úlfheðnar, httyd

iv. Dragon Training

𖣯 ✹ 🌷(úlfheðnar) ꏍ ！┈─❟
╰───►chapter four; yrsa
❝ dragon training! ❞

    YRSA refused to let herself think about what had happened.

    In fact, she tried her best to forget it. She was going to forget she had searched for the Night Fury. She was going to forget finding it with Hiccup. And most importantly, she was going to forget she had helped let it go. With most of the village having left for sea after the Dragon's Nest, new recruitment training had been moved forward, and that allowed for the likes of Yrsa to finally show what she was made of. She was angrier than she has ever been, determined to remind herself━and others, not that they even knew━that she was a ruthless dragon killer, and letting one go did not change that, at all.

    One of the many reasons why Yrsa had little friends, apart from her father being deemed as crazy before he died, was that she wasn't exactly easy. Her words her venomous, laced with insults to anyone who dared get close to her. Even to those she cared about, she pushed them away. It was a warrior's attitude, and while she didn't care how she looked, or whether her hair was right or not, she was a proud Viking. She held herself with pride, and she held herself with elegancy. She was nasty, she was not easy━at all━, she was ruthless, but she was also her mother's daughter, and she wanted to constantly remind people that. Her father had been crazy, but her mother was regal and a legendary shieldmaiden. She liked to hold that in the way she walked, in the way she tilted her chin and in the way she stepped into dragon training.

    She left what happened in the woods yesterday behind her, and walked into the arena anew: determined, proud and a soldier.

    "No turning back," she murmured to herself, her nose up in the air as she descended. The other teens her age followed behind her, not really paying much attention to her. Astrid was not far behind her, flexing her wrist to warm up her swings.

    The dragon killing arena stone foundation has stood almost as long as Berk has; training Vikings after Vikings to be warriors, dragon-killers and most importantly, independant to live. Seven cages expanded around the arena, where Yrsa could hear the dragons growl and shuffle behind at the sound of them entering. Above, webbed a series of metal wires to keep the dragons in and away from any spectators that decided to watch. It was entertaining, for sure, to see teenagers run and try to kill the beasts.

    "I hope I get some serious burns," stated Tuffnut, nudging his sister. Yrsa rolled her eyes.

    "I'm hoping for some mauling," Ruff grinned, "like, on my shoulder or lower back."

    "Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it," Astrid spun her axe lazily, picking at the colourful twine she had wrapped around it.

    "Yeah, no kidding, right? Pain. Love it..."

    The additional voice made them all spin around. Yrsa hid her surprise, and instead swallowed the nervous flutters in her chest with a glower. What if he told them? She stressed. No, don't be stupid, she reminded herself. No one would believe him anyway.

    Yet, she would rather he wouldn't be here. Not that she hated him, or didn't like being around him, but instead, she felt a brink of shame. She didn't know whether it was a reminder of what she had helped do yesterday, or for him to see that she was here to kill the dragons with no mercy━despite yesterday. Yes, definitely despite yesterday.

    One dragon wasn't going to change her view on the beasts, that was for sure. It couldn't. She refused for it to. They'll call her crazy just like her father if she started to sympathise with the beasts. Or maybe something even worse.