The small girl stumbled through the open door, short, panicked breaths escaping her delicate lips. The building she had entered was bursting with energy, people yelling and laughing while holding up their drinks. No, not people- mages.

No one had seemed to notice her yet, no one but a girl with deep scarlet hair chopped at her shoulders. They didn't know it, but they were the same age, separated by mere weeks.

The scarlet haired girl regarded the strange girl with caution. Her bare feet were cut and bloody; her hands weren't in any better condition. She wore a dress that seemed like it was made of white rose petals, delicate and soft and flowy. It hugged body in all the right places and showed off her small frame. Her brown eyes were exhausted against her light caramel skin, sharing reluctant hints of battles and hungry nights spent alone on the streets. But the most startling thing about her was her hair- it was long, so long that it brushed the floor. It tumbled down her back in tangled waves and curled at the tips. She would be pretty, thought the scarlet haired girl, if she had not been so worn out. Almost like a fairy or a princess.

But the beaten down girl was ignorant to the other girl's kind thought; she saw only her cold eyes staring at her, the eyes of a warrior.

The scarlet haired girl spoke. "What do you want?" Secretly, in the privacy of her mind, she wished that someday, she would be able to speak without sounding so sharp. To speak with love. Her loud, commanding voice had brought some of the other mages' attention to the scene.

The long haired girl moved her lips but seemed unable to speak, seemed too weak to raise her voice. All she could manage was a soft, "Help," before she fell to the ground, unconscious.

A tall man glided towards the girl, his cape billowing behind him. He had brown hair that seemed to be tinted with orange, parted at the middle and falling to just below his jaw line. His expression was powerful but his eyes were kind. He knelt beside the fallen girl, putting his bandaged hand to her forehead. Then he looked to the scarlet haired girl.

"Erza," he said, "who is this?"

"I don't know, Gildarts," she replied, but before she could say anymore, two burly men pushed their way through the open door. They had huge muscles, the skin covering it layered with tattoos. But one tattoo they both had the same- a dragon on their right biceps, a sword through it's neck. Their entrance brought the entire bar's attention to them; the once energetic room now pulsed with quiet tension.

The man on the left evaluated the situation with his dim eyes before speaking. "The girl. We're sorry if she caused you any trouble. We'll just take her and go."

The caped man, Gildarts, rose from his crouched position by the girl, his expression not making any attempt to hide his suspicion. "What do you want with her?"

The man on the left snarled. "It doesn't matter," he barked. "She's our kill."

At that word, the dangerous "k" word, every mage in the bar changed. Before, they had just been onlookers to a curious scene. But now they were defenders, not willing to let these men anywhere near the girl.

The man who had spoken earlier tried to regain control of the situation. "What my friend is trying to say is-"

He was cut off by a gasp. All eyes turned to the scarlet haired Erza. Words tumbled out of her mouth as recognition sparked in her eyes. "Their guild marks- I thought they were familiar but- they're from Dragon Blood- that's a dark guild."

Gildarts turned back to the two men, anger written over his face. "I suggest you two leave," he said in a quiet, dangerous voice.

"But the girl-"

"Don't you dare touch her." His voice was firm.

The other man spoke. "She's our property-"

"She's in our guild- are you sure you want to try claim her?"

The first man growled. "If you knew who she was, trust me, you'd want her dead, too."

Gildarts's eyes traveled down to the girl, unmoving on the floor. They took in her long hair, bloody scrapes, innocent face deep in rest. When he spoke, his eyes never left her. "We'll decide that for ourselves."

The men knew there was no hope, knew there was no way they could win against a bar full of mages.

"You'll regret messing with Dragon Blood. You just wait and see- especially you," said the first man, pointing at Gildarts with menace. Gildarts made no reply, just stood tall and stared at the two men through narrowed eyes.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, they left.

They were never heard of or seen again.