Reunion
I was jolted awake by loud banging at the door.
Thud-thud-thud!
Groaning, I pried my eyes open, I dragged myself out of bed, still half-asleep, and shuffled over to the door. Slowly, I opened it, blinking against the morning light.
No one.
Just the quiet chill of morning air… and then—
"Daddy, I'm hungry!" a small voice piped up from below.
I looked down.
Sigh.
It was just Moon, staring up at me with big, expectant eyes and bedhead that could rival a dragon's nest.
"Morning, muffin," I mumbled, patting her on the head.
I turned and headed toward the bathroom, too tired to respond properly. She followed close behind like a duckling trailing its mother. My body ached in places I didn't know could ache. Last night had taken more out of me than I'd thought.
I reached the bathroom and pulled out the small wooden stool, placing it in front of the mirror. Moon scrambled up onto it like it was a throne and grabbed her toothbrush. I grabbed mine beside her, and together we brushed in silence—well, I brushed in silence. She hummed some weird little song between foamy bubbles.
20 Minutes Later
"Hungry hungry hungry!"
The chant echoed through the house like a curse.
Moon and my father sat at the table, pounding their hands rhythmically on the wood like wild animals. My eye twitched.
Sigh.
"When did Dad become so childish?" I muttered under my breath as I finished plating the food.
I carried the dishes to the table, but they didn't even wait for me to set them down properly. Moon grabbed a piece of toast mid-air, and my father was already reaching for the eggs like he hadn't eaten in days.
"Y-you…" I started, then just let out a tired sigh.
I took my seat as they tore into breakfast like a pair of starved wolves.
Despite myself, I smiled.
It was chaotic. Messy. Loud.
But it was home.
New Features Unlocked
Right—the notifications.
I opened the system interface and scanned the backlog. One particular message caught my eye.
[Epic Achievement: Become Chief] Title Acquired: Chief — When protecting your people: • Power +10% • Improved decision-making • Intelligence +5 Rewards: • 40 Summoning Tickets • 100,000 System Points
Not bad, I thought, raising an eyebrow. That title boost could come in handy—especially the decision-making part. I had a feeling I'd need it sooner than later.
But what came next made my breath catch in my throat.
[New Feature Unlocked: Summoning]
My eyes widened. I leaned back slightly in my chair.
System, I thought quickly, what can I summon with this?
Host, there are 7 summonable classes available: — Saber — Lancer — Archer — Caster — Rider — Assassin — Berserker Each class possesses unique skill sets and combat styles. Units are ranked from 1 to 10. Higher-ranked units have superior stats and more advanced abilities.
An example interface blinked into my vision.
[Archer – Rank 1] Status: • Strength: 10 • Defense: 10 • Dexterity: 10 • Stamina: 10
Before I could ask, the system answered my unspoken question.
Note: Summons do not possess independent intelligence unless specially evolved. Only the Caster class begins with magic. Other classes unlock magical ability at Rank 3 or higher. Summons can be synthesized to increase their rank and potential.
"Woah… for real?" I muttered aloud, staring into the glowing interface.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my father staring at me, one eyebrow raised in confusion. Across from him, Moon was mid-bite, her cheeks stuffed with food, eyes fixed on me like I'd just started glowing.
Cough.
"Ah—my apologies," I said, trying to look normal, which clearly didn't work.
My father cleared his throat between bites. "Erik, you might want to head to the village hall. You've got your first council meeting today, remember?"
My eyes went wide.
Oh no.
"Holy shit—I'm gonna be late!" I shouted, nearly knocking over my chair as I scrambled to my feet.
Moon giggled through a mouthful of toast while my father just shook his head, muttering something about "youth" and "irresponsible chieftains."
30 Minutes Later
I sat at the head of the village hall table, barely holding onto my sanity as the elders rambled on—each word another nail in the coffin of my patience.
They droned on about alliances, traditions, and expectations, their voices overlapping like squawking gulls during a storm. I rubbed my temples, glancing around at each of their wrinkled, self-important faces.
Then came the introductions. One by one, they announced themselves like I didn't already know them.
House Hoferson. House Jorgenson. House Thorston. House Ingerman.
Every elder from each house had shown up, probably hoping to put their stamp on the new chief—or marry me off like I was some kind of prize hog.
Sure enough, the shouting began.
"You must choose a bride from House Hoferson—"
"—House Jorgenson's daughters are of fine blood—"
"—Thorston women are sturdy and strong!"
"Quiet!" I snapped, slamming my hand down hard enough to make the table rattle.
Silence fell like a hammer.
"I already have a bride."
Their mouths fell open in unison.
A dozen voices immediately burst into questioning uproar, but I raised my hand again.
"She is the princess of Dunbroch—Princess Merida."
That earned a heavy silence… until Spitelout leaned forward, frowning like he'd just smelled something foul.
"Erik," he said gruffly, "you're a Viking. If you marry a weak woman, your descendants won't be strong. Your bloodline will suffer."
The others muttered in agreement, nodding solemnly like a group of sagely buffoons.
My eyes narrowed.
"It is not for you to decide," I said coldly.
A wave of pressure seeped out from me—just a taste—and the room instantly tensed. Several of them shrank back. Even Spitelout shut his mouth.
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. "Now… what else?"
They looked at one another nervously, until finally Spitelout cleared his throat again.
"With a new chief, tradition says we must invite all our allies and the other tribes for a great feast. A formal celebration of your leadership."
Sigh.
"Another one?" I muttered.
"Fine," I relented. "Send the invitations. Begin preparations. Keep it clean, no over-the-top nonsense."
They all nodded like well-trained sheep and slowly shuffled out of the hall.
Once they were gone, I turned to Gobber, who'd been standing nearby the whole time, his arms crossed and a faint smirk on his face.
"Start letting in the villagers," I said.
"Aye, Chief." He turned to the door and bellowed, "NEXT!"
The door creaked open… and in came a large Viking dragging two much smaller ones by the scruffs of their necks—Ruffnut and Tuffnut, of course.
I exhaled heavily. Here we go.
The burly Viking dropped the twins in front of me and immediately began pleading his case.
"Chief, I was just eatin' breakfast with my wife and daughter, peaceful like—"
I held up a hand. "Please. Just the important part."
"They broke into my chicken coop and released all the hens. Now my family won't have eggs for the rest of the week."
Tuffnut snickered. Ruffnut elbowed him, whispering something about "liberating the poultry proletariat."
Sigh.
"Gobber, get a training log. You two—shoulder it and stand off to the side until my work is done."
Tuffnut opened his mouth to protest. "No, Erik, you can't just—"
I shot them a glare. Both of them immediately shut up and shuffled over, grumbling as they took their place with the log.
I turned back to the Viking.
"Do you have a dragon?"
"Yes, Chief."
"Good. Assign it to guard your coop. Make sure you reward it properly. A bored dragon is worse than a hungry one."
He gave a grateful bow. "Yes, Chief."
He turned and left, muttering praises and complaints in equal measure.
I slumped slightly in my seat.
This is going to be a long day.
One Month Later
The village was alive with color and music. Banners flapped in the wind, food stalls lined the streets, and laughter echoed across the square. Villagers danced arm in arm, children chased one another between dragon legs, and the sky was dotted with dragons soaring gracefully overhead—each adorned with ribbons, flowers, and shiny trinkets.
I walked through it all, hands behind my back, quietly observing.
Not bad, I thought, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. Being chief isn't as hard when no one's trying to burn the place down.
"Ahhhhh! I'm on fire!"
Spoke too soon.
I whipped around to see Snotlout sprinting through the crowd, his pants ablaze. Behind him stood the twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, laughing hysterically—each holding a lit torch like it was a trophy.
Sigh.
I flicked my hand, fire manipulation surging through my fingers in a gentle wave. The flames extinguished instantly, leaving Snotlout smoking, panting, and glaring at the twins.
I pointed at them. "If either of you causes another scene, you'll be punished like last week."
Their laughter died on the spot.
The twins paled, visibly shuddering. "Understood, Chief!" they chorused, saluting with the torches still in hand.
I turned and continued on, making my way toward the docks. My father was already there, seated calmly on a crate with a tankard in hand. I dropped beside him and nodded in greeting.
"Quiet before the storm," he muttered.
"I'll take this kind of storm," I replied with a grin.
We didn't have to wait long. Horns blew from the watchtower, and I stood as the first sails came into view across the horizon.
The Macintoshes. The Macguffins. The Dingwalls.
The three tribes I had met before—now approaching on ships with billowing sails and proud banners.
As their longboats pulled into the dock and the gangplanks were lowered, I saw familiar faces. The chieftains of each tribe stepped down first, followed by their sons and clansmen.
They spotted me immediately.
Their eyes widened, mouths dropping as they took in the change.
"Is that—Erik?" "No way, that's him?" "He got taller!" "Why is he so... defined?"
Within seconds, I was swarmed.
"Hold on! One at a time!" I said with a laugh, raising my hands defensively.
The Macintosh heir stepped forward, narrowing his eyes in confusion.
"How did you get so tall? Last time we met, we were nearly the same height."
I chuckled. "I hit a growth spurt. Guess my father's genes finally kicked in."
All eyes shifted to my father. He raised his tankard and smirked.
Next came the Macguffin heir.
"What happened to your muscles? You look like you could wrestle a bear."
"I've been training every day," I replied. "Barely took time to rest since I returned from Dunbroch."
They all nodded, visibly impressed.
Then came the youngest Dingwall boy, who looked me up and down with an almost offended expression.
"Why are you so… handsomer?"
I couldn't help but grin.
"My mother was a beautiful woman," I said smoothly, "and clearly, I got her looks."
This time, my father let out a booming laugh and gave a proud nod.
The boys stared, speechless for a moment, before breaking into laughter of their own. They clapped my back, threw arms over my shoulders, and we all turned together toward the village.
"Come on," I said. "We've got food, drink, and enough music to make your ears bleed."
They cheered and followed, the warmth of reunion sinking deep into my bones. But even as I laughed with them, my eyes kept drifting toward the horizon.
Merida would be arriving soon.
And I couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she saw how much I'd changed.
One Hour Later
For what felt like an eternity, I sat there in silence, watching the waves crash against the dock. Tribe after tribe had come and gone—three had arrived earlier, and only one more followed after: the Berserker Tribe.
Dagur had taken up the mantle of chief. Rumor had it he'd killed his own father for it. Whether that was true or not, I couldn't say—but the look in his eyes said more than words ever could.
When we met, something felt… off. Like his mind wasn't entirely present. There was a wildness behind his gaze, a kind of instability that couldn't be masked, not even with a smile. His stats hovered around 20—not terrible, but far from impressive. Still, I wasn't worried about his strength.
What worried me was the way he looked at Hiccup.
There was an odd fascination there. I didn't know what kind exactly, but the possibilities made me shudder.
Sigh. "When will Merida arrive—"
A horn blared across the bay, sharp and proud. I turned toward the docks, my eyes narrowing to catch the symbol fluttering on the ship's flag.
My lips curled into a smile. Dunbroch.
I rose to my feet and made my way down toward the edge of the pier, waiting for the gangplank to lower. The ship groaned against the dock as the crew secured it in place, and soon enough, the Queen and King of Dunbroch stepped onto Berk's soil.
Their eyes widened as they caught sight of me—more specifically, the changes I had undergone since our last meeting. The King looked me over with a sharp, measuring gaze. The Queen, by contrast, looked on with astonishment, her expression caught somewhere between admiration and disbelief. She leaned closer to her husband, whispering something I couldn't hear.
And then came the triplets.
Bounding down the gangplank like a trio of wild squirrels, they nearly knocked over a dockworker in their excitement. I chuckled and conjured three sticks of cotton candy from the system shop, kneeling to hand them over.
They squealed with joy, jumping up and down as I patted their messy red heads. "Don't eat it all at once, yeah?"
I stood and offered a respectful bow to the King and Queen. "Welcome to Berk. It's an honor to see you again."
The Queen smiled warmly, though her eyes flicked past me, searching. I didn't need to guess who for.
"She's in her room," the Queen said with a playful smirk. "Putting on makeup."
"Makeup?" I tilted my head. "Why? She's already beautiful without it."
That made the Queen chuckle, her expression softening with gratitude.
A moment later, I heard footsteps. I turned and saw her.
Merida descended the gangplank slowly, her face carefully painted—too carefully. Someone had clearly given her a lesson, but not a good one. Her cheeks were too red, her eyeliner uneven, and her lips looked like she'd been chasing a moving target.
My mouth twitched.
Still, there was something charming in her awkward effort. She was trying. That mattered more than technique.
She reached me, a faint blush on her cheeks—not from the makeup this time.
I leaned in slightly, smirking. "Well, hello, my lady. I am honored to bask in your radiant presence."
I took her hand and kissed it.
Her eyes widened. "Y-you… Don't say such things—it's embarrassing!"
I laughed, unable to help myself. "How could I not tease you, with that makeup?"
She huffed, looking away. "I thought it would help…"
"And I thought dragons couldn't swim, yet here we are," I said, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "You look beautiful, Merida. With or without makeup."
Her eyes met mine—hopeful, uncertain. "Really?"
"Of course," I replied, offering her my arm. "Come on. Let me show you around Berk."
She nodded, her hand slipping into mine.
I turned back toward her parents, offering an apologetic bow. "Forgive me, Your Majesties. There are some... urgent matters I need to attend to."
They laughed. The King gave a nod of approval, while the Queen smiled knowingly.
With that, Merida and I walked off into the heart of Berk, her steps a little lighter, and mine a little more certain.
Behind us, the bustle of arriving tribes and chieftains faded into the background. For now, this moment belonged to us.
And I left the rest to my father.