THEN (AGE 13)
Sting winced as he dabbed at the deep wound on his cheek, wiping away the blood and dirt. This one had been his fault – he had been distracted and Minerva had taken advantage of the momentary lapse in judgement and kicked him in the face. For such a slim woman, she was surprisingly strong.
"STING!" The young boy sighed, placing his hands on either side of the sink and staring miserably at his reflection. He had managed to clean himself up enough to look "presentable", but without magical healing, the cut on his cheek was going to leave a scar.
"Coming!" He yelled back, plastering a bandage over the cut and running his hand though his hair, then jogging down the hallway toward the main guild hall.
Jiemma was sitting on what Sting had come to think of as his "throne" – an enormous iron chair with a high back and carvings up the sides. Standing next to him was a boy, around Sting's age, with dark hair that covered most of his face. When Sting entered the room, the boy glanced up at him, and Sting could see that his pupils were red.
"Sting, this is Rogue. He is the newest member of Sabertooth. You will share your quarters and your food with him." Sting looked up at Jiemma, slightly bewildered. "He will begin training with you tomorrow. Understood?" Sting froze in place, looking back toward the boy. He hadn't moved, but his posture was closed off and defensive. He didn't look injured, but it was hard to tell with the layers of clothing he wore. Why was he here? Had Jiemma recruited him? Fear began to bubble in his chest. He didn't know this boy, but he didn't want him to get hurt either.
"ARE YOU LISTENING?!" Jiemma leaped from his throne and stormed toward Sting, who cowered, throwing an arm in font of his face.
"Yes!" His voice sounded high and pathetic, and he cursed himself for being so weak. "Yes, sir." He could still see Rogue, who hadn't moved but whose eyes had widened at Jiemma's aggression.
"Go." Jiemma's voice was low and dangerous, and Sting nodded, backing up and then motioning for Rogue to follow him.
The two boys made their way down the hall in silence, Sting still trembling but trying to hide it. He didn't want to look weak in front of the guild's newest member but feared it was too late. Finally, they reached his room and he pushed the door open slowly.
It was a dormitory style room with two single beds on either side, a small couch and table, and a door at the back that led to the washroom. It was embarrassingly plain – Sting hadn't had any possessions when he joined Sabertooth, and hadn't collected any during his stay.
"You can, uh…pick whichever bed, I don't really care, I don't sleep mu…" Sting trailed off, turning back to Rogue and seeing the boy giving him a strange look. Rogue stepped past Sting and wandered over to one bed, then the other, and Sting could see him sniff the air before he sat down on the bed Sting didn't usually use. "You're a dragon slayer too?!" Sting couldn't keep the excitement from his voice as Rogue smiled shyly at him from beneath his dark mess of hair. Suddenly, Sting felt a jab of fear run through his stomach and he raced over to Rogue, kneeling down at his feet.
"You need to run," he whispered urgently. "This isn't a safe place for you. There's a back entrance just down the hallway, I'll show you it." He tugged on Rogue's sleeve, but the boy didn't move. "I'll tell him you overpowered me, just get as far away from here as you-"
A soft hand brushing over the bandage on his cheek stopped him in his tracks and he shivered. The hand moved to his chin and tipped his face to look straight into those dark red eyes.
"And what will he do to you?" Rogue's voice was almost a whisper. Sting shook his head fiercely.
"It doesn't matter," he whispered, "I can take it. Just please, please go."
"I don't have anywhere to-"
"ANYWHERE is better than here," Sting begged, grasping Rogue's knees. "And I can't go but you still have a choi-"
"It's dangerous to talk like that," a sultry voice interrupted from the door. Sting stumbled backward and fell, hitting his head on the edge of the table and giving a muffled whimper of pain. "You know Daddy doesn't like you talking about him behind his back."
A young girl stood in the doorframe, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, with long black hair pinned black hair pinned up on either side of her head. She sneered at Sting, then looked over at Rogue and began to stalk across the room towards him.
"M-minerva," Sting gasped, scuttling backward away from her. "I-I didn't – I mean, I – I j-jus-"
"SHUT UP!" Minerva turned angrily on her heel and backhanded Sting, knocking him to the floor. "Speak clearly, idiot. Nobody can understand that insufferable stutter." Rogue tried to stand and help Sting, but Minerva intercepted him, placing a coy hand on his chest.
"Don't." His voice was soft but full of fury. Minerva giggled, but didn't remove her hand. Instead, she pointed her other wrist at Sting, and a ball of multicolored energy began to form. Sting winced and covered his face with his arms – he had been on the receiving end of that magic many times.
"I think you will find out very quickly that NOBODY tells me what to do," Minerva purred, running the hand from Rogue's chest slowly downward, relishing in the boy's discomfort. "Unless, of course, you want your new boyfriend to find himself in some rather excruciating pain." She let a small amount of her energy fly out and hit Sting's arms, and the blonde boy bit down a sob.
Rogue trembled, but didn't move.
"Much better," Minerva whispered, leaning into Rogue and breathing in his ear. He shuddered, then let out an audible gasp as her hand found itself trailing around the waist of his pants. She giggled. "I haven't had a toy to play with in a long time," she whispered, running her tongue around his ear and then trailing her lips down the boy's neck. "I'm not a fan of blondes."
"Please, stop." Sting begged quietly, seeing the fear and revulsion in Rogue's eyes. Minerva ignored him, shoving Rogue backward so that he fell onto the bed. She quickly straddled his hips, still keeping one hand pointed at Sting, who felt like he was going to be sick. If only he could have helped Rogue escape faster, maybe this would-
"No," Rogue whispered quietly as Minerva began to unlace his pants. She reached up and slapped him instead, laughing at the trickle of blood that ran down his cheek. "No," he tried again, choking on the word and trying to back himself away from her advances. She sneered at him, then clawed her fingers down his chest, leaving a set of bloody red lines. He cried out in pain and her hand ran back to his pants, tearing at them and pulling them away from his body. He tried to push her off and she laughed, forgetting Sting and bringing both hands forward to grab Rogue's wrists.
Sting lost it. He struggled to his feet and a flare of white power burst from the ground around him, making Minerva glance back at him in surprise. Heavy white scales began to form on his arms and up his neck, and he growled, deep and low.
"Get. Off. Now." His voice was unrecognizable, and Minerva merely stared at him in amazement. He darted forward, surrounding his fist in a white aura and smashing it directly into her face. The blow was incredible, and knocked her off of Rogue and out of the room, smashing through the door and the adjacent wall. Sting stalked after her, grabbing her by the front of her tunic and throwing her through the person-sized hole she had made.
"Don't you ever touch him again," Sting growled, stalking through the hole and finding himself in the training arena. Minerva was lying facedown in the centre of the enormous room, and she struggled to pull herself up on her arms. Sting was shocked to see that she was laughing.
"So that's all it took, then?" She pushed herself up until she was standing unsteadily on her feet. "The legendary power of the dragon slayer, finally unlocked." She wiped blood from her face and grinned at him. "And here I've been trying to beat it out of you this whole time."
"Shut UP!" Sting charged at her, forming a ball of white light in his palm and smashing it into her face, knocking her back against the wall. She grasped her side and winced.
"You are powerful now, slayer," she murmured, and he belatedly noticed that she wasn't defending herself but instead looking over his shoulder. "But we know your weakness." Sting's eyes widened and he spun around to follow Minerva's gaze.
Jiemma was standing at the entrance to the room, one massive hand around Rogue's throat. Rogue struggled against him, but the fist around his neck was enormous and he wasn't going anywhere.
"Good work, Minerva," Jiemma said, nodding at his daughter to leave the room. "And YOU!" The enormous man turned to Sting, who was breathing heavily as the flames around him slowly died away. Jiemma smiled evilly. "It looks like my plan was successful." He threw Rogue onto the ground, and the boy grasped at his throat, choking for air. "Training starts in earnest tomorrow. My twin dragon slayers will make us the greatest guild in Fiore." Then he turned on his heel and stormed from the room, leaving the boys alone.
"Rogue!" Sting scrambled to his feet and ran over to Rogue, grabbing the dark-haired boy's shoulder and feeling a deep pang of sorrow when it was met with a flinch. "Rogue, I'm so sorry." Sting dropped to his hands and knees, feeling tears spilling down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-"
His sobs were interrupted by a hand grasping his. He looked up into Rogue's face, taking in his torn clothing, his scraped hands, the bruises beginning to form around his neck. Sting slowly reached out and touched Rogue's face, leaning forward so that his forehead bumped against the other boy's. They sat there like that for a moment, both trying to control their breathing, until finally Rogue tugged on Sting's sleeve.
Sting looked up to see Rogue gesturing at him – placing a finger across his lips and shaking his head in a "no" motion. Sting nodded. Rogue then gestured to his head, imitating a pillow, and Sting smiled. He stood, slowly and stiffly, reaching out a hand to help Rogue to his feet, and the two boys headed back to their room.