370X
The wind howled through the burning trees, carrying with it the scent of scorched earth and the cries of the dying. Smoke curled like dark serpents around the broken remnants of a once-peaceful village, now nothing more than ash and ruin.
A boy—no older than five—stumbled through the forest, his small legs pumping with all the strength they could muster. His name was Fafnir, and tonight, his world had ended.
Behind him, a monstrous shadow soared between the trees. The air shimmered with heat as the dragon gave chase, weaving effortlessly through the sky, its laughter echoing like thunder.
Fafnir tripped, tumbling down a slope and landing hard against the roots of a tree. He gasped for breath, heart pounding, tears mixing with soot on his cheeks. High above, the crimson-scaled beast circled lazily, fire glowing in its throat—but it didn't strike. Not yet.
It was playing with him.
Claws raked the earth nearby, sending rocks and dirt flying. The dragon dipped low, swiping with its tail. Pain exploded across Fafnir's side as he was thrown through the air, landing with a sickening crunch. He cried out, but even his voice was weak, fading.
The dragon approached, savoring the moment.
But then the sky split with a roar of unimaginable power.
From beyond the mountains came a blinding white light, and with it descended a titanic white dragon, wings wide as storms, its scales gleaming like silver in the moonlight. With one deafening bellow, the newcomer drove the fire dragon back. The younger dragon snarled but retreated, vanishing into the night.
Silence returned to the forest, save for Fafnir's ragged breaths.
The white dragon landed with a thunderous crash, shaking the earth. His eyes—ancient, knowing—fell upon the boy.
Voltigern. The disaster dragon.
That was the name he had been called by humans long ago. One of the few who had never turned against them.
As Voltigern looked upon the broken child, memories stirred—memories of heated debates among dragonkind. There had once been talk, radical at the time, of teaching humans their secrets. Giving them the strength of dragons. Dragon Slayer Magic. A desperate idea to fight the chaos spreading through their kind.
He had rejected it then.
Now, as he gazed at the boy bleeding in the dirt, his heart—so long encased in frost—moved.
The child's life had been shattered. His family, gone. His home, reduced to cinders. But in those frightened, determined eyes, Voltigern saw the faint spark of something more.
Something worth saving.
"I will not let you be lost to the fire," he rumbled, lowering his great head. "From this day forward… you are mine to protect."
And so, Fafnir, last child of a forgotten village, became the ward of a dragon.
------timeskip
377X
Seven winters had passed since the white dragon, Voltigern, had taken in the orphaned child from the ruins of a forgotten village. Seven years since a dying flame was kindled anew under the shadow of ancient wings.
Fafnir once small, frail, and haunted by smoke and sorrow—had grown. Now twelve, he stood taller than most boys his age, his frame lean with muscle, his eyes sharp with wisdom far beyond his years. His magic, once untamed and wild, had become a force shaped by discipline, grief, and purpose. Voltigern had taught him everything—not just how to wield Disaster Dragon Slayer Magic, but how to endure the burden that came with it.
But two years ago, that flame had dimmed again.
Dragons were not eternal.
Even dragons of disaster.
When Voltigern's time came, he did not rage or cry. He lay beneath the snow-covered boughs of the northern highlands, his breaths shallow, wings folded over Fafnir like a final shelter. He had grown slower in his final year, his magic thinning like mist under sunlight.
What Fafnir did not know what Voltigern had not said until the very end was that he had not yet passed on the Dragon Seed, the magical core necessary to anchor the soul of a Dragon Slayer and halt the transformation into a dragon. It was an ancient ritual. One Voltigern had long resisted, believing there would be more time.
"I am sorry… my son," he had whispered, his voice like wind through ancient trees. "You may yet walk the path… that turns your skin to scales."
Then he was gone.
The silence after Voltigern's death had been suffocating.
But Fafnir did not break.
He endured.
He always endured.
---
In the wake of Voltigern's passing, Fafnir wandered. His grief weighed heavy, but he did not let it consume him. Guided by whispers of other dragons those who had not turned against humankind he sought out the other Dragon Slayers, children like himself, hidden across Ishgar and nurtured by dragons of different elements.
He found Natsu and Igneel, wild and impulsive. He met Wendy with Grandeeney, kind and unsure. He stood before Sting and Rogue, Gajeel though some were younger, some not yet raised.
But he didn't just meet them.
He became their anchor.
Older, wiser, and already scarred by loss, Fafnir naturally stepped into the role of an elder brother, someone who understood their pain, someone who had already paid the price of growing up too quickly. He trained with them, laughed with them, watched over them as Voltigern once had watched over him.
---
It was in X377, during one of these secret meetings between dragons and their children, that a change in the wind began.
A woman elegant, poised, her magic laced with celestial time arrived among them. Her name was Anna Heartfilia, and she bore with her a terrible knowledge of Acnologia the dragon of apocalypse.
With her came Zeref the immortal, cursed by contradiction. Though his presence was met with distrust and even fury, he played his part in the plan. Anna and Zeref, working together in fragile alliance, proposed the Eclipse gate, a gate into the far future, where the children would awaken and challenge Acnologia when the time was right.
The dragons agreed.
The children were chosen.
The plan was simple, tragic, necessary: the Dragon Slayers would be sent 400 years into the future, frozen in time, preserving their strength and potential until the moment they were needed most.
But when the time came, and the gate opened pulsing with temporal magic and heavy with finality Fafnir did not step forward.
He stepped back.
"No."
Anna blinked. "Fafnir?"
"I won't go," he said calmly. "I have no dragon to send me through… and even if I did, it doesn't matter. I'm already starting to feel the shift. The seed wasn't planted. I'm becoming… what he feared I'd become."
"You could still..." Wendy started, eyes wide, tears gathering. "We could find a way, you can..."
Fafnir shook his head.
"I'm already fading. This magic, it's no longer mine. But it can still serve a purpose. Someone has to remain. To remember. To make sure this world doesn't forget the cost of our power."
Natsu scowled, gripping his shoulder. "That's stupid! You're stronger than anyone I know! Don't do this alone, damn it!"
"I'm not alone." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I have you. All of you. That's enough."
Grandeeney gently ushered Wendy toward the gate, but the girl turned, sobbing.
"Promise me we'll meet again!" she cried.
He stepped forward and embraced her just once. Just long enough.
"We will," he said softly. "Even if I don't look the same… I'll find you."
Then the gate began to close.
Natsu fought it. Clawed at the edge, yelling Fafnir's name.
Fafnir only watched, standing still in the snow, his scarf fluttering in the wind. He raised a hand.
And then they were gone.
---
When the light faded, Fafnir stood alone once more beneath the same stars he had gazed at with Voltigern. His magic stirred within him, wild and growing.
He did not know how long he had left before the dragon overtook the body.
But until then, he would live.
Not as a weapon. Not as a monster.
But as a keeper of memory.
A fire that refused to die.