F I R E F L Y

Chapter 1

Disclaimers: Legend of Dragoon and all other related characters, events, etc. do not belong to me.

Chapter Notes: Chapter 1 takes place before the Dragon Campaign, 11,000 years before the game storyline. How Lloyd got to that point, you will have to read and find out in succeeding chapters. For now, please enjoy my first take on Legend of Dragoon fiction. :)

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It is said that Winglies are like fireflies. There is but one mate for every Wingly, two beings fated to spend the rest of their lives together. And should they fail to find the one, they wait and linger until their lights burn out.

It is also said that the stars are the souls of the great kings of man. There are those who believe that when a star falls during the birth of a prince, the soul of a great king of the past is reborn.

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Lloyd entered the great hall, his strides long and confident; he held his head high as he made his way to the throne room. The other soldiers quickly straightened their postures and saluted the general as he passed, receiving only a curt nod of recognition. Lloyd had just returned from a month-long mission to quell a human uprising near their northern borders. It had taken longer than expected to subdue the rebelling humans, and Lloyd wished nothing more than to retire in his own home—he was never fond of useless formalities. He did what was asked of him, and he did it well, he had no real reason to be there. However, Lord Melbu Frahma had explicitly asked for his presence as soon as he had arrived.

The human slaves manning the massive double doors to the throne room immediately hauled the doors open as the Wingly general walked through briskly, only stopping to kneel when he was directly in view of Melbu Frahma. The Wingly Lord sat on his throne, his chin resting on his hand as a small smile crept to his lips. "General, I have heard great news of your success. I am truly proud to have such a fine Wingly to lead my army." He gestured to Lloyd languidly with his free hand, "rise general, there is a matter in particular which I wish to discuss with you."

Lloyd had kept his head bowed low even when his lord had complimented him, but slowly stood straight and removed his helmet, tucking it under an arm, when he was ordered to rise. "I am honoured at your compliment my lord, but I have only done that which I have been ordered to do." Again, that strange smile made its way to Melbu Frahma's lips. "Ah general, you are as efficient as ever. I am pleased."

The general tried his best to keep a straight face. He was exhausted and this meeting with the Wingly Lord seemed to drag on pointlessly. The sound of Melbu Frahma's palms clapping together snapped Lloyd from his thoughts and he looked up with a questioning look. As if to answer the unspoken question, Melbu Frahma motioned to one of the soldiers who took leave at once. There was a moment of silence between the lord and general before muffled sounds could be heard from outside the throne room. With his sharpened hearing, Lloyd picked up the sound first, but he ignored it. Soon, the sound became louder and louder until it escalated to an unabashed tirade of insults against Wingly kind.

The throne room doors opened once more and three soldiers entered. One held a chain tightly wound around his forearm and the other two, restraining a bound human between them. The man's bound hands were linked to the chain held by the first soldier and he looked dishevelled, blonde hair matted and strewn this way and that. Lloyd scowled at the sight and more so as the bound man started mouthing off again about equality and all that garbage he had heard from his earlier mission. He had no time for this. "My lord—"

Melbu Frahma raised his hand to silence both Lloyd and the man, the general held his tongue and the soldiers hit the bound man in the face to make him stop his tirade. The blonde man doubled over and coughed blood, staining the white marble of the throne room's floor. Lloyd's frown deepened. "My soldiers captured this man during your campaign up in the northern borders. Strong of build, and resilient in spirit..." Melbu Frahma trailed off, looking with amusement as the general's frown deepened all the more.

"My lord, I do not understand how anything pertaining to this man may concern me in any way." Lloyd tried to keep his tone respectful, though his voice sounded strained even to his own ears. The Wingly Lord gestured for the soldiers to bring the man forward, they did so, in a manner rougher than what was reasonably necessary. Melbu Frahma rose from his throne and stepped down until he stood between the general and the soldiers restraining the blonde man.

The soldiers quickly bowed their heads, but the man in chains only straightened himself and glared at the Wingly Lord with murderous brown eyes. Melbu Frahma gripped the man's chin tightly in a vice like grip, the man's eyes went wide, his mouth suddenly dry—a strange fear overcoming his earlier violent resistance. "I believe he will make a fine slave..." The lord continued, keeping his grip on the man. "And as I have too many than I should care to count, I would like for you to have him."

Lloyd's head jerked up in surprise, had he just heard his lord right? He shook his head involuntarily, but the blonde man broke the silence that followed first. He struggled violently against his chains as he tore his face away from the vice-like grip. "I shall die before I become a slave! You worthless Winglies! You have neither respect nor dignity—a disgrace to all of Soa's creation!" The soldier holding the chain backhanded the man with unrestrained force, his neck snapped back and more blood spattered on the white marble. "Silence! Human swine!"

The general narrowed his eyes, it was the first time he had heard such words spoken to Melbu Frahma himself—by a man, no less. This man was neither afraid of Winglies nor of death. Melbu Frahma began speaking again as if there had been no rude interruption, "It has come to my knowledge that you keep no slaves of your own. It is rather unbecoming of a general to have no one to attend to his home and to labor for him, which is why I wish for you to keep this man." He gave the blonde man another look. "That and it would be a great waste if he should be sent to the slave market—one does not come across such a face very often, both on man or Wingly. A shame it has to come with a mouth as foul as his species."

Lloyd remained silent, his thoughts consuming him. He had no interest in keeping human slaves, unlike the rest of his race. Even the lowliest of Winglies had a human slave to do his work for him. Lloyd preferred being alone, he liked to keep to himself and disliked humans in general; he found no real reason to keep a human slave. He snapped back to reality when the man attempted to begin mouthing off again, but this time Melbu Frahma had had enough. "I tire of your useless words human." He gave Lloyd a look. "If you do not take him general, I shall give him to the soldiers. A waste, yes, but with a mouth so foul—I may have no second thoughts about it."

"Wingly filth!" The sound of metal against flesh resounded in the throne room again, and without thinking, Lloyd growled, "Enough." Melbu Frahma raised his brows slightly and the soldiers visibly stiffened. "I will take the slave, but I do not want him any more damaged than he already is—lest he be useless." Lloyd was surprised at his own words. The silence that followed affirmed the surprise of both the soldiers and even the Wingly Lord himself.

"Then it is settled, give the general his slave and you may take your leave." Melbu Frahma motioned to the soldiers who looked more than relieved to finally be rid of the troublesome human. They were almost certain that the human would be dead soon, given that he was to become the general's first slave. Lloyd was well known by his men not only for his intelligence and near god-like swordsmanship, but also for his temper. The general was quiet and spoke rarely, but his sword spoke for him when he was in one of his darker moods.

The soldier passed the chain to the general, keeping it taut. "He is a feisty one sir." Lloyd only nodded in response as he wound the chain around his armoured forearm, loosening the chain slightly. Surprisingly, the man had been silent throughout the exchange. His head was now bowed low as if he was resigned or was finally thinking coherently.

"Are you pleased with my gift general?" Melbu Frahma's tone was amused—mocking even, as he again sat down on his throne, his fingers forming a steeple as he spoke. Lloyd made a low bow, "I am my lord, I am most grateful for this gift." The Wingly Lord nodded in approval. "I have kept you long enough; I can see that you are weary from your campaign. Again, I am pleased general. You may take your leave."

Lloyd raised his head and wore his helmet before turning to leave. He walked briskly, ignoring the surprised looks from soldiers and slaves alike as he left, a chained human trailing behind him—obviously struggling to keep up with the general's pace.

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The Wingly pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit which clearly indicated his displeasure at any given situation. The general had a headache from having to use too many teleporters than what he was used to. He would normally have flown straight home—something he could not do with the human in tow. They had to pass through too many teleporters to reach his home. He traced a small sigil on a glass panel beside the door before it opened.

The human followed gingerly behind him, the chain was lax and it surprised the general that he had not spoken a word since he was backhanded back in the castle. Too tired to care, the general dropped the chain to the floor. "I expect you have enough sense to know who I am and what would happen should you try to attempt anything." Lloyd even went so far as to turn his back on the blonde. Again, the human did not stir but merely kept his head low, but keen brown eyes were wide under the mess of blonde hair. There was an unfamiliar fear that had crept up his spine when he heard the general agree to keep him—it was this fear that stayed his tongue and made his legs feel like lead beneath him.

Suddenly annoyed at the lack of a response, Lloyd faced the slave again. "Do you have a name, human?" Again, there was no response. The general gripped the man's chin with his gloved hands and forced him to look up, his cold blue eyes meeting with wide brown ones. "I do not like repeating myself." The brown eyes widened even more as the man tried to step away from the general, but it was no use—the grip on his face too firm to fight.

"A-Alber—eth..." The blonde's voice cracked as he spoke and he averted his eyes, afraid that the cold and unyielding eyes of the general would see his fear that was becoming harder and harder to conceal.

"Albereth." Lloyd let the name roll on his tongue, a smirk playing on his lips. "So you do know fear... I had nearly thought otherwise the way you carried on in the presence of Lord Melbu Frahma." An indignant looked crossed Albereth's face and he bit out, "I am not afraid of Melbu Frahma." The Wingly's smirk widened into his version of a smile, "Then that must mean you are afraid of me." The slave shook his head, "I am not afraid."

"You are a terrible liar." Lloyd nearly chuckled in amusement as he took out a small key and began to unlock Albereth's shackles. The man looked on in surprise, was the general so confident that he would dare unlock his only remaining restraints without fear of what Albereth might do to him? But when the shackles came loose and fell to his feet, Albereth could not bring himself to do anything—he sighed. The general was right, the Wingly knew it before he had realized it himself—he was afraid of the general... of this man called Lloyd, and he did not understand why.

A sinking feeling welled up in his chest as the reality of the situation dawned on him. "I am a slave..." Albereth thought out loud and the fear he felt made itself known with renewed vigor. He suddenly felt weak in the knees and he struggled to remain upright. Lloyd too was lost in contemplation, he had never kept a human slave and had no knowledge with what to do with one. They remained standing in silence across one another in what seemed to be the receiving area of the Wingly's home.

It was Lloyd's voice that finally broke the silence. "I have never kept a human slave, and I do not know what to do with you." The general was frank as he shook his head, as if dismayed at having to deal with Albereth—which was not entirely untrue. "I am exhausted and I wish to retire. There is a spare room further down the hallway to the right, you may take that as your own." The wingly rubbed the back of his neck as he headed to a teleporter pad which Albereth assumed led to another part of the house. The blonde stared back at him blankly, as if afraid to move from where he seemed to be rooted.

"Take your belongings and you may take your leave Albereth, I will see you in the morning." Lloyd waved dismissively, but he suddenly stopped when he took a good look at his new "slave"—even the word sounded foreign to him.

Albereth had dirty blonde hair which was haphazardly tied back, his face was gaunt but it showed prominent cheekbones which emphasized keen brown eyes which now looked as exhausted as his own. Lloyd stepped closer to the man and realized that he was a good head taller than him and that the man looking even thinner beside his armoured form. His eyes trailed on the bare burlap sack Albereth was wearing and he frowned, lips drawn into a thin line.

There was also the painful lack of "belongings"—seeing as the blonde had nothing but the sack, his bare feet wounded, swollen, and dirty on the cold marble. The general shook his head, the slave would not last a night in Kadessan winter. Albereth shied away from Lloyd's eyes, trying to somehow make himself smaller. His fear of this wingly felt very strange to him, for he was not afraid of even Melbu Frahma—but this general, this wingly called Lloyd almost made his blood run cold.

"Follow me." The blonde had no time to register the order before a gloved hand grabbed his wrist almost painfully, the skin raw from the shackles. Lloyd led him to a teleporter pad by the hallway which led to the said spare room and light automatically glowed from the lamps inside. It was a simple wingly bedroom, with a single bed in the middle, a closet by the left wall, and a wardrobe beside the closet. A fireplace was by the right wall. It was obvious that no one had ever used it, but it was surprising that it wasn't dusty.

Without saying a word, Lloyd went over to the closet and looked over several clothes before removing a number of them and handing them to Albereth who looked mildly surprised, having no idea what was happening. "Use them to keep warm tonight. Winter in Kadessa is cruel," the wingly paused, "especially to your kind." Albereth bit his lip, the cold suddenly biting through to his bones and he shivered slightly—as if the cold came with the realization.

The soldiers had taken his clothing and had dressed him in the burlap sack he now wore, like all slaves to be sold in the slave market. However, he had caught the eye of a captain who tried to keep him—but Melbu Frahma owned all spoils of war, and he deemed Albereth more suitable for someone of the highest position. He shivered again. The plains of Serdio, where he was from, rarely experience this kind of cold, even in winter. Then again, he had warm clothes back home, and a cozy fireplace... and a family... Albereth closed his eyes to forget. He steeled himself, before him was the man who had led the soldiers that deprived him of all of that.

Lloyd raised an eyebrow at Albereth's silence. "Well?" Albereth looked up, the bundle in his hands. "Thank you... Master." The blonde bit out the last word, but he made himself say it. The first time he had refused to say it when he was first captured ended in a beating that left him unconscious and nearly dead, and that was in the hands of mere soldiers. The general was taken aback but did not show it, he merely nodded and turned to leave. "As I have said earlier, you know who I am and what I do—I trust you are not so stupid as to attempt anything." Albereth swallowed the forming lump in his throat and nodded before the general disappeared from the teleporter pad, leaving him alone in the room.

Albereth placed his "new belongings" carefully on the wingly bed and ran his calloused fingers through the soft fabrics. He had never had such fine clothes, not even at home. The rich fabrics were soft and warm to the touch, and he quickly changed into one of them. It was a long sleeved tunic that was obviously too big for him and reached to just above his knees. He found a large, velvet cape with a coat of arms of sorts embroidered skilfully upon it. Albereth wound it around himself to keep warm.

It was only then that he realized that there was no fire in the fireplace, and unless he started one, he would most likely freeze to death. Winter in Kadessa was truly as frightful as the escaped slaves had described it—cruel and unforgiving. With nearly numb fingers, Albereth searched through the remains of coal and ash to find a flint or some matches, but there was none. "This is a wingly's house, stupid!" Albereth berated himself, realizing that winglies had no need for flint or matches as they had magic by which to light their own fires.

Resigned to his fate of a fireless night, Albereth gathered the remaining of the clothes which he was not wearing, laid them out on the floor, and arranged them to make a make-shift mattress. There was no way he could possible sleep on one of those wingly beds, they swayed liked hammocks and made him feel sick. Once his make-shift mattress was made, Albereth bonelessly collapsed on it—the exhaustion from the day's events finally washing over him like a tidal wave.

Burrowing into the clothes as best he could, sleep finally claimed him.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said of the general. Lloyd tossed and turned in his bed, but he could not fall asleep. Perhaps it was the uneasy feeling of someone else in his house—years of living alone had made him so sensitive to his surroundings that he instantly knew if someone else was in his home. Now there was a stranger... a human slave in his home, and it made him feel ill at ease. Giving up his useless struggle with sleep which eluded him, Lloyd found himself padding along the hallway to the teleporter which led to Albereth's room. He had the nagging feeling to check up on the human, he might already by starting to hatch some murderous plot—one can never be too careful with that species, they were too smart for their own good.

Upon beaming into the room, he noticed the curled and shivering bundle of clothes by the empty fireplace. Silver eyebrows furrowed, wondering why the human had decided to sleep on the floor instead of the bed. A wave of sympathy—a rare emotion for him—washed over the general as he traced a sigil in the air before the wood and coal in the fireplace crackled slightly to life. After a while, the room had warmed up and the bundle had stopped shivering. Satisfied that the human wasn't planning anything sinister, at least for tonight, Lloyd left the room as quietly as he'd come—unaware of the doe eyes which followed him as he left.

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I have been playing with this idea in my head for a while now and only attempted to put it into writing today. I am intent on continuing this, but comments, reviews, and suggestions would be greatly appreciated. :)

Thank you for reading my first chapter, and if you enjoyed it, please drop me a line. :)