Chapter 26

                                    

                                          
The aftermath of the battle at Dragon's emerge was devastating. Maybe not for anyone else, but it was for Dagur. Shattermaster was injured badly during the battle. Getting hit straight on with a catapult boulder was proving to be killer. Dagur remembered the horrible crunch of dragon bone as the spherical rock bashed into Shattermaster's shoulder. When his dragon crashed into the ground, all he could feel was agony. His dragon was still alive when the battle ended, but he passed away not too long after. Dagur ended up burying him somewhere on the island. 
Now, he was on Berserker island. He was happy to have made friends with Sleuther, but the new dragon wasn't going to help him get past this. Dagur knew he was supposed to be helping find Oswald, and rebuild the Berserker tribe, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything. All he could do was lay in bed, his mind swirling with anger, grief and sadness like it never had before. It hurt. It hurt bad. Dagur had only felt this badly once before, and the way he got out of that was by taking out his emotions on the people around him. Hel, he hadn't thought about that in a while, but having nothing else to occupy his mind was bringing it all back. 
He was barely eating, drinking water or sleeping. Over the next few months, he cried so much that his eyes went dry.  Misery was the only thing he knew. He wanted to shove his emotions under a rug, and stomp on them until they dissapeared. Instead, he continuously tossed and turned in his bed. 
His sheets were getting more decrepid by the day. They were caked with dirt and sweat, as were his clothes. Eventually, the filth became to much to bear. He got out of bed, and stumbled to one of the nearby ponds. He was startled by his reflection in the water. His muscles had become weaker and less defined. The hair on his head almost looked brown from all the oil and dirt that it collected. It was much longer and stringier than before, much like his beard. His undereyes were sunken and blackened, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked the dirtiest he'd ever been in his entire life. 
He couldn't help feeling tears starting to slip out of his eyes. He watched as they cleared dirt from his face. How could I let this happen? What the Hel is wrong with me? Look at this. I look like I came from the boar pits. I'm the chief. What is wrong with me? Dagur fell to his knees, partly because of the condition he was in, and partly because his legs were weak from weeks of disuse. 
He couldn't stop crying, the tears flowing faster as he closed his eyes. His mind was being cruel to him. It was screaming vicious, callous things at him. You're weak. You're a disgrace, a failure. Everyone's thinking it. You should have died instead of her. 
Dagur's eyes snapped open. Instead of his reflection staring back at him, he saw a woman with bright red hair, pale skin was sprayed with freckles, and two glowing green eyes, one with three blue streaks over it. It only lasted for a split second, but it scared him. Dagur's breathing became shallow. He felt like he was breathing too quickly to get any air, but he couldn't stop the panic spreading through him. His own thoughts echoed through his mind, forcing him to cough and sputter as he tried to breath. When he was finally able to control his breathing, he could feel his mouth start to move. 
"Mother, have the gods freed you from Niflheim just to torment me?"
"Who are you talking to?" A voice said from behind him. Dagur swiveled his head around, seeing Heather standing there with her arms crossed. 
Dagur paused. "Nobody."
"Dagur, what's going on with you?"
Dagur squeezed his eyes shut. "Nothing. I'm fine."
"No, you're not. Don't tell me you started-"
Dagur cut her off, "I'm not taking the mushrooms. I didn't relapse. I'm fine."
"No. You're not," She stated, "It's obvious that you're not."
Dagur couldn't stop a sob from escaping him. And after the first, the tears just kept coming. He didn't have to explain why this was happening. Heather already knew.
She left him alone at the pond to bathe, but came back after he was done. She cast aside her duties his duties for the day, in order to help him. They washed his clothes and sheets, and cut his hair back to its former length. Dagur trimmed his beard as Heather cleaned up the mess of bowls and cups next to his bed. Dagur forced himself to eat something, before he cleaned up the rest of his room. While he was cleaning, he found some Terror mail that had come in. 
Most of them weren't too old, having dates in the range of a few days ago to now. Anything older was from Hiccup. None of them were serious, just a paragraph or two about some new adventures the riders were going on. The most recent one was from Stoick the Vast. It was asking him to take care of Gustav for a month. Apparently the kid was causing trouble and annoying a lot of people, and the chiefton needed a break from the little monster.
Dagur tried not to see this as a hinderance, but instead, an opportunity. A distraction. He spent that month telling the teen he was doing some Berserker apprenticeship program, and building up his confidence. In truth, the kid was doing terribly. Dagur was trying to at least get him to learn some fighting techniques, but he wasn't exactly picking it up. He didn't care much about the lack of progress, though. He was spending the time Gustav used "training" to build his strength back up. 
This apprenticeship thing had an advantage to it. It meant Dagur could invite the dragon riders to the island with no suspicion. Savage had been living in Berserker island for almost as long as Dagur had been grieving. He suspected the man had ulterior motives for being here. He figured he was right when he overheard some guards talking about a coup. They planned it a bit earlier than Dagur was expecting, so he had to invite the riders earlier than he expected. He didn't want to deal with Savage by himself, lest the man end up dead.