A/N: Okay, I lied. I'm writing more fic, but I do it as my reward for writing my original story.

This takes place mid-season of Riders of Berk and goes AU from there. Please take note, this fic has some implied character torture and mentions of suicidal ideation but there'll be nothing graphic and I'm hoping to go not much darker than the tone of the movies. For the most part, it's an adventure story rather than a torture-fic.

Many thanks to my lovely beta and sounding board, Kendra.

Chapter 1: Intro

There's a saying among Vikings that a boy's will is the will of the wind. I always took it to mean that when someone is young they usually do everything on pure whim, and I'm fairly sure I've heard my dad say it about me before-usually under his breath.

Then again, I did have the slightest problem with focus on occasion: projects to put together, dragons to try to slay to prove myself, you know how it goes. Ignoring the-shall we call them "physical restrictions"?-that came of being built like a several twigs tied together with yarn, it was the biggest reason why my dad never trusted me with anything important and why I had a reputation of being a screw-up in places other than Berk. Generally speaking, it's a bit hard to get your chief on when you're wrecking the village once a week. A chief's son was supposed to be capable of so much more than I was.

Sometimes, though, when someone has "the will of the wind," it means something other than the usual impulsive actions of youth. Sometimes it means they change their mind every two seconds rather than every two days like a kid might. Sometimes it means maybe, just maybe, they aren't exactly a bastion of sanity, even by Viking standards. (And trust me, those standards are not the most exacting for a people that think there's nothing wrong with a good berserker rage now and again.)

This is the story about the first time my dad trusted me with something important.

It's also the story about the time I went crazy.