Ceremony
One Week Later
"Put that over there—and this over here!" my father barked, his voice cutting through the clamor of the village square.
Sigh.
This was really happening. I was actually becoming chief—so soon, too soon.
The village had been bustling with preparations for the upcoming ceremony all week. Colorful banners fluttered in the wind, and long tables were being set up for the feast. Even Hiccup had returned for the occasion, dragging Toothless behind him like old times. The dragons circled overhead, roaring and playing as if it were just another day. Then again, I couldn't really blame them—Vikings were always rowdy, and today was no different.
I sat off to the side, watching the flurry of activity. My thoughts were a mess of nerves, disbelief, and... something else. Pressure?
"Erik! What are you doing just sitting there? Go and get ready!" my father suddenly shouted, giving me a stern glare.
Sigh.
I pushed myself up from the chair, brushing off my trousers. As I made my way toward my house, the villagers greeted me warmly, flashing toothy grins and throwing in the occasional backslap. I returned each gesture with a smile of my own, even if it felt a little forced. Their excitement was real, but my heart hadn't quite caught up yet.
When I finally reached home, I stopped in my tracks.
There, in the middle of the room, was the moon—my daughter—being utterly spoiled by a circle of Viking women. They fussed over her hair, adjusted the frills on her dress, and handed her sweet after sweet like she was the chieftain instead of me.
Tic.
I felt a vein throb on my forehead. This little brat… here I was, practically drowning in anxiety, and she was basking in luxury like a pampered princess.
She noticed me immediately. Her eyes lit up and she ran straight into my arms with a squeal of joy. I caught her, held her close, and let out a long sigh.
How could I stay mad at her?
"How's my little muffin doing?" I asked, trying to match her enthusiasm.
She beamed. "Everyone is so nice! They give me all the treats I want, and look—look at this beautiful dress they gave me!"
She spun in my arms, the hem of her dress fluttering like butterfly wings.
"Daddy, do I look beautiful?" she asked, eyes wide with anticipation.
"Of course you do, muffin," I said, smiling. "You're the most beautiful girl in the whole village."
"Really?" she asked, peering up at me, unconvinced.
"I'd never lie to my little muffin," I said firmly. "If anyone says otherwise, I'll beat them up."
She giggled, then pouted. "Daddy, that's nice and all... but I'm not little!"
"Oh? My mistake," I teased, giving her a little bounce in my arms. "I'm sorry, not-so-little muffin."
"Daddy!!" she squealed, squirming with laughter.
One Hour Later
The square was silent.
Every villager stood gathered under the pale orange glow of the setting sun, their voices hushed, their excitement held tight behind solemn eyes. Even the dragons were still, perched atop rooftops and watchtowers, watching with quiet curiosity. The air buzzed with unspoken tension, reverence, and a touch of awe.
I glanced at my father. He met my eyes and gave a single, firm nod.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, nodded back, and stepped forward toward the center of the square. Every footfall echoed like a drumbeat in my ears. My heartbeat followed it, loud and steady.
Gothi stood waiting, her eyes sharp as ever beneath her cloak of furs and feathers. Without a word, I lowered myself onto one knee before her, bowing my head slightly in respect.
She moved slowly, deliberately. Her eyes scanned the crowd, as if to remind them all that this moment was not just a tradition—but a rite, a bond older than any of us.
Then, she dipped her fingers into a stone bowl filled with what looked like thick black paint. It shimmered slightly in the torchlight, catching shadows and gleaming like obsidian. She rubbed her fingers together, then pressed them to my forehead.
Her touch was cool.
With careful precision, she drew a symbol—a spiral of lines that marked leadership, duty, and the weight of generations. When she finished, she leaned back and gave me a small nod.
Gobber stepped forward with a grin wide enough to split his face. He raised his hands to the crowd.
"A new chief has come!" he bellowed.
The villagers erupted with cheer.
"ERIK! ERIK! ERIK!"
They chanted my name over and over, their voices rising into the sky like a war cry and a song all at once. I rose slowly to my feet, my breath catching in my throat. The chants surrounded me, pressing in like a tide. For the first time, it truly hit me:
I was chief.
Ding.
A familiar, subtle sound echoed in the back of my mind. A system notification.
But I ignored it.
Not now. Not tonight.
Instead, I stepped forward into the crowd as they surged toward me—clapping me on the back, raising mugs of mead, some even hoisting me up with a roar of celebration. Laughter and joy filled the air. Fireworks lit the sky. Dragons howled in delight.
And amidst it all, I smiled—not as a warrior, not as a son—but as the leader of this village.
My village.
My people.
Later That Night
The fires had burned low, casting flickering shadows across the emptying square. The music had faded, replaced by soft snoring, scattered laughter, and the occasional hiccup from someone who had too much mead.
I looked around at the chaos left behind—collapsed benches, half-eaten platters, mugs rolling aimlessly on the ground—and my mouth twitched.
Everyone except me and Hiccup had already passed out, deep into whatever dreams mead and exhaustion could conjure.
Sigh.
"I'll need to set some rules for future celebrations," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "This is borderline criminal."
As I stood in the quiet, the cool night breeze brushing against my face, I heard footsteps approaching. I turned slightly and saw Hiccup walking toward me, hands in his pockets, eyes thoughtful.
He stopped a few feet away, rocking on his heels. "Hey, Erik… since you're chief now, do you think you could—" he hesitated, then asked plainly, "—let me roam the archipelago?"
I looked at him for a moment, really looked. He wasn't the small, anxious boy he used to be. He'd grown—not just taller, but stronger in presence, in purpose. And yet… he still had that same restless fire in his eyes.
I stayed quiet, letting the wind speak for a few seconds.
"It's extremely dangerous," I finally said. "Even if the chances of what happened to me happening to you are low… that chance still exists."
"I understand," he said, barely above a whisper. His gaze dropped to the ground, but he didn't turn away.
Sigh.
"But I know I can't stop you," I admitted. "You'd go, permission or not. So… I'll help you prepare. Thoroughly."
He looked up, surprised. A slow smile tugged at his lips. "Thanks, Erik. I knew you'd understand."
I shook my head and groaned dramatically. "Go away now, you little bastard. You've already pissed me off more than anyone else today."
He laughed, the kind of genuine, light-hearted laugh that only someone like Hiccup could pull off. "You're the best angry big brother a guy could ask for."
As he walked away, the stars overhead shimmered in the dark sky, and for a brief moment, I felt the weight of leadership settle a little lighter on my shoulders.
Tomorrow would come with new responsibilities, new dangers, and new decisions.
But for tonight, under the stars and among friends, I allowed myself a small, tired smile.