Spring was early, revealing itself in the first calm night as the last of the rains drifted away. The air was balmy and warm, and the moon itself was present to welcome the first breeze of spring as it wafted down over the hills and into the valley. Night birds called to one another, their songs joined by a chorus of insects and other animals that wished to join the quiet symphony of the woods. As the breeze danced over the trees, their leaves applauded the retreat of winter, shimmering in the silvery moonlight.
The wind paused for only a moment, when suddenly a great rush of wind blasted over the trees, bending the tops over as a shadow raced over them, blotting out the moon briefly. The resounding cries of the birds were deafened by a earth shattering roar, followed by another blast of wind, then another set of giant wings.
Dragons.
Clad in heavy iron armor, the beasts heaved as they flew over the valley, racing to meet their master in time. On top of the dragons, riders whipped them on, fighting terror of their own. The dragons screamed in agony, huffing as their muscles ached, pushed to their limit. But still they flew, spurred by their riders and the desperation of their flight.
Finally, a familiar green beacon appeared just before them, and the riders pushed the beasts down, nearly colliding with trees and jagged outcroppings. Barely keeping the dragons from collapsing, the riders pressed forward to the clearing where more armored dragons sat in the glowing light of the beacon, their riders already in the glade where they were expected. One rider swore, startling the other as they landed. Dread settled over the both of them, hastening their actions as they leapt off their dragons and rushed down the path to where the other riders waited. The path was dimly lit, making the journey far more treacherous. But that was the least of their concerns as they tripped over roots and stones.
The circle of riders that greeted them as they broke into the glade was less than welcoming, and cold terror gripped the two errant riders as they joined the group. Fifteen other riders, armored to the teeth in heavy plating, stared at the two as silence fell over the circle again. They waited for a bit, and the two riders resisted the urge to squirm uncomfortably as the circle broke open at the far end, letting their leader into the center. They gulped when he paused, looking around at all of the riders, resting his gaze on them last.
"You're late."
It was merely a statement, yet the air grew cold as they fought not to scream and weep at the deep gravelly voice. Despair rattled their bones as the other riders turned their eyes to them now, icy from wrath and amusement. Their leader, a giant in his own right, approached them till he towered over them, dwarfing the two riders. His plated armor clanked dully, and shadows covered what wasn't hidden by iron.
"The assignment?" He asked, his voice reverberating the earth they stood on. Their knees shook, threatening to buckle as he waited for their answer. When none came, he growled, pulling out the great sword from its scabbard at his side.
"Kneel."
They could not resist his order. Heavily, they dropped to their knees, heads bowing in despair as he tread to their side. With little effort, he heaved the sword over their necks, and swung it down. The blade buried itself in the soft earth from the force with a thud. The heads of the unfortunate duo bounced once, rolling towards the circle of riders as their bodies slumped to the ground. As he pulled the weapon out of the ground, he turned to the rest of the riders, wiping the blade on the cape of the nearest dead rider.
"Any others who wish to join them?" His voice growled, and a collective shiver ran through the riders, though it was hidden by their armor. He sheathed his sword in a huff, then stormed through the circle again. They gave him a wide berth, unwilling to come closer to his deadly reach.
"Another failure will not be tolerated," he snapped, and the riders went rigid. He pointed to one of them, and snarled at the quivering man. "Send to Zeref that we are behind and require more of the Rhodonite." The rider couldn't run fast enough with his heavy armor, and scrambled away towards the dragons that waited by the beacon.
"As for the rest of you sorry lot," he began, turning to face them. "The goal is the same. The villages continue to hide Firestone for that blasted Weyr, thus you're to remove it by any means necessary." The helmet hiding his face couldn't hide the malice and scorn in his voice. "If they refuse, burn them all."
.
.
Across the mountains, a girl tossed in her bed, restless as nightmares plagued her. Around her, the night remained peaceful as the wind gently rustled the wind chime that hung in her petite window. Barely after midnight, the moon had begun to rise over the tallest peak on the horizon, casting silver over the bay as the tide rolled in. The sound of waves gently crashing on the rocks echoed through the polished little town, joining the wind as it whistled through the streets. Little frogs chirped their displeasure as leaves whipped past them, disturbing their perches. In the distant tower, the watch yawned wearily as his watch-wher blinked lazily, bored of its nightly routine.
In the fifty years that followed the last Thread Pass, little villas cropped up over the hillsides, taking advantage of the temporary safety in the absence of the red star. Land that had remained barren of life during the Pass suddenly blossomed and filled with new movement, filling the air with promise. Weyr holds that still flew their dragons found themselves converting from warriors in the sky to practitioners of justice and politics. Most found the chore distasteful if not terribly boring, and turned to sky games to avoid becoming too idle. Weyrs would compete every spring, hosting large gatherings that promised the same thrill as fighting thread.
Others had found the new peace dull, and refused to take part in the games, resorting to warmongering and terror as their new means of entertainment. Many abandoned their Weyrs to join factions that thrived on destroying villages that popped up in their territory. As a result, dragon riders found themselves involved in messy skirmishes that more than often became far too violent. As a last resort, Makarov of Fairy Tail Weyr led his dragon riders in an effort to quash the dissenters, successfully banishing them to far lands on the promise that the dragons under his Weyr would destroy them should they return. And thus, another new, yet unsteady peace fell on the land again.
But the nightmares of the past haunted the girl as she jolted awake, gasping as sweat soaked her thin night shirt. She whipped her head around the room, searching for the shadows that threatened to swallow her should she look away. As the seconds passed, the calmness of the night settled around her, and she breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing her palm against her chest.
"A dream... it was just a dream," she whispered, gulping back tears as she flopped back on the bed. She raked a hand through her wild hair that had been disturbed by her tossing and turning. The wind shifted, and a tinkle of noise drew her eyes to the chime. She considered it for a time as it swung in the breeze, and she could feel her body relax again. She nibbled her lip as a soft gust brushed her cheek, easing her back into a drowsiness. Entranced by the glittery metal, she was lulled back to a dreamless sleep.
.
.
Levy Mcgarden yawned, stretching out at the table as her bowl of gruel was plopped down in front of her unceremoniously. After a muttered thanks to the server, she paused before she dug in, mouth pursed as she contemplated the cold meal. It was hardly any better warm, and the weak tea that complemented her breakfast did little to waken her.
'Certainly not something I'll miss,' she thought, sighing as she shoved a spoonful of gruel into her mouth, grimacing as she gulped it down. 'But better than nothing for a trip home.' She sighed wistfully, memories of hearty stews and flavorful trays of meats dancing in her head. She could almost smell the aroma of the winery as well, and made a mental note to grab a cupful of the delicacy as soon as she was home. The Scriptor hall offered many things of education, however, delicious meals was not one of them.
She licked her lips in anticipation, then sighed as she downed the last of her meal. 'There's plenty of time to daydream of home later on,' she admonished herself, pushing herself up from the table. She took a quick glance around the dining hall before turning to leave, noting that some of the early risers were finally sitting down for their own breakfast. She hid a smirk as she watched their faces turn from excitement to a disappointed frown when the same gruel was plopped down in front of them. Idly she wondered if they would improve the meals after she had left the hold, then internally shook her head as she wandered to her last class of her education.
The Scriptor's Hall was well known throughout the land, despite it being one of the smallest of the teaching holds. It certainly wasn't as large as the Harper Hall, nor as important. But where the Harper Hall offered the basics in writing, the Scriptor Hall expanded in languages, astronomy, history, restoration of old documents, and accounting. And for the last four years, Levy had learned just about everything she could, soaking it up faster than a sponge to water.
She had a certain fondness for the older languages, especially the dead draconic language that was no longer used in most circles. Much to her tutors' derision, she had learned the runes far faster than they had been able to teach her, thus allowing her to surpass them easily. She grinned, remembering the day the head of the runes class had thrown her a rather evil look as she skipped about his class, tutoring the other students in his own class. What cheek she had shown him! Only the Rune Master's tolerance had saved her from any real punishment that she might've faced.
She sighed as she passed through the Rune Hall, drinking in the sight of the last sunrise she was likely to witness at the academy. She had gotten used to the taste of salt in the air of the early morning breeze, and she closed her eyes as a gust wafted over her, rustling her already wild locks even more than they had been that morning. Pausing in her trek to enjoy the smell, she idly wondered if she would miss the sea as much as she had missed the mountain air of Magnolia.
She was expecting her two dearest friends to arrive later on that afternoon, Jet and Droy. They would travel back to the Weyr together the same way they had escorted her to the Scriptor's Hall at the beginning. She couldn't imagine how they had changed during the years they had been apart and was eager to catch up. Letters had been exchanged, and messages via fire lizards had been passed on, but Levy hadn't seen how they had grown. She wondered if they would be surprised or disappointed by her rather sad state of growth, barely topping the youngest of scribes. Even the girls just reaching their maturing age looked more womanly than her!
'Hopefully they'll see past that and remember how much fun we've had,' she thought, sighing disparagingly. They indeed had a lot of fun together as children, despite all of the mischief and trouble they had been known for. But they had just as quickly been forgiven when Levy had flashed her doe eyes at the Weyr leader, grinning cheekily behind his back while planning their next great adventure. She chuckled, shaking her head at the memories as she reached the Rune Master's study.
She knocked once, then pushed the door, quietly greeting him as the old man looked up from his stack of papers. He regarded her before indicating that she'd take the open seat in front of him. Bowing her head lightly, she slid into the seat, smiling as she recounted the many times she had been in this particular seat for her transgressions. The hall hadn't been as kind as Makarov, and she learned rather quickly that her impertinence led to harsher punishments.
Today, however, the Rune Master was smiling kindly at her, setting his paper down and folding his hands on the desk. He was younger than Makarov, yet the years hadn't been as kind to him. Guilt gnawed in her gut as she had more than likely contributed to his poor health.
"So today's the day you graduate, eh?" He chuckled, and grinned at her. "I suppose that this'll be the last time I see you in front of me like this, correct?" As she nodded, he reached over and plucked a sheet of parchment off a stack not far away and handed it to her.
"It's been a long time since I've seen a student graduate from this hall with such a high score," he began, pride lacing his voice. Levy ducked her head shyly as she took the sheet from him, bashful. "Especially one who gave us a bit of trouble at the beginning." At that, Levy's modest smile turned sheepish, yet the kindness never left the Rune master's voice.
"But I'm very happy to say that you are one of the few that have mastered the skills so quickly, and that I'm proud of how far you've come," he finished, nodding at the paper. "With that, you have officially been assigned to Fairy Tail Weyr to apprentice under the Scriptors there."
Levy could barely contain her grin, and nearly jumped from her seat in joy. It was what she had dreamed of, and she couldn't wait to show what she had learned to her friends and family. Even the old men who had scolded her for sneaking into the library would be impressed!
"There's just one thing, however," the voice of the Rune Master broke through her joy, bringing her back to the present moment. She blinked at the sudden seriousness of his tone.
"Master?" She asked, tilting her head inquisitively. He was only stern when scolding her, and she wondered if she was to receive another one for a reason she couldn't fathom. But he merely shook his head at her before taking in a deep breath.
"We've gotten a message that rogue riders are attacking villages again, thus Makarov is sending Dragon Riders to pick you up." His voice had gotten softer then, laced with worry. Levy's throat dried instantly, and she gulped nervously as her heart thudded heavily. She clenched her fists lightly in her lap, then discreetly wiped away the sweat from her palms. She inhaled lightly, fighting to keep the anxiety from showing as she faced her teacher.
"I'm sure there was no other way, right?" She asked, keeping her voice light. Makarov didn't decide things on a whim, and if he was set on a decision, everyone else would follow without a doubt. The Rune Master confirmed it by slowly nodding at her, grimacing.
"I know that it's not ideal to what you had hoped for, but at least they'll get you back faster and safer than just riding on horse back," he explained. "I suppose you'll just have to bear with it for now, I know you don't like dragons."
Don't like dragons? That was a bit of an understatement in Levy's mind. She feared them, and always had since she had been brought to Fairy Tail as a small child. Flashes of smoke and noise flited through her mind before she dismissed them quickly, refusing to succumb to the memories. She had avoided the riders for the most part at the Weyr, ducking out of sight whenever she heard their laughter. As she grew older she knew that it was unreasonable, but she couldn't help but tremble whenever she heard the great flap of wings in the sky. She couldn't join the games that had been held in the spring, unable to cheer for what she was sure was a great sport.
And now, she was expected to not only face one of the dragons, but touch and ride on top of one? She inhaled again, licking her lips. If there was really no other way, then she would have to trust Makarov and bear it.
She paced the small platform, nervously chewing on her thumbnail as she waited, ignoring the attendants who chuckled at her anxiety as they waited with her. They'd be fine enough, she groused as she swept a nervous hand through her blue locks. They would only be receiving messages, not riding on the beasts themselves!
She huffed, whirling around again as she patted the riding gear she'd been given for the ride. It was far too small on her; better suited for a child rather than a tiny woman. Yet she couldn't fit into any other gear they had, and had to bite back tears of embarrassment as the smallest men's jacket had dwarfed her figure. There was no time at all to get fitted gear, and the trip in Between would leave her worse for wear if she had kept the larger jacket. As such, she resembled more of a child than her actual age.
She was lucky that at least one of her friends would be arriving with the riders. The names that she'd been given to expect were unknown to her, and she had panicked before she recognized Jet's name. 'Thank goodness,' she'd breathed in relief. She wasn't sure what was worse, expecting a stranger to pick her up, or riding a dragon. At least with Jet around, she could trust the rider to get them back home safely.
Hopefully.
Though she shied away from the dragons that flew over the hall, she hadn't remained willfully ignorant of them. During her free time people would often find her in the library, pouring over scrolls and books of draconic lore, torn between marveling at the stories of heroism and shuddering at the accounts of savagery during a Thread Fall or a mating flight. But the stories that stuck out the most to her were the accounts written by the riders themselves, describing how their dragons were more than just a mount. It was fascinating of how they would tell of pranks their dragons would pull, and how sensitive they could become to people and to other dragons. 'Almost as though they were human themselves,' she had mused thoughtfully then. But it had done little to keep the trembling at bay when she walked near the arena, roars filling the air as they flew over the crowds.
Still, she had learned a few useful things about them. She knew that their temperament was revealed through their eyes and body language, that their scaly skin needed constant oiling to prevent the icy cold of Between seeping in through cracks and hurting them. That their bond with their riders was lifelong and deeper than anyone could hope to describe, and when their rider died, they would retreat into Between forever. The death of a dragon could be equally catastrophic to their rider as well, as though half of their soul had been ripped away.
A distant roar tore her out of her thoughts, and she nearly yelped when she finally spotted a black form flying over the bay, bellowing a greeting to the watch-wher. Fresh from Between, the dragon swung easily from side to side, dipping low over the waters just before the shore. On his back, his rider was leaning low over his harness, while his passenger clung on for dear life. It was difficult to see what they looked like, no matter how much she squinted, trying to discover their appearance. Suddenly, one thing was very clear; the dragon was closer than she was ever comfortable with, and larger than she had expected.
The air was whooshing over her as she ducked low, shrieking briefly while they circled around the platform before the dragon finally landed. Behind her, the attendants laughed loudly as they approached the dragon, obviously amused by her reaction. She remained where she was, crouched in the farthest corner from the beast. She bit her lip, tears just behind her tightly closed eyes as her hands pressed over her ears. She couldn't do this, she couldn't! Her heart pounded as she gasped, nearly sobbing in terror.
A gentle hand touched her shoulder, startling her. She jumped, whirling to face the owner when she was suddenly pulled into a tight hug. Stunned, she could only blink when she was released, yet the man who hugged her held her shoulders, grinning good naturally. It then dawned on her that the man was Jet, who stood a good foot over her and had tied his rather long orange hair up, as opposed to how she remembered him.
"Levy! I missed you so much,' he was saying to her, and she offered him a shaky smile. She could hear the dragon preening itself from behind him, the scales chiming in a rather soothing sound. In comparison, his rider was growling at one of the attendants in a irritable tone, his voice sounding rather muffled for reasons she couldn't ascertain yet. But Jet's larger frame hid them from her sight for the moment, and she felt some relief as his familiar laughter rumbled through her.
"You sure haven't changed much, Levy," he said, holding her back and looking her over. As his eyes paused on the too small jacket, she could feel the heat of embarrassment flood her cheeks, and she shrugged, chuckling nervously.
"Didn't have anything in my size," she offered lamely, and he only laughed again, hugging her tight.
"Well, whatever, we still missed you," he said gently, but Levy wondered if he was disappointed in her lack of growth. She sighed, dismissing the thought as she finally hugged him back. She was about speak when the rider's gruff voice broke in and interrupted them, startling her. She had almost forgotten about him and his dragon. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach when she realized that she was about to encounter her worst fear; flying home rather than riding on horseback.
"Oi, get moving Speedy, we're on a tight schedule." The rider's voice was cleared this time, and a lot louder. Jet moved aside and she had her first glimpse of the rider. She gulped as she stared at him, almost moving to hide behind Jet shyly. He was dressed completely in black, matching his dragon. His goggles were placed over his helmet, revealing eyes that glinted red in the firelight. Silver studs twinkled from where they could be seen on his face, and he was huge. Levy gulped as he stared down at her, watching his expression go from incredulous to amused, and he stomped over to them, flashing rather sharp teeth in a grin. This time, Levy couldn't help the shudder and shied away behind Jet.
"So this is the beautiful Scriptor you were just bragging about?" He laughed, and Levy could feel his voice shake the wooden slats under them. "Ha! More like a timid little mouse by the looks of it. How old did you say she was?"
Levy bit her lip, fighting tears as fear turned to something she hadn't expected; anger. How could he? Was he not aware of what an ass he was? She was about to pluck up her courage to snap at him when Jet beat her to it.
"Oh, shove off, Gajeel! Your opinion isn't needed here," he snapped, then turned to the petite girl, apologetically scratching his head. "Never mind him, Levy. Gajeel's like this most of the time, but he usually stays out of the safe areas," he said softly, and Levy perked up at that. 'Safe areas' had been their code for where ever the dragons weren't at, thus giving her a sense of ease in the Weyr. If what Jet said was true, then at least she didn't have to worry seeing the rider again.
Gajeel scoffed, rolling his eyes and opening his mouth to argue further, but snapped his head towards the dragon, responding to whatever was sent to him. Then he tsked, turning back to the duo.
"Regardless, we've got to get moving," he said gruffly as he pulled the goggles back over his eyes. Jet huffed in annoynace, but nodded curtly. Before Levy realized what was happening, Jet had grasped her shoulder and was steering her to the black dragon. She nearly balked when the great head swung towards her, his eyes swirling blue. Idly her mind wandered as she stared at them, mesmerized by the changing patterns of the color. Just then, she felt a slight touch in her conscious, and nearly jumped out of her skin when a deep yet warm voice floated through her.
'Easy, little one. The others told me that you are not comfortable with my kind.'
Levy gasped, bewildered when she realized that the dragon was speaking to her. Confused, she looked at his rider, who was currently jumping up and lacing himself into the saddle. The dragon rumbled underneath him, brushing her mind again as the rider reached over to pull her up. 'Trust in my wings, little one. We will be home soon,' he soothed, and Levy let out a shaky breath. It was hard to believe otherwise with his kind sounding words, a stark contrast to his rider. She'd never been close to a dragon of his size, and now she was being strapped to one. She never considered that one would be as kind or as compassionate as this one was. Behind her, Jet was lacing himself in as the attendants were handing Gajeel the last of their messages. He snorted as he stashed them in one of the satchels on the harness, ignoring the praising words from the impressed spectators.
"You better be lashed in fast, Speedy, cause we're leaving now."
The words had barely left his mouth when the dragon moved, and Levy squeaked as she lurched forward, smacking her head on his back before bouncing back into Jet's chest. As the dragon leapt off the platform, Levy whimpered as she whipped her arms around the rider's torso, squeezing her eyes tightly as she fought the urge to scream in terror. As they lifted into the sky, she could feel the muscles pull and contract under her. Suddenly he let out a deafening roaring, and she couldn't hold back the cry of fear as she squeezed the rider, powerless to do anything else as they soared into the sky.