Hello dear Reader!

After Kerberos I really wanted to write another GaLe fic., so here it is.

I hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed coming up with this plot :)

Disclaimer : I do not own Fairy Tail

Levy

When I was a little girl, my mother would tell me stories about the greatest and most powerful magic users since the dawn of time: Dragons.

In her stories the great beasts would be powerful beings that could wipe out an entire city in a single wingbeat, yet could be gentle enough to take in an innocent child that had been abandoned in its forest. They were ruthless warriors, yet faithful and loving mates. They could unleash the elements into a roaring storm of devastating chaos, yet be the most silent and invisible of hunters when needed. They could be stubborn and childish one moment, then serious and understanding the next.

The majestic creatures had become a romanced version of the Prince Charming I could find in my books. They were loyal and strong, proud and fearless, kind and compassionate, caring and gentle. I imagined those dragons guarding the castle of princesses from evildoers. For me they weren't the greedy beasts that locked them up in the highest tower of a haunted castle, no. They were here to test and fight off the foolish self proclaimed Princes who just wanted the title of King and lock their Queens into a lonely golden cage. My childish brain had thought : what kind of King would you be if you couldn't even protect your Queen, your soulmate? Then you surely wouldn't be able to achieve your happily ever after. If you couldn't protect the one person that would stay by your side until the end of your days, how could you possibly rule over an entire kingdom of loyal subjects?

So I always cheered for the big scaly fighter, until he stepped aside when the right Prince came to lay claim on his Princess.

Of course, my childish disillusions were short-lived. In a single night I saw my dreams and hopes, my family and friends, my whole life, turn into ash. And it was on that single night that I saw dragons for what they really are.

They are giant destructive monsters, with claws made to shred stone buildings, jaws that crush through bone effortlessly, a tail that clears everything in its way with a single swipe, large wings that can stir up a tornado, and a body shielded by impenetrable scales. The perfect defense for the perfect destroyer.

I still see it in my nightmares, the giant shadow bathing in a mountain of fire, wings spreading out as a deafening screech shook my very core and covered the roaring of the flames engulfing my small hometown. I can still hear the wooden houses snapping under their own weight as thousands of embers fly towards the dark sky, like fireflies rising up to the orange smoky clouds that have long since hidden the starry night sky. The more I try to drown out the beast's bellows, the more I become aware of the high pitched screams of agony, the acrid smell of burning flesh, the groans of pain that seemed to encircle me, and yet come from nowhere. People rush around me, screaming in panic, weeping, mumbling useless prayers, running towards their crumbling houses in hope of finding their daughter, father, sister or lover waiting for them, to tell them that everything was going to be okay.

But I know that it's all a lie. Nothing was "okay" after that dreadful event. That night my hometown was burnt to the ground, my family murdered by that beastly thing, my friends burnt alive in their own homes and my neighbors crushed by falling debris.

In less than an hour, it had left as silently as it had came, leaving behind the stench of death and despair as it carried on. This was a small town; we had no cattle, no inestimable jewels, no sacred treasure and no mage guild. The dark scaled dragon had attacked my village not out of greed or revenge or retaliation, or just to eat. It had attacked a small defenseless human village for the simple thrill of annihilating it.

When the army arrived with the first rays of dawn, the wounded were carried off to the nearest town for treatments, while I was brought to a tent with other children. We were given warm food and water. As the hours dwindled by, parents would rush into the tent and fall to their knees. Their eyes would fill up with dread when they saw just how few we were, nervously scanning our faces covered in dust and tears, barely whispering the name of their sons or daughters, afraid to have that small sliver of hope crushed with the awful reality. Some would see their child run towards them, crushing them in a desperate hug, showering them with kisses as more tears started rolling down their cheeks. Others would start screaming out for their little ones, then crumble into a pile of anguished cries as they realized that they would never see their child again. Sobs from the other children would also come and go as they too realized that, maybe, their own parents would never come for them in the shabby tent.

After the night I had passed amongst the flaming debris of my town, I didn't think I would feel fear again, but I was wrong. Seeing the adults cry scared me. They were supposed to be the indestructible grown-ups, the people with all the answers, they always had a solution for our problems when we were sick, or sad, or even scared, they would always be there to protect us from any kind of harm. And yet, here they were, as helpless as us.

When the sun was starting to set, an old little man entered the tent. He was a funny little fellow, no taller than my 5 year-old self, with white hair at the edges of his bald head, a wide mustache covering his upper lip, and was wearing a long white coat that fell to the top of his black traveling boots. He had a grave expression on when he stepped through the flaps of the tent, but when his eyes turned to us, they crinkled with relief as he gave us a warm smile.

"Hey kids, I'm here to take you to your new home."

By that time, we were only three orphans left. I looked to the old man as the two boys that were left with me held on to each of my arms, crying. The grandpa, that later told us to call him Makarov, had a kind voice that cracked from time to time, like that of a crazy yet caring uncle would have. He also introduced himself as the master of a guild called Fairy Tail, and that he would be taking care of us until we were of age to live on our own.

Before leaving the tent, he asked us to play a game with him. He told us that it was a game to test our courage and trust, because we were now going to be a family, and believing in one another was very important when you are a part of a family. Jet and Droy, the two other boys that were still clinging on to me, had stopped crying as they closed their eyes and each took hold of one of Makarov's hands. I played along and closed my eyes, grabbing onto the back of his cloak, letting myself get pulled along.

When we left the tent, I felt a cold wind hit my face as the smell of burnt wood invaded my senses. Curiosity got the best of me as my mind started reeling with ideas and hope. Maybe a few houses had been spared? Maybe my room hadn't been too damaged by the fire and I would be able to bring a few of my books with me, or maybe find a picture of my family? Not wanting to play Makarov's game anymore, I decided to open my eyes. As tears rolled down my cheeks for what seemed like the hundredth time today, my body shook with anger, hate and betrayal for the dragons that I had thought gentle and caring. So I closed my eyes again and buried my face into the warm fuzzy coat of my adoptive father, muffling my cries and tears.

Even if he knew that I had peeked, Makarov didn't say a thing and continued to pull us along as more tears slipped past my eyelids burning with the after image of a field of smoking ashes that once was my hometown.

There had been nothing left to salvage.