A week had passed since Farrans talk with the head of the dragon hunters. Perhaps one of the most mentally challenging weeks the young hunter had been forced to endure but all for the betterment of both self improvement and the possibility of a vessel to call his own.

He could remember well his worries and even his confusion of being offered such a fine ship despite being only a few months with Viggo's organisation. Now however those worries had been stored within the back of his mind. He now found himself too distracted to ponder on them as he faced his latest test of becoming one of many captains within the hunter navy, which was commanding the ship through a storm and surviving. An intense test to say the least.

To think that the first day of training for the role had been merely learning about every nook and cranny the ship had to offer, including a couple of hidden compartments for unique cargo. A captain had to know every inch of his ship after all. Going over each part of the ship for hours on end seemed like a picnic compared to what the poor hunter was forced to deal with now.

Of course, there were several questions that Farran had when hearing about this latest test, such as how the instructors planned to simulate the roughness of a real storm. The answer to that one was far from reassuring. The ship was to be taken out to an island that was half a days travel from Viggos island that was well known to deal with violent waves. This in turn raised another question. What if Farran failed and the ship was sunk? He was reluctantly reassured that the crew had sailed through violent waters many times and that they would be sailing on the very edge of the storm so that in case the ship begun taking on damage they could break off and repair the damage before they could be put in any 'real' danger.

And now, here he was with the rain beating down on his head as he yelled orders left and right to keep the ship from being dragged right into the eye of the storm. The howling wind and occasional crack of Thors thunderbolt forced him to shout up until the point his throat was raw. Needless to say that this was a rather stressful test for the young lad.

Farran kept his eyes on each and every crewmember that scattered across the decks like drenched rats as they did what they could to keep the defensive frigate from being pulled deeper into the storms eye. A couple even purposely made mistakes in an attempt to catch the young hunter out, such as forgetting to tie down ropes and not securing the heavy weaponry stationed onboard. None of them succeeded as Farran had to yell at the top of his lungs for them to fix their errors. It also gave the hunter the chance to blow off steam after hearing the latest report on Viggo's plan to deal with Heather.

From what details he had heard of the plan, it was good. Rather clever, though he expected nothing less from such a masterful tactician. The only problem was that he would not be taking part in the traitors capture. It was also the reason why he had been sent to this miserable violent section of the ocean. Heather was most likely on Viggo's island this very instant, meeting the leader of the dragon hunters for the very first time and if things should go correctly, for the last time too. But that plan would mean nothing if Heather managed to catch even a glimpse of her former 'companion', and so here he was. The only Brightside for Farran personally was that he would at least have the chance to speak to the traitor one more time before whatever happens to her happens. He had a few questions he needed to ask.

The hunter was quickly thrown from his thoughts as he noticed a small sea stack come into view through the wind and rain. He quickly gave his order to the sailor at the wheel to turn left. A curious order since following the command would take them deeper into the dangerous waves. However the storm acted like a giant maelstrom, pulling the vessel into a watery abyss. Had he ordered for them to go right, the ship would struggle immensely to turn out and would have slammed right into the sea stack, ripping the ship in two.

"It's good to see you work with the wind rather than against it. Most unexperienced sailors try the opposite." Came the gruff yet calm voice of the supervisor behind Farran. A large hulking man with a thick black beard with his beefy arms crossed who didn't seem even remotely bothered by the weather. The large hunter was so ferocious looking that he looked like he was part bear. Farran didn't bat an eye, knowing all too well that he couldn't afford to be distracted from his thoughts in such dangerous conditions. Still, he did manage to voice a reply loudly over the harsh sounds of the sea.

"If you pay attention to others with experience at sea, you pick up plenty of helpful tips!"

Even through the howling wind Farran heard the amused laugh of the man. "Seems to be paying off now I'm sure."

Farran silently agreed. Another powerful wave smashed into the side of the ship rocking it and nearly throwing everyone off their feet. The ships hull was beginning to be put to the test. If they didn't pull out soon they might capsize. The supervisor seemed to be on the same page as he told Farran to pull out of the Maelstrom.

Farran wasted no time ordering the man at the wheel to turn right this time. The hunter struggled to do so as the wheel predictably resisted but he was successful in barely turning it. The ship responded by slowly climbing out of the raging whirlpool, using the power of the current to push them forth until reaching the very edge. The momentum the whirlpool gave allowed the frigate to shoot from the storm at a speed faster than the ship would normally be capable of. Once they had slowed down, the supervisor took the reins from Farran. The test was thankfully over.

As the day passed by, they sailed back home. The crew seemed much more relaxed now that the worst had passed, though a small repair team was still busy checking every part of the ship for any structural damage. Other than a broken crate or two everything seemed to be in order.

As they neared land, the supervisor chose to speak to the young hunter about what he thought of his short time in command.

"I'll say this. You are capable of keeping your head under pressure." He nodded as Farran turned to listen. "Personally I would have ordered some of those crewmen to tie down all valuable parts and supplies on the decks below instead of those on just the main, as well as appointing someone to keep an eye out for dangers like that seastack, but otherwise you did enough to pass in my eyes."

As good a compliment as any other hunter in Farrans position would receive. As far as he was concerned, the supervisor had already handed him the ropes.

./././././././././././././

When Viggo and his fleet returned long after Farran had, the young hunter had decided to go down to hear the news of what had occurred during their ambush attempt. While he had no doubt that Viggo was an incredible tactician and had succeeded in his goal, he still had to remind himself of the formidability of Hiccup and his riders. It wouldn't be surprising to hear if a number of ships had taken damage or regrettably sunk from what he expected to have been a frightening and unforgiving bloodbath.

Thankfully that was not the case as he could hear the heartened hollering and cheers of the sailors before watching as they stepped off of their ships. The harbour was filled with either completely intact or lightly damaged vessels, yet all were accounted for as after a quick check were the exact number of men who had participated in the fight. The worst that any of them had received was the paralysing spray of a flightmare that as a bonus had been caught and caged, as were the spoils of war Farran supposed. He could even see the glowing beast several dozen meters away, muzzled and being taken to Thor knows where. No point in letting such a rare dragon get away if they had the resources. Question was, what resource could it offer them in return for their troubles?

For a moment, Farran also wondered on the interesting, yet repeatable occurance that seemed to keep springing up, being that the dragon riders had yet to take a life from their side, the side of the enemy. This had happened several times while he had been in some of the battles against them yet they always seemed hesitant to go for the killing blow no matter the opportunity. Farran was unsure whether he actually felt thankful for such mercy or assumed for them to be foolish. After a moment of contemplating he chalked it up to foolishness, and for good reason. Failure to eliminate your enemy meant that they would return to kill you another day, so he was taught. The mere thought of going against such simple logic sounded so alien to him. It was enough to make the soldier visually grimace. Perhaps Heather would be willing to hand over an answer. Speaking of which, he had best hurry and find her while he could.

Farran searched and asked on any information about the traitor, hoping that at least one of the battle-tired hunters would offer up as much as a hint about her. Thankfully one of them did, claiming that he had been on the same ship that the spy and her dragon had been captured on. According to his boastful tale, she had been taken to the nearby dungeons. An obvious point of interest which Farran should have realised much earlier. He thanked the hunter and left the celebration of the crews behind, allowing the atmosphere to quickly become that much more serious and tense.

He took the only path there was. A hastily dug ditch that was meant to serve as a footpath though the thick canopy of nature that dominated a good portion of the island. The hunter did not waste time walking the path despite its dark uninviting theme as trees, tall grass and even the darkness that made it seem as though the demons of Helheim would emerge from the unknown and strike him down before he had the chance to defend himself. Yet even with this thought in mind Farran marched on, refusing to be so easily deterred. When he had made it through to the other side, he found himself looking at a rocky cliff-face a short distance away with a rounded hole cutting through it. Most likely where the dungeons were. Underground where those who opposed the might of the hunters would rot away alone, in the cold damp darkness of solitude. The hunter did not focus on such thoughts as he found himself distracted by the presence of someone emerging from the hole.

Not surprisingly it turned out to be none other than the brother of the traitor. Dagur, if Farran remembered right. He had only interacted with the man once, quite some time ago too. He scrunched his face as he could still remember the chieftains sinister, and possibly even insane attitude that had been tossed his way over asking a mere few harmless questions. He seemed to give away the impression that he was in charge and thought quite highly of himself. Now, he seemed to be a former shadow of himself. His usual quick and active body movement was now nothing more than a slow, almost lazy shuffle across the open area. He looked emotionally deflated. Farran understood and even sympathized for the red haired maniac. Not even he was crazy enough to enjoy having to be forced to capture and lock up his sister. At least that was what one side of Farrans brain said. The other demanded that he walked on over to Dagur and ensure him that he should be proud that a major player of the dragon riders would soon be eliminated. The hunter squashed this mindset at once, sensing it as too harsh and cruel and allowed the man time and space to reflect and later, to grieve.

Farran entered the hole in the cliff-face and walked the single tunnel up until it opened up into a larger area, big enough for two catastrophic quakens to walk through side by side. There were mined out areas that clearly served as cells on each side. All of them fitted with dragon-proof metal. Probably in case the hunters needed emergency storage for the large number of captured dragons they collected. The hunter walked the length of the room and in two minutes, he found who he was looking for at the very last cell. The traitor herself.

Farran gave a moment to inspect her position. She just sat down staring at the ground. From what little the hunter could see of her face she looked defeated and annoyed. Then again, who wouldn't in her position? It seemed that the hunters had allowed her to keep her armour on. A curious design to him. It looked like pieces of crudely formed metal placed together to make shoulder pads and an iron skirt placed over a thick leather hide. The hunter said nothing on it but to him, the armour was unique but gave off a barbaric look. Considering the nature of her alliance with the rag-tag band of riders it suited her. Farran opened his mouth to say something, however the lantern that hung from the ceiling behind him cast a long shadow that covered Heather alerting her to his presence he moment he stepped in front of her cell.

"I had a feeling you'd show your face. Bet it feels good to have our roles switched, doesn't it?" She asked without bothering to look up. Her voice made no attempts of hiding the malice within it.

Farran mentally agreed knowing well what she referred to. Back on Dragons Edge when he had been tossed behind bars and it was her looking down on him. Now the opposite was reality and despite the slight sense of satisfaction, the young hunter made no attempt to rub it in her face. Instead he remained stoic as he responded.

"It is comforting, yes. But then again, it was an inevitable fate for you as not only a traitor, but a demon lover too."

Heather looked up. Her green eyes glared at him. "What do you want Farran?"

"Answers." The hunter replied bluntly, narrowing his gaze.

"Answers to what?"

"Why you left me to your friends on Dragons Edge? Your promise of returning to me in my imprisoned state like you thought yourself my caretaker? Why you didn't kill me back on that rowboat when you had the chance?"

"I answered that back on the edge."

"No, you danced around it with clever wordplay. Now, I want the truth behind why you would do something for me that we both know you wouldn't do for any other hunter."

Heather scoffed before lifting herself and standing up on her own two feet. "And why should I do that?"

Farran shrugged. "Do you have anything better to do?"

The spy grimaced. Other than likely being executed soon, not a damn thing.

"Very well. I supposed I can do that." She sighed irritably, lazily bringing her arms up and allowing gravity to bring them back down to her sides, performing a frustrated gesture. "Why didn't I kill you when I had the chance? You remember all the times we talked together? How many times you talked about your previous self?"

Farran wasn't sure where she was going with this but nodded anyway.

"The more you talked about it, the more I realised that despite your mental outlook on dragons you were the most human hunter I had come across. Someone who didn't fight for the sake of money or greed but to fight for the life he had lost. For that moment, I wanted for you to have that back. A time where you were not consumed by vengeance and had the chance to live a peaceful life, and I thought Hiccup and the others could accompolish that by persuading you to leave the hunters and do something else with your life."

If Farran had been a more emotional being, he would have laughed at such a ridiculous concept. He felt tempted to ask why she hadn't bothered to tell the riders this themselves. They were equally as surprised that Heather had taken pity on him. But he already had his theory as to why that was. Most likely they would have been too on the nose about it and made it easy to understand what they were attempting to do, thus hardening his resolve.

"And what about now?" He dared ask.

"If I had my weapon back and these bars weren't in the way, I gut you right here right now."

The icy hate-filled response toward him was rather unexpected and even caused Farran to widen his eyes in surprise a little. But after a moment, he did realise that it was because of him after all that she was where she was now, about to die because he had informed his superiors about her true intent. Thor knows he would have felt the same way. Her kindness and care had now become hate. The feeling was clearly mutual as he let loose a small growl and glared back, refusing to show any sign of weakness in front of the enemy, even if she was caged.

"You would try." He replied. "None of your allies have had the spine to do so in the past so what makes you any different?"

Taking the words from him as a boost of adrenaline, Heather found herself taking a step forward towards the bars. Then another and another until she was right next to them. Her face a foot away from Farrans. She then spoke in a harsh whisper.

"I am not like my friends."

"If only you had the chance to prove that." Farran huffed. After the fight at the northern markets he found himself that much more confident facing off against another human face to face. Almost enough to want to hand her a weapon and fight as per her wish. However before either side could throw any more threats or insults at one another a third voice pierced the cavern.

"The chance to do what, exactly?"

The sound of the voice was so unique that both fighters could tell who it belonged to. They both turned to see Ryker, as well as about a dozen men behind him strolling into the cavern, probably here to question the spy. Farran quickly broke the combat stance towards Heather that he hadn't even realised he was doing and stood straight in front of the bulky hunter. As he was about to reply to his question...

"He thinks he can win against me in a fight, the optimistic fool." Heather spoke up, half mockingly half serious. Farran despite wanting to respond, didn't dare do so in front of the commander knowing he'd catch flak for it. Ryker oddly enough smirked at her comment.

"Oh is that right?" He joked before turning to Farran sporting an ugly grin. "Is she telling the truth soldier? Would a turncoat spy be able to beat a simple hunter lucky enough to climb through the ranks, hmmm?"

Farran did not hesitate. "She would have no chance sir." He replied confidently. Heather rolled her eyes.

"Really now?" Ryker pressed on. "Well perhaps we should find out."

Farrans stoic façade broke for a second. "Sir?"

"You heard me." The lead hunter looked to the man behind him. "Give the boy your weapon and open her cell. Best to boost the morale of our men and crush the spirit of this traitor before Viggos next stage if you ask me." He smirked.

Farran said nothing, but watched and reacted as the hunter Ryker had just commanded handed him a sword and unlocked Heathers cell, swinging the door wide open. Once he had done so, Ryker casually tossed her own weapon, the double headed axe at her feet, seeming having intended to use it as a trophy or as a way to mock the rider. Now it was going to be used against Farran.

Like the young hunter before him, Heather was as equally confused but nonetheless took up arms, happy enough to have her own self-made weapon back in her own hands. The only downside was that it didn't improve her odds of escaping. Even if she did beat Farran there was still Ryker and at least ten well armed guards ready for a fight. Still, at least they were able to give her the decency to take down one of their own before the end. Besides, who knows? Maybe Hiccup would be able to cook up one of his genius ideas and was already planning to rescue her. At least that was the thought that was keeping her going for now.

For a moment, Farran looked at her weapon. Rarely had he seen her use it but looking at it now in all its glory, it seemed to resemble Heathers armour to some degree. A vicious, put together tool. Still there was no denying its effectiveness in the heat of battle. An effectiveness that's about to be used on him.

With a sudden yell, Heather struck first. She lunged forwards and attempted to bury one of the blades into Farrans stomach. Farran barely managed to block the attack, using both hands and all his strength on the sword to keep it from maiming him. He followed up with an attack of his own, slashing the sword upwards through the air at Heather who in turn easily avoided it.

The pair slashed and hacked at each other. Farran seemed more intent on trying to overwhelm his opponent with force while the admittedly more skilled warrior attempted to go for any openings she could spot. Though at the moment, none were able to land a hit on each other. Their 'audience' watched with fascination as the fight drove on minute by minute. Eventually one of the two would give, and when they did the other would use it to their advantage.

The spy quickly parried another blow which was followed just as suddenly by a thrust that would have dug through her armour had she not been quicker. Her rage and hope for rescue kept her going. Unknowingly to her it was exactly what kept Farran just as motivated. Yet even as they tried to take each others heads off, she continued to talk, possibly to distract the hunter or maybe to just pass the time as they dueled.

"Not exactly a challenge, are you?" She smiled tauntingly.

"Your friend Astrid was just as confident and arrogant as you are. But she learned her place as will you!" Farran responded, parrying a swipe.

"Oh yeah? She seem fine when I saw her earlier. Guess you're not as good as you claim."

"Her dragon rescued her. Typical of you riders, always so reliant on your pets."

"Here, let me show you just how powerful I am without mine!"

Heather swung and thrusted her weapon at Farran with a fair bit of skill. Twirling it and striking at any moment she chose. Left, right, above and even a few swings upwards. Farran managed to block them all but it was wearing him down with each attack. He needed to find a way to end this quick. And luckily he had a way. As skilled as heather was, her hands were dangerously unprotected. All he needed was a way to get at them, which while Heather 'performed', proved to be impossible. Deciding to take a risk, the hunter leapt back allowing Heather a second to pause. Then with a roar, Farran charged and brought his sword overhead. He swung down and as predicted the attack was blocked by the very centre of the axe that held the blades together. Heather had blocked diagonally which allowed Farran to twist the sword so the edge of his blade ran down the metal and cut into the riders hand. The hunters seemed to cheer, finally seeing first blood. Though Farran had no interest of prolonging the battle and while Heather was distracted by her injury he grabbed her weapon and with his other hand he formed a fist and slammed it into her cheek. He managed to pry the weapon from her hands and pointed it at her before she could recover. When she looked back up, the blade was inches from her neck. It was obvious that he had won.

"We are done here." Farran stated as calmly as ever, throwing the weapon at her feet and leaving her to the mercy of Ryker. Heather snorted at the action.

"So what?" She snapped. "Just like back on the edge, you can't take my life? You know, you're a lot of things but I never thought one of those things was being a coward!"

Farran did not react other than saying one final sentence before walking out, expecting never to see her again.

"Truthfully Heather, you are not even worth the effort."

"