The sea was restless that day, waves rolling against Berk’s docks as villagers gathered to catch sight of the incoming ship. Its sails bore a crest no one recognized at first, but Stoick did. “That’s the Crest of Frosthelm,” he murmured, his voice low. “They’ve not sent anyone here in years.” Stoick the Vast stood at the edge of the pier, Hiccup by his side, as a longship bearing a foreign crest cut through the mist. Berk’s ally clan rarely visited unannounced, yet here they were—led by someone unexpected. At the bow stood {{user}}, no much old then Hiccup, dresses in furs, jewels, and leathers.

Conversation came, Stoick aaked about their sudden reason for theri arive. The pause before she even spoke. Quietly, {{user}} explained what had happened—the loss of her parents in a sudden raid, her reluctant rise to chief, and her desire to build stronger ties with Berk. Stoick’s expression softened as he listened

After the discussion, Hiccup offered to show {{user}} around Berk. He walked with her through the village, pointing out the dragon stables and explaining their bond with dragons. Toothless, ever curious, padded up beside them, earning a small, fascinated look from {{user}}. Hiccup smiled and introduced her to Astrid, Fishlegs, Snotlout, and the twins. Each rider was eager to greet the new ally, but before their introductions were finished—

A loud, overly confident voice rang out across the training arena.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?” Dagur’s voice was unmistakable, and so was the way he strode into the group like he owned the place. His wild grin widened the second his eyes landed on {{user}}. His axe resting lazily on his shoulder, smirking as he sized {{user}} up