Author's Note: This is a retelling story (I love doing them) That is slightly AU, canon divergent. As this has a lot of artistic integrity I have some odd head canons for the series and they are on display here. So please read with an open mind and heart and treat me well if you decide to leave feedback. I appreciate constructive critique, and opinions and ideas. If you feel as if i've done something wrong with representation please PM me before leaving a comment.

This story will have some movie parallels (mainly character based) but nothing too weird. The stories will be separated out but I'll do my best to ensure no confusion, if you have any questions don't hesitate to ask. I ask that you enjoy this as a work by a loving fan.

Summary:

Where did the Dragonslayers come from? What brought them together and for what reason other than to serve under Lord Dilandau? What made the bond between them and their estranged commander so strong that they would drag Van Fanel into death with them? Look into an alternate take on what went on from the beginning to the end. What relationships and what fate brought upon the group of young men.

Chapter 1: Prologue

There was a son, a child born of sin and blood. In the slums of the Zaibach capital a woman gave birth to a child, weak, small and with a shrill cry.

The child was always underfed, his white hair and skin, his pinky eyes filled with tears. She was told he'd not survive many years, cursed with albinism. Despite all of ails that befell him, including hunger and dehydration he survived for five years with her.

When his mother died of disease he hid himself away in solitude and would steal his food and drink. He was caught soon enough during a "recreational cleansing" of the slums. They would come and take people away for biological testing. Though it was a rumor that circulated the more profitable areas of the capital, it was a nightmare for those who could barely live.

He was taken and since his own genetic makeup was rare, he was a prized specimen. Even with his disorders, he had a great vitality for life.

However, the Sorcerers tested that vitality for 15 years. Through experiments and torture his life came to an end.

The Zaibach Sorcerers took samples of his blood, hair and nails. Scraping whatever they could from the dead bodies and storing it away. They used the best parts of each of their test subjects, to create soldiers out of kidnapped children. Brainwashing and lobotomizing them, letting them forget of their lives before.

Celena Shezar was one of them. She was spirited away one afternoon while her brother talked of his adoration for knighthood. She stayed a year with her caretaker, Jajuka. The last thing she remembered was the rooms that smell like chemicals and being alone. When she awoke, she didn't recognize herself, her skin, her body had changed. Her bones and muscles were so tight and painful. When she looked at herself, seeing what she'd become, that consciousness called Celena was gone. In return, was the young man, the dangerous albino boy with a great bloodlust and a will to live.

When his father came home in a hurry, grabbing everything in sight that was of value or sentimental importance, Gatti knew he had two options.

Grab and go with his father, or take off on his own.

He chose a bit of both, it only took two seconds to comprehend what was going on. His father swindled the wrong man again, and they were on their way to break his kneecaps or neck.

So he rushed to his corner of the small apartment like home and grabbed his pack, his notebook, and some food he'd hidden away. "Hey, I'm going my own way this time."

His father, looked at him for a moment, and gave him a sad smile. "I understand." He said, his boozy eyes blood shot and he nodded to his son, a bastard from an Asturian woman.

Gatti slipped out the window and wished his dad the best. Sighing lightly he started to climb the building down to the street below.

His mother had died years before when he was a year and half, and he was taken in by his father that was at one time a merchant from Zaibach. Things got hairy and his father became a sort of issue to the city of Palas and was kicked out and banned. So he took his son and headed back to his mother country.

Gatti didnt grow attached to people, and most would normally avoid the same with him. He was seen to be as shady as his father, and would sometimes talk some of the girls from the upper levels of the capital into lunches and dinners with promises of magic tricks. Only magic he played on them was stealing their underwear and selling them to old rich men. Or luring older boys into brothels only to pick them dry when their pants were off.

He was wanted in several parts of the country, and definitely not well liked.

Up in the upper levels of society of the capital was a large mansion that belonged to a steadfast sword teacher, giving classes to younger and older boys alike. A young blonde boy again dropped his fencing blade and looked away. "I'm sorry.. I said it already.."

The boy he was up against pulled off his fencing mask and glared. His brown hair falling in his eyes and around his face. "You did it on purpose, you should know better than to fight with a broken foil!" He grabbed his arm that was bleeding lightly from where the fencing foil had cut through the white cloth and into his arm.

"I didn't know it was broken." Chesta looked down, apologizing profusely as he took off his own mask. "I'll get the teacher and the bandages."

Dalet rolled his eyes and held his arm. "Pathetic.." he said.

Chesta lowered his head and hurried past. He knew Dalet didn't hate him, but he knew that he was being careless. Once he got the instructor he was excused for the day. He walked the two miles after that back home to a much smaller mansion where he lived.

His parents nowhere to be found, but it wasn't out of the ordinary. He produced a fake smile to the many house servants and nannys that fussed over him until he reached his room.

His room was empty of any lush decor, and he liked it that way. Dalet's room had countless awards from his lessons and many contests and achievements. The only thing Chesta had was a bed, a mirror, and a dresser with a framed picture of him and his parents on holiday. He sat down on his bed and stared out at the smog covered city wishing to go back to that time.

Dalet cursed as his arm was patched up, he hated Chesta. Though much more poor than his family, Chesta was endearing and angel faced. Many mother's spread rumors that Chesta's mother had draconian blood, and that he may not be much now, but Chesta would grow up to be a beautiful young man.

Dalet's mother fawned over him, she'd made sure that he'd have every advantage of making it in the capital at anything he wanted to do. She made sure he was attractive, well rounded, mannerly, artistic, sporty, and eloquent. He competed and excelled at most everything, and was popular amongst the girls in town who loved to brush his hair.

His mother on the other hand, was obsessed with miracle drugs that Zaibach was pumping out. Pills to make her hair lighter, or thicker. Diet potions and vials of pink liquids that would make her smell like roses or peonies. It was always a competition between her and the other women in their district.

Dalet watched his mother age faster, the drugs she took may have filled her brain with false ideas, and were damaging to her body and skin. Her hair fell out on occasion, but she'd just take more pills thinking that she skipped a day and that's why it failed. It broke his heart some, but he knew she'd not listen to him.

Miguel kept glancing towards the young man that sat two seats away from him, he was sure it was a young man about about his age. His jaw was too square and his brows were so focused. Miguel had finished his written exam for the Dragonslayers Program, it wasn't so hard that he'd worried. The one two seats away made him anxious.

A snap of a rod on wood made Miguel jump up a bit and he quickly turned his head towards his own paper. He was being too obvious and the examiner that overlooked the testing had noticed.

Viole glanced over, his face covered by his hair so he could freely look over. He wasn't sure why the other who was already done, kept eyeing him and his paper. Viole looked down at his own sheet and finally turned it over after going through it three times to make sure it was all to his liking.

He didn't feel as confident in written as he did in oral and physical. From his memory, Miguel, the one who kept staring, wasn't as physically apt. Viole pushed it from his mind, they were going to be accepting many of them into the program, so there was no need for him to worry about some bookworm that kept staring at him.

When the test was over Miguel handed his in and looked away from the glaring eyes of the examination master. When he turned to quickly leave to go back to the dormitory he bumped into Viole, who was a bit taller than him. He smiled and apologized quickly.

Viole turned his head and glanced at Miguel, "Strange." He whispered.

Miguel, on the other hand wasn't sure why his heart was beating frantically, unsure why the other made him feel nervous, and anxious.