Leonidas stepped out of Gothi's hut into the morning air of Berk.
The village was already alive with activity. Vikings moved with purpose—men hauling nets toward the docks, women tending to vegetable gardens, children chasing sheep through narrow pathways between houses. The smell of smoke, fish, and livestock filled the air.
It was so different from his memories of modern life—no cars, no electricity, no concrete. But it was also strangely familiar to the prince's inherited memories of ancient Sparta. A warrior culture, living simply, preparing constantly for conflict.
Several Vikings noticed him immediately. Conversations paused. Eyes turned his way.
The mysterious boy from the death ship was awake.
{ WELCOME TO YOUR FIRST DAY OF "BEING STARED AT LIKE A CIRCUS ATTRACTION." ENJOY THE ATTENTION. }
A massive figure emerged from the Great Hall—Stoick, his red beard catching the morning sun. Beside him walked Gobber, the blacksmith with the mechanical arm.
"Leonidas," Stoick called, his voice carrying easily across the distance. "Good to see you on your feet. Walk with me."
It wasn't a request.
Leonidas descended the steps from Gothi's hut, moving with careful control. Not too confident—that would raise questions. Not too weak—that would invite pity or dismissal. Just... present.
As he approached, he noticed Stoick studying him intently, taking in details. The scar across his eye. The way he moved. The steady, unchildlike composure in his bearing.
"You look much better than when we found you," Stoick observed. "Gothi says your wounds are healing remarkably well."
"I'm grateful for her care," Leonidas said simply.
Stoick gestured for him to follow, and they began walking through the village. Gobber fell into step beside them, his mechanical hand clicking softly with each movement.
"I won't press you about what happened on that ship," Stoick said as they walked. "Not yet. Trauma takes time to process, and you're just a boy."
Just a boy, Leonidas thought. If only you knew.
"But I need to know some things," Stoick continued. "Basic things. Where you're from. If there are people looking for you. If bringing you here puts Berk in danger."
They'd reached a quiet spot near the edge of the village—a stone overlook that provided a view of the ocean. Stoick stopped and turned to face Leonidas directly.
"So. Leonidas. Let's start simple. Where are you from?"
This was it. The story he'd been preparing.
Leonidas looked out at the ocean, letting silence hang for a moment—the pause of someone gathering difficult memories.
"Sparta," he said quietly. "A kingdom far to the south. Beyond the sea."
"Sparta," Stoick repeated, testing the word. "Never heard of it. But the world is large, and we Vikings don't travel everywhere." He stroked his beard. "What happened? Why were you on that ship?"
Leonidas kept his gaze on the horizon. "There was a war. My city was attacked by... enemies. The Persians." The word came out with genuine heat—the prince's inherited hatred bleeding through. "Many died. My father—" He stopped, letting his voice catch slightly. "My protectors were ordered to get me away. To safety."
Not entirely a lie. The prince's memories supported every word.
"Your protectors," Gobber said, his voice gentler than his appearance suggested. "The warriors in bronze armor. They died fighting?"
"Yes. The Persians found us. They wanted to kill me—to end my father's bloodline."
Leonidas's hand unconsciously moved to the scar on his face. "They almost succeeded."
Stoick's expression softened. "I'm sorry, lad. War is brutal. Losing your home, your family..." He shook his head. "You're not the first child to wash up on our shores with such a story, though the details are always different."
"So what happens now?" Leonidas asked, looking up at the massive chief. "Do you send me away? Try to return me?"
"Return you?" Stoick snorted. "To a homeland under siege? To enemies hunting you? What kind of chief would that make me?" He placed a heavy hand on Leonidas's shoulder—gentle, despite his size. "No, lad. You'll stay in Berk. We'll find you a place, give you work when you're old enough, teach you our ways."
{ QUEST UPDATE: "MEET WITH STOICK AND PROVIDE BELIEVABLE BACKSTORY" - COMPLETE! }
{ REWARD: +300 SP }
{ CURRENT SP: 2,100 }
"Thank you," Leonidas said, and meant it. Stoick's generosity was genuine, even if the chief didn't know the whole truth.
"But," Stoick said, his tone becoming more serious, "I need to know about that weapon you had. The blade that came from your wrist. Hiccup hasn't stopped talking about it."
Leonidas had been expecting this. He pulled back the sleeve of his tunic, revealing the hidden blade mechanism strapped to his forearm. The Vikings leaned in, fascinated.
"My protectors gave it to me," he said. "For defense. It's... complicated to explain how it works."
"May I?" Gobber asked, his craftsman's curiosity obvious.
Leonidas hesitated, then nodded. Gobber examined the mechanism with professional interest, his good hand tracing the metal work.
"Incredible," the blacksmith breathed. "The engineering... I've never seen anything like it. The blade retracts and extends with just a finger movement? No visible catch or lever?"
"It's designed to be concealed," Leonidas explained. "For assassins."
"Assassins?" Stoick's eyebrows rose.
"My homeland had many enemies.
Sometimes, warriors needed to strike from the shadows." Leonidas met Stoick's gaze steadily. "I'm not an assassin. But my protectors wanted me to have every advantage."
{ NICE DEFLECTION. TRUTH, BUT NOT THE WHOLE TRUTH. }
"Well," Stoick said after a moment, "I can't fault them for that. But Leonidas—that weapon stays hidden unless you're in real danger. Understand? Vikings are warriors, but we don't draw blades on our own people."
"I understand," Leonidas said. "I only used it because I thought... I woke up surrounded by strangers. I was afraid."
"Understandable. But you're safe now. No one here will harm you."
A bell rang from the watchtower—three sharp clangs.
Every Viking in the village immediately stopped what they were doing. Men reached for weapons. Women ushered children indoors.
"Dragon raid," Stoick said grimly. "Right on schedule. They come almost every day now, looking for food." He looked down at Leonidas. "Get inside. Find shelter. Dragons are—"
"I know what dragons are," Leonidas said quietly, watching the sky.
Dark shapes appeared on the horizon—dozens of them, wings spread, flying in formation toward Berk.
Monstrous Nightmares. Deadly Nadders. Gronckles. Zipplebacks. A rainbow of scales and fire, descending on the village like a plague.
{ WELCOME TO BERK. WHERE THE ONLY THING MORE COMMON THAN RAIN IS GETTING ATTACKED BY FIRE-BREATHING REPTILES. }
"DEFEND THE FOOD STORES!" Stoick bellowed, his voice carrying across the entire village. "STANDARD FORMATION! KEEP THEM AWAY FROM THE LIVESTOCK!"
Vikings poured out of buildings, weapons in hand. Catapults on the watchtowers began firing—massive bolts and nets launching toward the incoming dragons.
Fire rained from the sky.
A Monstrous Nightmare swooped low, flames erupting from its jaws toward a fish storage hut. Vikings scattered, throwing water from prepared buckets.
"Leonidas, MOVE!" Gobber grabbed his shoulder, pulling him toward the nearest shelter.
But Leonidas stood transfixed, watching the chaos with a tactical eye.
The Vikings' formation was... adequate. They knew how to fight dragons through long practice. But their tactics were defensive, reactive. They were trying not to lose rather than trying to win.
A Deadly Nadder landed near a sheep pen, its tail spines gleaming dangerously. It lunged for a sheep—
A young Viking boy—barely a teenager—charged forward with a sword too large for him, shouting something incomprehensible.
The Nadder's tail swung around, spines ready to impale—
Leonidas moved.
His enhanced reflexes kicked in. He crossed the distance in seconds, grabbed the boy by his collar, and yanked him backward just as the tail spines shot past where his head had been.
The Nadder hissed, turned its attention to this new threat—a small child—
And a massive axe buried itself in the ground between them.
Stoick stood there, having thrown his weapon with perfect precision. The Nadder took the warning, grabbed a sheep in its jaws, and launched back into the air.
"WHAT DID I JUST SAY ABOUT GETTING TO SHELTER?!" Stoick roared, retrieving his axe.
The boy Leonidas had saved—stocky, with black hair and a gap-toothed grin—stared at him in shock. "You... you pulled me back. I didn't even see the tail coming!"
"Then you shouldn't have charged a dragon alone," Leonidas said flatly.
"But—but I'm a Viking! We're supposed to fight dragons!"
"You're supposed to survive fighting dragons. There's a difference."
{ MAKING FRIENDS ALREADY. THIS IS THE START OF A BEAUTIFUL BROMANCE. }
The raid continued for another ten minutes—chaos, fire, shouting, the clash of weapons against scales. Then, as suddenly as they'd arrived, the dragons retreated, their jaws and claws full of stolen food and livestock.
Silence fell, broken only by the crackling of small fires and the groaning of injured Vikings.
Stoick stood in the center of the village, surveying the damage. "Casualties?"
"None dead," Gobber called back. "Three injuries, all minor. They got five sheep, a cart of fish, and set fire to two buildings—both contained."
"Could have been worse," Stoick muttered. He turned to Leonidas, who stood calmly amid the destruction. "You didn't run. You didn't panic. You saved Snotlout's life."
The boy—Snotlout—puffed up his chest. "I didn't need saving! I had it under control!"
"You had a tail full of spines about to turn your head into a pincushion," Leonidas said bluntly. "You're welcome."
Several nearby Vikings chuckled.
Stoick studied Leonidas with new appreciation. "You've seen battle before. Real battle."
"Yes," Leonidas said simply.
"How old are you, lad? Truly?"
"Seven summers."
Stoick shook his head in disbelief. "Seven. And you've got the composure of a warrior twice that age." He sighed. "Your homeland must have been a hard place."
"It was," Leonidas said, and felt the weight of two lifetimes behind those words.
{ QUEST UPDATE: "MAKE A POSITIVE IMPRESSION ON AT LEAST 3 VIKINGS" - COMPLETE! }
{ YOU JUST IMPRESSED: STOICK, GOBBER, AND SNOTLOUT (DESPITE HIM PRETENDING OTHERWISE) }
{ REWARD: +200 SP }
{ CURRENT SP: 2,300 }
{ BONUS ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: "DRAGON RAID SURVIVOR (FIRST TIME)" }
{ REWARD: +100 SP }
{ CURRENT SP: 2,400 }
A small voice called out: "Dad! DAD! Did you see—oh wow, there's fires everywhere, and—is that the new kid?"
Hiccup emerged from wherever he'd been hiding during the raid, his green eyes wide as he took in the destruction. Then those eyes locked onto Leonidas.
"You!" Hiccup ran over, practically bouncing with excitement. "You're awake! And you were just standing there during the raid like it was nothing! That was so cool! Well, not cool, because dragons are dangerous and people could have died, but cool that you weren't scared! Were you scared? You didn't look scared. I would have been scared. I was scared. I hid in the forge. Gobber says I'm too small to fight dragons yet but—"
"Hiccup," Stoick said, placing a hand on his son's head to stop the verbal flood.
"Breathe."
Hiccup took an exaggerated breath. "Right. Breathing. I'm good at that." He looked back at Leonidas with unabashed curiosity. "I'm Hiccup. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. But just Hiccup is fine. Actually, most people just call me 'that small kid' or 'the chief's disappointing son' but—"
"Hiccup," Stoick said again, more firmly.
"—anyway, what's your name? Where are you from? How does that wrist blade thing work? Is it spring-loaded? Lever-based? Some kind of pneumatic system? Can I look at it? Please?"
Leonidas found himself almost smiling despite everything. This was Hiccup—five years old, already too smart for his own good, desperately seeking someone who might actually listen to his ideas.
The future dragon rider. The boy who would change everything.
He's important. Make this count.
"I'm Leonidas," he said. "And yes, you can look at the mechanism. But not here. Somewhere quieter."
Hiccup's face lit up like sunrise. "Really?! You mean it?! Nobody ever lets me look at their stuff! They usually just tell me to go away or stop asking questions or—"
"Hiccup," Leonidas said gently, "you talk a lot."
"I know! Dad says it's my worst quality. Well, that and being small. And weak. And not very Viking-like. And—"
"It's not a bad thing," Leonidas interrupted. "Smart people ask questions. Curious people learn. You're both."
Hiccup blinked, stunned into momentary silence. It was probably the first compliment he'd received in weeks.
Stoick watched the exchange with interest. "Well, looks like you've made a friend already, Leonidas. Hiccup, why don't you show our guest around the village? Help him get settled."
"Really?! Can I?!" Hiccup looked ready to explode with excitement.
"Just... try not to get into trouble. Either of you." Stoick gave them both a meaningful look, then turned to coordinate the cleanup efforts.
{ QUEST PROGRESS: "BEFRIEND HICCUP" - INITIATED! }
{ THIS IS GOING WELL. THE KID ALREADY LIKES YOU. PROBABLY BECAUSE YOU'RE THE FIRST PERSON TO NOT IMMEDIATELY DISMISS HIM. }
"Come on!" Hiccup grabbed Leonidas's hand and started pulling him toward the forge. "I want to show you my workshop! Well, it's technically Gobber's forge, but I have a corner where I keep my inventions! Most of them don't work yet, but I'm improving! And I really, really want to see how your blade mechanism operates because I've been thinking about retractable weapons but the engineering is really complex and—"
As Hiccup chattered on, leading him through the village, Leonidas allowed himself to be pulled along.
This was good. Better than expected, actually.
He'd survived his first dragon raid. Earned the respect of Stoick and several Vikings. And now he had the attention—and beginning friendship—of the most important person in this timeline.
First day in Berk: Success.
500 miles away, on New Sparta, his armies continued their work. Building. Preparing. Creating the foundation of his future empire.
But here, in this moment, Leonidas was just a boy being dragged by an enthusiastic five-year-old toward a blacksmith's forge.
And despite everything—the tragedy, the confusion, the impossible circumstances—he felt something he hadn't expected.
Hope.