This is Berk.

Rocky, hilly, icy, full of steep cliffs popping up at you where you'd least expect them, it's the exact opposite of the kind of place you'd want to be if you were me. Still, it's home. It's more than that, actually; it's the only place I've ever known. Dad might have gone out exploring the other islands when he was younger, but not me. I'm not allowed off the island. In fact, I'm not even allowed out of the house.

My name is Kata, by the way. Daughter of Chief Hiccup and Astrid Haddock, and local blind girl.

You may be thinking that life's good for me, being so closely related to the Pride of Berk. Well, it's not. I mentioned not being allowed out of the house, right? It's not an exaggeration, I am literally not allowed out of the house. Half the time, I'm not even allowed out of my room.

Okay, I shouldn't say it like that. Saying like that makes it seem like my parents are abusive or something. It's just that they don't want to see me get hurt. I can understand their worries (Berk isn't exactly the safest place, even with working eyes), but keeping me locked up inside has driven me absolutely batty.

I complain about it, a lot, to Dad. He wasn't allowed out much as a kid, either. He says he understands, but I don't think he does. He had an apprenticeship with Gobber, and he had that book he was always making sketches in. Me, I've got nothing. I can't read, I can't draw, and I can't leave the house. Sometimes Dad makes things for me, like instruments and stuff, but they only keep me entertained for a little while. After all, wouldn't you get bored playing the flute all day every day?

Even so, playing the flute is better than listening to The Fights. The Fights started when I was young, when Dad had one idea about how I should be raised and Mom had another. They aren't anything relationship shattering, but I do hate hearing them yell at each other. Every night, right after dinner, there's something new for them to argue about. Dad thinks I should be let out of the house, but Mom says no. Mom thinks I should learn how to fight, but Dad says no way. Dad thinks I should get a dragon, but Mom starts screaming that if I can't see, how could I stay safe on the back of a dragon? Dad shouts back that if that's true, then her ideas seem even worse. Who in their right mind would teach a blind girl how to fight? Mom gets offended and argues that, by that logic, his ideas are the worst of all. You'd have to be insane to let a blind girl out into a village of aggressive, rash Vikings on the backs of fire-breathing dragons, to which Dad responds that it wouldn't be a problem if I had a dragon of my own.

Sometimes I don't think they realize that I'm blind, not deaf.

After that night's Fight is over, Dad or Mom will come upstairs and keep me company for a while. Mom always tells stories of the amazing battles she won, soaring through the sky with Stormfly, never once getting hurt. When Dad comes up, he talks about me.

"I know you're not happy," he says. "When I was your age, I wasn't, either. But your mom will come around. You just need to be patient, that's all."

After their stories are finished, Mom and Dad apologize to each other for The Fight.
Once they've done that they fly their dragons, or they go straight to bed. I always stay up for a while, thinking about how nice it must feel to be as free as them.

-§-

When Dad was my age, he snuck out and trained a dragon.

You'll be glad to know that those little hobbies run in the family.