One Month Later
It has been a month since I conquered the archipelago. Since then, I've spent most of my time with family—something I had longed for amid years of war and strife. I even summoned Hiccup back from Dragon's Edge to share in the peace we had earned.
Ding. Ding.
The hammer rang out with every strike as I beat the glowing metal into shape. Aside from spending time with my family, I had devoted this past month to the forge—crafting weapons for each of the tribes who stood by me since the very beginning. A reward not just of steel, but of legacy. Of purpose.
…
I surveyed the collection of finished weapons before me.
"Good. This will suffice."
Each one gleamed with power, imbued with enchantments—unbreakable, self-repairing, and bound to the soul of the wielder. These weapons were not just tools of war; they were symbols of what we had built… and what we would protect.
I stored them carefully, then turned toward the village hall.
As I walked through the village, my people bowed in reverence. Those who had watched me grow up smiled and waved, still seeing the child I once was. But the newer faces—the warriors, the conquered, the loyal—they bowed with solemn respect, knowing only my strength, my wrath, my rule.
The guards at the hall entrance straightened as I approached, then bowed and pushed open the heavy doors. Inside, the leaders of every allied tribe had gathered. All eyes turned to me as I entered.
I strode forward without hesitation, each step echoing in the silent hall. I reached the great seat carved for me at the head—but I did not sit.
Instead, I turned.
"It has been two years since my conquest began," I said, my voice steady, filling the chamber. "And all of you are here for one reason… and one reason only."
Tension filled the air.
"This past month, I forged a weapon for each of you. Not just as a reward—but as a charge. Each of you will have a purpose in the world I intend to create."
I raised a hand. "Grimborn. Step forward."
To the Grimborns, I bestowed a sword—Wrath. Forged with the flame of fury itself, it erupts into fire, its power growing stronger with the will of its wielder. You will command my Saber Summons. Strike swiftly. Strike without mercy.
"Outcast."
To the Outcasts, I gave the Mooncasted Mace—a weapon of frost, its power awakening beneath the moonlight. One strike can freeze an enemy solid. You will command my Berserkers. Let fear take root in the bones of our enemies.
"Defender of the Wing."
To you, I gifted Morningstar, a bow of relentless pursuit. Its arrows will chase their mark until they land—or destroy. You will command my Archers. Let none escape the empire's reach.
"Wingmaiden."
To the Wingmaidens, I gave The Punisher, a whip that grows in cruelty the greater the sins of its victim. You shall lead my Assassins. Seek the wicked and make justice known.
"Northern Alliance."
To you, I gifted Sky Piercer, a spear that rides the wind and tears through steel and bone. You will command my Lancers. Be the shield against all who would harm our people.
"Macintosh."
To you, I give Bloodbane, a cursed blade that causes unending bleeding unless its wielder wills it to cease—or the target has magic strong enough to resist its grip. You will serve under the Grimborns. Let your blade be their enforcer.
"Macguffin."
To the Macguffins, I offer Mountain Crusher, a hammer that channels the strength of the earth itself. It can shape terrain or shatter mountains. With your strength and form, you will serve as a commander under the Outcasts. Learn the path of the Berserker.
"Dingwall."
To you, I bestow Dark Night, a sleek black blade that emits a shroud of darkness, blinding enemies in close quarters. Your small frame and unyielding spirit suit you well. Serve under the Wingmaidens and learn the assassin's art.
"Dunbroch."
To your clan, I gift Order and Striker—a staff that calms the chaos within others and a sword that punishes those who disturb the peace. You will lead my Casters. Be the heart of balance in our empire.
"Berserker."
To you, I give Fang and Claw—twin axes that radiate pure fear, their very presence enough to make men hesitate. Dagger, though you are strong, you are still young. You will apprentice under Alvin of the Outcasts. Learn well. One day, your time will come.
The chamber remained still, the weight of purpose heavy in the air.
These weapons were not just gifts. They were promises. Declarations. Each of them carried a piece of me… and a piece of the future we were bound to shape together.
And so, the second chapter of our empire began—not with fire and blood, but with unity… and purpose.
I looked around and nodded. All were amazed at the weapons which now belong to them. But they also understood the responsibility that comes with it.
"In a week's time our next expedition will begin. Ready 10,000 dragons and 30,000 powerful warriors. Our next campaign will be towards the continent."
They all nodded in solemn understanding as I turned and walked away from the hall, toward the only place that ever truly felt like mine—home.
I had built the house myself, every beam and stone laid with care, shaped into something I thought Merida would love. Wide porches with swings that creaked gently in the wind, soft sofas made for long naps and quiet stories, warm beds layered with thick, woolen blankets. Every corner held something that reminded me of her.
When I reached the house, I paused at the door, letting the silence settle.
The home looked full of life from the outside—flowers in bloom, the scent of fresh wood still lingering—but inside, it was quiet. Not the peaceful kind of quiet. The hollow kind.
I walked slowly down the hall, past the living room, the library, the kitchen we never cooked in, and stopped in front of the room I made just for her. My hand lingered on the door handle. I took a deep breath… and entered.
There she was.
Merida.
She hadn't moved—not in a long time. Her skin was pale from the absence of sunlight, her fiery red hair dulled by time. But her body was whole. Preserved. Protected.
I had woven magic into the very bones of this house, inscribing runes on every wall, drawing sigils beneath the floorboards, embedding enchantments that held off rot, decay, time itself. All to keep her safe. Until I could bring her back.
I sat down gently on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath my weight. My hand moved toward her face, and I brushed her cheek with my thumb.
"Just a little more," I whispered, "and I'll bring you back. I promise."
When I refused to bury her, her parents were furious. They wanted a proper funeral. Closure. They couldn't understand. They wouldn't. Everyone said I had lost my mind. That I was clinging to something impossible. That I was breaking under grief.
Maybe they were right.
But I didn't care. I knew what I needed to do.
Knock, knock.
My eyes shifted toward the door. I didn't need to ask who it was.
"Come in," I said softly.
The door creaked open slowly, then stopped halfway. A small head poked through the gap.
A smile tugged at my lips.
"Daddy, food is ready," she said gently.
I stood, giving Merida one last lingering look before turning away. "Coming."
I hadn't cooked for myself in years. I didn't need to eat—my regeneration took care of all my physical needs. But my mother insisted, and I hadn't fought her on it. Eating with them reminded me I was still human.
Moon skipped beside me as we walked. She was humming, twirling now and then, her hair catching the moonlight. I let myself smile. At least I still have this.
When we reached the house, my mother opened the door and beamed.
"Oh, if it isn't my little muffin," she said, immediately reaching down to pinch Moon's cheeks.
Moon giggled. "No, Grandma, I'm not little anymore!"
"You'll always be my little muffin, no matter how big you get, sweetie."
"You meanie. I'm ignoring you," Moon declared with a grin as she stomped playfully toward the kitchen.
My mother laughed warmly, then looked up at me. Her smile softened.
I knew what she wanted.
I leaned down slightly, and she ruffled my hair.
"You sure know how to worry your mother," she said, mockingly stern.
I gave her a quiet smile. "Thank you, Mother."
She let out a long sigh and waved me toward the kitchen. "Go on. They're waiting."
I entered the kitchen to find my father, Hiccup, and Moon already seated. They were talking amongst themselves, but quieted as I stepped in.
"Hey," Hiccup greeted with a small smile. "Took you long enough."
I returned the smile and took my seat.
My father gave a nod, and soon the conversation picked back up. There were moments of laughter, old jokes retold, familiar warmth in the way our voices danced around the table. Even Moon got in on the fun, proudly telling Hiccup about a squirrel she "almost caught" earlier that day.
This is nice, I thought.
"So, Erik," Hiccup said suddenly. "What have you been working on lately?"
I leaned back slightly. "I've been in the forge. Just this morning, I gave the tribe leaders the weapons I made for them. In a week, I'll begin the next campaign."
The room fell silent.
"Already?" my father said, his voice low.
I nodded. "Now that the archipelago is under our control, only the continents remain."
My mother set her fork down. "Do you really have to?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "It's better to act now than wait and be caught off guard. If we wait, we'll regret it."
"But the odds of an attack are slim," she replied gently.
"Maybe. But even the slimmest chance is still a chance. Dunbroch knows that well, as do the Three Tribes. I've learned not to leave variables unchecked. And the continent… that's a massive variable. We don't know what's waiting out there."
Everyone was quiet after that—even Moon.
Eventually, my father let out a breath and gave a slow nod. "Then we'll stand by you. Just… don't forget to come back."
I looked at him, then at everyone at the table. "I won't."
For now, I had family. I had peace. But I also had a promise to keep… and a world yet to conquer.