OK! This is my very first GW fan fiction. The pairings are 3X4, 1X2, 5M, and possibly DR. This is a fantasy, yaoi story, so if you don't like that sort of stuff, you have been warned. This story is kind of Eragon-esque, but it's with our favorite Gundam boys and a different story line.

Also, since I don't know enough of the ancient language to use it effectively, and there are no translation sights for it, I'm going to use Spanish for all the words I don't know in the ancient language. Why? It's a pretty language, and it'll serve my purposes.

Any advice/criticism is welcome, but please don't flame! I'll so my best to keep everyone in character, but if I slip, just leave a note to correct me! Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, Eragon or anything affiliated with them. Please don't sue me as I'm already dead broke!

JJJJJJ

Quatre ran as fast as his legs could carry him. His ragged gasps echoed through the silent forest, his breaths dissipated into steam as snowflakes caked his eyelashes and glued themselves to his golden locks of hair.

Snow had covered his pursuers' footsteps long ago, the echoes of their voices far behind him, but still Quatre ran.

It seemed everywhere Quatre went; bad luck followed him. Robbers and thieves always chose him to rob, and this time was no exception.

They saw him as a pretty blonde with a few coins that he wasn't worthy of. They saw him as a free fuck. So he ran before they could rob him of anything.

THUMP!

Quatre heaved himself out of the snow, shivering violently. His left ankle ached with a pain that he was all too familiar with, thought that did not make him inured to it. Glancing down into the powder white snow, he saw a large egg-shaped stone. It shone a bright blue, as pale as the morning sky. Quatre knelt by it excitedly. It was pretty, and seemed to be made of some kind of precious stone. It was completely smooth, almost as if someone made it that way.

This could be worth a lot at a market! The money could feed me for a couple months!

Quatre almost groaned at that. Before, when he was younger, he had never needed to worry about money. He had never had to worry about anything.

Nothing good can last. I should have listened to Iria…

Iria. She was his eldest sister of twenty-nine girls. He was the thirtieth child and the only boy of the entire family.

It hurt to talk about them in the past tense, even after five years. He could still see all of them, but his father's disappointed eyes stuck out the most. His father had waited for years to have a boy, and them when he was born; he was more effeminate than some of his sisters were!

Now he was gone. Quatre wondered, as he always did, what his siblings would think if they saw him now. Five years had not done much to Quatre. He was still short, thin, and delicate with bright blonde hair and pale blue-green eyes, the same shade of the rock by his feet.

Five years ago, there was a fire at the local Lord's palace.

I can still here their screams, their horror and pain. I can still feel the heat of the flames as if it were yesterday.

His father and all of his sisters died. The maguanacs, his bodyguards and friends, had perished before his eyes. He had been out, playing in the garden when it happened. He had watched his family roast before his eyes, wanting to join them, but too weak and cowardly to leap into the flames.

I am always too weak, always too cowardly.

Collapsing in the snow, he landed beside the stone with a plop. Tears fell from his eyes, carving trails down his pale face. One by one, they hit the majestic looking stone, splattering against the smooth surface. Quatre was so busy crying remembering his family and how they had all left him that he failed to see I white streak against the blue. Slowly, it grew, thin as a thread, spreading in patterns across the surface like long, pale fingers.

Steadying himself, he picked up the rock, bracing for a large weight, but getting the exact opposite. It was lighter than he expected. Pulling pack from the ground, he opened it and put the rock inside. All that it contained was a change of clothes, an oddly shaped case, a water bottle, and a few small coins.

He was dirt poor, more so than most peasants were. His wealth had died along with his family, leaving him alone to wander from village to village, doing anything to gain money.

He did not have many skills besides being able to read and write, mathematics, and his violin. Most of those skills were considered frivolous, and he did not make much money.

Oh Great One, why did you take my family away from me? Was it punishment? Is this all one test?

Trying to be as quiet as possible, he quickly traveled through the forest. He had no idea what types of dangerous beasts lurked in the forest, and he had no weapon that he could use to chase them away.

Clutching the pack to his chest, he felt the rock through it. With a sigh, he trudged on; hoping that by some miracle there was a town or village nearby.

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Duo examined the new sword he had just created. He loved being the town's blacksmith most of the time, it made good money, but he loved every weapon he made, and he hated to give them away. In Ange de la Mort, a small valley village, he a master blacksmith. People came from miles to use his weapons.

Nobody from the village used his weapons though. They were all pacifists, following the will of god, and the church. In return, God would protect them if anything ever went wrong. Duo, grasped the silver cross around his neck fondly with the hand that his dragon had blessed. He was dressed in the clothes of a priest, all black with the white collar, just to imitate Father Maxwell, his idol, and the man who gave him his last name.

'Solo…' His mind whispered, seeking his companion.

'What is it, oh so annoying one?' Duo, loved his dragon, Solo, and he didn't know what he would do without him. About half a year ago, he had found what appeared to be an unusual, violet stoneright outside his back door. Thinking that he could use the beautiful stone for the decoration on the hilt of some of his better quality swords, he took it in. A week later, Solo had hatched.

'Oh, you know ya love me,' Duo smirked to himself. He could just see Solo snorting in the forest behind his yard. Solo was just learning to breathe fire, and sometimes those flames could be deadly. Duo should know; he lost almost six inches of hair to one of those "accidents." Still, his hair was longer, shinier, and prettier than any of the other girl's hair in the village was. Yes, his three feet of beautiful chestnut hair was his pride and joy.

'Are you thinking about your hair again?' He just had to get the dragon with the sense of humor. Duo grinned. He would not have it any other way.

'Why, jealous that you're bald?' Duo smirked. Got him there.

'You know, hair is wonderfully flammable. I'm sure all it'd take was one little flame…' Duo's eyes widened.

'You wouldn't dare!' Duo could almost hear Solo's rough laugh.

Duo carefully set the sword out in the display area. A bell rung, signaling the entrance of someone, most likely a customer.

"Duo! Thank god you're all right!" A girl, with short, dark blue hair leaned against the door, gasping in order to catch her breath.

"Of course I'm alright, why wouldn't I be?" Duo was suddenly confused and worried. In the valley, those two emotions almost never reached anybody. What was going on?

'Solo?' He called out mentally.

'I have no idea. I'm not even in the village.' Solo was obviously as confused as he was.

"These two hooded men came, looking for a dragon rider, whatever that is. Father Maxwell told me to give you this and tell you to leave as soon as possible!" She tossed him a small but thick book, with golden characters.

"Hilde, what good is a book to me? You know I can't read!" Duo was confused now. Why would father give him a book?

Suddenly Hilde slumped forward, collapsing. A black arrow protruded from her back.

"Hilde!" No! She couldn't be gone! Hilde had been his best friend as long as he could remember.

'Enemies!' Solo's voice was loud enough to shatter his mental ears, but Duo wasn't listening.

"Hilde! Wake up! Listen to me!" Keeping the book in one hand, he sat by Hilde, gently lifting her into a sitting position.

"Du-Duo?" Her voice was so weak.

"Hilde, you have to live, you have to!" Hilde smiled up at him.

"Duo, your destiny… It is not in this village. It is not with me. Go, please." Duo pulled his gaze away from Hilde's face when he heard the screaming of children. The entire village was on fire. Everything was burning!

God, where are you?

They were all dying, falling to the ground either on fire, or with black arrows stuck in them.

God, where are you?

Nuns, in their habits, fell to the ground, silver crosses, gleaming in the sinister light of the flames.

God, why aren't you protecting us?

Duo's village was always pure; they prayed everyday and went to church every Sunday. God should protect them.

Babies screamed their lungs out, crying for their mothers, inhaling the poisonous smoke, choking to death on their own tears. In the midst of the terror, a Dragon landed in the center of the town. Gleaming fangs slipped from a dangerous mouth.

The dragon was huge, easily 20 feet long.

'Enemies!'

God, why have you abandoned us?

Everyone in his village was dead. Hilde's breathing stilled as she slumped against him. Several arrows shot the Dragon, and it was slowly making its way towards Duo.

'Enemies!'

The Dragon thrashed, hitting the two hooded men standing in the middle of the street. They went through the walls of a burning building, causing the entire complex to collapse.

"Solo!" The dragon turned towards him, eyes crazed. Duo ran toward Solo, hoisting himself up onto the saddle he had set up earlier, when he had first started riding Solo.

The dragon took off into the air, and Duo, not strapped into his saddle, clung on for dear life. Pain shot through his body from his left thigh as the telltale thump of an arrow reached his ears.

The last thing Duo thought before he passed out was, God, why did you abandon us?

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Quatre stumbled along aimlessly. He had been wandering through the forest for two weeks, but he had yet to find civilization. He had been lucky and come across several streams, and a few berries to live off in these woods. He had also wondered south, because there was not anymore snow.

His luck was only so good though. He was dead tired, and hungry, and berries weren't very filling. Besides, he had none left. The last stream had been seven days ago, and there hadn't been many edible berries. His stomach growled its protest every second of everyday, and his head was swimming.

Maybe those last berries were poisonous.

The stone he had found had changed drastically over the last to weeks. Those white cracks had spread across its surface.

Maybe it can only survive at certain elevations? Really, Quatre was clueless at what was causing the cracks to spread. He would have left it behind a long time ago, but something urged him to keep it with him. Try as he might, he could not set it down and leave it behind.

Suddenly, the rocked let out a screech, pulling itself out of his arms and tumbling to the ground. Quatre stared.

What kind of magic is this?

The cracks spread further and further as the squealing continued. Hesitantly, Quatre took a step forward.

"What's going on?" He questioned. Suddenly, the rock stopped, and Quatre moved forward. He reached out a shaky arm and touched the shell.

As if his touch were the activation to whatever magic was going on, the rock began to crack along the white lines already formed.

Quatre jerked back as if he were shocked. Slowly, the rock crumbled onto the ground, and out of it came a bright, baby blue-

OH ALLAH! It's a baby dragon!

The dragon licked itself clean of any membrane, and stared intently at Quatre. It was truly tiny, for such a terrifying creature. It wasn't even as long as his arm! It skittered closer to him, and Quatre was struck between the need to run away from it, or try to get closer to it.

The dragon had wings several times longer than the main part of his body, and the skin was leathery and nearly translucent. Bones in the wings connected them, which led to talons, much like the wings of bats. A row of spines went down the dragon's neck, pausing at the junction of the neck and shoulder, before continuing all the way until the end of its tail. Its head was triangular, with starling pink eyes, and small, but painful looking fangs. It had claws of each of its four limbs.

Quatre slowly reached out his left arm to touch it. When his arm came in contact with the dragon, a burst of icy pain traveled up his arm at an amazing pace, reverberating through his entire body. Quatre shuddered and pulled his hand away as quickly as possible.

The pain shooting through his limbs, mixed with his lightheadedness almost caused him to pass out. The pain was racing though every part of him, lighting him on fire and freezing him at the same time. The only sensation that he could feel was pain.

Finally, the pain stopped, leaving him shivery and shuddering. His hand burned immensely, itching something horrible.

Frightened, he held his hand up, realizing that he couldn't even move his fingers. Shimmering on his pale skin was a white-silver oval, and Quatre looked at it in awe.

Oh Great One, is this a sign?

The dragon cocked its head at Quatre, bending its long neck to do so. Something touched his mind. It was a gentle prodding, but still an invasion of his privacy. Curious, he looked at the Dragon. Was it the one causing all of this to happen?

Suddenly, even more hunger overtook his system. "I'm sorry, but I don't have any food…"

Quatre looked down at his hands. Already, he had failed Allah in his newest test. Confusion and then understanding dawned on his little friend, and before Quatre could do anything, the dragon snuggled up to him, nuzzling his arm.

Quatre brought his right arm up to the Dragon, petting its head. The dragon, for all of its flaws, was warm, and it provided Quatre with the physical contact physical contact he desperately needed. Perhaps this Dragon was his friend. Quatre sighed. He would accept this gift.

Thank you…

Quatre awoke with a start. He hadn't even realized that he had fallen asleep! His dragon had curled up on his chest, and as Quatre sat up, he brought an arm up to support the small creature.

Quatre could feel that they were both terribly hungry, but that was not what was bothering him now. Right in front of them was another Dragon. It looked like a larger version of Quatre's dragon, except it was purple, with bright red eyes. Hanging limply on its shoulders, between a gap in the spines, was a boy with long, chestnut brown hair.

Quatre felt his dragon's long claws sink slightly into his skin as it balanced itself on his shoulders, its tail wrapped around his upper arm. Quatre could feel two emotions, but he knew not if they were his or the dragons.

The first was fear, and indeed, Quatre feared the giant beast. The second emotion was wonder. Would his little friend ever grow to be that large?

After Quatre's mind overcame that, he rushed over to the dragon. The boy on him was unconscious and bleeding, and the dragon itself had several arrow wounds. Ignoring the dragon's hisses, he rushed over to the rider, dragging him off the dragon.

As soon as Quatre got the rider off, the dragon roared at him, a terrifying, loud roar that sent him, the boy he was trying to support, and his dragon all to the ground.

'WHAT ARE YOU DOING?' It roared, invading Quatre's mind. His dragon squeaking menacingly in response, or as menacing as a squeak can get.

"Please," Quatre stated, hearing himself talk both in his mind and vocally, "I don't wish either of you any harm! I just want to help!" He was being honest. He didn't bear ill will on anyone, especially not anyone else with a dragon.

Quatre lifted his arms as a sign of surrender, and in doing so, knocked something from the unconscious boy's hand. It was a book with gold lettering. It was titled, "Dragon Riders."

Quatre was so focused on the book, he failed to notice the larger dragon until his dragon let out a small squeak. The larger dragon was examining Quatre's left hand.

It was huge. Its head alone was probably as large as his torso!

'You are one who is bonded,' it stated.

Bonded? Was that what had happened when he touched the dragon. Was that what the mark on his hand meant? His Dragon squeaked possessively, as if to say, that's right! He's mine! Stay away!

"I don't know, but you're injured, and I need to get you and the boy help!"

'Duo!' The dragon insisted. Quatre blinked. What was the significance of Duo?

'His name. It is Dou. Mine is Solo.'

"Hello Solo. My name is Quatre." Solo's giant head nodded.

'Do you know anything about medicine?' Solo asked. Quatre shook his head.

"I'm sorry." He offered, as some sort of compensation.

'So, you were so eager to help, but you had no clue what you were doing?' Was the Dragon being humorous?

"Well, I know a little, mostly about arrow wounds…" Quatre walked over to Duo and examined his leg. The arrow had gone completely though his thigh. Gulping, Quatre thanked Allah that Duo was unconscious before he snapped the arrowhead off. Then, as gently as possible, he drew the arrow out of the wound.

The wound was a bloody, gaping hole, and Quatre nearly threw up. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that he hadn't eaten in two days. Reaching into his pack, Quatre pulled out his water carrier and his extra clothing. Tearing a strip off of his shirt, he wrapped the wound.

There, he said uncertainly, "it won't be very clean, but this will slow the blood flow." Dabbing some water on to the cloth, he cleaned the area around the wound as best he could without proper sanitary equipment.

'Thank you.' The majestic dragon told him, bending his neck into a weird sort of bow. Suddenly a wave of hunger passed over him, and he heard a squeak. Then everything faded into black, and Quatre collapsed.

He came around to sweet smell of food being cooked over a fire, and quickly sat up. His body wasn't ready though, and he collapsed again.

"So you're conscious! You gave Solo and I quite a scare! We thought you had died on us or sometin'!" Quatre turned his head towards the voice. It was the boy on the dragon-Duo. Now that he was awake, Quatre could see that he had unusual eyes. They were violet!

"…And so then, Solo brought back some meat and water and fruits and stuff like that, and I tried to feed it to you, but you Dragon was all like 'SEQUEAK,' wouldn't let me near you or nothing', so we hadta' just set the food there and let your dragon eat. Hungry little bugger, he is! He ate more than me!"

Quatre smiled. It was nice to be around someone who talked as much as him for once.

Duo handed him some stew, grinning, and Quatre, took it with shaky hands. The wood bowl had just been carved. Quatre confused looked over to Duo.

"Oh, those? I made them myself with my daggers. I was a blacksmith back in town…" He paused, and a look of sadness came over him before he shook his head as if to banish bad memories. His long, braid landed straight in Quatre's soup, sending it flying all over him.

Good thing it wasn't too hot.

His dragon nuzzled his face and started licking the soup off. Quatre just stared at Duo, who was holding his soup soaked braid, trying to act innocent. Suddenly, Dou's face broke out into a wicked grin.

"So," he asked Quatre, "how did it taste?" Quatre burst out laughing, followed shortly by Duo. Quatre's dragon continued to lick soup off his face. Human companionship was golden.

Thank you, Allah.