#ch. Gajeel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiliinstinct · 8 months ago

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Chapter 30

Rating: R Pairing: Nalu FF.Net || AO3 [Ch: 1] ||| [Prev] | [Next] Happy Birthday to me! Here's an Update! Remember to thank @phoenix-before-the-flame for their Beta work! * April Post Date: 16th As you can see, there will be only one post next month due to me taking part in Camp Nanowrimo. (Similar to Nanowrimo but shorter.) Two chapter posting will continue in May. Those Dates will Appear on the Next Update.

Gajeel knew they were coming.

Before morning hit, he expected the hurried steps and smell of angry magic tickling his nose. He would have been disappointed otherwise.

Laying in his cot with one leg over the other, he affected the perfect air of calm indifference, holding back a snort. Honestly, who in their right mind wouldn't come running after his little stunt? Getting loose was one thing, but sniffing out one of the fairy’s dragons and cornering him in his own home? Gajeel was surprised they hadn’t come sooner.

The door to his cell swung open, revealing the chief all but vibrating in waves of magical power. Sweeping through the small room, the pressure of his power rattled the cot beneath him. He resisted the shiver that traveled down his spine while gooseflesh pricked along his skin. Obstinately, he met the old man’s venomous stare with an arched brow, feigning unconcern.

He couldn't react. Not yet.

Whistling low, he pulled a grin that made his visitor’s eye twitch. A fact that brought him satisfaction as he noted the scents of others crowding the hallway. Good, so he wasn't arrogant enough to think he could handle a possible threat alone. Gajeel could respect that at least.

”Damn is this how ya' greet people in the morning?“ He asked innocently, ”if Kage pissed himself, I’m laughin’ til my lungs give out.“

”I don’t appreciate lying, boy.“ Makarov accused without preamble; His magic strengthened, flowing around the room like an ominous wind, shaking dust from the rafters as bits of broken stone rattled against the floor.

”I ain't lied since I got here.“ He replied, grin widening, ”something wrong?“

Makarov’s eyes narrowed as another wave of magic emanated from his body. It swept across the building and the fortress shuddered and creaked in its wake. Stepping inside, the rising pressure almost stole Gajeel’s breath. He leapt to his feet as the old cot groaned, legs giving way under the power being exerted as it collapsed to splintered boards.

This was more than a show of power; This was a threat.

Instinct and common sense told Gajeel to make a break for it, but he held his ground, digging his sharpened nails into his crossed arms. He stood straight. Too straight. The old chief stood before him with a presence that belied his age and size. If he noticed how stiff the metal draconis became, with pupils blown unnaturally wide, he remained silent.

“You tell me,” The old man hissed. “You seem to be under the impression that you are a guest of some sort. The chains may be gone but you know as well as I that you forfeited your freedom the moment you came within these walls.”

A crack split the stone beneath the window behind Gajeel, neither paid it any mind. Makarov continued fiercely, “ You seemed a smart enough man to understand that. And yet you took it upon yourself to slip away, stalking through the streets of my home like some sort of animal. Tracking down Lucy-”

”Calm down, old man, I ain't interested in the blondie! I told you that already!“ Gajeel retorted, swallowing thickly as the chief's magic sought to overpower him.

“ I’m here for the other one you got hangin’ outside there like a dog on a leash.” Gajeel said, catching an answering snarl to his barb. A glimpse of pink flashed before the entryway before multiple sets of arms drew him back. Underneath the shimmering pressure coming from Makarov appeared a touch of heat. It took to the air in a haze, molding with the immense pressure.

He recognized it immediately, smirking as his gaze peered through the doorway, “The pink brat’s important. Not his girl.”

”And what? Breaking free to harass him is your idea of a formal meeting?! That was outside of our agreed terms and you-”

“Agreed what?!”

Fire sparked to life just beyond Gajeel’s sight as the voices of many yelped in surprise. Their restraining hands fell away as Natsu stormed in, fists ablaze with unbridled fury. “You WANTED us to meet?“

”Natsu! I did not give the command to-“

He wouldn't hear any of it, “No! You acted like you knew nothing about what he wanted from me! and all along you were lying-”

Oh Gajeel was enjoying this- the thrum of pressure lessened and his posture relaxed considerably “Not the smartest move there, Gramps, now was it?”

Natsu turned his glare on Gajeel, yellow bleeding through those dark irises as scales pricked along the edges of his eyes. He spied the hints of darkness that speckled through the orange flames billowing from Natsu’ skin. That’s all it took? Laughter burst forth with no resistance, too pleased by the situation.

“Well well, if it ain’t the man of the hour.” Gajeel greeted with a sneer, “Didn’t take you for a snitch considering…” He let the sentence hang unfinished in the air, innocently tilting his head at the other despite the murderous intent rising in the room.

Snarling, the fiery draconis stepped forward, but Makarov threw out a hand to block his path.

“Enough!” Makarov shouted, fixing him with a stern glare that stopped him in his tracks. “Stay put and silent. As for the rest of you-,” He waited for Lisanna, Levy and Freed to poke their heads through the doorway, both girls looking far more sheepish than the other, “Get in here and get him under control. There's no point in standing by if this fool decides to start causing a scene.”

“I'm not a fo-!”

“Natsu.” His voice rumbled with the force of his power,“I said enough.”

His mouth shut instantly with the blaze of his flames receding just enough to make the temperature bearable. Hatred burned in his now amber eyes, refusing to take them off the metal draconis while the others filtered in. Warily they stood behind Natsu, apprehensively eyeing Gajeel. Paying Natsu no mind, he turned his attention to the others, taking a quick assessment.

Nothing impressive to look at. The group didn’t look like wranglers of any sort, but the white haired girl held herself strong and ready by Natsu’s side. She was poised to grab him at a moment's notice. The other two… blue and green haired mages that reeked of ink, stood by her side. The taller man rested a hand on the hilt of his sword, just as ready and the shortest one appeared nervous, bravely holding her hands in a curious manner, eyes wildly flicking about the room. A caster perhaps?

His eyes narrowed as the last two scents finally answered his unasked questions. These were the fabled barrier makers keeping Kage in check. He’d have trouble with them if things went south.

Makarov cracked his back with a groan, ignoring Gajeel’s snickering. He rubbed his temples in exasperation. “Now then,” he muttered, “You need to explain yourself. Now.”

The Draconis hadn’t moved since the chief’s command, but his body trembled from adrenaline coursing through him. Every second, another scale dotted his skin red, peeking through pieces of bandage that still covered his many wounds. Gajeel watched the smoke that rose from his body with a mild interest.

And then he bared his teeth in return, mocking a snarl.

“Enough about me. Let’s talk about him for a bit.” He stated, cracking his knuckles as he matched Natsu's gaze. Neither blinked, one growing more agitated while the other remained irritatingly calm.

“Now I know you fairies can get emotional, but you wanna explain why he’s about ready to pop? Don’t tell me you couldn’t get that lil temper of yours under control after all this time away from home.”

What little flame was left on Natsu’s person burst back into life, now more black than red, proving Gajeels’ point. He took a menacing stop closer, fingers flexing with sharp claws glinting in the light. The Chief stretched out his arms and shouted a warning, holding Lisanna off from charging her own magic. She nodded, but remained poised, with shimmering silver crawling up her arms in a brilliant web.

Natsu didn't notice, too distracted by Gajeel while he hissed steam, ”Wanna say that again you son of a-“

”And that.“ Gajeel said pointedly, snapping his fingers, ”Had to see it myself to make sure. Did you suckers really think black flames are normal?”

His snarl cut off as he blinked owlishly, nervousness filtered into those wide eyes. His magic still flared, casting shadows to all corners of the room. But the others took note of the streaks of oranges and reds slowly breaking through.

“Plenty of us noticed. He's always been like this,“ Makarov admitted, mustache twitching as he frowned, ”Black fire is as natural to him as breathing. Though it seems to flare when his temper has reached its limit.”

”... umm,“ Levy chimed in, uncertainty pulling at her features as she nervously stepped back. Freed placed a calming hand on her shoulder and she nodded, digging her heels into the floor and inhaling deeply to soothe her nerves, ”We have other fire wielders here, they use purple flames. And though I’ve never seen it personally, our traveling group has encountered people who use flames of all colors. Black isn’t so strange, is it?“

”You really got ‘em tricked good haven’t you flamehead?” Gajeel scoffed, waving off her question, but considered her words regardless. Storing the new information in the back of his mind he motioned towards Natsu again. “Get it outta your heads from now that draconis fire is anything close to what normal fire magic is.”

He pondered his next words carefully.

“I’ll let ya in on a clan secret.” He continued gleefully, ignoring Natsu’s growl of warning. “Despite what he’s made you think, black fire ain’t exactly common back home. Rarer than rare. No run of the mill fire draconis could make those flames unless they were-”

“SHUT UP!”

Fire spilled from his mouth as he shoved his way past Makarov, ignoring the old man’s shouts to stand down. Up close Gajeel could see the glow of flames gathered in his throat, even through the heavy bandaging, ready to let loose on a man who was saying too much.

Freed unsheathed his sword, purple runes rising forth from the blade as sweat beaded on his brow from the sweltering heat. “Makarov,” He began tremulously, “I think it would be prudent to-”

“Shut up.” Natsu snapped in a startling voice that sounded closer to beast than man. He could barely be seen behind the thick dark flames that swirled violently around him. Only the brightness of amber eyes shone through with more fear than rage.“Whoever this bastard is, he needs to shut the fuck up before I rip out his fucking throat-”

Gajeel cocked his head to the side and chuckled. For all the blustering and the threats, he didn’t call upon his own scales to meet the call to fight. He took the brunt of the black flames unprotected, unblinking at the heat scorching his skin. The others couldn’t see it beneath the cloak of flames he used like armor. But Gajeel could see everything. Only his eyes were strong enough to pierce through the head and see how Natsu’s body trembled.

He smirked. He had him cornered. Like a desperate animal. And Gajeel wasn’t afraid of animals.

”What's wrong, hothead? Don’t want me to let something slip? They’re your clan after all. They have a right to know about you. S’not right to keep family in the dark-”

”I'm warning you to shut up right-!“

Gajeel bent to meet him at eye level. His voice rose mockingly above Natsu’s and everyone clearly heard over the roar of his flames.

“-You know exactly why I'm here, don't you, Prince?”

Outside the rumbling keep, Lucy held herself tightly, enthralled by the stranger she’d met. Erza stood by in silence, listening fondly as the two celestial roma spoke. Lucy was eager to know of the state of the other clans and Jellal was more than happy to share what he knew. All were blissfully unaware of the state of things beyond Jellal’s holding.

“So they're…..all safe?” She asked, eyes wide and watery in relief, “No others were attacked?”

“You knew of the ones before your clan began its North-bound trek,” He replied, lounging easily in his chair with a hand resting light atop hers. They'd begun their chat in earnest once Lucy gained control of her emotions enough to stop crying. Now she sat upon the edge of his bed, restlessly fidgeting. Her grip in his was tight as steel in an attempt to ground herself. It was hard to accept the reality; She truly wasn't the only one left after all.

Jellal continued with a faint smile, “I can attest that the other branches made it past the mountain ranges to our haven. Only stragglers like myself ran into issues.”

“I still can't believe Erza knew you all along,” Lucy looked back at the redhead, “Why didn't you mention earlier?”

She coughed into her hand, cheeks turning red at the attention suddenly turning to her, “my excursions outside of the clan I like to keep private unless I feel it necessary to share. That being said, I wasn't sure if he was alive or not and didn't wish to give you false hope.”

This was enough to appease Lucy, who tilted her head right back to Jellal excitedly, “and you weren't hurt too much, were you?”

He didn't bother hiding the truth, ”No, I was not. Jose and his men were not pleasant by any means, but they wanted to keep me alive. … I'm certain they want the same with you, as well.“

That was a quick dampener to the mood as Lucy's hand twitched. Her mouth twisted into a grimace and she wavered between keeping her own counsel and asking more questions.

Makarov had kept most of it secret from her, giving her just enough information to mildly satiate her curiosity, but it wasn’t enough. Here, however, was a man of her own blood who could explain everything.

”... is Makarov aware I'm talking to him?“ She asked, curious how much the chief was aware she had found another way to the truth.

A guilty silence from Erza was her answer. Looking to the wall, she fiddled with the straps of her bracer. That was all Lucy needed. For once he was in the dark and Lucy had all the answers laid bare before her, and she hungered for the truth.

Perhaps this could be considered a breach of trust. One that Lucy was unsure if she should take. However... looking at the bruises that dotted Jellal's arm and thinking back to the attacks that began all because she was with them, she couldn't remain in the dark much longer.

“... Was it any celestial,” She asked, voice low, “Or just me? Were they responsible for my Parents-“

She was silenced before the line of questioning could continue as Jellal rested his other hand on her shoulder, sighing. ”I wanted to verify that for myself. And I'm unsure if you'll like what you may hear.“

“Please,” she urged, “I need to know.”

He released her hand and slid from his chair, gaze turning to Erza for a second as he contemplated his next words. Whatever he read in her expression was enough for him to make up his mind. Looking down at the determined Romni, he motioned to the book he'd left shut at the table.

“That you do. But not yet. I think it best I have a meeting with the Chief first to discuss the stirrings I've seen out there,” he decided, dropping to his knees to kneel before her, “but as a fellow Celestial, I promise I will tell you everything you wish to know afterwards. It may not be ideal, but can you accept these terms?”

It wasn't what she wanted to hear and while her shoulders sagged in disappointment, her mind spun with possibilities. Promises were important. No Roma of the celestial blood would dare break one if made. This was it. Her heart pounded at the thought.

She just needed to wait a little bit more.

“Is ... there anything else you can tell me, then?” She asked instead.

His visible relief melted the weight in the room as he looked to her injured leg. The old wound was hidden from him but he spied thin golden strings wrapped gently around her knee, undisturbed in their workings as they hummed with a magic no different from his own.

“Erza may have let it slip that you had issues reclaiming your power.” Humor filled his voice. ”Though there are some differences, I know our teachings have some similarities. Perhaps I can assist?“

Her smile grew so large she felt it would freeze into place, never to change again. ”I would like that.“

And assisted her, he did. He told her things about their abilities: the way the night enhanced them, how to mold the light of the stars to their bidding. Lucy was a natural, he told her, observing her knee with a keen interest. While the current effects did their job well, the efficiency was lost to inexperience, something he expertly talked her through with a guiding hand and patient voice.

Fragmented memories came to the surface with every word. Memories Lucy once refused to let surface. They trickled thoughts of a family long lost, but the old pain from her grief didn’t join them. She watched in awe as Jellal instructed her, hanging onto his every word and practiced motion. The familiarity of it all almost pushed her to tears again.

Erza watched in amusement as Lucy keenly absorbed everything he said. As the minutes passed by she took to the floor, withdrawing a rag and oil from a pouch on her belt to lathe over the length of her blade in delicate strokes. She was as patient as Lucy's teacher and would continue to watch and listen as Lucy relearned her abilities anew.

She was giddy, watching as the magic pooled in her palms and glimmered, casting a warm, yellow glow upon her skin. It was basic: a brief lesson of control that she once did as a child under a parent’s guiding hand. But to do it again without fatigue or pain clouding her mind left her childishly happy.

Jellal eased his weight back into his chair, fondly watching Lucy’s growing excitement. Her eyes glowed from the magic within, widening as a coo left her lips as she observed the swirling depths of her magic. She was, quite literally, starry eyed and her happiness pulled at his heart. To think that something so simple brought her so much joy, he couldn’t imagine the grief it caused to have her magic locked away.

He hummed and looked to the ceiling, eyes glazing over in thought as if he was watching the sky rather than the aged wood above.

Reaching a decision, he snapped a finger and grabbed a candle off the table.

“Lucy,” He asked, holding it aloft between them. The flickering light grabbed her attention as she curiously waited, “What is your experience with talking to the stars?”

Oh. This lit a light inside her mind, eyebrows rising into her hair. “I wasn't allowed to as a child. Even when I was older it was still something kept from me. But I've made ... attempts.”

“Even if you didn’t participate, did you watch anyone in your family do it?”

She shook her head, “I was always sent off to bed before they began.”

At the dubious stare he gave her she quickly amended, “I mean, I tried to sneak peeks. Of course I did, but they always seemed to just know and shoved me back off to bed before I could witness anything.They must’ve had their reasons so I eventually figured not to question them.”

He noted her admittance with a tilt of his head. “How odd. Are you aware of the meditations involved at least?”

When her eyes lost focus, attention leaning towards a speck on the wall, he followed with the candle flame, “I admit, it's much easier at night, but we can practice now all the same. Sometimes the stars speak regardless.”

Attention regained, Lucy flushed prettily and the magic in her palms dimmed with her embarrassment, “Is that what I've been doing wrong?”

“Hmm?” He prompted, settling the candle back down. He reached for a pack of matches, striking one to life as he moved to light a second one.

Well now she just felt silly, ”I can’t recall if I heard them as a child, but within the past year I’ve heard them without trying anything. They were just these voices either whispering nonsense into my head or shouting loud enough to give me migraines for hours on end. I've tried to reach out to them, but I suppose without knowing the proper ways I've never been able to instigate it.“

The match he was using to light a third candle dropped from his fingers, snuffing itself out as it clattered to the floor.

His eyes narrowed, his tattoo beneath his eye crinkled as his brows drew close together in suspicion. Gone was her patient teacher, replaced instead with a sudden interrogator. Even Erza glanced up at his change in tone.

”... you've heard them?“ He repeated with a mystified air, ”no meditation? No prompting? Just... voices?“

She felt very insecure under his cold gaze. Her magic faded beneath her skin and she shrunk in on herself. Her arms fell to her lap to fidget with her skirt. ”.....am I not supposed to?“

Had she just admitted to being absolutely crazy?

“No, no , please, I apologize,” setting the candles aside, he quickly moved to brace her shoulders, expression wide in surprise, “I didn't mean to offend you, it's just…” He gnawed at his lip, “.... not how we normally do things. In fact, I've only heard of one occasion it was done in such a manner and that was-”

He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head, “Nevermind you mind that. Perhaps I'm over thinking it and it's just a sign of you needing to regain control of your abilities. Meditation can help with that.”

Lucy bit her lip as she observed him. He was avoiding her gaze, looking everywhere but her. Sometimes his eyes flickered occasionally back to the aged book. Erza stopped wiping down her blade, eyeing the two of them with intense scrutiny. Her gaze practically drilled a hole into Jellal's stiff back.

“You promised to be truthful with me.” Lucy said blankly. He flinched at her accusation, pulling his hands from her shoulders. Guiltily he ran a light finger over his wounded wrists.

“I did.”

His emotions played out on his face- the confusion, the concern and the briefest hint of clarity before he steeled himself. Donning a placid mask, he spoke again. He cut Lucy off before she had the chance to protest.

"Our promise is not broken,“ He admitted, once again reaching for the candles, ”That I can assure you. But I may need to speak with your chief sooner than I expected. I’ll have to inform him of this immediately.”

“Informed of what?” Lucy dug. Erza rose to her feet in a clank of heavy metal, worriedly looking at Lucy then casting a suspicious eye at her friend. “ What are you talking about?”

“At least tell me this much.” Lucy begged. She wanted to know, before following anything else, she HAD to know.

Jellal sighed and lowered his gaze, blue fringe of hair blocking his expression further, ”... That perhaps, Jose was on the right track. That you may be the one Celestial none of our kind would ever want him to get his hands on.”

He gripped his hands tightly, mirroring Lucy as the world seemed to fall out from under them. She. she had to know more! But from the look on Jellal’s face said the discussion was already closed. He wouldn’t tell her.

Not yet at least.

---

All Natsu felt was rage when he came to. The ghost of a snarl rested on his tongue as his instincts sparked back to life.

He wanted to burn something. No, someone.

That other draconis just wouldn’t stop talking. Every word he uttered in that grating voice of his was deliberate, carefully chosen to dig under his skin and set his blood to a boil. It had driven Natsu closer to the edge beyond the realm of reason.

He had no right to even be here. A stranger with a self assured sneer standing freely in Natsu’s home, looking down on him without a care. He had no right to live after that awful word fell from his lips. Natsu screwed his eyes shut, trying to block out the memory to no avail, it echoed in his mind.

Prince.

He vividly recalled the look of sly victory that settled in the man’s piercing red eyes. He didn’t bother to keep his gaze on Natsu when the title spilled from his lips. Instead, his gaze settled on those behind Natsu. He couldn’t see their bewildered faces as they looked to him for confirmation. For the truth.

He only saw red bleeding away to darkness as the world closed in on him. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, louder than the blood rushing through his ears. It drowned out his only frantic thought- 'They can't know. No one can know, stop him, shut him up, shut him up shut hi- NOW.'

The fires around him swirled like a cacophonous tornado. Any hint of red in its depths was stolen by the black flames pounding at the walls. Gajeel stood arrogantly, unperturbed even as the raging wildfire licked at his skin. The cracking of stone walls under the blast and the groaning of the abused ceiling above were sounds lost to the fury inside his heart. The incessant screams and desperate cries for him to calm down were barely registered, as the others fought to regain his attention over the one word that repeated in his mind over and over again.

He lunged and the room erupted in frantic shouts.

Freed flung himself before Levy and Lisanna, swiping his sword in an arc that sent a line of runes across the floor, protecting Gajeel. It lasted mere seconds against the onslaught before it crumbled under the flames. Pressure dropped to nothing as Makarov grew in size, magic swelled around as he shoved the others out the door. Grasping the burning draconis with an oversized hand, he held the feral draconis back with a power the keep could barely contain.

Power ballooned in his chest, forcing its way up his throat. He dug his claws into Makarov’s seared skin, all sense of himself lost.

Everything went dark after that. While Natsu blinked at the ceiling, clarity returned to him slowly, allowing him to pick up the pieces of his actions and realize his location was different. He wasn’t in Gajeel’s cell anymore.

What... just happened?

He knew this room and knew it well. It was a side room in the keep that Makarov often snuck off to for short naps. The old man’s light scent on the sheets was strong evidence to that. He blinked again when he caught Freed and Levy’s scents as well despite the silent room being void of anyone else.

Straining to move, Natsu grunted in surprise. He realized with horror that he couldn’t. And it wasn’t the weariness deep in his bones that stopped him. He struggled to bend his neck, finding himself covered in runic spells, shifting lines of words he couldn’t read. They bound his wrists and ankles. Now wonder he could smell the two Rune Enchanters . It was their handiwork.

But why? How did he even get here?

”Finally back to your senses are you?“ Makarov’s voice echoed from behind and Natsu craned his head back as far as he could to catch a glimpse of the Chief sitting on the floor with arms and legs crossed, almost as if he’d been dozing for quite some time.

The world swam in and out of focus for Natsu, he couldn't make heads or tails or what was going on. Why was he being held down? His growl of frustration was pointed towards Makarov as he strained against the runes binding him. They didn’t dig at his skin. In fact he barely felt their presence save for a light buzz of magic, but they were unbending against his struggle and he was too drained of his strength to give it his all.

Prince, the word echoed in his head once more and a panic began to settle into his bones.

They- they knew. They heard Gajeel’s admittance of a secret he had long since buried with his past. He stared at Makarov wide eyed, the old man stayed still as a statue, eying Natsu critically. Dread soured the air as Natsu gasped in shaky breaths.

They had him tied up for it.

Why else would they tie him down if not to do something with that information? A surge of betrayal stole his breath even as logic desperately screamed against it. This was his family now, they would never-

“What's going on?” He rasped, breaking free of his turbulent thoughts, “why can't I move?”

”Good, you're definitely more lucid than you were thirty minutes ago,“ Makarov rose from his seat with a low groan, unusually hunched in his posture as he hobbled over to Natsu’s side. His tired eyes keenly swept over the draconis as he let the question go ignored for the moment. ”I was worried about you for a bit there.“

Relieved to take the strain off his neck, the draconis followed his chief's steps in rapt attention.

He was never one to ignore a question. Take frustratingly long to answer as he sought the right words? Yes. The chief was a man of patience, something he often butted heads with the fiery draconis over as he seemed to have none. But Natsu was wise enough in this moment to not demand speedier answers. Not when he couldn’t move.

But the question bubbled in his chest, burned the tip of his tongue and refused to be quashed down. It died on his tongue only when Makarov stumbled, gritting his teeth to quiet the pained hiss that left him.

Gramps was wounded? How? Who- he struggled to sit up again, desperately trying to reach the old man’s side to help him. His thrashing was cut short by the chief laying a hand against his chest, giving a firm pressure to hold him down.

“None of that,” He chided, “I'm better now that you’re awake. Wendy has already had a look and Porylusica will be double checking later. I'd rather talk about you.”

“But-” he tried to remember on his own, what exactly happened during his outburst, who could have- the only conclusion he could figure sharpened his features in a barely concealed rage, “Did that draconis-”

“No,” interrupted Makarov, fingers flexing on Natsu's chest. “. Gajeel has not laid a finger on me. In fact, if not for him, everything would have gone much worse.”

Gajeel …? The name sounded oddly familiar to him but he couldn’t ruminate on it further as the master’s words only served to confuse Natsu, “He's the one who snuck around and said all that- what do you mean thanks to him?“

”... I almost think it's better for you to see for yourself,“ Makarov muttered more to himself than to Natsu but negated the idea immediately, ”no, perhaps not. Not in your condition. Who knows what it would do to you to know the truth so quickly.“

The truth?

Already his earlier ire was starting to rise again, simmering under his skin as heat swelled and smoke started to leak from his nose, ”This ain't making any sense! Can't you just-“

Makarov continued in his inspection, silently ignoring Natsu’s outburst. He examined the magic bindings on the draconis' body and clicked his tongue at the growing singe marks on the sheets. Wordlessly he shot Natsu a look that demanded his silence.

The stony intensity in his eyes cut Natsu off immediately, “I can’t just proceed further without caution! This situation has fallen from my grasp without my knowing! And you especially my boy! I cannot just-!”

He sucked in a breath to steady his nerves. Natsu could hear the frantic beat of Makarov's heart hammering away in his chest and the old man wobbled on his feet. Natsu whined, “ Gramps please.”

His shoulders fell in defeat and his other hand found its way to rest atop Natsu’s crown. A calming gesture. But if it was to calm one or the other, Natsu couldn’t tell. “...Before I explain anything, I need you to promise me not to blame yourself.” He continued in a low voice. “In fact, I need you to mentally prepare yourself to remain as calm as you can manage. I won't say anything further until you prove to me you can do that.”

How could he-? ”I can't just not feel things!“ Natsu protested.

”Promise me!“ Makarov's voice was a harsh whisper, bordering on pleading, ”My boy, it is alright to feel, but you mustn't 'react'! Do you understand?“

His desperate plea froze Natsu in place, staring wide eyed at Makarov’s face. At that moment, he reminded Natsu of another man he wanted to forget. A man who never shied away from his fire even as it was thrown around in frustrated bouts that burned the area around him.

It was safe then, screaming his rage in a room designed to contain his outbursts til he grew weary. And a comforting arm would wrap itself around his shoulders. Warm eyes that always beheld him with quiet pride would meet him at eye level, accompanied by whispered instructions that held no fear. No judgement.

'My son... it is alright to be angry; to feel it and express it, but you must not react. You must control yourself. Can you do that for me?'

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and Natsu forced the memory out, nodding vigorously to his chief. “I'll... I'll try.”

Makarov waited in silence for a few seconds, watching as Natsu closed his eyes and took in deep breaths. Allowing his body to relax against the sheets, the burning embers of his body simmered and the smoke dispersed. It was hard to dampen his own inner flame, but with a few more breaths, he managed.

Makarov sighed in relief, “Good. Now keep it tethered. I’ve always known you to have a temper on you but I see now why Gajeel treated your outbursts as abnormal. I don't appreciate him purposefully baiting you. That man took too much pleasure in the barbs he threw at you, but I believe, I think this is something we all needed to see.”

His grip on Natsu’s chest tightened. “Your black fire has always been a point of interest, but never one of danger. It’s become so rare in these past years I'd almost forgotten it. But today…..This level of anger and hatred…. I’ve not seen anything like this from you before; The reports Laxus and Cana gave of your fight with Kage, today's instance hardly compares….. I’m worried for you.”

Today?

What did he mean by…?

Makarov patiently waited for him to connect the dots. He was often like this, giving others the chance to find the truth at their own pace instead of thrusting it on them all at once. But nothing made sense.

Gajeel wasn’t at fault for what Natsu could barely recall no matter how hard he tried. It made him feel light headed as he fought to piece together all that was laid out for him . Annoyance started to take hold. He inhaled deeply to steady his slipping nerves and almost choked on it when a familiar scent coated his tongue.

The muted scent of charred flesh, burnt black beyond recognition. It wrapped Makarov as he stared down at Natsu, forlorn, waiting for it to click. He didn’t need to see to know how bad the injury was and the truth struck his chest like a pile of rubble crushing his bones.

Natsu didn't always put things together as fast as the others, but this wasn't something that flew over his head, “... it was me….?”

No. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. He searched Makarov’s grim expression for something that said otherwise but woefully found nothing of the sort.

The limp, his restraints…. The hand on his chest, how didn’t he notice the burns that marred Makarov’s fingers sooner? Panic seized him.

“What did I do?!” Natsu’s terror threatened to choke him. He vaguely recalled Makarov’s order to stay calm but control was slipping from him again as fear sank its claws into his frazzled brain. ”Where are the others?! Did I-“

”No,“ Makarov chided gently as he moved to rest his hand against Natsu's forehead, ”Freed moved quick enough to protect the others from the initial blast while I held you down, but the explosion was bigger than any of us could’ve imagined. If not for Gajeel knocking you out, the Keep may have been lost. I had guessed his affinity with metal, but to see an entire arm turn into it was something else entirely.“

Natsu wished he could do something instead of just laying there. He wanted to run, to cover his face in shame, to sink into the floor away from Makarov’s worried eyes that held no fear. There was only pity in their depths that made him feel worse. His breathing grew harsh as everything began to come back in vague pieces.

The memories were faint and blurred from the anger he'd felt, but with the chief's recollection he could catch the hints of surprised shouts and the crackling burn of splintered wood in his mind. He wouldn't be surprised if the room was nothing more than a gaping hole in the side of the building. The realization reflected on his face in horror and despair.

He'd hurt the old man. He could have killed everyone if not for Freed and that damned, filthy metal head and it was all because he couldn't control his temper.

He couldn't remember reason, try as he might, his rage had ignited something that made him blind to everything around him.

The tears that streamed down his face were unnoticed until a choking sob wracked through his body. “I'm sorry... ” He rasped, “I'm so sorry-”

Makarov continued to rub his forehead, shushing him quietly with clicks of his tongue and a gentle hum. It wasn't the same as the night before, when Lucy had held him tight, but the comfort was there. It had always been there. The chief was respected and loved for more than just his leadership and strength, he had always acted as a father or grandfather to the majority of magic users in his home and Natsu was no different. He shuddered beneath the touch, whimpering softly as his inner turmoil threatened to boil him alive.

“I told you,” Makarov murmured, voice low and mixed with pain, “it's not your fault. Whatever this is... this madness, it can be tempered now that we know about it. Don't just blame yourself for what you can't control: at least not yet.”

But he could control it, Natsu thought. He'd been taught so long ago to keep his rage in check, the lessons were a part of him for as long as he could wield those dark flames.

When had he begun to lose it? When had he stopped caring to hold the dark vestiges of it in check? He didn't have the time or the mental power to think it through in that moment, too aggrieved by his own actions, but he nodded despite himself, desperately wanting to believe anything Makarov said.

He didn't know how much longer he sobbed, unable to move while the elder stayed at his bedside. All he knew was the anguish at his own mistakes and the wild thoughts swarming through his mind in a tornado of regret.

If only that draconis hadn't come, if only he hadn't come to Natsu's window last night if only- he must have begun to mutter the thoughts out loud as Makarov quickly shushed him.

“I'll take care of him myself,” He assured, voice gruff, ”whatever he's after, it's not Lucy. What he has done to you is another matter that won’t go unpunished. He's followed my rules down to the letter, so far. You don't need to do a thing.“

”but...“ Natsu struggled through his words, sniffing as his earlier tears stuffed his nose and made his eyes far too swollen to be comfortable, ”we, I can't just-“

”Natsu,“ Makarov warned, removing his hand to flick the boy's chin in a sharp reprimand, ”as your chief, I will handle it. I can’t let you do anything in this state. His interest is clearly focused on you, not what Jose wants. I beg of you, please, hold yourself back..“

Natsu couldn’t. It wouldn’t be enough. It sounded so simple to do but how could he? Not when everything he’d struggled to build for himself was at stake. Why couldn’t Makarov get that?

”He knows about me…..who I am.“ Natsu whispered, voice cracking as he tried to get his point across.

Makarov hesitated, lifting his hands from Natsu at the reminder of a bold truth. True the questions burned at the old man’s mind. It was another strange puzzle piece to an already complex situation that continued to swell out of his control.

But what was he to do? The boy before him was just that: a boy as terrified as the day Makarov carried him in his arms to a new life. He rested his palm over Natsu’s heart, the erratic beats thumping wild enough to rattle his bones.

”A secret you have kept hidden for good reason I'm sure,“ Makarov agreed softly, ”but we all have our own secrets, and yours has been forced from you in a terrible way. It’s something I would like to speak with you about, but only when you are ready. For now I need you to recover. Focus on staying calm in the coming hours: understood? I’ll be back later to check on you.“

Natsu had no choice but to nod his head as another wave of guilt washed over him. Makarov gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he turned away, limping towards the door. It was painful to watch as he dragged a leg lamely behind him despite his best efforts to appear hale and hearty. He could see it now, the burnt edges of his pants, and the tight wrappings of white bandages spotted with red through the charred holes in his shirt.

He tilted his head towards the wall and clenched his eyes shut, unable to accept the truth that he was the cause of everything. Makarov’s groan of pain was shut out by the door clicking shut, leaving him completely alone.

Natsu bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, forcing back another whine. More tears threatened to spill down his face. Not even the tang of his own blood filling his mouth could distract him. He deserved it for what he’d done.

What else could he do if he wasn’t careful and lost control again? Just how much damage would be done because he wasn’t strong enough? The thoughts clung to Natsu’s mind the rest of the day, unable to think of anything else.

#fairy tail fanfiction #nalu fanfiction #ft fanfiction #nalu #natsuxlucy #Natsu Dragneel #Lucy Heartfilia #plot bomb drop #AWAY #this chapter is my gift to myself #and i think i did good lmao

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fairytail-backgrounds · 8 months ago

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how the arc started and how it's ending

double dose of parallels here:

Gajeel stopping Laxus from hurting Levy and Levy interrupting Laxus from finishing off Gajeel (and Natsu)

Gajeel protecting Levy in the beginning of the arc and Natsu at the climax of it from Laxus' lightning

Fairy Tail, Chs. 105, 125-126

#fairy tail #gajeel redfox #levy mcgarden #parallels #laxus dreyar #natsu dragneel

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neen-writes · 11 months ago

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Silver for Monsters -- Ch. 8 "Ghosts"

Pairing: Gajeel/Levy

Series: Fairy Tail, Witcher AU

Notes: Finally found the motivation to finish this chapter! It's a bit transitional, a bit tense, I'm hoping to get into some juicier stuff in the next chapter. Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“Is it true what the folk say? That Witchers are emotionless?”

A small, half-dead fire cast weak light on the Witcher and the sorceress. He’d set it, and maintained it long enough to roast the small rabbit he shot shortly after setting camp. It was a meager meal, but they’d both brought enough supplemental vittles to make it a worthwhile meal.

Gajeel grimaced at the broad question, with so little nuance. He leveled a disappointed stare at her, arching a single brow, “Tell me you’re not so thick.”

She raised her hands in surrender with a dry laugh. “I’m joking. I have eyes, you know,” she offered. “Curious where the rumor comes from though.” They had spoken briefly about what he was when they’d first met. It felt like an age, now, since that night in her old home when she was patching up his wounds from the Fiend. When she thought that was to be the one and only time that she would ever meet and interact with the Witcher. It felt more valuable, then, to try and eke out whatever information she could get on Witchers if she was to never meet one again.

It was amusing, in retrospect, how ignorant the two of them were that night to everything they would experience in the coming days. When fate would draw the two unlikely allies together not once, twice, but three times. It started to feel like some sort of cosmic affront to do anything but travel together. Which led her to wonder what that would mean for them when she did find Erza. Would the two of them go their separate ways then? Levy and her compatriots, surely, would have no shortage of work to do when she found out whatever Erza had to impart upon them. None of which had to do with Gajeel.

Levy had limited knowledge on Witchers, but she did know that they notoriously did not involve themselves in the matters of men. Certainly not kings. Hunters for hire, that was their purpose, and they had yet to make any qualms with that designation.

Gajeel showed little amusement or enthusiasm towards entertaining her line of conversation. Especially given where they left off just a short time before settling down for the night. He’d grown more than accustomed to her composure, at times so steadfast that she readily humbled him into his own. Levy, in the short time he knew her, held her nerve. In the face of Temerian soldiers and Fiends in the dark, she stood steady. Yet this night, looking into a crowd of dancers, the mere possibility she saw someone she believed dead drove her to near madness. The look in her eyes before almost calling out to the crowd was unrecognizable. Foreign.

Still, it was clear even to him that she was just trying to fill the silence, and he found himself with much more tolerance for her than he expected. If tolerance was even the word for it. Did tolerance feel like the overwhelming desire for her to talk to him?

He cleaned off the last bit of meat from a femur, and swiped the back of his hand at the grease on his mouth. “Same place they all come from. Shite storytellers with an agenda. Witchers were respected until they weren’t, and you know the damage the right people can do with ignorant townsfolk and a good motive.” There was no real bitterness or displeasure in his tone as much as there was boredom. It was a tired tale and it made no difference to him what people thought. If Witchers took the time to give a shit about the opinions of the masses, they’d never do anything else. “We gotta keep ourselves in check in this line o’ work anyway. Focused, disciplined, all that. It’s an easy image to keep.”

Levy cocked her head, leaning back against a tree. “It’s clearly untrue, why let them believe it?”

Gajeel shrugged, “Why not? It’s good for business, and we get paid either way,” he flicked a cleaned bone off into the shrubs. “If you’re necessary, good at what you do, and feared, it tends to work in your favor.” With a long stick, he pushed around the charred logs in the fire, working to smother the remaining embers. It was risky enough to set a fire, but they needed to eat, and if he was being honest, he wouldn’t have protested a little something to get his blood pumping.

The sorceress knit her brows together, “I have a sneaking suspicion that really only works if you’re a man.”

“It does. Good news for me,” he flashed a sly grin at her, which she did not return outright, but the twinkle was in her eye regardless. That should not have felt like as much of a victory as it did. “Though the stories ain’t stingy with how much not being a man works for you sorceresses,” Gajeel paused to puff out his chest a little and tilt up his chin, “Political power, wealth, positions of esteem.” There’s mockery in his tone coming from someone that had absolutely no regard for any of these things. Money he needed, sure, for gear and the day to day. But wealth? Nothing but problems.

Levy barked a laugh that lacked any shred of warmth. Ah, that was far less satisfying. “Oh yes, how mighty we are,” she sneered, adjusting the hood around her neck. “When men fear one another, they have an odd habit of turning it into respect or obedience. Oh but when men fear women, particularly those they cannot grasp and control when fires ignite in their gluttonous, round bellies…” She held his stare then, the dying firelight dancing across her features. He thought, suddenly, of when he first met her and the way her conjured fire illuminated her when facing the Fiend. How his immediate thought, before he controlled himself, was how terrifyingly beautiful she was. And how that clashed with what she was telling him now.

Half of the Lodge’s identity was their beauty. In fact, it had been an intentional representation, because magic and swords were not half as effective at gaining favor as desire. Part of their development as mages, a reward as it had once been called, was the ability to alter their appearances. If one had the chance to make themselves beautiful and young with a wave of their hand for the rest of their lives, who would pass the opportunity?

In their prime, their alliances wanted both their favor and their company in equal measure. The latter they could often dangle without ever having to follow through, though that wasn’t to say there hadn’t been sorceresses that readily wielded that weapon whenever the benefit arose. Vanity was a trademark of the Lodge, and they had no reason to hide it. Everything was a competition, least of all how many powerful men each had wrapped around their pinky.

The truth of the matter was the Lodge as a whole got cocky. Regardless if there were those of them who preferred more subtle, careful approaches, they were still a singular body in the eyes of kings. The fall was swift, brutal, and bloody. Now she lived in hiding, on the run, with all her relationships strained or burned.

“Well,” she continued, gesturing down at herself, “The story writes itself in living color.” Levy stared Gajeel down a moment longer, then sighed and looked off to the side. She was bitter, how could she not be? She crossed her arms, settled back into the tree best she could, and shut her eyes, “We should get some sleep.”

That was that, and any chance Gajeel had of pushing the issue, or any others burning in his mind was gone. He waited at least another hour to sleep, ensuring the fire was out entirely and their surroundings remained quiet. He told himself that was the only reason he stayed up, but his attention was split between their surroundings and the slow breaths of the demure mage.

Gajeel wasn’t a curious man by nature. He did not linger, he did not dwell. He killed his targets, collected his reward, and moved on. But this situation he found himself in, somehow willingly, was against everything he thought himself to be. He wanted to know more about Levy, he wanted to help her.

A rustle in the brush coiled every muscle in his body, and his eyes flicked from her to motion where the shrubs cleared. A rabbit ran, the shadowed figure of some bird of prey trailing behind. He relaxed, and only then did he realize he had reflexively angled himself closer to her.

Gajeel wanted to protect her.

Those thoughts sat like stones in his chest. Dangerous, heavy stones. But even so, for the first time in the last few weeks, the Witcher’s sleep was dreamless, and the tug in his chest had gone still.

–

“What if they don’t like me, though?” green, expectant eyes turned up to the sorceress who was only a few inches taller than her. Two figures walked down familiarly cold, dreary halls, the shorter carrying a small stack of books. Levy walked with a practiced poise, the straightness in her spine giving away some indication of a higher position.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” That was her voice, Levy’s voice, but it didn’t come from her. In fact, it was as thought she was watching herself from the outside. “Even if they don’t, it doesn’t matter. You’re the most talented prospect Aretuza has seen in an age.”

The younger pouted in response, “But I don’t want to just be a talent. You’re so many things, Levy. I want to be many things too.”

“Likable, among those?” Levy raised her brows and gave a warm, knowing smile to the young mage. “You have more to your advantage than you give yourself credit for. Don’t let the jealousy of your year-mates distract you.”

They turned a corner, coming face to face with another woman dressed like Levy and with similarly perfect posture. A tail of near-white hair was braided over her right shoulder, hanging in front, tied with a black ribbon. All the sorceresses, even the sorcerers, out of Aretuza boasted fair looks, but Mirajane was nothing short of a vision. Devastatingly beautiful, she had spared no effort when given the opportunity to magically alter her appearance. It was as though she looked at every possible asset she could bestow upon herself, and said ‘yes, all.’

“Levy, Mavis,” she nodded to them both by way of greeting. Behind her, a small group of girls the same age as the younger mage with Levy suddenly found the walls and the floors more interesting. “Will you be joining class this evening, or will your lessons take up all your valuable time?” A sly, playfully accusatory look slid over to Levy, who merely rolled her eyes. “I’ll be expanding on deadly herbs and their versatility in harm and healing, if that’s of any motivation for you.”

Mavis shifted shamefully at Levy’s side. She did enjoy Mira’s classes, but Levy’s private lessons were far more interesting. “I’ll have her back when expected, Mira,” Levy cut in, placing a hand on Mavis’ head.

“I’ll hold you to it.” The other sorceress gave her a warm smile, then beckoned to the group of girls behind her to follow along down the hall.

Levy chuckled to herself and ruffled the young mage’s wet hair.

Thunder boomed through the keep’s halls, and Levy withdrew her bloody hand from the girl at her side. She looked out the window first to clear blue skies, and another crack came roaring through. The sorceress opened her mouth to speak to her apprentice, but when looking down upon her found lifeless pools of green staring back. Through her. A cloak of red spread over her, pooling at her bare feet, and volatile magic crackled in sickly green sparks around her.

“I wanted to be just like you.” The third explosion collapsed the halls, and the floor fell out from under them. “I always will.”

–

In the distance, thunder rumbled, long and rolling. Levy lurched awake so violently she choked on her own breath, and fell into a coughing fit. She sat up abruptly, cupping her hands over her mouth to stifle the sound, when two hands pressed on her shoulders. Her eyes darted aimlessly before finding the yellow irises of her Witcher.

“Eyes on me, Lev,” Gajeel’s voice rumbled, calmly, through the chaos of her waking mind. “Breathe,” he commanded, and his grip squeezed once on her shoulders.

She held eye contact with him, trying to swallow down her choking breaths, and he waited patiently with her. The proximity made his heart stutter, but he couldn’t spare the composure to think about it. Levy clasped her collar, trying to anchor herself, and after several moments the fits ceased.

“Good. In through the nose, out through the mouth,” he instructed, calling back on his own daily meditations. She followed without protest until he could hear her heartbeat slow.

The sun had barely started to rise, and cast a stark red glow through the trees upon their camp. It could not have been a more ominous light to wake up from a nightmare into. “I’m fine, thank you,” she raised her hand and placed it against his chest, a form of dismissal but to him a jolt. He released her with control, and leaned back onto his heels.

“Still can’t sleep, eh?”

Levy laughed dryly and swallowed hard, “You could say that,” she answered, “Just, dreams that don’t make any sense.” She brushed herself off, trying to smooth the sleep out of her clothes. Twice now she had embarrassed herself with him.

“I find most of ‘em make sense if you turn ‘em the right way,” he remarked vaguely as he eyed her up and down. He knew that better than she could understand. “Ya want to talk about it? Ain’t been right since last night.” Levy shot him a look that was a pretty immediate ‘no,’ with a tingle of uneasiness that he wasn’t going to just pretend her outbursts at the windmill or just now didn’t happen. “Got anythin’ to do with this Mavis?” Color drained from her face all over again. “You were mumblin’ it in your sleep,” he offered, hoping it would land a bit softer than rehashing their night.

She groaned and ran her fingers through her blue hair, the color shifting with the movement of her hands back to an unassuming brown. Her palms dragged down and round her neck, then pushed up her cheeks to rub at her aching temples. “Can we talk about this on horseback, please. I’m stiffer than a shot of dwarven spirits.”

Gajeel blinked, then laughed gruffly while hauling himself up onto his feet. “Deal. Rain’s gonna start at some point and we got a ways to our destination, yet.”

Another groan. “Rain. Stellar.”

–

“It makes no sense,” Levy started, clutching the rim of the saddle behind her. They’d been riding for somewhere close to an hour already, and moisture most certainly hung in the air as dark clouds moved in faster than they were cantering. “She’d never even been to Aretuza. Mavis came into my life before everything fell apart,” there was a faraway tone in her voice, like still half trying to make sense of the imagery. “Though not for lack of trying on everyone else’s part…but that place would have ruined her.”

Gajeel took a moment to consider his words, which by all accounts was not something he cared to do often. But this was significant to her. “There was someone at the party that looked like her.” Not a question.

Levy deflated, and her face heated in embarrassment. “Yes.”

“But she’s dead?”

Her breathing stilled, and there was a long beat before she answered again. “Has been for a while. But for that dance, however long it was, she was alive. She loved to dance. Terrible at it, but she was a child then. She would have been,” another weighted pause as she started to count, but gave up, “well, it doesn't matter. Facts are what they are. And I lost my head for a moment. It won't happen again.” There was an edge to her words that told him she was done talking about this. Again. “We soldier on, Gajeel.”

For now, he would have to leave it be, whether he wanted to or not.

The trail they followed forked in front of them, with the most direct route bringing them through Alness, and the path to the left along the forest edge before curving south again. It had been some time since he came out this way, but the way was still familiar. The less direct route would avoid the bustle of town, and still get them to their destination with little time lost.

Wordlessly, he pulled them left and continued in relative silence as thunder rumbled again and rain started to sprinkle. However, Levy was the one to speak again, voice low with warning. “Gajeel, smoke.”

The Witcher grunted, narrowing his eyes at the black wisp rising from somewhere just past the treeline. “I see it,” he replied, giving a quick nudge to the horse to bring them to a trot. All they needed to do was look busy, and keep moving. There’s a lot of trouble that can be avoided by not lingering.

But, not this trouble, it would seem.

Four men with weapons drawn emerged from the brush, and if his hearing served him right a fifth hung back out of view. Gajeel pulled back on the reins to slow down, scanning over the four of them with a look that he hoped would give them second thoughts. Subtly, he leaned forward leading with his right shoulder, where the two hilts of his swords rose up. With his eyesight, he saw one of them look at his weapons, hesitating for just a second, before moving then to the small undeniably feminine figure in the saddle behind him.

Gajeel bristled more than he expected to when they all exchanged looks, speaking unintelligibly to each other. He angled the horse in a way it would look like he intended to swing wide, and one of the smaller men took a quick step in the same direction, sealing their intentions.

Instinctive excitement bubbled in his chest at an opportunity to test his armor at last. His breathing slowed, and a predator’s calm settled over him. “Stay on the horse. Do nothing to draw attention,” he said in a low voice, angling forward to dismount.

“I can help, Gajeel, you’re outnumbered,” Levy whispered back, pulling her hood more securely over her head.

“Ain’t gonna say it again. This’ll only take a minute,” Gajeel heaved himself off the horse, landing with a heavy thud in the dirt. “Keep. Your. Cover,” he growled, not once taking his eyes off the bandits in the road. “Ride when they come at you.”

Levy didn’t have a chance to ask what he meant before the Witcher took off in a full sprint for the trees, away from the group, and several things happened at once. By the faces of the four men in the open, they were also taken entirely by surprise. One of them, wielding a mace, took only a second of hesitation before he shouted in protest, and took off in pursuit. The remaining three looked to Levy, stricken suddenly with expressions that screamed ‘opportunity.’

“Hells, Gajeel!” she hissed, scooting forward in the saddle to take hold of the reins and give a hard tug and a swift kick. The horse took off in a wide arc to put distance between her and the immediate threat and try to keep eyes on Gajeel.

But he barged, unhindered, through the underbrush, and disappeared swiftly from view. Unaware of the fifth member, it appeared to Levy that he just left the scene entirely, but despite how little they knew one another it seemed unlikely he would run from a fight.

At the same moment the man with the mace caught up to the treeline, Gajeel came back into view to meet him, dragging a small man with a bow by the face. The Witcher effortlessly lifted his captive up in front of him, ‘aiming’ him at the assailant, as an arcane blast of force launched the archer forward. Two bodies cracked together and crumpled into the dirt, but Gajeel did not stop.

Levy didn’t have the time to track what he would do next as he barrelled forward, forced to keep her attention on the men that had their sights on her. She could easily have ridden off and truly gone a safe distance, but she had no desire to be so useless, and would need to stick with evasive maneuvers while keeping close.

“That’s right sweetheart, stay right there!” one of them sneered, and she felt her skin prickle.

If I fry all three of you it won’t matter if I break my cover. Try it, ape, she thought, feeling her fingertips tingle.

The mage would find no use for her magic today, as Gajeel commanded their attention instead, with no room for indecision. “Eyes on me!” The words may have been enough, but he punctuated them with three brutal cracks of his sword fist against his chest before brandishing the black steel sword at his side. The Witcher was the embodiment of brutality, and as he rushed forward the thrill of violence surged through every vein, spurred even more by the flash of regret from the remaining three bandits.

Too late to back out now; he made it more than obvious they were dealing with a Witcher. And not just any, but Black Steel. It was time for them to get an intimate view at the craftsmanship that earned him that name.

They made a paltry attempt to ready themselves for the one-man onslaught, the bolder of the three lurching forward with a shortsword swing.

Let’s see how good your work is, Salamander, he thought, skidding to a halt as he thrust up his right forearm to take the hit. The blade clashed into the scales of his bracers, and went no further. Gajeel barked a thrilled laugh, glancing at the man from below his arm, as his free hand shot forward to unleash a blast of fire into the bandit’s face.

The agonized scream barely rose from his throat before Gajeel sidestepped around him, and with one spin he arced his steel into the two remaining men at once. In a matter of seconds, all that remained was hiss of his fire under steadier rainfall, and Gajeel was left feeling…wholly dissatisfied.

He huffed, swinging his steel to the side hard enough to throw off the majority of the blood. The sound of hoofbeats approached, and he turned to meet Levy as she came closer. He watched her sweep her eyes over him once, and he found himself straightening slightly under her scrutiny. “Having fun, are you?” she asked, crossing her arms and surveying their surroundings while trying to avoid looking at any of the bodies too long.

Gajeel flashed his teeth at her, “I would, if they were worth–”

Levy’s face twisted in panicked urgency, her eyes locking onto something beyond them, but all the warning she could manage was to shout his name.

White pain blasted from the edge of the Witcher’s vision, followed immediately by the scream of a horse.

#gajevy #gajeel x levy #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail fanfic #gajeel redfox

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cosmicfates · 2 months ago

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The older Dragon was enjoying the attention his mate was giving him. He'd groan as he felt Natsu sucking harder too. Gajeel was enjoying the attention, he knew they'd wind up fucking sooner rather than later, as was fairly typical of them, even. The two had a hard time keeping their hands to themselves. He would keep thrusting too, driving his cock a bit harder into his mate's mouth, and as a result down his throat.

"Ya want a treat, Natsu? Ya want me to fill yer fuckin' mouth with my cum, right?"

He'd let out a deep groan as he felt Natsu's throat contracting. It wasn't something he'd ever grow used to for sure. Or if he did grow used to it he'd still like it. He knew he would after all it was him and his mate, and feeling Natsu's throat do that was so damn hot to him. He'd move his hands to grip the smaller Dragon's head as he began fucking his mate's face.

"Fuck that feels good, keep suckin' Natsu yer gonna get what ya want soon enough. It's been too fuckin' long since we last did this so I'm pretty pent up, hopefully ya ain't gonna be busy for a few days."

★ ━━━━━━ Knees on the ground, Natsu felt his body push against the floor, and wings were folded against his body as best they could. Claws in Gajeel's legs, Natsu knew the other didn't care about marks, and he clamped harder as he took the Iron Dragon's cock harder and deeper within his throat.

His eyes watered, but it wasn't an issue as the Fire Dragon felt the cock hit the back of his throat, the muscles contracting on the cock as it was shoved and moved in and out. Moaning around the cock more, Natsu's scales became a vibrant red as he was worked up and very stimulated as Gajeel fucked his mouth.

Fangs scraping against the cock as Gajeel rocked his hips, Natsu's tongue lavished the cock, as saliva dripped from his mouth to the couch, staining the fabric for a little while. Tendrils of smoke escaped Natsu's nose and the Dracokin felt his body tremble as Gajeel spoke.

#cpirits #ch. Gajeel #ft. verse #sh. GajNatsu #usfw cw

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cosmicfates · 2 months ago

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"Ooooooooohhh Husband~" / for gajeel. sorry wife has been away to war.

Who knows when the Dragon will next let her leave.

"Hello to ya too, my flower, did ya miss me as much as I've missed ya?"

He knew she had of course, Gajeel would always know his wife missed him. He'd lean forward and press a gentle kiss to her cheek, her other cheek, her neck, behind her ear, both her cheeks again, before grabbing her face and kissing her properly. Once he was done kissing her he's picking her up into his arms, and walking into the living room at their house to sit down holding her.

"Hopefully ya ain't plannin' on tryin' to escape for a while cause I ain't 'bout to let ya go, Rav."

No, she was very much going to have a very large Dragon following her through the house, probably clinging more to her when they slept too. He missed her and he was going to make that HER problem.

#ironmake #ch. Gajeel #ft. verse #sh. GajRav

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classysassy9791 · 2 years ago

Text

“When you’re ready.” - artwork by me (do not repost)

When a job goes terribly wrong, the Fairy Tail guild is left to pick up the pieces. Mourning the deaths of their guildmates, Lucy can't seem to find the strength to move forward. But she comes to realize one person understands. His madness was her mercy, and she finally began to hope that maybe he could make her heart beat again.

Fandom: Fairy Tail Genre: Adventure/Tragedy Warning: Character Death(s)

Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6

Chapter 7 Word Count: 5400 Can also be found on AO3 and FFN @ft-reboost

“Levy?” Cana shook her head, her glassy eyes turning back to the barrel she had been clutching since she strolled into the guild just after dawn. “I haven’t seen her all day. I didn’t see her come back to Fairy Hills last night either.”

Gajeel leaned against the bar, steely eyes peering over the expanse of the guildhall. Only a week had passed since the news of Titania and Salamander’s deaths, along with that silly blue cat of his. Things were far from normal at the Fairy Tail guild, but slowly people were beginning to show up for meal times and try to make conversation.

Some people, like Gray and Lucy, hadn’t been seen since the funeral. Gajeel hadn’t been too concerned about them - they had lost their teammates after all - but Levy had always been present. So, it bothered him that she had suddenly disappeared.

Cana shrugged. “She’s been reading books pretty avidly lately, more so than usual anyways. Maybe check out the library?”

Gajeel grumbled a ‘thanks' before pushing off the bar and finding his way to the Fairy Tail library housed beneath the guild. He had never stepped foot inside the book repository. He never had a need to. So it took him a while to search through the maze of shelves.

He found Levy near the back of the library sitting on the floor with a dozen books spread around her. She sat with her knees tucked beneath her, wind-reader glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, and hair pulled back by a headband. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but with Gajeel’s sharpened sight, he could see the bags forming under her eyes. She wasn’t destroyed, but she was getting there.

“Hey, Shrimp,” he called out to grab her attention.

Her brown eyes continued to quickly shift over the words on the page, completely zoned in on whatever had captured her attention.

He crouched down, leaning his arms against his thighs. “Levy.”

She startled, shooting her tired gaze to his. When she realized who he was, she relaxed, a breath of relief passing her lips. “Gajeel. What are you doing down here?”

“Came lookin’ for ya. Cana said she didn’t see you come home last night.”

“Yeah, I was out late and I left pretty early this morning. Wanted to get some reading done.” She marked the page in her book and slipped off her glasses, rubbing her thumb and forefinger over tired eyes. Wisps of stray blue hair framed her face as she smiled up at him.

He watched her carefully, taking note of how lifeless her peppy personality had become. “Your smile isn’t as bright as it used to be,” he off-handedly commented.

Pink dusted her cheeks. “O-Oh, is it now?” She chuckled nervously before shrugging and tilting her head. “Just give me a little while to be said. Someday soon, I promise to come back brighter than ever!” She pumped her fist in the air to emphasize her words.

Nothing could ever scare Gajeel more than the look in her eyes right then - that false bravado, the courageous face she was putting on. But her eyes told it all. Levy was slowly dying inside from the grief, and it terrified him.

The iron-dragon slayer cleared his throat, glancing over the mountain of books she had surrounded herself with. Majority of them were in languages he couldn’t name, but the ones he could make out had the words ‘demons’ and ‘purgatory’ in them. “Uh, what’re you reading about?”

“Well,” she started sheepishly, poking her index fingers together and peering up at him with a hesitant expression - almost like a child waiting to be scolded. He raised a brow, prompting her to continue. “I, uh, I’m researching the demons that attacked Team Natsu.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You serious? Those demons are long gone.” He scoffed and stood up. “Whoever did this will still be out there after we get our feet back under us.”

Pursing her lips, Levy climbed to her feet beside him and shook her head. “I know that,” she murmured, clasping her hands in front of her and looking up at him with determination. “But if I stopped, if I gave up for now, I wouldn’t have anything left driving me forward and grief would consume me.” She released a shuddering breath, her eyes misty as she glanced away. “I-I can’t fix anyone’s pain. I can’t bring Natsu, Erza, or Happy back. I can’t piece together whatever happiness we have left. But this…” She turned and gestured to the towers of books. “Finding the people who did this, no matter how small of a chance - this is something I can do.”

He studied her closely. For as long as Gajeel had known her, Levy had never given up. Not when she fought to forgive him after he brutally attacked her. Not during the battle of Fairy Tail when she rewrote Freed’s spell and released him and Natsu to take on Laxus. Not when they battled Grimroire Heart on Tenrou. Not even during the battle of the dragons as she pushed all the townsfolk to safety. She had always been front and center, doing everything in her power to ensure victory, no matter the cost.

So, as he stared at her, petite yet fierce, he knew no matter what he said, she wasn’t going to let this one go. And part of him didn’t want to. Because the demons who had killed their guildmates were going to pay.

“Tartaros.”

Her brown eyes widened. “Wh-What?”

“It was Tartaros.” Gajeel had overhead Makarov that day in the guildhall, picked up easily with his sensitive hearing. Sleuthing was one of his strong suits. It’s why he was able to play a double-agent so well. However, Makarov’s caution regarding Tartaros was justified, and he wasn’t yet sure if he should question that decision. Makarov wasn’t exactly a man to doubt when it came to his motives. The other dragon slayers hadn’t been nearby, so Gajeel was sure he was the only one who knew.

Levy swallowed thickly, her surprise quickly snuffed out with new resolve. “I-I had a feeling they may have been involved. They’re the only dark guild left that could’ve done something like this. Just hadn’t found proof yet,” she murmured, her eyes sweeping over her research. “Not sure how the demons tie into them though.”

Gajeel smirked. Levy’s actions over the past couple of days and the books piled on the floor at their feet were evidence that she had figured it out. Of course she did. “Well, what did you find?”

They shared a look, one filled with unwavering conviction. The unknown of what laid ahead terrified them - the notion of going up against a dark guild known only as the Gates to the Underworld. But their pain and grief triumphed over everything. Their vengeance would remain strong and true until the bitter end, whenever that would come.

For now, Levy smiled and sat down on the floor again to share what she had learned. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

After another unsettling night in the guildhall - quiet grieving masked by alcohol - Mirajane and Lisanna worked to clean up the aftermath. It had dawned on the elder Strauss sibling that they would run out of booze soon. They hadn’t yet recovered from their most recent celebration after Crocus, which had only been a week ago, but it felt as if a lifetime had passed since then.

Had it only been seven days? Seven days since the end of the Grand Magic Games, the dragon attack, and the parties that followed. Natsu had stolen the king’s crown, an embarrassing yet hilarious end to their time in the capital. He had jubilantly shouted for them to bow down to him, causing Erza to nearly punish him on the spot for mortifying Fairy Tail. Everyone had laughed, including the king and Hisui, the terrifying battle with mythical creatures now behind them. They had been victorious. And now-

A jarring crash stole Mirajane’s attention, the echoes of broken glass filling the empty guildhall. She quickly looked over to see that her younger sister had dropped a plate, causing it to shatter on the floor. “Oh, Lisanna! Are you all right? Here, let me help.”

She knelt down with a towel beside her, attempting to clean up the mess, but as they began picking up the broken pieces, Lisanna cut herself on a shard of glass. “Ouch,” she murmured while recoiling, wincing as a drop of blood appeared on her finger.

“You have to be careful,” Mirajane gently chastised, wrapping her towel around Lisanna’s injury.

Lisanna sighed, averting her gaze. She bit her lower lip until it was almost raw, the sisters remaining quiet as Mirajane put pressure on her finger to stop the blood flow. A few moments passed before Lisanna finally spoke up. “Is there something wrong with me?”

Mirajane was pulled from her thoughts and looked at the younger take-over mage. Ever since her youth, Lisanna had always had this upbeat and positive attitude. It was infectious and often kept Mirajane’s own worries at bay. But now, looking at the deep sadness that reflected in her eyes, Mirajane realized even the most positive people could have their world crushed.

She tilted her head and knitted her brows. “What do you mean?”

Lisanna wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I-I know Lucy is a good person. She’s beautiful, smart, and kind. But…” She paused, swallowing thickly, and curling her uninjured hand into a tight fist. “I-I’ve been jealous of her ever since I met her.”

Mirajane frowned. As far as she could tell, Lucy and Lisanna had been amicable since they met. She had seen no ire from either of them, and Lisanna had never confided in her with such feelings before. Yet, she had an inkling of where these emotions stemmed from.

“But,” Lisanna continued with guilt-ridden eyes. “She was also Natsu’s best friend. I know I shouldn’t be jealous. When I was away, Lucy came along and became a part of Natsu’s life. And part of me is happy about that, because when I was in Edolas, I had been so worried about him - about what would happen to him without me around. Yet..” She paused again, tears filling her eyes.

Shame was not an easy burden to carry. Mirajane rested a gentle hand on her sister’s shoulder. “What is it?”

Lisanna choked out a cry, hurrying to brush away the tears that fell down her cheeks. “I-I just can’t help feeling as if part of me holds Lucy responsible for Natsu and Happy’s deaths,” she confessed quietly, her sin finally out in the open. “She was there - right there - and didn’t save them! That somehow it’s all her fault that they’re gone.”

Realizing the cause of her sister’s affliction, Mirajane’s heart went out to her. “Oh, Lisanna,” she sighed.

“Is there s-something wrong with me?” she asked again, her words broken as whimpers escaped her lips.

Mirajane wrapped her hands around her sister’s, coaxing their gazes to meet. “Yes, but it’s the same thing that’s wrong with all of us. We’re looking for someone to blame - someone tangible right in front of us - because it’s easier than believing this had all been a terrible tragedy at the hands of demons we can’t find.”

Lisanna nodded her head, sniffling. “I just-” She paused, fruitlessly attempting to push away her tears. “I had so many things I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him how much I had missed him, and that I was proud of how strong he had become. Just so many unspoken thoughts and words, but I couldn’t say them to him. I couldn’t face him and admit to him that I was jealous, and how hurt I was when I came back and things weren’t the same. It’s because of that fear that I never got the chance to say the one that was important. I never had the chance-” *Hiccup* “To-To tell him I loved him.”

As she broke down crying, Mirajane pulled her to her chest, feeling her own eyes well up with tears. Long ago she had suspected the animal take-over mage had developed feelings for the dragon slayer. Their friendship ran deep and the two were rarely seen without the other. Even though Lisanna had her siblings, and Natsu had the rest of the rowdy bunch of young wizards, the two of them had always shared a special connection.

If she were being honest, Mirajane couldn’t remember Lisanna and Natsu actually sharing a moment alone after she returned from Edolas. The S-Class Trials began only weeks later, and they had all been swept up in the grandeur of friendly skirmishes. After their seven year stasis, they immediately began to train for the Grand Magic Games. Between being declared the victors and the battles with the dragons immediately following, it was amazing that Lisanna had adjusted as well as she did. They really hadn’t been granted the opportunity to immerse her back into their life. The sisters had shared conversations and talked late into the night on plenty of occasions, catching Lisanna up on what she had missed during her time away, but that didn’t account for the memories and emotional attachments she had missed.

Mirajane felt the weight of the world on her shoulders and the weight of Lisanna’s grief in her arms as she contemplated her sister’s predicament. “I know it’s difficult to keep going,” Mirajane soothed quietly, running a hand through her hair. “But just know that you have to.”

“How?” Lisanna cried out, her emotional vexation reminding Mirajane so much of her own when a certain red-head had come to her aid. “How can I, when I feel so bitter, as if I have no direction anymore?”

Mirajane smiled sadly. “I remember that feeling. You’re caught between all that was and all that must be. You feel lost.” She pulled away to look down at her sister, wiping away her tears. “But remember, things will weigh you down, but only if you let them. I get it. It’s hard to pretend that a boulder is a feather. It’s hard to pretend that something difficult is easy. So, just do what I’ve done for years. I just pretend that I’m strong, until I am.”

Lisanna sniffled, her sobs finally beginning to quiet.

The elder take-over mage sighed, memories turning back to when she thought Lisanna had died, and the guilt that nearly killed Elfman. “You may feel bitter toward Lucy, and angry over Natsu. But the truth is,” she said, gently resting her forehead against her sister’s. “Unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself for those feelings, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize the situation is over - you can’t move forward.”

Levy knocked on a familiar door she had walked through many times before. She played with a strand of her hair, brown eyes drawn to the floor boards beneath her feet. It had become her daily ritual when taking a break from the library to walk to the apartment complex not far from the guild hall, her heart aching for a smiling, blonde, celestial wizard to welcome her in. But that moment had yet to come. Not the day after the funeral, or the week that followed. Lucy Heartfilia had become a ghost, locking herself within the same four walls and refusing to see anyone.

The solid-script mage exhaled deeply, feeling terribly helpless during this time of grieving. Her research hadn’t turned up anything worthwhile at the Fairy Tail library, so in between musing over other means of gathering information, she filled her days of attempting to bring some semblance of normalcy back to the guild. She read books in the hall and tried to greet everyone with a cheerful smile. The awkward responses she received indicated she was trying too hard, but she didn’t know what else to do. They needed someone to spur them into action, a speech of hope and faith to give them the final push toward defeating their current adversary.

However, Makarov had said nothing on the subject, instead locking himself within his office for days on end, allowing only Mirajane and Laxus to speak with him on occasion. Levy didn’t know what the master was planning, but she had a sneaking suspicion he was doing his own digging into Tartaros, perhaps pulling strings she herself did not possess.

“Lucy,” she called out desperately for her friend, knocking again in the hopes this time she would let her in. The deep blues of night had descended on Magnolia, snuffing out the last bit of sunlight, and causing Levy to feel that more anxious about Lucy’s well-being. “Please, I just want to talk, make sure you’re okay.” Her eyes filled with frustrated tears, hands curling into fists at her sides. “I’m worried sick, Lu. Open the door.”

The tiny script mage’s voice was stern - demanding - so different from her carefree nature only weeks before. She was tired of fighting against Lucy’s absurd way of shutting out the world. They were a family, dammit, and they needed each other. Couldn’t she see that?

She pushed her blue hair out of her face, setting one last despondent look at Lucy’s apartment door before turning to leave. Just as she began making her way out of the front door, Loke appeared in a glitter of golden light, startling her. His suit was clean-pressed as usual, but his expression twisted into one of concern.

“Levy,” he greeted languidly, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

“How is she?” Levy asked, hands wrapping around themselves in worry. “Why-Why won’t she let me in?”

“She’s okay,” he soothed, dark circles under his eyes speaking of exhaustion. He readjusted his glasses. “Don’t worry. Her spirits are looking after her. Lucy suffered a terrible loss, and she’s taking it hard.” He sighed, looking over at her door as if he could see right through it. “From what Aquarius told me, when Lucy’s mother died, she tried to do the same thing. But she was young - easily distracted by her estate’s employees and the little attention her father gave her.”

Levy shook her head dismissively. “Then why won’t she let us help her now? Why won’t she come to the guild, or let us in?”

He shrugged. “She just lost her team, and one of her best friends - the person who gave her purpose in life again. Lucy spent years under her father’s thumb until she ran away to find happiness. Natsu gave that to her. He brought her to Fairy Tail. She’s going to need time to heal.”

That wasn’t the explanation Levy wanted to hear, but she could understand what Loke was saying. And seeing as how some of Lucy’s spirits had been with her for far longer than the guild had, she supposed they understood her grieving process better than she. Even so, Loke’s words did little to soothe her concern.

“If she becomes a real concern, I’ll make sure to come find you,” Loke said as a last attempt to pacify her apprehension. “I promise.”

Levy nodded, her gaze holding his. “I’m trusting you,” she murmured, before pushing past him and out the front door.

Loke stood for a moment, rubbing tired eyes, before slipping back into Lucy’s room. Virgo was in the process of running her a warm bath. Although Lucy always loved soaking in her tub, it had been hard to convince her to do so lately.

“Here you go, Princess,” he heard Virgo say from beyond the bathroom door, assisting their mage into the tub. Shortly after, Virgo stepped out into the room, exchanging a look of unease with him.

Lucy sank down into the water, the silver-gray stream curling and dancing through the air, filling the bathroom completely. After a while, a golden light shimmered in the air, and Aquarius appeared, arms crossed over her chest as she glared at Lucy’s indifferent expression.

“Lucy,” she tried, receiving not even a notion that she had been heard. She frowned, her usual bitter attitude and short-lipped responses falling to the wayside. Pathetic didn’t even begin to describe the blonde sitting before her. She sighed. “You can’t blame yourself,” she murmured, watching her carefully. “Not for this.”

The celestial mage turned her head away, eyes staring at moisture accumulating on the tile floor. “How can I not?” she asked quietly. “I survived and they didn’t.”

Aquarius had no real answer for that. Survivor’s guilt was not something that could be overcome easily. It was like the weight of the ocean’s walls were crushing a person, uncontrolled by levis. The mermaid spirit had been around long enough to have seen many of her former key holders experience such a thing. Being a wizard was not always a joyous job to yield.

“It’s okay that you survived,” she spoke softly, looking at Lucy with a pitied gaze. “I’m even happy about it.”

That made Lucy look up at her with a raised brow.

A deep blush settled on Aquarius’s cheeks. “Look, you may be a brat, but you’re Layla’s daughter. Of course I wouldn’t want anything really bad to happen to you.”

For the first time in a long time, Lucy’s lips tugged into a half-hearted smile. “Thanks, Aquarius.” Although their relationship had always been close to volatile, the mermaid spirit spoke her care discreetly.

Aquarius folded her arms over her chest, blue eyes continuing to study Lucy. Her grief this time had upended her life much like Layla’s death had, but this time, Lucy wasn’t an easily distractible child. The celestial mage understood very well what had happened to her friends, and had witnessed the trauma first hand. It wouldn’t be something that she would be able to overcome anytime soon.

“You should talk about it,” Aquarius urged gently.

Lucy’s reaction was instantaneous. She wrapped her arms tighter around her knees and hid her face between them. Aquarius could feel the anxiety coming off the girl in waves. “I-I can’t,” Lucy’s muffled, shaky voice came from the protection of her self-made sheath.

A deep exhale slipped from her lips. With a hand more gentle than ever before, Aquarius ran her fingers through Lucy’s golden tresses before coming to rest comfortably on top. “You’ll have to eventually. When you’re ready.”

Coruscating golden light filled the room and Lucy felt Aquarius’s hand disappear along with her presence. She was left alone in a lukewarm bath. Aquarius always hated bath time. The fact that she had decided to show up now soothed Lucy’s heart.

Moments later, Virgo assisted Lucy into her pajamas and then to the couch, where Virgo set about brushing Lucy’s hair. Silence filled the apartment, Virgo being careful not to pull at Lucy’s tresses. Loke stood by the window, looking down at the street below, stealing glances behind him at his mage.

Loke had lived for a very long time. He had seen the blackest moments grief and tragedy could offer. They could bury a person alive simply by the sheer weight of it all. The darkness would swallow people whole without mercy, even bringing about death. Yet, he had also seen the other side of that coin - the light that shined brightly despite the wickedness life would bring. He witnessed euphoria and triumph, the gleeful laughter of happiness too much to contain.

More than anything, Loke wanted to show Lucy that world - the brilliant sun and the skies. Happiness lived outside of these four walls she had cocooned herself within. It existed all around - in the ice creams that melted quickly; the sandy beaches and waves that tickled ankles; in the little white shells hidden under the sand, their insides still grainy with remnants of sand and iridescence. There was happiness in the fiery red and orange hues that filled the sky when the sun bid farewell; and happiness even in the pale calm of the night with the stars that shone above, reminders of all the things that were greater than the world.

There was so much more to this life than her grief, and he only wished he could help her see past this moment.

“All finished,” Virgo said quietly as she ran her fingers through Lucy’s tresses a final time.

“Thank you.” The mage’s mumbled gratitude was more conversation than the spirits had hoped she would have offered. She hadn’t been up for much talking.

Virgo exchanged a look with Loke before disappearing back to the celestial realm. Still, Lucy didn’t move. Her gaze fixated on a spot on the wall, her fingers fidgeting with the blanket on her lap, her mind obviously elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” Loke asked, quickly chastising himself for asking the question as Lucy scoffed. The blonde didn’t spare him a glance, but did pull her gaze to her lap. He closed the distance between them and stood in front of her so he could meet her eyes. His expression let her know he wasn’t going to leave until she answered him.

She wasn’t able to hold his stare long before she looked away. “I’m just tired, all right?” she finally said to pacify him. It seemed to be her answer every time he asked. And he asked a lot. Over and over and over again, day in and day out, as if waiting for her answer to change. He was sure he was beginning to annoy her, but to be frank, any emotion that Lucy exhibited other than overwhelming sadness was a win in his book.

“Get up.” It was more of a demand than a request, which only seemed to anger Lucy further.

She frowned and ignored him, not even entertaining him with a response. If she had her way, he was sure she would fall asleep on the couch just to spite him.

Loke sighed and knelt down so he was eye-level with her. “Please, Lucy. Do it for me.”

His pleading gaze nearly broke her conviction. He could see it. They had been through so much in such a short time together, he knew she would have a hard time denying his request. Was he playing dirty by waving their trust in her face? Probably. But he was desperate.

The lion spirit reached out a hand and covered hers. “If you do, I promise I’ll give you some space.”

Well, that compromise seemed to peak her interest. “Why?” she asked warily.

He chuckled, picking up on her guarded expression. “We aren’t going far. You’ll like it. Trust me.”

And he knew that was something Lucy could never deny. The trust between them was iron-clad and something she would never dispute. “Fine,” she ultimately conceded with a deep sigh. “Where to?”

“Follow me.”

The Leader of the Zodiac took her hand in his, guiding her carefully to her apartment door. She hesitated as he attempted to direct her into the hallway, panicking about venturing back into the world that still turned without half of Team Natsu. But Loke encouraged her with a gentle tug.

Lucy took a deep breath and followed him up the stairs to the third floor, and then up further still until they happened upon the hatch to the roof. Loke opened it before reaching behind him and helping Lucy out. “What are we doing out here?” she asked once she was standing beside him.

He stayed silent, pulled her with him toward the front end, and sat down near the edge where the shingles began slanting downward. He patted the ground beside him invitingly and she cautiously joined him. Once she settled in he pointed out toward the Magnolia, past the river the boatmen always drifted down.

“Look, Lucy.”

She followed his finger to where the sky met the horizon far beyond the town. The outline of the Fairy Tail guild, shrouded in darkness, could be seen, and just beyond that sat Lake Sciliora. A shimmering of stars lit up the night sky, becoming more visible as the midnight hour approached. The city quietly began to fall asleep as lights faded from windows and people emptied the streets.

Folding her knees and wrapping her arms around them, Lucy wistfully gazed at the heavens. “I wish I was a star,” she said aloud.

Loke reached over and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “But don’t you see,” he murmured, her eyes pulling to his. “You’re already a galaxy. You have universes trapped beneath your skin and stardust shining in your eyes. You are so much more than a star.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “What-What if I don’t want to be more than a star?” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“Oh, Lucy,” Loke soothed, brushing away a tear that slid down her cheek.

“Loke,” she cried out, no longer able to hold back her sobs. “I-I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

He frowned as she began to cry, her shoulders shaking. “This isn’t the end,” he tried, wanting her to understand that she wouldn’t always feel this way.

“But what if I-I want it to be?”

Her words tore through Loke; the very thought of Lucy feeling so broken as to even consider the idea of no longer existing made his stomach drop. Had she truly fallen so far? Had the beautiful, shining blonde who always smiled become so grief-stricken as to even consider taking her life? The very idea nearly made him snap.

Loke reached out and pulled Lucy into his arms, wrapping her tightly in his embrace as if he could hold her together. She wept into his chest, folding herself within him and hiding from the world. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured, his repetition glaring, but he wasn’t sure what the right words were to say.

“I-I wish I didn’t need y-you to tell me-e that,” she sputtered through her tears.

He pulled away then, needing to look at her, needing her to understand how serious he was being. Her confession terrified him. “You have me,” he promised sharply, wiping away her tears as quickly as they fell, holding her head between his hands. Her lips wobbled and her eyes were glassy. She reached up and held his hands, leaning into his touch. “You have me,” he repeated in a gentler tone. “Until every last star in the galaxy dies, you have me.”

Loke pulled her back into his arms and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of her ragged breathing. He knew no matter what he said to her, nothing would lessen the impact of her pain. He could only sit there and hold her, offer her whatever she required of him, anything to help her smile again. Because ever since that day, the heavenly bodies didn’t shine as brightly.

Lucy’s cries soon lessened to whimpers, her tears drying up, and she finally settled down to shaky sighs. After a long moment, he pulled away and allowed space between them. He didn’t say anything, allowing her this moment of quiet.

The blonde tucked her hair behind her ears, smoothing it out as if to make herself more presentable. He didn’t know why. She had always been beautiful to him. He reached out and ran his thumb across her jaw, his eyes searching hers. “I’m here with you.”

She nodded silently, her eyes leaving him and searching the horizon again. Darkness had fully descended over Magnolia, and the sky was alight with the stars she loved so much.

Loke followed her gaze and then pointed into the sky. “Which constellation is that?”

Lucy easily found which stars he pointed to. “Saggitarius,” she murmured.

“And that one?” he asked, indicating another point in the sky.

She allowed a small smile. “Capricorn.”

He took her hand. “Every time you start to feel down, every time you begin to think of the end, I want you to look to the stars,” he said. “Name the constellations. Know that this world is so great and beautiful - and would be less-so if you were gone.”

Brown eyes met his, and for the first time since everything went to hell, Loke saw life flicker behind her gaze. Lucy was still there - no longer drowning, but still swimming, trying to get to shore.

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