A/N: I don't usually put these here, but in order to avoid confusion, I figured I should. This story begins 400 years "in the past" before Sting has met his dragon and therefore before the dragon slayers have been sent to the future. Enjoy!


Wren Eucliffe looked up to his older brother. At the young age of 3, he didn't know what else to do. Their parents loved them, of course, but there was something about his brother's "tough guy" attitude that he wanted to emulate. He wanted to be carefree and playful, but his parents had other plans for him. "You're a prodigy, Wren! You're so talented! You're gifted! You can't waste your gifts!" they would say, showering him with praise when all he wanted to do was play like any normal 3-year-old would want. Instead, he trained. He showed natural talent in virtually everything he attempted whether it was martial arts, sword fighting, or even in his mental acuity. He had been advanced in everything from the time he was a tiny tot, tumbling around on stubby arms and legs, practically running the moment he could stand. He was too young to understand what this did to his older brother, watching from the sidelines. He didn't see the hurt that would flash in his brother's blue eyes when their parents would ignore him in favor of Wren. He didn't notice the way his brother trained and worked hard for hours on end to accomplish the same things that Wren could seemingly do effortlessly.

"Why can't you be more like your brother?" their father demanded one night, glaring at Sting from over the table. Wren had just been taken to bed by his mother, so the two were alone.

Sting glared at his father across the table, pushing his peas around on his plate with his fork. Wren even eats his vegetables better than me, he grumbled in his head. "We can't all be perfect," he ground out in response to his father's question, refusing to look him in the eye.

His father, his hair as blonde as Sting's, sighed, drawing Sting's eyes up. They were practically mirror images of each other, while Wren took after their mother – white hair and turquoise eyes that made men and women alike fall in love. "I won't have you talk about your brother like that."

"Why not?" Sting snapped, tossing his fork angrily onto his plate. "You and mom practically worship the ground he walks on!"

His father paused, clearly taking a moment to formulate his response, as he calmly set his fork down on his plate and pushed himself back from the table. "Your brother has some natural talents that we cannot ignore, Sting. We would do the same to you if you were in his position."

"But he's only 3-years-old! Don't you think you're robbing him of his childhood?"

It was a mature question, coming from a 10-year-old. "Wren's not like other children," Sting's mother was the one to answer quietly, as she slipped back into the kitchen from putting Wren to bed. "You of all people should understand that, Sting." She came to him with a smile, always the one to smooth things over between her husband and her oldest son, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "And you are special in your own way. We don't love you any less."

Sting's bright blue eyes searched the teal eyes of his mother, looking for the truth in her words. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to feel loved. He knew they loved him, but he also knew he came second to his younger brother, and that thought tore him up inside no matter how they tried to dress it up. "Why are we so different, Mom?"

His mother's smile softened but did not disappear as she shrugged. "Wren was just chosen to be different." She gently touched him on the tip of his nose before running her fingers through his unruly blonde locks. "It makes no more sense to us than it does to you, or it does to your brother."

"Then why don't you let him act like a normal kid?"

"Is that really what this argument is about?" his mother wisely questioned.

No. Sting swallowed.

"Tell you what. How about tomorrow, you and Wren go to the park, just you two. You look after him. Be the big, strong brother I know you are. And when you get back, we'll all get ice cream."

Sting's face erupted into a smile. "Really?"

She pinched his cheek. "Really."

Sting threw his arms around his mother's waist and closed his eyes. His mother always made him feel better. She always soothed his wild emotions. He didn't know what he would do without her. "Thanks, Mom!"

"I love you, Sting," she whispered, squeezing him back just as tightly as he squeezed her. "Don't forget that."

His smile grew. "I love you too."


The next morning, Wren woke Sting up bouncing on his bed. "Brother! Brother! Wake up! It's morning!"

"What? Wren? Get out of here!" Sting snapped, swiping at his brother. Wren easily jumped out of the way and bounded right back next to his head.

"But it's time to get up! Time to go to the park!"

"What time is it?" Sting grumbled, slowly opening one eye to peer at his bouncing brother. Wren's hair stuck out at every odd angle, his teal eyes wide and sparkling with delight. His pajamas were all askew and only one foot was covered in a sock.

"It's seven o'clock!" Wren proudly exclaimed.

Groaning, Sting buried his head back under his pillow. "It's too early for the park, Wren!"

"No it's not!" Wren argued, leaping over his brother's back to bounce on the other side of his bed. "Come on! Mommy promised!"

"Mommy isn't the one who has to take you!" Sting snapped. At the sight of Wren's quivering chin, he immediately regretted his words. "Crap, I'm sorry, Wren," he apologized, sitting up and pulling his brother into his arms.

"Does this mean we're going to go now?"

"Ugh," Sting groaned, shoving his brother from his arms. The little guy was resilient, he had to give him that. Wren hit the bed flat on his back and was immediately up, jumping on his feet once again. "Let me eat first, all right?" he bargained.

"Kay!" Wren yelled, launching himself from the bed and into the air. If it were anyone else, Sting would be worried, but instead he just watched as his brother did a neat little front flip in the air before landing softly on his feet, his back knee bending and almost touching the floor to absorb the impact. "Mom! Brother wants breakfast!" he yelled, immediately tearing off down the hallway.

Sting managed to contain his brother's excitement for another two hours before getting dragged to the park. They lived relatively close by, so the walk didn't take long, but Wren still ran ahead, jumping over bushes and behind trees, before running back to his brother, and then taking off again. Before he knew it, Sting was joining him in the fun, chasing make believe spirits and hiding from evil spirits that wanted to take their souls before lashing out with sticks for swords to save the innocent civilians from these monsters. It ended up taking them a lot longer than expected to get to the park, but for once Sting didn't mind. Without their parents around, he enjoyed his brother's company. He loved his little brother – he was active, imaginative, and had a lust for life that seemed well beyond his 3 years. Being in his presence made even Sting feel older sometimes, but not in a bad way. As they arrived at the park and found they were the only ones there, it only made it that much easier to continue their game until they both collapsed into the grass, panting and laughing.

"You're so much fun, Big Brother!" Wren exclaimed, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought for breath, but his face was covered in a wide smile.

"You two, Bud!" Sting wholeheartedly returned the sentiment.

They continued to lie on their backs in the grass, their eyes on the flawless blue sky above, before Sting sat up. "You want to see something?" he asked, his eyes flashing mischievously.

Wren immediately sat up, excited. "Yes!"

Sting jumped to his feet and ran to the largest and tallest tree he could find. The branches didn't come down very low, but he could either lift Wren up to them, or Wren would find his own way up – he knew he would. "I want to show you what the town looks like from up here," he explained to his little brother.

Wren stood at the base of the tree; his eyes wide in wonder as he tilted his head back to take in the height of the massive tree before them. Some branches were as thick as he was! Immediately, his eyes started to scan the branches, searching for the route he would take up. He settled on a path after only a moment's observation. Sting patiently waited, watching cautiously as his brother made his way to the lowest branch with a look of sheer determination on his face. "Let me treat you like a big brother should," Sting said, and without giving him time to respond, picked him up, lifting him above his head as best he could. Wren immediately grabbed the branch Sting held him up to and pulled himself onto it.

"Thanks, Big Brother!"

Smiling, Sting simply nodded and watched his brother climb up a few feet before jumping up after him. He wanted to be there in case he fell.

Wren didn't fall, and neither did Sting. They made it as high up as they dared, the branches bowing somewhat under Sting's weight. "Wow!" Wren exclaimed, pointing with wide eyes. "You can see the whole town from here!"

Sting's smile matched his brother's. Not so much because of the view, but because his brother was enjoying the view so much. He'd seen it all before. It was when his brother gasped and shook the branch he stood on that he really started to pay attention. "Brother, look!" Wren shouted, his voice high out of fear.

Sting followed Wren's pointed finger and his eyes widened, his mouth falling open. His heart fell into his stomach as the breath was stolen from him. "No," he breathed, his eyes immediately burning.

"I-is that o-our h-house?" Wren stuttered, his eyes wide in horror as he blinked as though to clear his vision.

Even if he tried to, he couldn't speak. Sting simply stared at the sight before him in utter shock. There was no mistaking it. The smoke rising into the sky, the sky that had been a flawless blue but was now saturated with a heavy gray smoke, was coming from their house. Their house was in flames, not just small flames – engulfed in hungry flames that licked the sky.

"Brother!" Wren shrieked, tears streaming down his face when he realized Sting was quickly descending the tree.

"Come on, Wren! We have to go! Now!" Sting shouted.

Wren swallowed, his entire body numb and shaking, and quickly made his way down the tree. He was uncoordinated in his fear and slipped several times, scraping the palms of his hands on the rough bark of the tree, but he scarcely noticed. Tears ran down his cheeks unchecked as he gasped for breath. Mommy! Daddy! He no sooner reached the ground than Sting grabbed his hand, gripping it firmly and fiercely, and took off at a dead run for home. He ran so fast he practically dragged Wren behind him, fear driving him faster than ever before. Mom! Dad! Please be all right!

They rounded the final bend to their home on legs that shook and lungs that screamed for air. Sting saw the destruction of their home and staggered, his knee slamming into the ground painfully, but forced himself back up for his brother's sake. Like Wren, his entire body was shaking, the only thing keeping his hand from shaking was the fierce grip he held on Wren's hand. Both of them gasped for breath, their ragged breathing loud despite the screams and noises coming from around them. Sting's eyes darted around them, searching for his parents. Wren cried silently beside him.

"Boys!" someone shrieked, running over to them. Sting turned at the voice, immediately knowing it did not belong to his mother. "Thank goodness you're all right!" It was their neighbor, Mrs. Abana. She bent down and immediately scooped Wren up into her arms. Sting was both relieved and upset by that movement – she took the one thing comforting him, but his brother needed her more than he needed him, so he turned away.

"Where are our parents?" he asked, his voice soft.

Mrs. Abana stepped forward and gripped his shoulder, turning him and pulling him to her side. He came stiffly, not able to pull his eyes from the flames before him. "We haven't found them yet, Sting." Her voice broke. "We fear they may still be inside."

She no sooner said the words than Sting slipped from her grasp, running towards the flaming fury of his home. "Mom! Dad!" he shouted, feeling the heat when he was still over twenty yards away. He put an arm up to shield himself from the inferno, but pressed onward. Several neighbors had formed a fire line, bailing buckets of water onto the fire in an attempt to put it out, but the house was gone. The fire had taken over the frame, the roof was being eaten through, and most of the windows had already broken. He wanted to go in and look for them, but he didn't see how, so he slipped around back. "Mom! Dad!" he tried again.

The fire wasn't as bad on the rear of the house, and this time he got closer, pressing his hand against the wood before pulling it away as his skin burned. "Ow!" he hissed, shaking his hand.

"What are you doing?! Get away from there, Boy!" someone shouted. Sting ignored him. "Hey! Do you want to die?!"

"Where are my parents?!" Sting bellowed, his blue eyes flashing with a white light.

Someone else joined the man in approaching Sting, their hands held up in front of them. Sting noticed too late when their eyes darted to the side with a quick nod. He was vaguely aware of somebody muttering, "I'm sorry about this," before a blanket was thrown over him and all he could see was darkness. Strong arms surrounded him, pinning his arms to his sides as he thrashed and tried to free himself. Then a quick pain erupted in his head as he was struck with something, before he slipped into a black void of emptiness.


When Sting came to, he was first aware of the searing pain in his head. His eyes fluttered before they opened, and the first thing he saw was Wren's bright teal eyes, which widened with relief once he saw him.

"Brother," Wren sobbed, dropping his head to his older brother's chest.

Sting looked at his brother, feeling oddly detached, before he sat up and looked around him. "Where are we?" he demanded, his voice as raw as his throat.

Mrs. Abana appeared, holding her hands up. "Sting, I'm sorry about them hitting you, but it was for your own safety."

Scowling, Sting said nothing and looked down at his younger brother. "Are you okay, Wren?" he asked softly. Wren nodded softly, but buried his face back into his chest. Sting wrapped his arms around him protectively. "Where are our parents?"

Mrs. Abana sighed. "There's no easy way to tell you this, Sting." Tears shone in her eyes. She had been their neighbor for longer than Sting had even been alive. "Once they got the fire out, they found two bodies inside." She paused, waiting for the light of realization to dawn in Sting's eyes. It did, and his eyes widened. "The rings found on their fingers match your parents'." She shook her head as she dabbed at her eyes. Her breath hitched as she came forward to pull the brothers into her arms. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Tears stung Sting's eyes but wouldn't fall. He rested his cheek against Mrs. Abana's shoulder, but his mind was not on her comforting embrace, nor was it on his brother, cradled in his arms. What do I do now? We're… orphans?! I have to take care of Wren! I have to support the both of us! But I'm only 10! What do I do?!


A/N: This is my first ever cross over, featuring Fairy Tail and Bleach. This features Sting Eucliffe and Toshiro Histugaya, who originally (and this will be explained/become clear later on) is Wren if you didn't figure that out from his description. There are some "Easter Eggs" hidden in here for what's to come and hinting toward their futures as we know them... Let me know if you spotted them! ;)

This idea was entirely created by ThunderLordess and Beastly-x-Kettan (on DeviantArt) - I was just recruited for the writing. I hope you enjoy! There will definitely be more to come!

The usual disclaimer, I do not own Bleach or Fairy Tail or any of their characters. They belong to Tite Kubo and Hiro Mashima respectively.