Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Bonds and Beginnings ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

When she awoke she found that the man was with her again, sitting over her and waiting for her to awaken. She sat up suddenly and realized where she was, then sighed and looked up at him.

"I take it you heard me," she said in a croak. Piccolo nodded.

"But I do not think you are ready." He told her solemnly. Ryven frowned.

"Not ready...?"

"There is something that you have not forgiven yourself for." He continued. "You talk in your sleep, so that is how I know."

"I don't wanna talk about it." Ryven said quietly, casting her look downard. The desert wind blew over them both, causing both cloaks to flap slightly in the breeze as they sat.

"Then let me see it."

Ryven shot him a look. "What...? How?

"Trust me and let me show you." He said.

"Why do you even care?" she asked suddenly, her voice taking on a slight trembling. "I thought you said you didn't care."

"I do now."

Ryven stared at him for a few minutes, and then nodded, relenting and relaxing slightly.

"Show me."

Piccolo put his fingertips on her temples and let his thumbs rest on her forehead. Ryven flinched a little bit, not used to people touching her in anything but a violent manner. But then she took in a breath and closed her eyes.

"Do the same to me." He told her. She nodded, scooting closer to him and reaching up to his head, her small arms stretching to reach so far. Piccolo focused, and the two were suddenly engulfed in a whirlwind of images; muddled memories that made no sense. He searched and searched until he found a memory locked away in the back of her mind. He set it free, and soon he was watching what had happened so long ago...

Flashback

It was the day that she was to be bonded with her familiar, on her 35th birthday; sixth in Elvin years. Since her mother was of high elf blood, the birthday of her only child was something to be celebrated, since her presence had seemed to bring them more peace and prosperity than they had ever had before. The small village high in the snowy mountains was buzzing with activity, helping with decorations and foodstuffs.

Ryven was sitting outside of her house, petting the small wolf puppy that would be her familiar in a few minutes. She was frightened about the experience, fearing that it would hurt a great deal. She secretly didn't want to go through with it, but she knew if she didn't Momma and Papa would be angry with her.

She was wearing a white flowing robe-like dress, the traditional dress for the Bonding Ceremony. Her hair had been combed and adorned with white, blue and purple flowers, and her feet shod in satin slippers of the purest white. There were already dirty smudges on her dress from sitting on the ground and from where the puppy was pawing at her, but she didn't seem to mind. She was too busy watching the people bustle about like busy bees. Her dark blue eyes were wide as she watched the people climb the ladders and hang streamers from the houses and such, smiling at her as they walked by her.

"And there's my little pup!" a familiar voice called out from the road. Ryven smiled and let out a giggle as her father came from the road and picked her up. He smiled and twirled her around several times, drawing squeals of glee from her, causing a few of her flowers to fly from her hair. Her father let out a deep, rich laugh as he set her on his shoulder.

"Sevyn, look at what you're doing! It took me forever to put her hair up like that!" her mother called from the house. A tall, dainty looking elf woman emerged from the house, clad in white as well. She was a sharp contrast from her husband, as her hair was blonde with green eyes, tall, pale and thin. Her husband was short, brown haired and blue eyed, his skin darkened by the sun and quite muscular. Their differences alone were enough of a testament that their union was not of pure blood.

"Garaine, I'm merely taking Ryven to the ceremony, so stop your fretting." Ryven's father told her, still smiling. Garaine smiled as well and walked out farther, slipping her arm in her husband's as they started down the street. Ryven sat atop her father's broad shoulders, feeling very much on top of the world. Every now and then she would look down and watch the white wolf puppy trot beside them; it's pink tongue lolling out of his mouth happily.

The square was a flurry of motion, villagers and visitors alike bustling about making last minute preparations for the rite. Flowers and such adorned the fountain in the middle of the village square, the white altar standing in front of its grand presence. The whole village sat at the base of the Krylainstaal mountain range, and their majestic silhouette making for the perfect backdrop for such an occasion. Beside the altar stood an aged elf, his hair white with age and his eyes sunken with experience. He had his hands folded within his flowing green, purple and white robes, and he stood very still. Ryven clung to her father's neck a little tighter as she saw him.

"Papa, I'm scarwed." Ryven whispered in her father's ear. Her father merely chuckled.

"Dear one, you've nothing to fear." He told her gently. "The mage is a long time friend of mine."

"But why do I have to have a fimiler?" she whined in a whisper. "You and momma don't have one. Neithaw does anyone else."

"Perhaps I'll explain it to you when you're older." Her mother replied, overhearing the conversation.

"No, I'll tell her now." Her father contradicted her. "It's better to know it now than later."

"That sounds wise."

Her father took her from his shoulders and set her on the ground, looking to the mage with a look that told him that he would only be a minute. The mage nodded and took a book from his sleeve, reading from it solemnly. Ryven grew even more frightened at the looks on people's faces.

"Do you remember that time when you accidentally fell down the well?" her father asked the small child, kneeling to her level. Ryven nodded. "Well, when you fell down that well, you were down there for a long time, and we couldn't find you. But then we saw something, Dear one. We saw a light coming from the well. That's how we found you. You were putting off a light."

"I was gwowing?" Ryven frowned. "I don't get it."

"You have power, Ryven dear. Power that we know will be revered by many people some day." Her mother explained. "We don't know where you got it from, but we know that it needs to be protected. Your father's mage friend recommended that we give you a familiar. An animal friend, to protect you."

"I get a fwiend? Him?" Ryven pointed to the puppy. The puppy scratched behind his ears and let out a little whining sound. Sevyn nodded and took her up again. "But Snowbwind is aweady my fwiend."

"Is that what you've named him?"

"Uh huh."

"Well then, Snowblind will be your magical friend." Her mother cooed. "Now don't be frightened, my child. It won't hurt, everything will be fine." Ryven, mostly convinced, nodded and looked toward the man in the robes again; her blue eyes wide with wonder and fear.

"Ah, the One comes. The ceremony may begin." The mage smiled kindly toward the small child. "Please, set her upon the altar, along with the appointed familiar."

Sevyn kissed Ryven on the forehead and set her down upon the white altar, then bent down to and lifted the puppy to the altar as well. The puppy whined again as it sat on the platform, never being that high in his short life. Ryven grabbed the puppy by the neck and squeezed him hard.

"It'll be awight, Snowbwind. Momma and Papa say so." Ryven whispered. The puppy whined again and squirmed in her grasp, but quieted down. The mage knelt down to her and smiled again, reached out to her face with his bony, aged hand. Ryven cringed from his hand a little as he reached up and took a small lock of flaxen hair, and then watched as he took a small tuft from the puppy. He stood up and put the two samples in a small, decorated bowl, and set it down. Next he took a decorated dagger from his cloak and faced the child. Ryven let out a small gasp and a squeal when she saw the glint of the blade, her eyes suddenly glassy with dread.

"Don't fret child, it won't hurt but a second," the mage said, taking her hand. But before Ryven could even let out a cry of protest he had pricked her chubby finger and was letting the drops fall into the bowl. She watched herself bleed with wonder, each drop seeming like a red jewel. He did the same to the Snowblind as well, and the little puppy growled a little in the back of his throat. Finally he stepped away from the altar, holding the small bowl up above his head at arm's length. He chanted some words Ryven didn't understand and added some liquid from a decorated dark blue bottle, stirring the mixture with the same bejeweled dagger.

"And now I need you to repeat what I say as best you can, small child. Do you understand?" the mage said as he turned to her. Ryven nodded. "Good." He knelt down again and pulled the dagger from the bowl, watching some of the concoction drip from the tip. He lowered the dagger tip first to Ryven's pricked finger, dropping some upon the wound, doing the same for the puppy. He then used the flat of the blade to smear a small amount on the elf girl's forehead, nose and wrists, and the puppy's equivalent. He then waved his old hands over the two and chanted some more, his voice sounding deep and far away.

As he chanted Ryven began to feel strange, somewhat dizzy and disoriented. Her body tingled with a new sensation, until it suddenly stopped. She frowned and looked down at herself, mouthing for her mother and father, but receiving no answer. Looking over to the wolf pup, she discovered that he too looked a little muddled. And then as the puppy looked at her, she heard a child's voice echo through her head.

~Why is that Elf looking at me like that...? She looks as confused as I do.~ It said, the voice sounding confused and scared. Ryven looked harder at the wolf and said something to it in her head.

~Awe you talking about me?~ She asked innocently. She saw the puppy jump a little.

~You can talk to me?~ The wolf yelped. Ryven giggled, listening to the puppy laugh in her head as well.

"The rite is finished! The two are one!" the mage shouted suddenly, smiling. The villagers applauded and cheered as Ryven's parent's walked up to the altar and picked the child up, cuddling her and kissing her forehead, praising her for being a good, brave girl.

"It didn't hurwt! And now I can tawk to Snowbwind! He's kinda scarwed right now, because thewe are so many people here." Ryven babbled to her parents.

Later on during that day there was much celebrating going on. There were feasts and dances, games and magic tricks in the square, all of which the villagers and visitors alike participated in and made merry in revelry of the joyous occasion. Ryven's parents stood talking with a few of their close friends while Ryven sat upon the ground, talking and playing with her newly discovered friend.

"Yes, I've noticed that the harvests this year were rather - Ryven, Dear one, kindly get off the ground." Her mother said in a worried tone. "You'll catch cold this way."

"Garaine, leave her be. This is her day, and if she wants to play in the dirt, so be it." Sevyn told her.

"Sevyn, her dress is already filthy, I will not have my daughter be the same way." Garaine replied crossly, but sighed and gave up.

Suddenly there was screaming heard at the end of town, followed closely by the pounding of hooves. Sevyn looked up sharply to see a ragged band of riders race through the streets, followed closely by an elf floating above them. Garaine screamed and scooped Ryven up in her arms, her husband barely remembering to pick Snowblind up as well.

"Run for the house, Garaine! Hide Ryven!" he shouted, following her. Ryven looked on in confusion over her mother's shoulder as she saw the men on horseback run through the town, mowing people down like wheat in a small field. Others were setting fire to houses and buildings, watching the dry structures burst into a fury of hot flames. Ryven started to sniffle as she gripped her mother tighter.

"What's happening, Momma?" she cried out in a distressed voice

"Don't worry, Honey! Momma's got you!" Garaine replied in a panic, rushing into their small house. She set Ryven down in the main bedroom for a moment as she went to cling to Sevyn for a moment, kissing him quickly as he dug in his chest at the end of the bed. Finally he stood up, bearing a large silver sword, runes spawning up and down the blade's length. A large blue crystal was at the pommel, while the crosspiece was decorated with intertwining silver bands. There was a design of three interlaced circles at the base of the blade, just below the runes.

"Sevyn, please be careful! Come back to us," Garaine pleaded him. Sevyn took her up in his arms and kissed her deeply. He then let go of her and picked Ryven up in his free arm, hugging her to his neck and kissing her forehead.

"Keep your mother safe, Dear one," he whispered in her ear. "I love you both with all my heart." With that, he rushed out from the house into the street. The screams of the villagers echoed throughout the village, mingled with the sickening laughter of the attackers. Flames were everywhere outside, filling the streets with smoke and heat unbound. Garaine suddenly picked Ryven up, motioning for Snowblind to follow her, and lead them to a small door behind a shelf. She set Ryven down inside of the small door, pointing toward a passageway in the back.

"Go through there and meet me in the forest, Ryven! You'll be safe!" her mother shouted over the noise. Ryven, who was now in tears, took up Snowblind and squeezed him, reaching out for her mother.

"Momma! Pwease stay!" Ryven wailed through her tears. Garaine shook her head vigorously.

"No child, I'll only slow you up! I'll see you in the forest! Now go!" she pleaded, then closed the door. Ryven was suddenly engulfed in the darkness of the small corridor, her and her new familiar the only presence's in the crawlway. In the thick darkness, the sounds from outside were even more frightening, but she couldn't feel the heat or smell the smoke.

~Your mother just told you to go, didn't she?~ Snowblind asked in her head. Ryven nodded.

~Uh huh. But I'm scarwed...~ Ryven whimpered.

~Me too.~ The wolf agreed.

And then, to Ryven's dismay, there was a familiar scream outside.

"MOMMA!" Ryven screamed suddenly, beating her chubby fists against the wooden door. But the door wouldn't budge, no matter how much she pushed on it or pounded. She sat back and cried loudly, her wails growing louder the seconds ticked by. Suddenly she started to glow, filling the small hole with bright light. Then to her surprise, the door blew right off of its hinges. She watched the door fly, then ran outside into the street.

Ryven was wide eyed with terror. The whole village was aflame, and bodies of her family and friends littered the streets. A great number of people were still running and screaming, being chased by the ragged, dark men. Blood was all over the dirty streets and splattered all over the buildings that weren't completely burned down. Ryven stood frozen in the center of the street, tears streaming from her eyes as she watched the killing and burning go on, unable to move until the fear built up to tremendous proportions. She finally pealed out a shriek and began to run through the streets. Her white dress tailed out behind her, dragging in the bloody, muddy streets as the flowers flew from her hair and landed in a few mud puddles. She ran like this for some time until she suddenly tripped over something. Ryven landed with a small sound, and slowly opened her eyes. She had landed on top of her mother.<'p>

Garaine was lying in the middle of the street, a huge hole in her midsection and her green eyes open wide with the fear she felt when she died. She was twisted in a strange position, like she had almost been twisted in half. Her blonde hair was about her head like a halo in the middle of the street. Blood flowed from her mouth and into her hair, her skin was waxen from death. Ryven sprang up and screamed, shaking her mother and pleading for her to get up until Snowblind began to tug on her dress, trying to make her run. Finally, after nearly a half hour, Ryven left her mother and began to run out of the town, shambling over people and rubbish.

She saw her father next, though he wasn't quite dead yet. He lay in a puddle of blood, moaning and gripping his sword loosely. There were sword wounds scattered about his body, but none bled so prominently than the enormous, deep gash across his belly. Ryven ran up to him and fell on his chest, crying over him and tugging on his shirt.

"Papa get up! Please, I'm scarwed! Please papa! Don't die!" she repeated over and over, crying hysterically. Her father opened his eyes briefly and sighed painfully.

"Ryven...dear one...run..." he told her faintly. But Ryven wouldn't budge. Her father suddenly thrust the sword into her hands and shoved her off of him with what he had left of his strength.

"Ryven please...take this and run! It will...protect you. Go now...I love you always...dear one..." he murmured, then released his final breath. Ryven shrieked in anguish as she realized her father was dead, crying over him in the midst of the flames, the front of her white dress soaked red with her father's blood.

"What have we here? It seems that we've flushed out our game, men." A voice sneered from above her. Ryven suddenly jerked her head up to see a tall, dark man standing above her, his face hidden from view. He was a tall, slender man, obviously Elvin. But his voice was low and had a sinister tone to it, as if it belonged to something other than an elf. Ryven cowered as Snowblind bristled and began to growl. One of the men started to kick him, but the tall man stopped him.

"Stop it, you fool! What do you think went on here today? She's got a familiar! If you hurt the wolf, you hurt the girl. Just pick her and the hairball up so we can get out of here!"

Ryven clung to her dead father. "NO! Weave me be! Weave me awone!" she shouted shrilly, lying on top of the sword and her father. "I won't let you take me fwom my papa!" Ryven began to glow again, only this time brighter. The light seemed to come from a crest on her forehead, one of three interlaced circles. The light began to force the men from where she was standing until it seemed to burn them where they stood, crying out in anger and agony as Ryven took the opportunity to run, casting a long glance back at her dead parents, dragging her father's sword behind her. After that, everything was black for a long time...

~*~*~*~*~

Piccolo suddenly broke the link with a large gasp, his eyes wide and a bit of sweat running down his face. Ryven was in a state of shock with the sudden remembrance of the past atrocity, her eyes wide and staring, wet with unshed tears. She made small whimpering noises in the back of her throat as her eyes slowly drifted toward Piccolo, who was recovered from the mental link already.

"Why did you do that?" she whispered simply, sounding very much like a child now.

"It was not your fault, so why do you blame yourself...?" he said huskily, suddenly pitying the girl. Something inside of him was asking him why he cared, but he couldn't come up with an answer, only that he could relate to her, somewhat.

"It was my fault...it was! They're all dead because of me! Isa's dead because of me! Everyone dies because 'a' me!" she suddenly expressed in a wail of anguish, her sobs escaping. She crumpled into a pathetic little ball and sobbed loudly.

"It's my fault! All of them are dead because I was born! My momma and...and Papa died because I was born!" she cried out. "The village was attacked because of me, and then I ran and left them to die! I left them all to die! Why do I do this to people? I don't want people to die anymore! I don't see why that's so hard for me!"

Piccolo watched her fervidly lament, her very fighting spirit seeming to drain from her and soak up in the sand where she sat. Never in his life had he seen such anger and anguish in one person, besides Vejita. Not wanting her to go on as pathetically as she was, or perhaps somehow knowing that she needed to let it out, he did the only thing he could think of. He slowly took her up in his arms, moving in an unsure manner, and held her, hesitantly cradling her head to his chest. He was not used to comforting people, even Gohan, as he was a rather anti-social person, so trying to calm this child proved to be a new experience for him.

She was startled at first, but then merely let it all out, crying into his chest and curling into him like the small child she really was. She clung to his purple gi and sobbed hard, somehow finding that the feeling of this stranger's mammoth arms around her consoled her and made her feel more secure than she had felt in a long time. Her familiar crept closer to Piccolo and settled next to him, still not seeming to trust Piccolo any further than he could throw him.

"It will be alright, Young One," was the only thing he could think of to say to her as he hesitantly stroked her hair, trying to get her to calm down. He saw in Ryven's memories what happened when she became distressed, and didn't want to witness it.

"All's I want is for my friends to stay alive...I want someone to turn to." She whispered, more to herself than Piccolo. Her eyes were open, glassy and red from crying, staring off into space. She hiccupped a little. "Isa's gone. I've no one left. No one."

"It will be alright, quiet now..."

And she was quiet for a few minutes, her crying calming down slightly. But then she piped up again.

"Why do you even care?"

Piccolo held on to the silence a few more moments. "Because I need your help.

"...M-my help? But why my h-help?"

"Hai, your help. But do not worry about that now, just quiet down and rest."

She began to slowly calm down, her wails becoming mere soft sobs as she cried into Piccolo's gi, until finally she became silent. Piccolo looked down and saw that she was asleep, feeling her long, deep breaths against his chest. He sat there for a time; watching her closely and wondering what to do, as he had never been in a situation like this before. His first instinct was to set her down and leave, his inner self claiming that she was nothing but a weak, messed up girl, not worthy in the slightest for any sort of training.

She has not even faith in herself, so how can she have faith in anything else? His inner self seemed to say in a cold sneer. She is not worthy, ready or fit for any training at all. What was I thinking when I first found her? I had no idea what this could turn out to be.

**Do not be so quick to judge, Nephew. You might be just the person to change that for her.** Kame's wizen voice suddenly cut into his thoughts. Piccolo snarled at his presence.

**What do you want, Old man? I have no intention of training another sniveling child. Especially this one. She is much too old, and too young at the same time. She has issues, Old man. Ones that I care not to partake in.** Piccolo told Kame coldly. Kame laughed a little.

**If you don't care, then why not leave her now?**

Piccolo was caught by surprise. He was silent for a time, and then growled.

**Get out of my head, Old man.**

Kame chuckled. **I know you care for her, in the strange way you do. But I will leave you to yourself.** Kame's voice and presence faded from his mind and was finally gone. Piccolo growled to himself again and stared down at the elf in his lap, still resting. He dwarfed her, his monumental size sharply contrasting her already small form.

"Che. I do not want to train another child. Gohan was enough." Piccolo told himself coldly. "And Gohan still clung to me afterward, even with his parents still around. I do not want someone else depending upon me."

"But her power has much potential for growth, and with some help it can reach even possibly Saiya-jin levels. She could be the one to bring the balance." he reconsidered. "And she seems so vulnerable right now..."

**You're wondering why you care, aren't you?** Kame's voice intruded again. Piccolo knitted his brows, but nodded, unable to come up with an answer himself.

Kame sighed and began slowly. **Piccolo...you cannot mourn Gohan forever. These feelings are natural, you must move on. You cannot be cold and heartless forever.**

Piccolo snarled. **Did I not already tell you to get out of my head?**

Kame silently withdrew, a small, amused smile playing on his aged face as he faded to the background. Piccolo sighed a little as he left, still looking down at the girl. It was then he made his decision. Setting her down on the warm sand, he took to the air and landed a short distance away to meditate until morning.