The Dragon Father

Chapter 1: A Chance

The young dragon slayer was brilliant.

Donned in flames hotter than the sun and wrapped in seven dragons' souls, he shone like a falling star, piercing the darkness and dim. The hopes, dreams, and powers of those who entrusted too young a man to a formidable task were his armor, their fury his bite. Magic manifested in the air around him, spewing from his lungs and roaring like the dragon slayers who lay discarded, and the dragons that had been felled long ago. The last of the dragon slayers were in sorry states, holding their wounds, drained of energy and magic - magic they had lent to their last hope and their savior who stood despite it all.

Natsu Dragneel, donned with the full power of the last dragons Acnologia had to slay, hurled his fist at the Dragon King. He came quickly, fiercely, and Acnologia smiled. He was weak, unable to stop it. Unable to move, save himself, or defend the crown he'd owned for eons.

And yet... he felt something strangely wonderful.

The fist connected like a meteor, the magic culminated in a shock wave that shattered every bone in the king's body. It ripped through his core, shaking in his blood as the beasts he'd spent his existence exterminating screamed from his soul. Millions of deaths echoed out from his presence, rumbling through his core as his mind began to shatter.

He fell. His very essence began to crumble, years of longevity and the strangeness of the Space Between Time taking away any chance he had to rest as a bloody corpse - he had no right to die as humans did. He'd fade into nothingness; disintegrate until there was no evidence of his life or death. He'd vanish, as monsters do.

Weak and helpless and inhuman, he collapsed. Fragmenting into memory, all he could do was pass along the mantle he'd rightfully lost... just as it had been passed to him. There was only one fate for the Dragon King - one of death and gore and loss. He had finally met that end.

He'd lost and so the title of King was to be passed to the victor...

"King? Thanks, but no thanks."

Those were the last words he heard, muttered by Igneel's son, who'd now avenged his fiery father, bested the dragon king, and denied the right of the mantle. Even near-death Acnologia felt something in him break at the thought.

To denounce the status of Dragon King. To disregard it? 

It was a strange notion, but he didn't have a lot of time to consider it beyond forced acceptance. He had no power anymore, no sway in life or history. There would be no Dragon King after him if Igneel's son kept his word. If that was what the next generation had demanded, that was what it would have to be. No more Kings. 

He let out his final breath, a small wisp of relief that escaped his lips and freed his lungs. Free... he was free...

Death was no stranger. He knew it well, dealt with it, summoned it, bathed in it. He'd never experienced it. He fell into nothingness; void of sensations or presence. He had no form, no thought, no recollection. But he knew something... 

He wasn't dead. Not yet...

"Aconologia."

It was a startling presence that broke through his vacuum of space. The king's eyes flew open and he found himself taking human form, surrounded by the mists of the Space Between Time. The stone was cold beneath him and the air was deathly still. There was no sign of the battle he'd waged against the slayers. The crystal pillars stood tall without fracture. The ground was smooth to the touch, devoid of craters, cracks, or impacts. Even the sky seemed content in its rest.

He lay on the ground, gazing up at the starless expanse as mist mulled mindlessly around him. With nothing else to do, he sat up, assessing his surroundings and looking himself over.