A/N: Okay ya'll. This is a JakexRose story. It is tragic and long and will probably go on for ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and…well, you get it. If you are waiting for updates on my other stories, I'm sorry, but I was gone for like, a week of school, and I had a pile of homework like THREE FREAK'N INCHES THICK! I was busy. I will try to update Our Wicked Lies, The Fates We Face, and Trust tonight. Maybe my new fic Irony and my old fic, The Last Battle will be updated too. I feel very 'writey' today.

Basically, here's the layout for dis story, k? I got this idea from my FAVE song by Nickelback, 'Savin' Me'

Dreaded Disclaimer: I do not own American Dragon: Jake Long, or any of the songs or quotes I put in this fic. Get it? Got it? Good.

Savin' Me

Chapter 1: The Sentence

A thirteen year-old, blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl paced back and forth in front of her window. Her cerulean eyes were unfocused and foggy. Her hair hung limply in its make-shift ponytail, the golden waves twining their way to her mid-back. She bit her lip and looked out the window, into the indigo night. There were few stars that could be seen, but any stars were a rarity in New York City. The girl threw her gaze back to the stone floor in thought, her pace increasing. She heard heavy, echoing footsteps materialize outside her bedroom door. She stopped, standing stock still. Her door was opened by a rough hand, belonging to a crude Neanderthal-like man. He was decked out in full warrior uniform, including some lethal and dangerous weapons in a belt around his robust stomach.

He snorted at her, and she hid her fear behind a scowl. He handed her a letter, grunted a laugh, and left the lavish room, slamming the door so hard it quivered on its hinges. The blonde's sassy glare faded as she stared at the letter in her hand. She examined it for a moment, noting that it didn't even have her name scribbled across its crisp white surface. Her fingers trembled as she slit the top off of the letter. The letter that held her fate within its unscathed surface. She took a considerable amount of time in unfolding the tri-fold business formatted paper. There, in stark black type, was her future:

Rosalyn Anastasia Marie Saunders:

We have ruled that, for your betrayal of our sacred community, you shall be imprisoned at Fort Fatum of Extraho. You will be transported at exactly 6:00. You may bring one bag of clothes and/or personal items. Bag will be inspected.

Huntsman,

Huntsman

Rose gulped as she reread the letter. Fort Fatum of Extraho? She had heard horrible things of that place, of its unsanitary conditions, grisly meals, and horrid sights. Even its very name suggested traitorous behavior. Fatum of extraho was Latin for doom of the dragon. I have until 6:00. Rose looked at her watch. 5:20. She hurried over to her closet, grabbing a large hot pink duffel bag. She placed three t-shirts, three camis, two hoodies, five pairs of pants, three pairs of pajamas, five pairs of socks, a large, thin blanket, a small, warm blanket, and her purse in it. It was already full, but Rose knew she would have to force several more items into the bag. She crammed her toothbrush, toothpaste, brush, and some shampoo into the bag, and struggled to zip it. She then hurried to her closet and threw as many items on as she could over her outfit. She managed two more shirts and a skirt over her outfit, as well as three pairs of socks, though Rose had difficulty getting her shoes on. It was the middle of winter, so she threw her coat on as well as she heard the loud footfalls approaching her room again. She ran over to her dresser and stuffed all her necklaces around her neck, all her rings on her fingers and all her bracelets around her wrists. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of what had gotten her into this mess. A birthmark of a red dragon that wound itself around her wrists. She snapped out of her trance, and grabbed a package of batteries and her Ipod and stuffed them in her pocket as her door swung open once again. The Gorilla-Man, as Rose called him, ran at her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her towards the door. Rose barely had the time to snatch her bag as the Gorilla-Man shoved her out the door, into the cold stone hallway.

A/N: Okay, I know that was short, but tha next chappy will be longer. What will happen to poor Rose? REVIEW!