All I have to say is in this chapter karma comes back to bite Alvin in the butt. Also, the Lion King reference was when Rafiki said, "Can't cut it out, it will grow right back." Tuffnut said that to Martin. However, the guesses were really good. I didn't even notice some accidental references I put in there until they were pointed out. Well, enjoy…

"Get in there!" Eret said to Alvin as he tossed him in Drago's quarters.

On the way there, Alvin's opinion about the fleet was impressed, to say the least. Of course he had a running ego that he could do better in a week which stifled the fear. Fear was something he, as a Treacherous, would never admit feeling, even to himself. Some people would say ignorance is bliss. Luckily for Alvin this saying is true, even if it will get him killed one day. It almost had before. He wouldn't let that happen again.

Getting onto his feet, Alvin looked at the leader of the trappers. However, the part of the room which he was currently in was too dark to make out proper facial features. "You must be Bludvist, I presume." He said.

"How did you guess?" Drago asked, in a monotone voice.

"Who wouldn't know? Your trappers are only staged all over the archipelago. Around here, word travels fast. But, I don't think you would know that, considering you sound like a foreigner."

"So that's what everyone's considering me to be? A strange man from a strange place?"

"Compared to the local predominates, such as I am, you are just one fish in a sea of people." Alvin was trying to make it sound like he was a great conqueror. He was trying to convince Drago that if he had strong allies that he would let him go out of fear.

But of course, that wasn't going to happen. Not with Drago Bludvist, who scoffed and said, "You are right about one thing. Word does travel fast. And, if I'm not mistaken, you and your "ocean of followers" were taken down by an unknown force. And, if I am also correct, you will be able to recall every moment." In other words, he was asking Alvin to share his experience.

But, why? "That I am. But, if I am so unimportant without my tribe, why would I need to tell you?" Hoping to get the strange man aroused, he continued, "You need me, and I know it. For what, I'm not sure of."

"So, what is it you want?"

"In exchange for information, I need a few things from you." Alvin smirked with his chin up in a very cocky manner.

The room became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Then, the stretching of leather was heard as the dark man got up from his chair, and stepped into the light. For once in his life, just by looking at Drago's scar-covered, fiery-eyed, angry expression, Alvin the Treacherous became scared. And he was fully aware of it.

Shoving the fear away, he stood tall, puffing out his chest. Still though, he couldn't look the man in the eyes. His gaze instead stayed glued to the item in Bludvist's hands. A leather whip with spikes on it. Just like the one he used on the Treacherous girl.

"I don't think you understand the situation here. You see, I'm the one with the armada, the weapons, the dragons, and most of all…" He unrolled the leather weapon. "...the knowledge you want." Alvin's eyebrows shot up. What did that mean? "I understand you want information about a certain someone that involves dragons. So, in exchange for your information, I'll give you my information."

"And if I refuse? What if I don't want any of your knowledge?"

Drago smirked in a way that made Alvin nervous. "Then I'm going to have to use my little friend here. You see, he can be very convincing, Treacherous. Not to mention, since he is an old friend of yours as well…" He showed him the handle which had the labels A.T. Alvin the Treacherous.

It really is the same one I used on that demon-child. He thought, and then noticed some dried, crusted blood on the spikes from her. It stained on there as well as any dragon's would, and no matter how hard he tried, it would not come off.

"...I thought you would like it if he was the one to get it out of you."

Finally looking Drago in the eye, Alvin realized how useful for him this encounter might be. And for a minute, he considered sharing what he knew.

But on the other hand… "I dare you to try."

It was going to be worth every strike seeing the unexpected rush of emotions on the armada leader's face. A devilish grin was the final illustration on the man's face before he said, "They don't call you Treacherous for nothing."

And after a few hours of beating, Alvin thought to himself, It was worth it. After that, the two men agreed to exchange details.

"YES, fina-oops. I mean, finally!" Pache said.

"I know right? Not only did you finally hit the target, even if it wasn't close to the bullseye, but you also stayed on Norse. Well done, Al." Gabe said, swinging the chain mace around, smashing the arm off his target.

While Pache and the chain mace didn't work out, since she was too busy challenging herself with the throwing knives, Gabe stepped up and began to work on it. He was a natural, as Valka put it. Then there was her granddaughter. She didn't exactly do well with her weapon. That didn't stop her of course. Like most challenges, she accepted them, and faced them head-on. It was annoying sometimes, but she was making progression.

After so many days of trying, she finally hit the target. It was on the non-fatal points however, and not even close to the bullseye. This would be a problem later on of course, but as far as they were concerned it didn't matter right then.

Pache also had a problem with switching from Norse to Dragonese. It was another annoying trait that whenever it happened she would get yelled at. Sometimes she couldn't help herself, especially when she needed to rant. When that happened a loud series of growls, roars, rumbles, and other noises that were quick, and lasted for quite some time.

Another time she did this was when she was extremely happy about something.

"Yes! Take that you son of a half-troll, Loki-worshiping, rotten bag of rice! I did it! I finally hit you! AAAAANNDD…" Pache continued as she did her happy dance.

And unknowingly slipped on a wet object, tumbling down a small stairwell of rocks.

"Pache!" Valka looked down at her granddaughter with concern. "Are you alright?"

Pache sat up, and said, "Yeah, I'm o-kay." 'She put her hands to her sides, and tried to lift herself off the ground.

Only to fall back down with a cry, cradling her arm.

Valka immediately hopped down the steps, and crouched next to her granddaughter. "What hurts?"

"My arm."

"I need to see what's wrong. Can you let go of it?" She asked, and gently pulled her hurt arm out of her clutches. Turning it over slightly, she felt it, pushing on some parts that might have showed what's wrong.

"It hurts."

"I know, I know. But you're just going to have to bear with me here." She soothed. "I believe you have broken your arm."

"What! But I didn't fall that far!"

"No, but you have been working it too hard." Valka sighed. "I should've known when to tell you to stop. You won't be able to use this arm for a while."

"How long are we talking about?"

"About a month."

Pache groaned. "A month?"

"And a week of rest afterward, just in case."

"UUUGGGHHH!" She groaned louder.

Gabe walked down the stairs, and helped Pache get up. "I'm not surprised. You have been practicing all ni-mmph." He was cut off by Pache's hand as she clamped it over his mouth.

"You promised not to tell." She whispered. He shrugged as an apology.

"Promised not to tell what?" Cloudjumper asked. Her whispering was no match for his ears.

"Uuuuumm…"

"And don't try to lie. I'm not stupid."

She sighed and said, "I've been practicing all night last night."

"Pache!" Her grandmother scolded.

"Well, I wasn't getting any better with only five hours during the day! I had to add more without suspicion. You would've stopped me, so I had to do it on my own time."

"And now you have a broken arm." Gabe concluded.

"Hey, you're supposed to be on my side!"

"Sorry, I don't exactly want to face Valka and Cloudjumper's wrath." He whispered into her ear.

"See Pache, he understands the consequences of actions." The Stormcutter said.

"It's not like I don't! I just don't care." She mumbled the last part.

"Well, now not only do you have to wear a cast, but I'm going to have to hire somebody to monitor you after curfew."

"How about Striker?" She suggested.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because she always sleeps with you, and will let you do what you want. Not to mention she doesn't care because she's nocturnal."

"Well then who would you suggest?" Pache asked.

Valka paused, thinking for a minute. "How about Kuper?"

"No! Not Kuper!"

Kuper was an old, grumpy Nadder who took no lip from anyone, and hated hatchlings. He enforced discipline, and was very strict.

"Anyone but Kuper!"

"No, I'm sorry Pache but I know you can sneak by everyone else. He is the only dragon I know that will ensure you get enough sleep at night."

"But…" She looked at Gabriel, and he knew what she meant. Valka didn't know he snuck out at night as well. And if Kuper was as strict as the rumors went, Pache would be isolated from everyone, even Dreamstriker.

The two children sighed, and knew that it was no use. "Now come on, let's go get you something to help with that arm." Valka said, and began to lead the six year old to the medical room.

It was apparent how often Pache would get nightmares, and Gabe made it stop. They were the best of friends, almost as well as they were with their dragons. Sometimes, when Valka left the sanctuary to run some errands, Gabe and Pache would go outside at night and watch Striker ride lightning bolts. It was a beautiful sight, and would often cause Pache to fall asleep.

Somehow in the morning she always woke up in her bed, tucked into her blanket.

But on nights when her grandmother would stay up and he was unable to sneak out, she would have the worst nightmares. One of them that repeated so often…

"Mommy?!" A five-year old Pache cried out as she ran into the arms of her mother. "I'm so happy to finally meet you in person!" She said through watering eyes. After a few moments of silence, she was wondering why there was no response. And suddenly the warmth in Astrid's touch faded. "Mom?"

She opened her eyes, and pulled away enough to look at the sudden change of clothing. It was an old, cruddy, pale shirt, and the further she looked up, the more she realized it was not her mother she was hugging.

"Hello there you little Treacherous beast." Alvin said, smiling down at her.

She gasped, and tried to pull away, but his grip was iron. He grabbed her wrists, and dragged her toward his ship. Looking behind her, she saw a dead Striker, and piled atop her bloody corpse was her family, and some baby she didn't know.

Her Father however, was still alive, and he opened one eye. "Pache… h-elp-p… us."

She struggled to get the large man away from her, but she couldn't. "No. Dad!"

"Why? Why did you have to cause him to plague us."

Astrid then opened her eyes. "If you didn't go for help… if you stayed like you were told… we would still be alive… and Alvin wouldn't be here."

"I-I didn't mean to mom. I'm sorry!"

She looked up and saw Valka riding Cloudjumper. "Grandmother! Help us!" She yelled, happy that help was here.

But, the woman just looked down, as if with disappointment, before disappearing off into the dark clouds above. "No… NO! HEELP! HELP! SOMEBODY!"

"Admit it girl, you're nothing." Alvin said, and dragged her deeper into the black hole that was the hull of the ship. "This…" He gestured towards her dead family. "... is all your fault."

"Nooooooo!" She cried, her voice fading away, and in place a whip crack was heard.

Pache would then wake up with a start, and when asked if she was okay she responded with, "Yes. I'm sorry."