Child of Destruction
Author: Chaos Valkyrie
First Conceptualized: December 12, 2003
Posted Chapter 01: January 28, 2004
Updated: December 22, 2005

Disclaimer: I do not own Legend of Dragoon. Well, actually, I do – the four disc version. I enjoy playing it. However, I don't own any of the copyrights or things like that.

Summary: This takes place approximately 100 years after LOD ends. A new evil has arisen, and now a new batch of Dragoons must come forward to once again save Imperial Gloriano.

Chapter One: Street Rats

Iris ducked down an alleyway, her long cloak swishing behind her, effectively sweeping her light footprints out of the snow. Deningrad was a large city, bustling despite its year-round cold weather. Iris glanced over her shoulder quickly, then ducked down and through a gap in the wooden fence that dead-ended the alley.

She emerged into the busy streets outside the cathedral, her eyes darting quickly around. The imperial soldiers were still out of sight, and so she picked her next target with care.

There – a richly-dressed mother with three obnoxious little kids. Iris casually walked towards the small family, then neatly flicked her rapier under her cloak to trip the bounciest of the children as she passed. The child immediately begin to cry, and the mother, thinking it had tripped on its own, crouched down to soothe her annoying child. Iris's hand brushed the lady's cloak lightly in the few seconds it took her to pass by, and she continued to walk slowly, towards the cathedral, before she looked around cautiously. She then ducked down the nearest alley when no one appeared to be watching her.

Iris chuckled as she stashed the lady's purse next to the other three wallets she had stolen today. The seventeen-year-old pickpocket then jumped on a trash can and pulled herself onto the roof of the nearest building. Having achieved the safety of the high road, she ran from roof-top to roof-top towards the seedier part of town.

"I hope Iris is okay, she's been gone forever," a scrawny, platinum-haired fourteen-year-old muttered from his spot in the corner. A thoughtful-looking, dark-haired girl looked over at him reassuringly from the fire she was stoking.

"Iris can take care of herself," she stated, throwing another log on the fire. She then returned the cauldron containing their supper to its place above the flames. Claire sighed, walking to the window and making sure that the heavy shutters were still unlocked. As she turned away, she faintly heard something outside, and she turned, smiling at the worried boy.

"I think she's back, Geru," Claire told him, moving to stir the bubbling stew.

Iris chose that moment to sweep through the window, holding her cloak to herself in a dramatic pose.

"I have returned!" she proclaimed, then giggled as she tossed four wallets out onto the floor.

"You got four today!" Geru exclaimed, bending down to sort through the contents of the wallets. Iris knelt down beside him, helping him to count out the various bills and coins while Claire ladled the stew into three bowls.

"That's not all I got," Iris said, winking as she rolled three apples out onto the carpet, along with a loaf of bread. Geru gasped and grabbed one of the apples.

"You got fruit? Where?" he asked, prepared to bite into one before Claire rapped his hand with a spoon.

"Those are for dessert," she told him, handing him his stew. He pouted, but then ate his dinner with zeal. Iris merely shook her head with a slight smile on her face, and finished counting out the money before she started her meal.

"So, how much have we now?" Claire asked.

"Well, this gives us enough to make the fare for the ferry, but not much for supplies. A few more days and we should be set," Iris sighed. She slurped her stew down as Geru bit into his apple.

"I can't wait to leave this place. Its too cold!" Geru exclaimed. The two girls chuckled, starting their own desserts while the boy continued to mutter about the snow and ice. Iris smiled to herself as she fondly watched her little "family."

Iris had found Geru three years ago, after his parents had been murdered by bandits in the Snow Fields outside of Deningrad. The boy had been wandering the streets of the city, sniffling from the cold and his sorrow, possessing nothing but a giant Basher (a type of war hammer) and a small glowing stone. Being a stranger to the city, and only eleven-years-old besides, Iris had found him cornered by some other street punks in an alley near the Crystal Palace. Using the flat of her rapier, she had beat the boys back, leaving herself and the platinum haired youth in peace.

Of course, with a kid to take care of, she now needed a real place to call home. She herself had never known her parents, having been raised on the streets by an old pervy beggar. She had escaped his clutches when she was seven, learning to fend for herself, sleeping in whatever warm shelter she could find at night to keep alive.

She and Geru scoured the back streets of the seedier part of Deningrad, looking for an old ruin that had not been already claimed. The city was mostly restored since the attack by the Divine Dragon over a hundred years ago, but some buildings had not been worth repairing, and this still-damaged part of the city became a ghetto for the downtrodden.

Iris quickly learned that Geru was more than just an unfortunate albino when he sprouted wings and flew above the buildings to find a decent shelter for the night. Geru was a Wingly, but knew nothing about his own people other than what his parents had told him. Apparently, they were in Mille Seseau to visit a reported colony of his kin, but he had no knowledge of where it could be. His parents were traveling performers, and this was the first time they had returned to their native land during his lifetime.

After several weeks of searching, Geru and Iris finally found their new home. There was a tall, ruined building in the heart of the ghetto, the top floor of which, about five stories off the ground, was partially intact. Over several weeks, they fashioned a crude but sturdy flooring, Iris spending most of the little money she had saved to buy nails and tools to aid their work.

For two years Iris raised Geru as best she could, teaching him the quick and dangerous life of the streets. She tried to keep him out of trouble, refusing to teach him to pick pockets like she did daily. With two mouths to feed, she was forced to steal more than before.

A year ago, they had met Claire, who was seventeen at the time, only a year older than Iris. Geru's smart mouth had gotten him in trouble again, and Claire had intervened to keep him from being beaten to death by some drunken men. Of course, seeing a pretty little thing like Claire, they had tried to get friendly with her, only to be beaten to a pulp by Claire's fists. Iris, impressed, had talked with Claire after the three escaped the area.

Claire, it seemed, was a runaway from her hometown. Having mastered the Rouge school arts at an extremely young age, she had packed up her things one night and headed out to see the world. However, her money had been stolen in Tiberoa, and she had stowed away on the ferry to come to Mille Seseau.

Now the three were like a family. Claire looked after Geru and preferred to keep house while Iris worked during the day. She also tried to school the two younger teens, although she privately thought it was a losing battle. Both teens knew enough reading and writing to survive, and that was all they cared to know. Geru, on the other hand, liked to go out with Iris to steal during the day, but she forced him to stay at home during the harsher months, when less people were on the streets, saying she could move much more quickly if she didn't have to keep lookout for two thieves. Which was true, as Geru had a tendency to be brash and liked to draw attention to himself – a trait that she assumed he inherited from his parents.

Iris now looked up, eyes avoiding Claire's as she cleared her throat.

"Um, I was thinking, there's some winter festival going on down near the palace, I thought I'd go down there and, um, see what's going on," she said, trying to play innocent.

"Translation: she's going to go work overtime," Geru piped up from the corner. Claire laughed before glaring at Iris sternly.

"Et tu, Geru?" Iris sighed. She looked up at Claire, defiantly flinging her black hair over her shoulder. "If I get some good picks tonight, we could leave that much sooner," she argued.

"We're coming with you," Claire stated flatly. "Its too dangerous for you on your own."

Iris snorted. "You forget who's been living on these streets all her life –"

"And you seemed to be ignoring the fact that the festival will be right under the noses of the imperial guards!" Claire shot back.

"Whoo-hoo! We're going to the festival!" Geru shouted, jumping up and doing a little jig. Iris rolled her eyes as Claire laughed.

"All right, I guess we can spare a little from the till to buy him a few games or something," Iris muttered to Claire. Claire laughed and pulled out a few bills.

"C'mon, lets go. You need a lift down?" Claire asked Iris, who nodded, resigned.

Iris brushed by an staggering drunk on the fringe of the festival, making a face as she felt the thinness of the wallet in her sly hand. She walked into the area with the food booths, hoping to find a more wealthy drunk to pick.

She had left Claire and Geru in the games area, trusting that Claire would be able to keep the small Wingly out of trouble. Iris avoided the glances of the guards, walking up to a booth and buying an over-priced juice beverage to sip on unobtrusively. She walked along casually, appearing to glance at different game booths while she really checked out the night's prospects.

Then she noticed a man in a rich black cloak marching swiftly through the crowds, headed towards the palace. He was extremely out of place, bumping into several people although he appeared quite sober. Iris innocently followed him, scanning the crowd as if looking for her companions while keeping an eye on her target. He paused and turned quickly, as if sensing her presence. Iris quickly waved at no-one in particular, running towards a crowded game booth nearby. This seemed to pacify him, as he turned and continued towards the palace.

Iris ducked through the crowd, running down an alley to come out ahead of him. She raised her own hood, and licked her dry lips nervously as she waited. As the man passed the alley, she lightly brushed his cloak as she passed behind him, snatching the small belt-pouch from his waist. Her eyes widened, however, as he grabbed her wrist in a cruelly tight grip, pushing her back into the alley and slamming her into a wall, growling.

She winced as he glared at her through red-eyes, the pouch still crushed in her numb hand. He was handsome, perhaps in his early twenties, but his thin mouth was twisted into a snarl as he turned and threw her forcefully into another wall. She lay in the cold snow, still holding the pouch, looking up at him in shock. He was a Wingly, she could tell from his eyes and his silver hair, now revealed to her as he threw his hood back.

"Give back the pouch, girl, and I won't be forced to kill you," he gritted, his hands clutching a sword whose blade seemed to be formed from flames. Iris's eyes narrowed and she picked herself up, pulling her sword out and facing him.

"I won't die easily," she stated bravely, facing him. He chuckled coldly, standing at ease and motioning for her to attack. She stashed the pouch in her cloak, before leaping to attack him.

He was quick. In the split second it took to launch her attack, he had vanished completely. She felt a swift kick to her stomach and found herself sprawled in the snow yet again, wincing as she tried to pick herself back up. The Wingly stood over her, a small smirk on his face.

"You can't beat me," he told her. "Now, give back the pouch, or I'll make you beg for death before I'm done with you," he told her bluntly.

Iris looked up at him, glaring, before slowly reaching for the pouch. "Omni Sweep!" she heard a familiar voice scream, and she instead dropped and rolled as Claire appeared behind him, kicking, punching, chopping. Small hands grabbed Iris from behind and she suddenly found herself a good twenty feet in the air, barely having time to see the man fly into the trash at the end of the narrow alleyway. Geru took off, flying towards the ghetto, a violet blur quickly joining them in the air.

"He won't be down for long," she heard Claire shout before she added her energy to speed their flight. They shot through the shutters of their one-roomed home, slamming them shut. Geru stood at the window, keeping guard, while Claire helped Iris towards their beds. Iris shook her off, heading for their secret cache instead. She removed the small box from behind the loose brick in the fire place, then grabbed a knapsack and began throwing her things into it.

"We have enough for the ferry, let's get out of here," she told her startled companions. "Whatever is in this pouch, he's willing to kill us all for it," she told them.

Claire nodded, moving to pack her own bag while Iris traded places with Geru. While her family packed, Iris fingered the pouch, opening it to look inside. She held out her hand as she shook out two round stones – one red, the other a blackish-purple. The red was warm to the touch, but the other glowed with deep purple-black light the moment it touched her bare skin.

Claire and Geru looked up in shock as the light in her hand was joined by resonating blue and violet lights from about their own necks.

"Iris?" Claire asked in shock.

Geru smiled in joy. "You're a Dragoon too!" he exclaimed.

End Notes: Huh, didn't see that coming, did you? Well, actually, you probably did. Yes, Geru is the son of Meru and Guaraha, sniff. I didn't like killing them off either. Anyway, I figure that Winglies live a lot longer than humans, so Meru and Guaraha could have waited to have kids for 90 or so years after LOD. Hey, it could happen. And Claire is the descendant of Haschel, to answer that train of thought. Iris however, has no blood connections to the past Dragoons, and the same will go for some of the other New Dragoons. But you'll just have to wait and see who's who. Oh, and in case you're wondering, Iris is 17, Claire 18, and Geru 14.