I was grinning like an idiot, savoring every bite of roasted meat and honeyed bread, the warmth of the hearth making everything feel perfect for just a moment. Hiccup sat across from me, contentedly nibbling on a corner of bread, eyes flicking to mine every so often with a quiet smile. It felt like home.
Then my father's voice cut through the peace like a blade.
"Erik, I have something to tell you."
The words landed with a weight that knocked the smile off my face mid-chuckle. My hand, halfway to my mouth, froze over the plate. Even Hiccup stopped chewing, his eyes suddenly wide, uncertain.
The room went still. The fire crackled in the hearth, a lonely sound in the growing silence. Tension coiled between us like a sleeping dragon stirring.
Father raised an eyebrow, amused. "No need to look like a criminal caught red-handed. It's not that serious. Breathe."
I exhaled, slow and forced, like I'd been underwater. I rolled my shoulders, trying to shrug off the chill that had crept up my spine. But there was something behind his voice—a purpose. He didn't say things like this unless they mattered.
I reached for my mug, fingers tight around the handle, and took a sip to mask the nerves clawing up my throat.
"A letter arrived this morning," Father said, his voice carefully steady. "From the kingdom of DunBroch."
I frowned. "Isn't that the one your old friend rules?"
He gave a small nod, eyes not leaving mine. "Yes. King Fergus."
Something was coming. I could feel it. If it were just a friendly letter, he'd have mentioned it in passing, not served it like a second course at dinner.
"He has a daughter," Father added, slicing through a piece of meat with the casual grace of a man delivering judgments. "Merida. She's of age now, and they're holding a gathering for suitors."
The mug slipped in my hand.
Then he said it.
"I want you to go. As a potential suitor… and as our representative."
PCHOOO
I spat out my drink in a chaotic spray, coughing like I'd swallowed fire. My throat burned as I wheezed, pounding a fist to my chest. "I— What?!"
Hiccup, poor thing, dropped his spoon with a loud clink and stared at me like I'd just turned into a dragon. His cheeks were flushed, round eyes full of shock and… maybe pity.
"Why me?" I rasped between coughs, still recovering.
Father calmly dabbed at his mouth with a cloth napkin, as if he hadn't just tossed my entire world out the window. "Because you're next in line. And Hiccup…" he glanced at my red-faced twin, "already has someone in mind, it seems."
Black lines may as well have formed across my forehead. My eye twitched. I shot Hiccup a glare, and he squeaked, ducking behind his cup like it was a shield.
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "Ugh… Fine."
The word tasted like defeat.
I sighed. "When do we leave?"
"In a week."
I didn't respond. Just finished eating in silence, the food turning to ash in my mouth. Then I trudged to my room, every step heavier than the last.
An hour later…
I flopped onto my back for the thirtieth time, staring at the ceiling like it owed me answers.
"Damn it… I can't sleep."
The weight of it all—expectations, duty, and the ridiculous notion of wooing a princess—pressed down on my chest like a boulder. I wasn't some romantic hero out of a saga. I was me. An awkward, magic-bumbling, half-trained heir trying to keep up with the shadow of a legend.
But then I remembered—the skill.
The one I hadn't dared try. Not seriously.
A slow grin crept across my face. If I couldn't be a perfect prince… maybe I could at least be more.
I sat up, heart pounding, and held out my palm.
"Alright… Focus… Flick."
A tiny flame flickered to life in my hand. No larger than a candle's flame. But it was mine.
My grin widened into something manic.
System Notification:
Host, your magic stat is extremely low and your proficiency is practically nonexistent. Repeated use of magic-based skills will deplete your mana pool. Doing so will encourage its natural growth.
I blinked. "Wait—you could've told me that earlier?!"
System:
You never asked, Host.
My eye twitched. "You son of a—"
I slapped a hand over my mouth. Don't yell. People are sleeping. Calm. Down.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
"Oh! Right—the skill upgrade card!" Hope reignited in my chest. "System, use it to upgrade my skill!"
System:
Skill upgrade cards cannot be used on unique skills.
…
I stared into the void.
"…You son of a—"
A week later…
I hadn't slept much. My nights had been spent draining my mana, whispering incantations in the dark, pushing my limits to feel just a little more ready.
And now, here I stood, on the edge of the dock. The wind sharp with salt and purpose. The sea churned beneath a sky the color of steel.
And there he stood. Stoick the Vast. My father. My mountain.
"You finally arrive," he said, not turning.
"Yes, Father."
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes calm and steady. Measuring me.
"Are you ready?"
I hesitated… thoughts swirling. The weight of duty, the unknown, the pressure to be enough.
Then, I nodded. Just once. Firm.
"Yes."
No more hesitation. No more complaining.
I was Erik of Berk.
And this… was the first step.
We boarded the ship in silence.