. Anyone, even blind with bitterness, would be able to see that there was no malicious intent in his words. It had been just a jest between kids. Kids.
"Old?! You're super young!" Wil cried. "Well, I guess not as young as me, I'm only 12–" He cut himself off before he revealed more about himself than he wanted to.
"Young?" The boy hummed, almost in a reminiscent way. "I haven't heard that in awhile. You guys must live awhile if 16 is considered young." A somber silence fell over him as he thought over his own words. "I'm just lucky I wasn't put on the front lines."
"Front lines? Does your country fight often?"
"You could say that," he chuckled again, but this one wasn't so full of joy. "Our Queen insists on more land. More resources. And it's the Queen, so whose to say no?" A few moments of silence. "And Berk? It seems peaceful."
Wileret, still caught off by the boy's words, stumbled over his words. "W-Well, we haven't encountered any major trouble since I was born but— back when Chief Hiccup was younger, outsiders attacked us all the time. And we fought back to protect our dragons."
"Hm. So you only fought to protect your own? Never for anything else?"
"No? What's the point in that?" The boy seemed to ponder over his words for awhile. An inner turmoil that only a child could experience.
"Right, anyways, well my name is Emmett. Friends?"
The Berkian jumped at the hand suddenly thrust towards him, the solider— sorry, Emmett— obviously expecting a mutual handshake. All the younger boy could do was blink in surprise as the waves splashed below them.
The sun... so blinding...
"Wileret... and sure."
PART 3A.
HER MAJESTY.
Since Ragnarok had lost her memory upon Berk's beach, all she had known was Berk herself. The surrounding islands at most, since her illness had constricted her to her bed after just a few short years of freedom. And Berk was not exactly considered a large place to outsiders. Even if there wooden buildings were constantly changing and new dragons popped up everyday—.... but in the end Berk always had the same people and the same technology.
The bustling city before Ragnarok was far from Berk.
Great Britain (Apparently that was the name of the island, not this specific city. But Ragnarok was not familiar with how cities worked.) seemed to extend beyond the horizon, though she couldn't exactly tell since the stony structures surrounding her seemed to rise higher than she could crane her neck. Muddy puddles littered the cobblestone roads they traveled on and the sky seemed unusually gray.
But most of all the people is what caught her attention. There was just so damn many, even more than her cramped home. And they seemed so different than what she was used to. Different accents, different personalities, different lives.
Ragnarok could only mumble to Eriam as the baby continuously flinched at the new noises around them. The mother tried not to make eye contact with any of the British civilians that they passed by, their curious gazes seemingly intrigued by the stranger person being escorted by soldiers. No matter how curious they seemed though, Ragnarok couldn't help but notice how they kept their distance.
Maybe it was the intimidating soldiers strolling alongside their carriage, wearing different uniforms from what she had seen the sailors in. Authority shook the ground with every step they took.
And with no hiccups in their ride, the group was soon walking into a grandiose building.
Captain Latimer kept a gentle hold around Ragnarok's shoulder as he led the way, chuckling silently as he allowed her to gape at the looming ceilings and foreign architecture. Glittering chandeliers and pastel paintings caused Eriam to garble her incoherent thoughts.
Too caught up in their wonder to notice the men in uniform watching their every move with intensity. Too caught up in their curiosity to notice the looming door the now stood before, to notice the way Latimer quickly stiffened in a brief flash of nervousness.
"Are you ready, my Princess?" He mumbled, snapping the younger woman out of her trance. He squeezed her once again and she took note of how his words were barely above a whisper. Ready? Was she ready? Yes. She had spent three months on that ship preparing herself, so she was more than ready.
But was she sure? Well... that didn't matter. She had no choice but to face her past now.
Ragnarok looked up to Latimer and cradled Eriam closer to her chest. She nodded her head once, a firm nod that helped steel his nerves.
"Stay by my side?" She questioned quietly. He was all she knew in this place.
"Wouldn't dream of leaving it." It wasn't his royal duty to stay with her; far from it. Not even an obligation. Now it was simply something he wished to do upon his own accord.
He dreaded the day he would have to choose between the two.
As per protocol, the soldiers that opened the doors bowed. Ragnarok don't think they would have if it wasn't a requirement for guests judging by the way they rose as soon as possible, yet she smiled at them politely. Latimer continued to usher her forward with growing anxiety.
She tried not to laugh at the sight of him falling to one knee as soon as they made it to the end of the carpeted aisle. But she could tell he was serious about the action, so she simply watched as she swayed her daughter to and fro.
"Rise, Latimer," an authoritative female voice sounded. It caused the Berkian to jump, attention snapping to the older woman who sat with disinterest upon a regal seat. How... how had Ragnarok not noticed her before? "I was informed of your return... with half of your fleet missing. What is the reason for this, Captain? And who is this?"
Ragnarok gulped nervously as the woman's gaze flashed to her, staring coldly as the glare traveled from her to the babbling Eriam. It snapped back to her subordinate just as fast.
"Your Majesty," he decided to lead with. Oh. This was the Queen... and therefore her mother. Jeez. "I assure that my missing men were left in good hands, and are thriving where they stay. A temporary stay, of course. It was an exchange with the chief of—"
"Ah, Berk," the Queen hummed, an unrecognizable glint flashed across her eyes. "A stop in our new trading route, correct? Please tell me you didn't let a village of that... little size get to you. You are my best seaman, after all."
"N-No, Your Majesty." He glanced to the baby beside him, as if reminding him why he was here. "That's just it. My men are still on Berk so that the chief would allow me to take one of his own, to let her meet you."
The Queen was obviously trying to hold in a scoff. Yet she was professional in her ways, so she cleared her throat and continued on. "Which I presume is this viking here, correct?" Latimer nodded. "And why would you insist to the chief of Berk to allow her to come here? To me specifically?"
The question jumpstarted Latimer as he scrambled for something in his pockets. Ragnarok opted to watch it all unfold, fearing that a simple peep from her would offend the royalty before her.
The Queen simply raised an eyebrow as the Captain pulled out a piece of paper, ripped along the edges and yellowing with age. He unfolded it ungracefully and held it up so that the Queen could see it clearly. Her eyes narrowed at the image, and Ragnarok could finally recognize the look that settled in her eyes. Grief.
"What's the meaning of this, Latimer?"
"This is a portrait of your missing daughter, yes?" He asked shakily. Her lips began to tremble (out of sadness or anger the viking didn't know) but she continued to listen to him, now overwhelmingly curious.
"Yes. My firstborn."
"And what happened to her?"
"Captain—"
"Please, Your Majesty. Please entertain me for a moment more."
The Queen sighed. "She was traveling aboard a ship to visit a neighboring kingdom. That ship never returned. That ship was never found, and my daughter was lost."
"Your Majesty, I... I know this subject pains you. It hurts everyone of your citizens to remember that loss as well, but... But I have reasons to believe that a storm swept that ship with your daughter aboard of course, and it crashed upon the rocky outskirts of an island that used to be unknown to us. Berk, Your Majesty, Berk."
It seemed to be too much for her, and the Queen finally snapped. "Enough, Latimer! This is nonsense!"
"Look at the portrait!" He cried in retaliation, suddenly holding it flush to the side of Ragnarok's head. She simply smiled awkwardly, rocking Eriam with more intensity in hopes she would not be startled by the outbursts of shouts. "Look at how similar they look! Same nose, same face structure, same eyes. Your eyes, my Queen."
The air in the room seemed heavy as the two Brits stared one another down. When Latimer continued on, the Queen looked away to study Ragnarok's face.
"And that's not all! This girl does not remember her life before she woke up on Berk's shores, surrounded by splintered wood of a ship as a teen. Her accent is different from those on Berk. She carries herself differently. You cannot deny it."
Ragnarok made eye contact with the Queen, watching as her scowl fell into a somber look. It was as if she had not been listening to Latimer. As if she had already made up her name.
"What's your name?" It took a moment for the Berkian to realize the older woman was speaking to her.
"Oh! Uh— Ragnarok is the name I've been going by... on Berk... but Captain Latimer tells me my actual name is Luella? Princess Luella."
That seemed to be all the confirmation needed for the Queen. The wrinkles around her eyes softened as water began to well up. She stood from her throne and glided over to Ragnarok.
"Welcome home, Luella."
PART 3B.
THE WARDEN.
The room that the Queen's guards had led her to was possibly bigger than her whole home back on Berk. The walls were lined with vanities and dressers, with a large bed flush against one side. Despite all the furniture it still felt empty due to the ceiling far above her head.
Ragnarok was almost too scared to touch anything without Captain Latimer by her side, but it had been what was probably three hours now so she finally began to inspect the room closer. Eriam was sleeping peacefully on the grand bed, any hazards pushed aside. It was the best she could at the moment, without a crib.
Had the Queen even noticed the newborn?
Probably not, considering she had immediately sent Ragnarok to her room. No time for reunions apparently— is what the royal had claimed. She needed every ounce of information from Latimer before they could truly proceed. For safety measures apparently.
That hadn't been a tragic loss to Ragnarok thankfully. She didn't really feel an emotional connection to the Queen, even after finally meeting her— if anything it was more of a time loss. The longer it took for Ragnarok to reconnect with her mother and her homeland, the longer it would take to return to her family.
Ragnarok had thought the time to connect was upon her when a knock sounded at the wooden door opposite her, but then a voice came that she oddly didn't recognize requesting entrance.
"Um... come in?" The Berkian responded with a questioning tone. It's not like she could say no, right?
The door immediately swung open at her words, a girl walking in with her head held high. It was sealed just as fast for privacy.
The girl was obviously younger than Ragnarok, probably in her late teens. Her brown hair was long and flowing and curled at the ends. Her casual dress was made out of expensive satin that matched the golden jewelry sprinkled about her persons, somehow accentuating the freckles that splashed across her cheeks like stars.
She stood with trained confidence, her posture perfect and her eyes unwavering as they drank in the sight of each other. Her voice was just as the Queen's.
"Luella, I presume?" She asked, before glancing back to the door. "Unless I have the wrong room, heh." Ah, there was that playful tone most teens had. And there went the tension. Maybe the shift had been intentional.
Ragnarok nodded jerkily, stepping closer to her child. "Uh, yes. Luella... Ragnarok... whichever you prefer, I guess."
"I prefer Luella," the girl stated with no hesitation. "It's the name I've been hearing nonstop for the past nineteen years of my life, after all."
"Oh?" Ragnarok cocked her head. She wiped the confusion from her face just as fast when she remembered she was a lost princess (of course this girl had heard her name before). Didn't explain why she was in her room. "And you?"
"Me? I'm just Octavial, a last ditch effort. When the Queen and King realized after a few months of grieving that their beloved firstborn was not returning... well, you still need an heir don't you? So here I am." She sighed heavily, wiping some dust from a short dresser with her finger. "Papa's still a bit disappointed I didn't come out a boy."
The revelation caused Ragnarok to jump a bit. Why hadn't the thought of that crossed her mind? The thought of a—
"Sister? You're my sister?" She gaped for a moment. Octavial nodded boredly, eyes glancing to Eriam who began to make noise as she awoke.
"Yes... I still don't know how to feel about it, so I'm not going to pretend I'm over the moon. The kingdom has been mourning your loss since forever," the teen noted flatly. Her tone caused Ragnarok's throat to dry, and she finally lifted her daughter into her arms. "Hm. And whose this?"
It took a moment for the older woman to realize she was pointing to her child.
"Oh! Ah, this is Eriam! She's my daughter! I guess that makes her your niece." Ragnarok tried to let out a warm smile, but it only came out wobbly and uncertain.
"She's.... doesn't look too British. Whose the father?"
"My... husband. He— he lives on Berk with me."
"So he's a viking?"
"Yes...?"
Ragnarok was too nervous to question why her sister was scrutinizing her family. She boiled it down to Octavial wanting to 'catch up,' in her own odd royal ways.
"Is she your firstborn?"
"Oh, no. I have a son back home, named Wileret. He'll be turning 13 a few months from now. I... I miss him more than anything right now." Octavial did not answer, simply humming to herself in concentration as she stared Eriam down. Ragnarok felt her jitters getting worse, her emotional state declining. As the seconds ticked by. Any moment now it would be on par wit her physical state. "Did... did you want to hold her?"
The question seemed to catch Octavial off guard, another child-esque blip briefly flashing across her eyes before it dulled away. She stiffly let her arms fall to her side, before turning on her heels.
"No. It was nice meeting you Luella, I will see you in the new day."
And she was gone. Ragnarok stood in the silence once more, questions buzzing around her mind.
What an odd girl.
PART 3C.
A FAMILY DINNER.
The next two days definitely went by slower than the entire three months upon that ship combined. Ragnarok barely had contact with anyone but Eriam, and the same guard that brought her three meals a day (and damn was the food way different than she was expecting).
She was given permission to roam nearby halls the next morning... but that was just it. She didn't want to, not without Captain Latimer. And she hadn't seen Captain Latimer since that night in the throne room.
But she knew she would have to leave, and finally the afternoon came when Octavial barged into her room once more and announced that she was required to attend a family dinner. Her younger sister helped her look presentable, even gifting her new clothes for Eriam.
Octavial didn't touch much of Ragnarok's hair or powder her face with makeup. She had gone for it but stuttered in her actions and pulled away after a moment. The casual dress would be doable, along with the satin cloth wrapped around the baby girl.
The walk to the royal dining room was the first time Ragnarok did not have a guard breathing down her neck (or down her door, more accurately). Octavial knew her way perfectly, her stature as confident as the last time as she led the wall along the twisting halls.
"Here, Luella," the teen noted, leaving her lost sister no time to gather herself as she pushed the door open. She shuffled in quietly behind Octavial, her eyes finally finding the gaze of the Queen (she still didn't know her mother's name oddly). It seemed softer today... but not exactly kind.
"Um, hello," Ragnarok greeted as she began swaying Eriam out of habit. The Queen smiled stiffly.
"It's nice to see you again, Luella. I apologize for my absence, but I hope you understand the investigation I had to do to ensure you were truly my firstborn. I trust Octavial has been keeping you company. That is all settled now and we can finally get to know each other."
Ragnarok nodded as she took in the info, stepping forward when Octavial pulled out a seat for her. "I know I dropped in out of nowhere... but thanks for having me."
"She didn't even bow, darling," a man to the Queen's right cocked his head. Her mother smacked his arm lightly.
"Harold, she doesn't even know you're her father. Of course she's forgotten basic etiquette." Father? Just like she hadn't thought of the idea of a sibling, a father hadn't come up either. He simply shrugged at his wife's statement before going back to his meal. How brainless of him. Were these the same people who had grieved her loss? "Have a seat."
Ragnarok did just that, simply staying still and quiet as Octavial whipped up a plate of food for her. She didn't want to eat though, not with the three of them watching her. Instead she focused on cradling her child in her arms, making Eriam as comfortable as humanely possible so that she wouldn't be tempted to start crying.
"What a... beautiful child," the Queen hummed before elbowing Harold. "Isn't that right, dear?" He nodded curtly with not even a glance to Eriam. Ragnarok intended on responding with something heartfelt (this woman was Eriam's grandmother, after all) but inhaled sharply instead when Octavial scoffed.
"The child's dad is a viking. Some random man in the Archipelago."
"His name is Eret," the Berkian offered meekly. "And he's wonderful to me."
"I am glad he treats you well," the Queen hardly tried to control her eye roll, "but any amount of kindness will not change the fact that he's not of royal blood. Luella, you understand that we can't have you taking the throne because of this? Your children are not fit to be heirs."
Ragnarok felt her heart drop. She hadn't exactly expected that she would become ruler of Great Britain, in fact it was the last thing on her agenda. She hadn't ever planned to be. She was expecting to be gone in less than two months.
Yet the way the Queen had said her words made Ragnarok feel an indescribable amount of shame. She felt them sink into her head as Octavial straightened her shoulders with a smirk.
"Luella," the Queen snapped. "You understand this, correct?"
"Y-Yes. I... I just came here to fill the blank spots in my memory. So that I could explain to my son his heritage. Nothing more."
The harsh glare on the Queen's fell as she inhaled slowly, slowly morphing into what seemed to be a forced smile. It was as if she was trying to make her eyes appear soft but it didn't work too well.
"We're happy to have you here, my child. Just didn't want to get your hopes up. But you are still welcome here, we're your family." Family. Ragnarok blinked, Eriam reaching up and grasping her little hand around her mother's finger.
These people were her family, yet Ragnarok felt herself wishing more than ever she was in the arms of Eret right now.
PART 4A.
A BLINDING SUN'S EXPLOSION.
Another month. Maybe there would be just one more. Half a year was already creeping up on Wileret, and each day that passed was a new heartache.
It seemed as if there was no end to how much the British soldiers would integrate themselves into Berk's society. They were practically living in their huts at this point, working at their shops, and flirting with their women. And yet despite it all... Wil found himself becoming content with it all. He had been talking to Emmett more and more, even to the point where he would allow the older teen around Embla for their daily endeavors.
Emmett was a gentle boy, in the sense that he never seemed to get mad or upset. It was almost as if he had just... accepted every little thing life could have to offer. Like how he had a family back home, a dad and a mom and a little sister— a family he had seemed to accept he would never reunite with. Emmett always spoke of his family in the past tense, and that was how he knew.
Emmett was Wileret's foil in every sense of the word.
And yet here they were, perfectly comfortable in one another's presence as they trekked through Berk's forests.
"That's so cliche to want a Night Fury," Wileret chuckled as Emmett rubbed at his neck.
"I don't see how, they're just like all other dragons aren't they?" The older teen responded with genuine curiosity.
"First off, Toothless is the last Night Fury. Trust me, we've checked. And second, no, no two dragon species are the same. They all act and look and defend themselves differently."
"Okay, dragon expert, my apologies." Wileret only let out a soft hum at that. He didn't really have a bond with any dragon. Even Embla had insisted on raising a hatchling that had caught her eye. Not even Skullcrusher slept in his room anymore.
"I think a Zippleback might suit you," the Berkian noted after a beat of silence. "They usually need two riders though."
"You can be my copilot."
"No, you would be the copilot!"
Emmett shrugged in submission, his voice more mellow for some reason. "If you want, but I am older just to remind you."
"Yeah, well—"
Wileret was caught off by a strong grip at his shoulder, gasping silently as Emmett pulled him behind a gaggle of trees and pointed towards some tents before them. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight, for he had never dared to come this close to the soldier's initial camp. He didn't even know it was still intact (not that the place before him was in good shape).
As if knowing that he was about to shout out, Emmett slapped a calloused hand over Wileret's mouth and used his taller frame to hold him still against the pine tree. The older boy didn't make eye contact with the younger one, not for a single moment, keeping them screwed shut and his head pointed towards the dirt floor.
"-so sweet." Wileret heard a voice in the soldiers' camp as the blood rushed away from his ears. He furrowed his eyebrows at the noise, someone else shouting at it in his stead as he tried to control his breathing from underneath Emmett's palm.
"I don't care, Robert!" The new voice obviously had some authority as the other man immediately shut up. "I am getting so restless listening to you babble about this Berkian every damn day! Being off duty for so long had made you all so... so... eugh— soft!"
"It's just nice to get a break," the first voice returned with a whimper. This man seemed younger than the other, maybe still retaining some of his innocence. "The air is so clean here and the food has so much flavor and—"
"I said enough," the other one growled. Wil couldn't see them, but he could tell by the smack and whimper that the younger one had been hit. "Are you saying you no longer have loyalty to Her Highness?!"
"O-Of course I do—"
"Then toughen up. As soon as we get word from the Queen then it's time to set our plan into motion and this island and its dragons will be ours."
Wileret didn't need to hear anymore for the dormant rage in him to awaken once more. He shoved Emmett with all the strength he could muster, knocking the elder teen to the ground with a grunt and quickly lunging to dive past him.
"W-Wait, Wileret!" Emmett cried and grabbed at his ankle. The preteen retaliated with a swift kick to his face, leaving the other bloody. "I wanted to tell you, really! I just didn't know how!"
Wileret didn't hear Emmett as he ran faster than he ever had, hoping that it wasn't too late for his mother.
PART 4B.
BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER.
Ragnarok would really like to believe that she had become close with her blood relatives. It had been exactly a month since she had arrived to Great Britain after all, and each day was a new accomplishment when it came to learning about herself and her history.
But she still felt herself hesitating each time she went to leave her room, and she continued to hold Eriam tighter than ever every moment they were in the foreign kingdom. Not only that but she had only spoke with the Queen a handful of times after their dinner, her husband always lounging lazily by her side, obviously content to let her control his life.
Octavial was the only one Ragnarok saw consistently, nearly every other day, but it was not a company that she necessarily enjoyed. The sisters were opposite sides of a coin; never meant to face each other and never meant to share ideals. And despite it being confirmed that no one was standing in between Octavial and the throne— she still insisted on coating her every word in an unforgivable amount of venom.
Ragnarok didn't let that venom poison her. She continued to stay oblivious to all the red flags waved in her face, wanting to learn more and more about her heritage and the life that could have been. The more she knew the sooner she could leave.
When Ragnarok was called to the family's lounge room, she did not realize she would be learning the last thing about this wretched place she could.
Octavial lead her to the lounge room just like she had during their first dinner. Ragnarok had insisted on a few more moments to tend to Eriam's disheveled hair (that had been denied of course), that she knew her way to the lounge room, but her younger sister refused adamantly.
"I would listen closely to Mother if I were you, she does not like repeating herself," Octavial noted before steering them in the lounge room. Harold seemed to be lazing about in a chair, probably buzzed judging from the glass of alcohol in his hand, gazing lustfully to the Queen how stood adjusting vases on the fireplace's mantle.
At the sound of the door clicking shut the Queen turned to her daughters with a warm smile. Octavial could immediately see through the facade, going to sit on the red velvet loveseat with a scoff. She already knew what this was all about anyways.
Ragnarok bowed awkwardly with Eriam squirming in her arms. Despite her still not quite understanding the custom of her homeland Harold huffed out a noise of approval.
"Have a seat, Luella," the Queen offered (demanded?) and gestured to the spot next to Octavial (and right before her where she could easily glare down). "I know you must be so exhausted caring for that viking child."
Ragnarok missed being called by her chosen name. And she wished the Queen would refer to her granddaughter by her name, even if just once.
"Now you have been home for quite awhile, child," her mother started. "I think you have done more than enough to gain our trust. You are one of us. You agree; do you not?" Ragnarok nodded meekly at her mother. "And you understand you were a citizen of this kingdom long before you were Berk?... Well, speak up now child!"
"O-Oh!... Y-Yes!" Eriam shifted uncomfortably in her arms.
The Queen seemed to smile in satisfaction. "Luella, I truly was devastated by your disappearance, you must understand. I was never the same woman after that, I'm sure you can understand. Being a mother yourself. But before I am a mother I am a queen. This is why I had to get over what we thought was your death, and in your honor I decided that we would expand our borders. Across every nation that may have once harbored your body."
Ragnarok's cringes were subtle at first, but when the Queen revealed her next bit of information she felt as if she was going to vomit. A sickness but worse than any previous ones.
"This includes Berk, my child. Berk will fall under Great Britain's control. You dragons will fall under Great Britain's control. They will become our strongest fighting force."
The Queen watched her firstborn carefully. "I—I don't think Chief Hiccup would like that very much," she huffed shakily.
"Which is why you will convince him," her mother responded as if it had been obvious. "This is your time to prove to us completely that you are fit to be my daughter."
"I wo—"
"And if that doesn't work then I'll just have to convince you. I'm sure you value Eriam's safety? How about Wileret?"
Ragnarok's ghastly white face was the only answer the Queen needed.
PART 5.
MOMMA'S BOY.
Ragnarok looked out at the sea with a new perspective. While before it had been her worst enemy during those pregnant months, now she simply gazed at it in gratefulness, truly appreciating the newfound freedom it had granted her.
It had been gracious to her in these weeks out in the middle of nowhere, with the current flowing in the perfect direction and not even a hint of a storm. Captain Latimer hadn't even wanted her to leave the kingdom at first. She had barely even settled down, after all, and there was no telling if her baby daughter was up for another trip.
But when the two had reunited after separating in the throne room that first day, with the dark of night covering their hugs and cries, he agreed that maybe this was for the best. He felt only guilt in his time away from Ragnarok. A horrid emotion that ate away at him— even if he hadn't known about the Queen's intentions until the last minute.
He felt like he had betrayed Chief Hiccup, his princess, and the entire island of Berk. Which is why he decided his loyalties now lay with Luella— and Luella alone.
Captain Latimer would man a whole ship by himself across the deep sea for her. And so he did. Two and a half weeks on a stolen ship with just enough supplies to support a traitorous sailor, a long lost princess, and a baby in limbo.
If it wasn't for the fact they were slowly racing across the endless ocean to save Ragnarok's whole village, it would almost be a perfect ending for the Captain.
And yet he knew this moment would or could never be the perfect ending because of how restless his princess grew with every passing hour. Her control of the sails and her caring of Eriam did not even seem to keep her mind occupied any longer.
"Just as restless as your mother," Latimer hummed fondly as Eriam babbled from the crook of his arm. She swung her arms about briefly before settling back down, simply focusing on the birds that would ever so often glide above them.
"I heard that," said mother scoffed from her spot at the bow. She watched the sky the same as her daughter, ignoring Latimer as he let out a bellowing cackle.
"It's only the truth, Ragnarok! Honestly, I insist you must loosen up."
"I don't think that's possible given our situation."
"I understand that," he turned the wheel a slightest degree, "I'm terrified. I just betrayed my entire kingdom. But you won't be any good to us in the wrong mindset, Ragnarok. Eriam needs you." Wileret needs you.
My kids need me.
"Why did you do it?" Ragnarok questioned. It was a genuine question for the moment, her head reminding her of the evil of the world she had discovered in her own hometown. A new kind of evil, unlike the type Berk had run into before. A calculated evil that now knew where she lived and where those she loved most lived.
But when she turned away from the sky to face the man... there was no evil. It was just him. It was Latimer, a reassuring smile on his tanned, aged skin, cradling her daughter as if she were a treasure he could not afford to loose.
"Do you really think so lowly of me that you must ask me that?" Latimer chuckled in response. Ragnarok's lips fluttered upwards fondly as her amber hair swayed in the air.
"No... No I don't." They watched each other silently for a moment, soaking in the newfound realizations. Ragnarok would have said more if Latimer hadn't first.
"What is that?"
Ragnarok immediately whipped around at his tone, gaze raking over the ocean intently searching for one of the many sea creatures she had encountered during her time on the waves. But said waves were still pristine, untouched. As Eriam cooed Ragnarok finally looked to the sky, eyes widening in shock at the dot that was slowly inching towards them.
Latimer continued on innocently with his questions, naming off different avian species from his head. Ragnarok did not have to hear his proposals to recognize the sharp wings that protruded from the sides of the hefty beast.
"Skullcrusher?"
Latimer stopped at her small squeak, eyebrow raising in confusion. "Skullcrusher? Like Eret's dragon?" His question answered itself as shouts echoed through the sky.
A single word spilled from the back of the creature, a single word that was so chock full of emotion (even in its repetition), that Ragnarok could help but to let out a single sob in return. Her knees felt shakier than they ever had before; she wasn't scared, not even feeling the slightest bit ill, but she felt everything swarm her at once as she heard the voice.
Wileret did not even attempt to land his father's dragon, getting just close enough so that he would not die as he jumped from the air into Ragnarok's arms. She doesn't think she's ever caught something with such precision, effortlessly putting everything into the catch so that she could cradle her son without a moment's notice.
The preteen boy finally began to cry after months of emotional torture, letting it all out as the familiar scent of his loving mother hit his senses. Her touch was as gentle as ever, a slim hand curled around of the back of his shaggy head and the other wrapped tightly around his back.
They cried to one another as if they had been apart decades instead of a mere five months. And it was in this moment Wileret decided he would never forget his anguish during her absence. He would hold her close just as she was doing for him now, living happily on Berk as they both grew older.
"H-How are you here? Why are you here?" Ragnarok finally hiccuped, throwing questions at him like a concerned mother would. She finally remembered the people Latimer had traded for her, eyes widening as her hands moved to hold his cheeks. "Is Berk alright? Those soldiers— we don't know if any of them have bad intentions!"
"Everything was just fine when I left a few days ago," Wileret insisted as he snuggled into her warm touch. Skullcrusher decided to take a rest beside them, his landing causing the ship to slosh about. The boy simply continued on as the old dragon poked at Ragnarok's side. "But... that's why I'm here. I overheard a few soldiers and it sounded like they weren't gonna wait much longer. I left right away to come find you, there was no way you were safe in Brigade."
Ragnarok chuckled sadly. "Britain, honey. And... no. I would have never left if I had known what I do now."
"So no gifts from Grandma anytime soon?" Ragnarok let out another chuckle at her son's joke, this one genuine. It didn't last long as her eyebrows furrowed.
"Oh my Thor— Does your father know where you are?!"
"Er... no?" The gasp that resounded from her mouth caused him to flinch as he immediately began trying to explain himself. "But I didn't have time! I swear! As soon as I heard what I did I just booked it for the first dragon I knew would let me take them! And besides, Skullcrusher wouldn't let anything happen to me, you know that!"
The dragon grumbled in confirmation.
"I cannot believe you," Ragnarok scolded. "He's probably loosing his mind right now."
"Which is why we gotta get back as soon as possible. After everything I've said about those soldiers I wouldn't be surprised if he picked a fight with them after I disappeared out of nowhere." Ragnarok had to hold in her gag at the thought. Wileret seemed to notice her greenness and patted her shoulder kindly. "Mom... sorry. I wish you could see Berk now though. It's nearly the same, but... anyways, most of the soldiers really were nice I guess. I— I might've even made a friend out of one."
She managed to let out a shaky smile at his sincerity. "As long as you're safe."
They stayed silent for another minute or so, the young teen allowing his mother to trace her hands over his features and his dark locks. Wileret found it ending all too soon— minutes together did not make up for the months apart—, having to hold himself back from clawing back into her arms. Instead he watched as she jolted in remembrance
"Ah, you have to meet Eriam!" She cheered. The unfamiliar name caused Wileret to cock his head to the side as she quickly made her way around Skullcrusher, staying in his spot as he tried to gather his thoughts.
It wasn't an easy task, considering his adrenaline had barely gone away, but he managed as his eyes trailed to his mother's stomach. It was definitely flatter, which could only mean...
He jumped excitedly to follow her across the wooden deck. He only slowed when he stood in front of Latimer.
Captain Latimer. The man who had taken his mother from him. It was his fault.
And yet despite the blood pumping behind Wileret's eyes and his fingers itching to grab the British man— he didn't. The boy noticed the way Ragnarok laid her hand on the man's shoulder lightly, grabbing the bundle that had been resting peacefully in the man's arms and smiling back in the man's direction.
His mother trusted him.
So he let it go for the time being, focusing his attention onto the garbling baby in Ragnarok's arms. He stared down at it in shock, eyes unblinking as he took in the sight. It was... so small.
"This is Eriam, your baby sister," Ragnarok hummed, tears welling in her eyes as she watched her firstborn.
Wileret only stared for a moment more before he lifted a single finger poked at Eriam's cheek. His little sibling cooed at the new touch, turning her face towards Eriam and wriggling a bit in her swaddle. His heart swelled at the movement.
"Eriam..."
Wileret would crush the world for Eriam.
PART 6.
AN ANTICLIMATIC RESOLUTION.
With the help of Skullcrusher and the weight he was able to carry, the group was back to Berk in exactly three day's time. Wileret insisted on holding Eriam the whole way through, allowing his mother to be the one on the front of the dragon due to her actually knowing how to ride one.
At first Wileret had been enraged every waking moment by the British man sitting behind him, tempted to "accidentally" lean back "too far" and push the man into the endless ocean. Then he had woke up after that first night. Apparently Latimer had held him through all the dark hours, ensuring the boy would not loose his balance in his sleep and send him and Eriam tumbling down.
It all should've been enough for Wileret to come to his sense and trust the same man Ragnarok put her life and safety into the hand's of, but it wasn't. At least, it wasn't until they arrived back onto Berk.
Ragnarok and Wileret had almost been expecting to return to a pile of smoldering ash even if they dare not say that to one another. There was of course no way a few mere soldiers could fend against hardened vikings and an army of dragons— but they knew far too well that there were some cunning people out there.
No, the island they returned to was as normal as ever.
As they touched down, Ragnarok could only look in awe at the new state of her village. There were dozens of unrecognizable faces scattered about, no longer donning their homeland's uniforms and interacting with dragons like it was natural to them.
It was a surprise that caught all of her attention for a moment, which is why she didn't begin crying until a familiar body slammed into her and hugged her like she had been about to float away.
She had never been a strong woman but she embraced Eret with the force of a loving anvil. The heavenly ichor that trickled from her eyes pooled onto her husband's shoulder, and she felt the same wetness as he littered kisses around her neck.
Ragnarok felt every problem drift back out to sea in that moment.
Wileret was not spared any mercy from his father. Eret embraced him all the same and was even rewarded with a jesting smack to the back of the head ("Why the hell would you run off like that?!"). Ragnarok had been right about her husband feeling lost due to Wil's disappearance, which he could tell from the way the grown viking shivered in his arms.
And in the same way she had with Wil, Ragnarok jumped around in excitement as she led her husband to the bundle in the Brit's arms.
The world seemed to stop as Eret laid his eyes onto his daughter for the first time. He had already experienced with indescribable feeling with the birth of his son, but it seemed as if its effects didn't dull any the second time around.
Ragnarok watched as Eret's eyes softened, her heart soaring as he slowly took the baby girl into his arms and stooping over so that he could kiss her nose. Despite the two being open with one another she had never seen him like this (after all, she had kind of been half dead when Wil had been born).
Oh gods, she started with a blush, I think I'm falling in love again.
Her pure bliss was interrupted by her own laughter at the sight of Eret smooching Latimer's forehead in what she hoped was gratitude.
Ragnarok's other reunions and Eriam's other introductions went just as smoothly. Astrid, Hiccup, Valka, Embla, even Emmett (who Wil immediately forgave)— they all welcomed the two home with open arms and teary eyes. And not for a moment did it seem like all the happiness was the precipice to something worse. Not once.
And Ragnarok never had to regret her decisions in the past months, because nothing ever came for them in the end.
The soldiers once damned to being broken down by their government pledged their loyalty to their new home on Berk, helping to weed out the few who posed a danger. And it truly was a few, fifteen at max.
The fifteen were cast out to sea on a ship that once belonged to their captain with just enough supplies so they would not starve to death, some fresh water, and a message from their princess for her mother. That message seemed to work and Chief Hiccup decided not to do anymore business with anyone outside of the Archipelago again.
Latimer kept his men in check as the years passed, becoming a beloved figure on the island and becoming the only parental figure Ragnarok had ever needed. He also watched after Emmett, allowing the teen to be a kid for as long as possible to make up for the battles he had been dragged through.
Wileret and Eriam grew up to be close, the little girl always looking up to her strong brother in both pure love and genuine admiration. Ragnarok and Eret never again had a disagreement, for they refused not to love one another with everything they had every moment they had.
It was the most anti-climatic ending and yet it was everything that Ragnarok could have hoped for from her spot stuck in that bed.