(Hiccup's pov)

Have the gods truly abandoned the people of Scandinavia?

It would seem not just Berk suffered at the hands of Drago and his army, but all of Scandinavia. Seeing every Viking kingdom and tribe, as well as clans of dragon sympathizers that we were allied with, met the same end as Berk; all of them put to the sword and their homes were ravaged and reduced to ashes. Their legacies and history are now forever lost to history as if they had never existed at all. Drago and his followers have committed mass genocide; a whole generation of people now dead, unable to bear children and let their family name live on for the centuries to come

I'm now the last Viking of Scandinavia.

Ragnarök had truly arrived.

"Men who kill without reason, cannot be reasoned with."

My father's words of caution about Drago echo in my mind, and tears of regret and self-hatred swelled in my eyes. Had I just listened to my father, none of this would've happened. Everyone I loved and held close to my heart may yet be among the living had I not been so overly confident in my ability to sway the minds of madmen. But Drago was not like the others I've faced over the years, he was a—

No, Drago would've attacked us sooner or later whether or not I would try to reason with him. He's a brute and one that doesn't understand the meaning of reason.

The Scuttleclaw babies all began crying out to me, I looked at them and noted how tired they were after flying for hours. I then quickly looked around to see where we could gather some respite for a while before continuing onwards. Reaching for my satchel, I pulled out a telescope and laid eyes on a very familiar place.

"Berserker Island, we can rest there for a while."

I then urged the Scuttleclaws to keep at it as we neared the Berserker kingdom, a part of me was praying that Dagur and Heather were alright. After all, they led one of the largest Viking armies in Scandinavia, surely they gave Drago and his forces a beating.

But when Berserker Island came in close, I could see the sea was stained with blood, the surface of the water was littered with pieces of debris, floating supplies, and hundreds of floating corpses of dead Berserker warriors and villagers. As I urged the Scuttleclaws to descend to the dock, I could see the once-mighty Berserker armada was now rendered asunder.

Steering the Scuttleclaw I was flying to touch down on land, I could see Bewilderbeast ice had destroyed much of the architecture, but scorch marks were evident as well. Either Drago's dragon flyers came and used a blitz tactic or whether the thousands of enslaved dragons under that evil Bewilderbeast caused the ground beneath my feet to be so desolate and scorched. Regardless, Berserker Island was nothing more than a mass graveyard, much like Berk and all the other Viking tribes and kingdoms I had passed by.

The caws of crows filled my ears, they were feasting on the decaying corpses of dead Berserkers and livestock. Of course, the fetid stench was revolting, but thankfully the stench was somewhat bearable thanks to my helmet covering my face.

It had been years since I last saw Dagur and Heather, a part of me hoped that they were still alive. However, my gut told me otherwise. As me and my Scuttleclaws followed me deeper into the heart of the Berserker kingdom, the sight of such raw carnage was overwhelming; Berserker villagers and warriors half-devoured by either crows or rats, the architecture of this once great kingdom was blown to pieces either by Bewilderbeast ice or by catapults or artillery that are unknown to me.

Making my way to the Berserker's Great Hall took me little to no time, but once I opened the doors, I inhaled sharply at the gruesome sight. My former enemy and friend that was like a brother, Dagur the Deranged was now hanging from the ceiling rafters, his own guts served as his noose. His belly was disemboweled, I could see his eyes had been ripped out, and whatever remained of his insides laid beneath where he was swinging.

I could see Dagur slaying several of Drago's warriors with relative ease, the deranged Berserker chieftain was always an excellent warrior, but Drago's foreign warriors were far more disciplined and skilled. They eventually disarmed Dagur and seized him and began beating him until he couldn't fight to protect himself. That's when I saw a tall and slender woman approaching Dagur with a sword in her hand. She wore a sleeveless dress in chainmail, pants, and boots. Around her waist, she wore a kama and a belt with a sword's scabbard attached to it. She also wore two metal bracelets, both of which cover her lower arms. Her helmet is decorated with a pair of small horns or fangs and a pair of antler-like ornaments, which resemble the horns of a Crimson Goregutter, only much smaller, while a front piece on the helmet protects this warrior's nose. The helmet itself mostly covers the upper half of her head, yet a large leather hangs down to the shoulders, offering some protection to her ears, cheeks, and neck. It also covers her hair, leaving her hair color unknown. Finally, this woman wore a long, slender cape made out of fur.

"Hold him!"

The woman barked out to two men who wore helmets similar to her own, Dagur thrashed violently and unleashed an animalistic roar as he managed to rip one of his arms free from the foreigners' grasp and proceed to punch both foreigners away from him. Once free front their grasp, Dagur turned to the woman before him and charged, but the woman merely snorted and then ran Dagur through before he could stop himself.

"Pathetic."

She sneered out before proceeding to gut Dagur like a fish; his insides spilling out of his belly and onto the ground. He fell to his knees, throwing up a mouthful of blood and bile. Looking up at her, Dagur tried speaking but no words came out as he then fell back, dead from both shock and too much blood loss.

"Griselda!"

The woman turned around and Drago came into view, the murderer looked down to see Dagur's disemboweled corpse on the ground, he then smirked and turned to his follower.

"Hang him with his insides and have your men finish up here."

After seeing Dagur's demise, I look beneath me, and I saw Mala, with her throat slit wide open. Her beautiful face was deathly pale, and there wasn't a stitch of clothing on her naked body. Bile climbed up my throat when I realized that Drago's men had defiled her, along with dozens more dead women within this room.

Gods, the enemy I've sworn to wash away in an ocean of blood is an enemy that takes whatever they want, whenever they want. And the sooner Midgard is rid of these murderers, the better.

As I approached the Berserker throne, I saw Heather's naked corpse splayed on the ground, and I quickly rushed to her side and gasped in horror to see her jaw was ripped off her face, leaving her once beautiful face now disfigured and mutilated. Sighing shakily, I placed a hand on her forehead and saw what happened to her before her death.

"Monsters! All of you!"

As one of Drago's men was raping her, Heather reached for her rapists' sword and spilled his guts open, and kicked him off of her. Once she was back on her feet, several of Drago's men advanced on her. But Heather killed handfuls of foreigners as they tried to confiscate the sword in her hands and continue to take her against her will.

"I am Heather, the Unhinged! You will all meet your end for this offense!"

As Heather drove the sword in her hands through the stomach of an enemy dragon flyer, that's when a large and muscular warrior with light auburn hair and beard, as well as dark brown eyes, advanced. He wore full armor and a fur cape over his blue tunic, brown boots, and he sported tattoos on both of his beefy arms. Turning to her next opponent, Heather snarled and swung her sword at this man, but all she struck was air. Whirling around to strike again, Heather was disarmed by this hulking warrior and he then swung his sword at her face, hacking off her lower jaw in the process. As Heather to the ground, now bleeding out, this hulking warrior looked over her and snickered.

"No man, and especially no woman is a match for Ragnar the Rock."

Seeing all that I needed to see, I exhaled shakily and bowed my head in deep sympathy, I closed Heather's still open, lifeless eyes and murmured words of farewell to the woman I saw as a sister. "May you find peace in Valhalla Heather, keep Astrid company until I reunite with her in the halls of the Æsir," rising to my feet, I look up at Dagur murmur farewells to him as well, "and may you savor the fights and drinking in Odin's hall, brother. Rest now, and know that I will avenge all our people, our culture, and our sagas from that murderer Drago Bludvist." As I stormed out of the Great Hall, I made my way to a nearby stable, which thankfully was empty and ample shelter to shield me and my Scuttleclaw companions from a blizzard that was now coming down on us with a righteous fury.

Once I had started a fire to keep the stables warm, I removed my helmet and sat down beside a large bed of straw, and wrapped my long, thick bear fur cloak around my armor-clad body. The Scuttleclaw babies gathered by the fire and laid down to get some well-deserved sleep. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't sleep, my mind was restless and I was still unable to accept that I was the last Viking in Midgard.

Yet again, I find myself alone and uncertain of my future, just as I was before bonding with Toothless and changing Berk's way of life.

Several hours passed and sleep remained elusive, I growl in anger and frustration that I can't seem to get the rest I need for the journey ahead of me. Closing my eyes, I remember a time back when the gang and I were at Dragons Edge, we had returned to Berk for a short time to visit, and when my father had given me the betrothal necklace that once belonged to my mother.

(Normal love— Isle of Berk, three years ago)

"Hiccup."

Hiccup stopped in his tracks as he was about to head upstairs to gather the rest of his stuff. He and the other riders had returned to Berk for a short visit. They told Stoick about the new activity of the Dragon Hunters, and their belief in them having a new leader after Viggo and Ryker were defeated.

But on top of that Hiccup and Astrid had an important announcement. They decided it was time for them to tell Berk about their betrothal. As nervous as the pair where they gathered up the courage and took their place together on the stage. With a deep breath, Hiccup made the announcement. Though some of the reactions were different they all had the same positive outcome. Gobber danced around in circles, both with joy and the fact he won a bet to Mulch. Astrid's parents were delighted and gave their daughter many hugs and kisses. Hiccup ended up with nearly a few cracked ribs from his father's strong hug.

Many toasts were made to the new couple, and many drinks were drunk. And one stink bomb from Barf's gas was set as a 'congratulations' gift from the twins, who soon regretted it from Astrid. By the end of the night, the riders decided to head home as they were leaving early tomorrow to head back to the Edge.

By morning Hiccup headed out into the village to gather the riders, making sure they were all up and ready. They all decided to meet at the arena before leaving. Astrid was the last person to check up on. Seeing as she was just gathering the rest of her stuff together she would meet him and the others at the arena. With a kiss goodbye Hiccup left to head back home and get his things ready. As he opened up the door he began to make his way up to his room when his father stopped him by calling out his name. He made his way over to his father who was sitting on his chair.

"Yeah, Dad?" Hiccup asked. Stoick pointed to the chair in front of him.

"Come, sit son. I need to talk to you." Stoick told him.

"Uh... can it be quick Dad, cause me and the other riders are leaving in a minute." Hiccup told him as he made his way over.

"Of course, son. It won't take long," Stoick said as Hiccup sat down. "Now then, as you know it's Viking tradition to—"

"Oh Dad, please don't tell me we're having the chief talk now?" Hiccup groaned. "You know I'm not ready to take up your title just yet." Stoick smiled and nodded.

"I know son. That is not what I am trying to say," Stoick told him. "As Viking tradition goes, after the announcement of a couples betrothal its tradition for them to each present each other with a gift."

"Oh?" Hiccup said, not too sure as to where this was going.

"And I was wondering, have you thought about what you wanted to get Astrid?" Stoick asked. Hiccup shook his head and leaned back.

"Nope. She can be pretty had to please sometimes. I never know whether she's going to like the gift or if she's going to hate it." Hiccup confessed with a light chuckle.

"Well, I might have an idea," Stoick winked. Hiccup looked over to his father with confusion. With a smile, Stoick stood up and made his way over to a shelf where a small treasure chest was sat. He pick it up and made his way back over to Hiccup. He sat back down and handed the chest over Hiccup. He placed the chest in his lap before opening the lid. Inside was a sort of large coin with a hole near the top. It looked like something that would be hanging of a necklace. The item was gold with many different carvings on it. It looked quite old and worn out but it was still very beautiful.

Hiccup took the object into his hands and began to observe it closer up. "It was my betrothal gift to your mother," Stoick explained with a warm smile. Hiccup's eyes widened as he looked at his father. "And I know if Valka were here now, she would want you to have it." Hiccup gave him a small smile before looking back at the object.

Talking about his mother was sometimes quite hard because he never know much about her. He never asked his father because he knew it was a sensitive topic. But when he gets to see the things his mother had made for him and what she received from his father, it made him feel like he was closer to her somehow.

"Wow, thanks, Dad. This is... amazing. She'll love it," Hiccup told his father. Stoick smiled with happiness, seeing his son like this. He was happy to see his son feel this way about someone, though he was pretty sure that his son has felt like this for longer than he even realizes.

"You've picked a good one son," Stoick told him. "Make sure she doesn't slip through your fingers." He added with a playful smirk.

"It's Astrid, Dad. There's no telling on what she does. She can be pretty unpredictable." Hiccup pointed out while laughing.

"Like that time you 'put your foot down?'" Stoick asked as his smile widened. Hiccup flushed at the memory. Yeah, he never did except that from her.

Hiccup sighed before looking at the door. "Well, I need to go and meet up with the other riders. We're heading back to the Edge."

"Aye son. Just make sure you come and visit more often." Stoick said as he walked his son over to the door. Hiccup smiled.

"We'll try. It can get pretty busy over on the Edge." Hiccup pointed out. It

"And just so you know son, I do believe you are more than ready to become chief," Stoick told him.

"Really?" Hiccup asked, sounding a little both shocked and slightly nervous.

"Aye son. Maybe next time you come we can talk." Stoick suggested. Hiccup scratched the back of his head.

"I don't know Dad," Hiccup sighed, "I mean with me running the Edge and all I might just not—"

"No son, I mean the talk," Stoick clarified. Hiccup's eyes widened in realization, "since you're in a relationship now I think it might—"

"So sorry Dad, but I've got to go, bye!" And with that Hiccup raced it out of the door and towards the dragon academy, telling Astrid he won't be coming back to visit for a few years yet.

(Hiccup's pov— Berserker Island, present-day)

Letting out a sigh, I shook my head, dwelling on the past was certainly not going to help me get any sleep.

But I couldn't help myself. How could I not dwell upon the past?

Many more memories flooded my mind, threatening to drown me. From the moment I entered this world, I was meant to die, considering I was a frail and weak baby. And according to Viking tradition, my now-dead father was meant to kill me so that I couldn't carry my frailty and weakness all my life. But my mother convinced my father to stay his hand, she convinced him that I would one day grow into a worthy heir and powerful Viking chief. Despite my father's firm hold on tradition, he granted my mother's request and spared my life. The years that followed were trying for the both of us, but when I had defied three centuries of tradition and bonded with Toothless, I had finally earned my father's acceptance and pride.

And because I believed I could sway the mind of a madman, I lost my father and everybody I loved and held close to my heart.

Finally, as sleep began to consume me, my heavy eyelids closed and the only thing going through my mind was finding Drago and tearing him to bloody pieces, but not before taking everything he has— his pet killer, freeing his enslaved dragon army, turning his own army against each other when he spent years uniting them, and wiping his vile legacy from history. Killing this madman isn't enough, for me, I'm going to make Drago suffer and fear me, and realize that his actions have consequences. His hubris has cost him dearly, he should've had his murderous pet crush me into pieces while I was encased in ice, that mistake is going to cost Drago dearly.

And when that murderer has lost everything, I will have his head.

A/N: Things are going to pick up pretty soon here, I won't spoil the details yet.