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gandu-pola · 5 years ago

Text

Cold

Chapter One

Knuckles stinging, Gray punched again. One-two. He took a quick, diagonal step to his left while pulling his left arm back. Always create angles. His right hand shot out, his fist reaching its target with a thunderous report.

Catch them in the body. Guard comes down. Lowers face. Up, up.

With a torque of his hips, Gray wrenched the same hand up, landing an uppercut. Usually, that would end it. But not on that day.

Not enough. Never enough.

Bobbing his head, he wove to his left. Sweat flew from his brow. He felt his hair stick to his neck. But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

More.

Gray darted in with his right foot. Drove his left foot into the ground. Twisted his hips. Clenched his jaws.

His left fist, in contrast, hovering just beneath his jaw, remained relaxed. It stayed that way as he extended his arm forward, powered by his entire body. Moments from impact, his fingers curled and tightened into a fist. Usually, his breath left him in a quick, sharp exhale. That day, it ripped from him in a loud, angry howl.

Then, maybe a second before pegging the mark, he rotated his wrist.

He felt the impact all the way up his shoulder. But it didn’t stop him. His fist smashed through the resistance. Punch through them. Aim for the spine. They’re not there. He held his stance even after the punch landed, watching the bag swing up and smack the ceiling before returning in slow motion.

Stopping it with his hands, Gray braced himself against the bag. All he could hear was the thundering of his heart. He hadn’t realised how worked up he’d gotten. Easy breaths. Slowly. He pushed himself off the sandbag, hands on hips.

Gray’s breath came in pants and he tilted his head back. His chest heaved heavily, almost painfully, and his guts burned. He closed his eyes. Nodded. Good session. It’d worked up quite a sweat.

Once he felt his heart let up and his breathing relax, Gray exhaled deeply. He mopped the sweat from his forehead and wiped his palm against his sweatpants. He opened his eyes when his breathing levelled out and glanced at the bag. That’s when he saw the blood.

There wasn’t much. Just a single smudge on the leather. He looked down at his hands. Found the skin completely torn off his knuckles.

Gray clicked his tongue. He went and sat down on the lone bench at the far corner of the room. Picking up his towel from the ground, he dried off the sweat from his chest and neck. Upon finishing, he pulled out the steel bucket from under the bench. With a sigh, he moulded some magic and half filled it with ice-cubes. Then he placed it on the bench and shoved his hands inside.

It stung. Gray grimaced, but sat through it. Icing had become a very prominent part of his morning workout. Not that he minded. It was useful.

Once the pain melted away, he pulled his hands out and dried them. A click of his fingers melted the ice and Gray soaked the towel in it. He wrung it out, and went and cleaned the bloodstains off the sandbag.

Always take care of your equipment. Make sure it’s always ready to be used. It’s helping you out, so help it, too.

When the bloodstains came off, he carried the bucket out of his training room and crossed the hall into his bedroom. He glanced at the clock. A quarter past five. There was time.

He entered the attached bathroom and took care of his toilet. Then he emptied the bucket over his head. It was as close to a bath as he usually came. But not on that day. Gray took the time to bathe properly. He didn’t want to smell.

Afterwards, he decided to shave, too. Your appearance matters. People will judge you by your looks long before they decide to get to know you. He didn’t want to take any chances.

Shaving was one of those things he took great care with. Stray hairs were very good at evading him. Especially under his chin and jaw. He didn’t want any of those. So, he pressed his razor a little tighter to his skin.

Immediately, Gray flinched. He saw the cut form almost in slow-motion. A single drop of blood escaped, rolling down his throat before dripping down to his collarbone. Gray watched it race across his pale chest, where once the Fairy Tail insignia had been.

He looked in the mirror. Tried to remember the exact shape of the tattoo. The colour, the placement. He raised his hand to touch the spot, but stopped himself. Felt his jaw tighten.

Gray splashed water on his face and chest, chasing the blood, and the memories, away.

Not today, he told himself. Not today.

The clock’s face told him that it was almost half past five when he left the bathroom. Gray, calculating how much time he had left, went into his kitchen. He decided to forego coffee and go straight to breakfast. His culinary talents were almost non-existent, but some things he could do pretty well.

What you do is, you whisk the eggs, a little butter, and a little milk and salt and pepper together and pour it onto a small pan on medium heat. As the egg cooks, gently push the edges towards the middle – about a half inch – and tilt the pan so the runny egg fills the small crevice you just made.

He followed the instructions exactly as he remembered, smiling slightly as he did so. Ul had trained him in more ways than one.

Turning down the heat, Gray flicked on the radio. Some nonsensical early morning talk show. Gray didn’t care. In one ear, out the other. It was noise. It killed the silence. He couldn’t work if there wasn’t chatter. Old habits did die hard.

Once there was no more runny egg, Gray flipped the thing over. It had taken lots of practice, but he could do it without tearing anything now. Ul would’ve been proud. He placed the ham and cheese on one side of the egg and flipped the other side over it. After transferring his creation onto a plate, he carried it over to the small square table and sat down. He picked up a fork in his left hand and sprinkled some pepper over the omelette with his right.

The talk show ended on the radio, giving way to a news bulletin. Gray ate quietly while listening to it. Nothing really happened in his neck of the woods. Other than alpine disasters, but those were brought to him first. Anything that happened above the snowline was his department. There wasn’t much to do, but skiing accidents were common in the winter.

After washing and drying his plate, Gray went back to his bedroom. He changed into his black trousers and chose a simple black shirt to go with it. While he wasn’t a fan of it, he tucked his shirt in – he didn’t want to appear like a loafer.

He pulled his old white coat on and slipped his keys into his pocket. The dark sky greeted him when he stepped out. Winter had chased the sun away. He stood on his porch for a moment, taking in the scene. The days were always dark around this time of year, with the sun showing up to sprinkle a twilight-esque band of light across the sky at noon.

Usually, Gray counted on the northern lights to show him the way, but they were absent. Ah, well. He shrugged and took the toboggan which stood propped against his front wall. Not like it’s a difficult route, anyway.

The village of Huldsborg was a straight shot down from his mountain cabin. The sledge got him there in under three minutes, though it took about a half hour to climb up.

Once the terrain levelled out, Gray got up and walked into the town, dragging his sledge behind him. The place was already humming with activity; it was market day. It usually happened thrice a week, but winter never let anybody have their way. The inclement weather usually limited it to one, or maybe two. The villagers had to make the most of it.

“Morning, Mister Fullbuster,” a young boy greeted him on the street with a nod. “Take your toboggan?”

“Thanks, Peter.” Peter was the village’s goatherd, and the innkeper’s son. The summer pastures were frozen now, rendering him unemployed and forcing him to attend school. He was ten, and only his eyes and nose peeked out from within all his layers of clothing. Gray handed him the reins and he followed along. “Your mother doing okay?”

“She’s fine. Just busy.”

“Mhmm. Hear anything about the trains being late?”

“Not really. The merchants arrived in the first train just fine. Why? You going to Nyborg?”

Nyborg was the closest town with a railway station. It was an hour away by carriage. Gray hummed.

“See Luca yet today?”

Peter shook his head. “Why? Do you want him to go up?”

“If you see him, tell him to drop by tomorrow, okay?” He gave the boy some money and a list. “Buy these for me. I’m having guests over. You can keep the balance.”

Peter pocketed both the money and the list. “Anything else, Mister Fullbuster?”

“Nope. Keep the sledge at the inn. I’ll come pick it, and the groceries, up in the evening.”

With a salute, he boy ran off. Gray chuckled to himself. He was certain that Peter would use it as an excuse to not go to school that morning. Some things just couldn’t be helped.

He nodded at all the villagers who greeted him on the way. Any other day, he’d stop and talk to them, but he had a train to meet.

The road from Huldsborg to Nyborg was mostly flat. It had a few bumps that could be called hills, but Gray didn’t think of them as such. Neither did the people of the area. They were too used to sky scraping mountains and plunging gorges to be bothered by bumps on the road.

A honk from behind made him look. He saw a four-wheeler coming up the slope behind him. A middle-aged man sat in the driver’s seat, waving at him. Gray stopped walking when he recognised him. It was Arthur, one of the richest merchants in the district. He could afford a car, and thus wasn’t dependent on the train. A true travelling peddler.

Arthur stopped beside Gray and raised his hat. “Good morning, Winter Wizard. Where you off to?”

Gray smiled. The people had started calling him that sometime over the years. His only choice was to accept the moniker with grace.

“Nyborg. I need to receive the nine o’ clock train.”

“Got visitors coming, eh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, hop on. Be faster than walking.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Home,” the man replied and scooted over. “It’s my little girl’s birthday, and I want to get there before she wakes up. Nyborg’s on the way. If you put on the SE-plug, we’ll make it in no time.”

Magic vehicles converted the user’s magical energy into fuel. The SE-plug, short for Self Energy, was a wristband connected by a cable to the car’s engine. The faster you went, the more it taxed your reserves.

Gray laughed. “You just want to get home faster, don’t you?”

“I’m helping you help me,” the man shrugged, but Gray didn’t miss the amused twinkle in his eyes.

“All right, Arthur. I’ll put on the band, but you’ll hafta steer this thing. I can’t drive.”

“No offense, Winter Wizard, but I’ll never let anyone else drive Dahlia.”

With a shake of his head, Gray climbed onto the car. They were off as soon as he wore the bracelet. Gray dumped all the magical power he could do without into the machine. His reserves had grown over the years, so it didn’t bother him. Arthur seemed excited at the sudden boost of speed. He wanted to get home. Getting to Nyborg fast was in their mutual interest.

Arthur wasn’t a very talkative person when he wasn’t trying to sell anything. Either that, or he was too grateful to talk. Gray made the car go faster and, soon, they were flying off the bumps.

“You know,” said Arthur, grinning giddily, “I’m really lucky I don’t have fragile things in the back. I really want to see how fast Dahlia can go!”

“I would show you, but this is the fastest I’m comfortable with. I don’t wanna die just yet.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent driver.”

“Yes.” Considering his previous experiences in magic vehicles, he couldn’t disagree. “Yes, you are.”

What took a solid two hours at a brisk pace took them a little over a half hour. Unless the town clock was running fast, Gray realised that he was an hour and a half early. After bidding farewell to Arthur, he walked leisurely to the station. He dropped by the enquiry office, and the tired lady told him that the train was indeed not running late, that she hadn’t slept well in three months, and that she needed a massage.

Gray wished her luck and walked away. What am I gonna do now? Nyborg wasn’t new to him, so exploration was out. He could sit inside the station. But then he’d have to buy a platform pass and those expired in an hour.

Sighing, Gray made his way to the diner opposite the station. It got a lot of traffic, and was thus open almost all day. They had an infinite refill policy, too, which made waiting easier.

He took a seat in a booth by a window so he could keep track of the giant clock tower just outside the station. If nothing else, he could count the seconds. I was counting the seconds till you showed up. He snorted and shook his head. Won’t be caught dead sayin’ that.

But he ended up doing just that. It was magic. Gray couldn’t stare at a clock and not count the seconds. Around the 2,300 second mark, it started snowing. It stopped 937 seconds later, and Gray decided to get up. He’d wasted an hour. Might as well waste the rest inside.

Knowing the platform number the train would enter, Gray paced around, his attention focused on the announcements. The trains were usually on time – especially on market days. But he couldn’t help the gnawing worry in his gut. His mind conjured up an endless stream of what-if’s, each one more unlikely than the last, until he bought a magazine just to distract himself. There was an article detailing the traditional whale hunting expeditions of the native tribes in the region.

It’ll do.

To their credit, the journalist had done a very good job at accurately portraying exactly why the activity was so important. Gray himself had taken part in it once. Refusing the invitation wouldn’t have been proper. It had been the experience of a lifetime, so he didn’t begrudge them that.

Your attention, please. 12369 up Skeidi-Nordsfjord Express is coming on platform number three. Oppmerksomhet-

Tuning out the rest, Gray rolled up the magazine and stuffed it into his coat pocket. That the train was ‘coming’ usually meant that it had left the previous station. It would arrive anywhere between fifteen minutes to an hour.

But Gray didn’t have to wait that long. Within ten minutes, he could hear the steam whistle. A couple of minutes after that, the great red engine materialised from around the bend. He felt his heart jump. Just a little.

The sight of a train always excited some long buried instinct in him. Brought back memories he didn’t want to revisit. Snatches of conversation and feelings from a very different time.

With a sigh, Gray stepped on the bubble of emotion forming in his chest and moved on to where he knew the first class bogies would stop. It was always first class. Not that money was an issue, but still. He half believed that it was because he’d know exactly where to stand. The thought made him smirk.

Typical.

He closed his eyes as the engine stormed past him, letting the wind tousle his hair. His nostrils welcomed the smell of grease and coals. Hawkers and peddlers and porters were already running up to the windows, offering their goods or services. The usually quiet station was suddenly abuzz with activity.

When the train halted, Gray jogged up the length of it. Compartment S-2. Okay. B-1, S-4… that’s S-3. Ah-hah! There we go.

He peered into the windows as he walked past. The curtains were drawn in most, and the coupes where they weren’t were empty. Gray decided it would be wiser to just stand by the door. He was rewarded within moments.

The door was pushed open gently. Erza Scarlet stood in the doorway, one hand on the handle. Her eyes found his immediately, and her expression went from surprised to pleased in a fraction of a second. She was dressed appropriately for the winter – a pink anorak covered her torso, and her jeans were tucked into knee high boots. Her face was flushed, painting her cheeks in a gentle, rosy pink.

Probably from the cold, Gray told himself as his gaze fluttered up, over her shoulder.

There was nobody behind her.

His smile faltered a bit at that. Gray sighed out of his nose and looked back at Erza. The ghost of a frown appeared on her face and he kicked himself. She’d probably noticed him deflate. She was good at reading him. Most of the time. Erza didn’t say anything, but her smile returned when he held out his hand.

She took it and hopped onto the platform. Gray couldn’t help the grin that broke out on his face. It was rare that he got to see her anymore. He felt her squeeze his hand, her thumb trailing over his knuckles. For a moment, her frown returned – no doubt she’d found the newly torn skin. When she dropped his hand, Gray braced for a scolding.

Instead, Erza coughed into her hand and cleared her throat. She looked up at him, smiling, and said, “Takk for sist.”

Gray blinked, slightly taken aback by this development. Erza looked rather pleased with herself. She ran her fingers through her hair and declared, with no small amount of pride, “I practiced.”

It was… definitely an Erza thing to do. Gray could clearly see her poring over dictionaries and visiting language coaches to get it just right. Probably walked around her room in circles all night trying different pitches and tones to find the perfect balance. And she had nailed it. That she would go to such lengths just to master a simple phrase rather touched him.

And so, Gray chuckled and stuffed his hands inside his pockets. “Yes. It’s nice to see you, too.”

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“Cover your head,” Gray told Erza as they emerged from the station. “And put some gloves on.”

“Yes, yes.” She requipped a pair of woollen gloves on her hands and pulled on the hood of her anorak. “Happy?”

Only her face was exposed now. It made her mock-glare look all the more adorable.

Gray smiled. “You want some coffee? Warm up and rest a little?”

Erza shook her head. “I can rest afterwards. I want to go.”

“Right.” He hadn’t expected any different. “Come on, then. Bus terminus is this way.”

“I know, Gray. I memorised the map.”

“Why are you like this?”

“It saves me time.”

He laughed aloud. Oh, I’ve missed you. “I really shouldn’t be surprised. Yet, I am.”

“Well, that’s your own fault, then.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Was it always so easy to talk to her? Or did distance and time sweeten it? It had certainly been his experience. With her, at least. Lyon, too. Back in the day, he was always awkward around her. Never knew what to say. Now, that wasn’t so. The stories piled up over the months, so there was always something to talk about. That, and he was at his friendliest. Seeing someone after a long time usually did that. He suspected it was the same for her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to having six months of darkness,” Erza commented as she slid into a seat by a window. “How do you know when to sleep? Or wake up?”

“You get used to it,” Gray replied. “It’s easier in the summer, though.”

“That’s six months of almost constant sunlight!”

“Yeah. Curtains exist for a reason.”

The bus, on account of the latest snowfall, couldn’t really go very fast. Gray didn’t mind. He wasn’t in a hurry anymore. Erza stared out of the window, peering into the countryside, trying to make out signs and structures in the dusky light. He smiled to himself. Just having her near did wonders for his spirits.

Then again, she’s probably tired. It was a thirty hour journey from Magnolia to Nyborg. She’d had to change trains at the border. And now, with this, even her legendary durability might be getting strained.

“You have breakfast?” he asked.

“They served cake on the train.”

“That’s not exactly a wholesome meal.”

“This coming from the man whose diet consists of bread, butter and eggs.” She shook her head in disappointment. “When will you learn to cook, Gray?”

“Hey, I can cook. I cooked just this morning!”

“Was it an omelette?”

Gray said nothing. Erza turned to him, smirking.

“I rest my case,” she said.

“It was a good omelette,” he returned half-heartedly. “And besides, don’t change the subject.”

“No, Gray. I have not had a proper breakfast.”

“We’re getting some food in your system when we reach Nidaros.”

“Yes, yes.”

Nidaros was a big port city. Unsurprisingly, it was a trade hub. Everything from whale blubber to cloudberries was sold there. It catered to the culinary palettes of every culture, too, gathering food from every corner of the world. Port towns were always like that. They made everyone feel at home. For all the sailors and the traders, who spent months on the seas, this was a small piece of home.

Erza, however, decided to eschew Fiore delicacies. “If I wanted pasta, I could’ve had it at home. In Isvan, eat as they do.”

It was sound logic, but Gray wasn’t fooled. “You’re not having Kvaefjordkake.”

She frowned belligerently, but he was having none of it. Kvaefjordkake was the first word Erza had picked up for a reason. It was a kind of layered sponge cake – baked with meringue and almonds and filled with custard and whipped cream. The people of Isvan called it the best cake in the world. Ezra had put it in second place in her list, after Fantasia. Gray believed the only reason why Kvaefjordkake came in second was due to the absence of strawberries.

“You can have it afterwards,” he relented eventually. “But you need food. Actual food.”

“You are being extra fussy today. Is something the matter?”

He hiked his shoulders. “Just looking out for your health.”

“I appreciate it, Gray.” She smiled and bumped him with her shoulder. “But I’ve already decided on what I want to have.”

“Oh? And what might that be?”

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“Seriously?” Gray asked, leaning back against the rails of the airship. “Waffles? Really?”

Erza, nibbling away on her favoured heart-shaped snack, nodded happily. She looked like a contented bunny. The sight was so adorable that Gray didn’t even have the heart to rebuke her.

Instead, he sighed and said, “Hopeless.”

She was just that. Hopeless. Given a choice, Gray was certain she’d open a confectionary café of some sort. And be her own biggest customer. He sighed again and shook his head. Not that I can blame her. The damn things were sold everywhere in Isvan. From ferry boat food stalls to museum cafés and beyond. But ten of them? With honey?

Why she had such a sweet tooth was beyond him.

Gray sighed again – he always sighed more when she was involved – and turned towards the horizon. He could see the outline of Kongsfjorden, tiny in the distance. It was an island about 2,000 kilometres from the mainland of Ishgar, making it the northernmost permanently settled place in the continent. Not that there were many people. It had a few research stations and a mining town, totalling about two thousand people maximum. If that.

“Want one?”

“Hmm?” He turned to find Erza holding out a waffle. “Nah, that’s okay.”

“How long has it been since you had your omelette?”

“Four hours.”

She pressed it closer. “You should eat. It’s unwise to let your stomach wait for much longer.”

Frowning slightly, he took it from her. With Erza, one always had to pick and choose the battles. Not every hill was worth dying on. Besides, the woman was right. He was getting hungry.

The airship made good time. It was a two hour journey, and they made it well before midday. A shuttle from the wharf took them to the small research town of New Bergstad. It studied mainly marine ecosystems and other things related to the frigid climates. Being halfway to the North Pole, it was an important site, with scientists from all around the continent settling there with their families.

It was also deathly cold. Except for a few short weeks in summer, the temperatures were constantly below zero. Yet, they still sold waffles here.

Erza always visited the Marine Museum every time she visited. She glanced at it longingly as they passed by. Gray smiled to himself.

“Do you wanna go?”

She shook her head. “On the way back.”

“All right,” he replied, knowing she would say that. Nothing could ever distract her from the task at hand. Except cake, but that was a different issue. Erza always had priorities. He appreciated it.

Leaving town, Gray took a well-worn path leading east. He’d walked down it countless times. He knew every turn and slope. It would’ve been a treacherous journey otherwise, especially in such low light. Gray offered Erza his arm.

“Hold on. You’ll slip and fall otherwise.”

With a chuckle, she accepted. “Thank you, Gray. Very chivalrous of you.”

He didn’t respond. Hand holding would be difficult for her, what with the thick gloves. This was more efficient. It also felt nicer. Though he suspected she knew that already.

Women.

The rubble started appearing soon after. A brick here, some mortar there. Then came the still standing ruins. The ghost of a chimney, half a wall, a hole where a well used to be. Just enough to make out the skeleton of the settlement that once was. A ghost town in the truest sense.

Bergstad. Old Bergstad.

His onetime home.

Over the past few years, Gray had dropped by the ruins of the old town dozens of times. He came by every time he felt like it. The authorities had resisted at first, but after learning his identity and past, they’d relented. Indeed, Gray had helped lay the foundation for New Bergstad.

The municipal corporation was hesitant on rebuilding on the old site. They felt it would be an ill-fated venture. Given the context, it made sense. At the same time, they didn’t want to perpetuate the idea of bad luck. They wanted to build a more positive image for the island. The newer research station was far away enough that the people there didn’t have to live in the shadow of destruction. Normally, you had to take a permit to even visit the ruins. Gray was given a free pass. And Erza was Erza. It’d be bad press to not let her go somewhere.

“Careful. There was a wall here. Don’t trip over a brick or something.”

“I have you, Gray. You’re my guide and saviour.”

He snorted. “You are a klutz. Sometimes.”

She responded by elbowing him in the ribs lightly. “Careful. I might take offense.”

“Perish the thought,” Gray replied quietly as he came to a halt. “Perish the thought.”

Not much remained. A single wall somehow still stood defiantly. The base of the chimney was also intact. Rubble lay strewn on the floor. However, his eyes were drawn to the wooden pole that stood in the centre.

It stood head and shoulders above the rest. Like the last remaining bastion of some fallen castle. Gray stared at it. Every time he came, it arrested – nay, demanded his attention. It was a reminder of what had been lost there. The source of many a misguided action.

He stood at where the doorway would have been, oh so long ago. The memories, what little there remained, came back to him then. Laughter over the dinner table, nights spent huddled before the fireplace, snowball fights. Voices from faceless, nameless people.

For a moment, just a short moment, he saw them all. Saw them all around him. Staring. Nodding. Reaching out. They were happy. He could tell.

“Gray?”

And then… they were gone. His reverie broken, he glanced at Erza. Found her looking up at him. Her smile was tight.

“Shall we cross the threshold?” she asked.

“Oh.” Right. Haven’t even stepped inside yet. “Yeah.”

With a nod, Erza pulled him in. He couldn’t stop his smile as he followed her. She had always been there to pull him forward. He’d been caught in her wake ever since the first day she stepped inside the guildhall. And in every instance where she’d caused him to go forward, he was grateful.

Swiping at his eyes very quickly, he muttered, “I’m home.”

Erza stopped before the pole and looked at him. Gray gazed up at it. At the very top, fastened with some rope, was a board of wood, resembling a cross. It was covered it snow, but he reached up and wiped it clean.

It looked like a street sign, but all it had to say were two names.

Mika. Gray.

He grazed his fingers along the letters of his mother’s name. Why, he didn’t know. It was just something he did. Somehow, it made him feel like he was reaching her. A stupid notion, no doubt.

But it’s all I’ve got.

Taking in a deep breath, Gray pulled his hand back. Wordlessly, Erza released his arm and stepped back. Again, he felt a wave of gratitude wash over him. She knows me a bit too well, he thought as he brought his palms together, moulding his magic and giving it shape. White light radiated from between the gaps of his fingers, illuminating the remains of his first home.

Gray took a good look. Then, as the light faded, he knelt down and placed a single ice rose by the foot of the pillar, beside all the countless others.

Thank you giving me a home. I don’t remember you much, but I loved you enough to want to do a lot of dumb things in the name of revenge. I don’t know where you are… if there even is a place after all this. But if there is, I wish you happiness. Take care of the old man, okay? I know you probably already know, but he had it pretty rough. So, yeah. Talk again when I see you, Ma. Take care of yourself.

With a sigh, Gray stood, turned, and slowly walked out into the darkness, Erza in tow.

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Erza didn’t speak much on the way back. She seemed content with the silence, but he wasn’t. Gray wanted to talk, to say something funny, but his mind drew a complete blank. All the way from Kongsfjorden to Nidaros, and from there to Nyborg, he couldn’t come up with a single thing to say.

The anniversary of his parents’ death was a bad day. Erza had come all the way from Fiore to keep him company. He was sure she was exhausted, and despite all that, she’d still bantered back and forth with him. Kept his mood light. Made sure he didn’t get depressed.

And I’m so useless I can’t even do the same for her.

Now, as the carriage rattled up to Huldsborg, he cleared his throat and asked, “Do you think sand is called sand because it’s between sea and land?”

Erza turned towards him and tilted her head. “Haven’t you asked me that before?”

“I have?”

“I think so. A long time ago.”

“Huh. That’s weird.” He scratched his cheek. “Coulda sworn I was being original.”

She chuckled, but said nothing more. Gray didn’t push it. It was still early in the evening – not later that four-thirty – but she needed rest.

I wonder if I should get a car.

The sky had darkened to a dark bluish tint by the time the carriage dropped them off at Huldsborg. Angry, puffy clouds had gathered as well. It didn’t bode well. Gray hoped it didn’t start snowing while they were still out.

After paying the fare, he told Erza that he had to drop by the inn.

“I have groceries waiting for me. You can come with me if you like.”

“Sure.”

A bell tinkled as pushed open the door, and all the patrons looked up and smiled at him. Their smiles morphed into grins when they saw Erza walk in behind him.

“Are you married yet?”

“She’s so pretty. Good on you!”

“I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.”

Thankfully, they kept it in Isvani. Gray grimaced when he saw Erza raise her eyebrows at him. She knew a few words at best. Hopefully, she didn’t get what they were saying. Unless she’d learnt the language since her last visit.

“Ignore them,” he muttered and went up to the bar. “Helgi, did Peter leave my things?”

Helgi, a plump little woman of about forty, was the innkeeper. She liked to say that was her part-time job, though. Mothering Peter took most of her time. Then again, she liked to mother almost everybody. Gray was not exempt from this.

“Yes,” she returned while serving her patrons. “Over there in the corner. On your sledge.”

“Thanks.” Gray tapped the counter. “Will it be ready tomorrow?”

Helgi looked up at that. She smiled when she saw Erza and nodded. Turning to Gray, she grinned and held up a thumb. Gray smiled back.

“Goodnight, Helgi.”

“See you tomorrow.”

His sledge indeed lay in the corner. Placed on it were the things he’d wanted – salmon, potatoes, butter and a few tubes of caviar. Satisfied, Gray took up the reins and smiled at Erza. “The last stretch.”

Once they were outside the inn, Erza said, “You sure picked a heck of a place to settle down in, Gray.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling. “Yeah. It’s really out of the way. I’m sorry you have to do so much walking. You’re tired and-”

“I don’t mind,” Erza cut him off, laughing. She linked her hands behind her back and skipped ahead. “I think it’s a very beautiful place. Primal. Powerful.” Turning around, she smiled at him and walked backwards. “It suits you.”

Suddenly, the entire area was awash in gentle, silver light. Having gotten used to the gloom all day, this suddenly blinded Gray, and he had to blink the confusion away. It took him a few seconds to realise that the moon had risen. The clouds must’ve parted. He didn’t want to look up and make sure.

The moonbeams had fallen on Erza like a spotlight. Bouncing off the snow all around her, it looked even brighter. But somehow, it wasn’t blinding. For a short, too short, moment, bathed in the ethereal light, Erza Scarlet resembled Titania, the Queen of Fairies.

Gray could only gawk, rooted to the spot. Her playful smile, the warmth in her bright brown eyes, the crimson bangs that fell over them… it seemed like she was ready to shed her mortal form and go frolicking through the woods.

But then, the clouds consumed the moon again and the moment was gone. Only then did Gray notice his breathlessness.

“Are you okay?” Erza asked.

“Fine,” Gray waved it off and resumed the climb. Pull yourself together, Fullbuster. This is not the time! “Just… got distracted.”

“Oh?” she asked as he reached her. “And what did you see in this snowy terrain that distracted you so?”

Gray frowned at her. Erza only chuckled.

“Was it something you liked?” she persisted.

“Stop this.”

The sound of her laughter hung in the air as the cabin came into view. Gray noticed that the lights were on inside, though the door was shut.

“Home invasion?” Erza asked casually.

Gray shook his head. “Nah. Unless it’s a hungry bear or something.”

“Must be a very sophisticated bear indeed to know how to work light switches.”

“Heh. Nah, it’s either Luca or Heidi.”

“Or both.”

“I hope not.”

Erza leaned closer, her tone radiating amusement. “Did you forbid them?”

“No hanky-panky under my roof,” Gray replied and pushed open the door. Immediately, the smell of smoked salmon made its presence felt. Heidi, then. “Adelheid, you in here?”

“Yeah,” came the girl’s voice from the kitchen. “Peter said you’d be back late, and Mother told me to make you something.”

“You’re too nice to me,” Gray replied. As the girl chuckled, he picked up the supplies off the sledge and leant it up against the wall. Erza was already taking off her shoes. Dragging in snow wasn’t a problem for him, but she had a strong sense of propriety.

“Your room’s ready,” he told Erza. “Go and take a bath. Freshen up. I’ll go attend to the kitchen.”

“Is Luca with you? I haven’t-oh.” Before Erza could respond, Heidi came out of the kitchen and stopped short upon noticing her. Her face flushed immediately. “Lady Scarlet!” she exclaimed, her already broken Fiorian breaking further. “I, um, it is good to see you again. Are you, er, well?”

“I am fine, Adelheid,” Erza told her with a laugh. She pulled back the hood of her anorak and went up to give the girl a hug. “Your Fiorian has gotten much better since last time. Have you been practicing?”

“Yes!”

“You’ve gotten taller, too. Been eating healthy, I assume?”

“Um, Mother makes sure, so.”

Gray left them to their girl talk and stepped into the kitchen. Even in Isvan, Erza Scarlet was an inspiration to young girls. Heidi was sixteen – the perfect age range to idolise Erza. That he was friends with her had stunned the girl. Meeting her had almost made her faint. He chuckled at the memory.

Women.

He placed the groceries in their designated place and hovered over the cooking station. Heidi had been making smoked salmon with scrambled eggs and potatoes. Brilliant. He stuck a piece of potato in his mouth and came out. The girls were still chattering, so he slipped into his room to change. He hung up the shirt and trousers and took a quick bath. Erza would scold him if he didn’t display proper hygienic practices during her stay. He’d had too many of those.

After putting on a simple full-sleeved blue t-shirt and sweatpants, he came out to find Heidi bustling about the kitchen. She had a big grin on her face. It was what Gray called the Erza Effect.

“Did she finally go bathe?” he asked. Heidi looked up and nodded. Gray hummed. “You’re gonna dine with us, right?”

“I couldn’t. Mother wanted me to be down before it got late. I didn’t realise Lady Scarlet was coming with you, so I didn’t make enough. I’m making more now. It’ll take a while.”

“It’ll be fine. Take the sledge.”

“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt you two. You see each other so little…” She shook her head. “I’ll see Lady Scarlet again tomorrow!”

To hear Erza being referred to as ‘Lady Scarlet’ made him chuckle. Oh, if only you knew how much of a brat she is. Then again, not many people saw that side of her.

“Mmm. Speaking of seeing people,” Gray sat down on one of the chairs, “where’s Luca? Still on the job?”

Heidi nodded. “He stopped by for lunch. Peter told him that he told you come by tomorrow.”

“He say anything?”

“He said he’d be here.”

“Good enough.” He placed his elbow on the table and put his cheek on his palm. “Everything going good for you two?”

Almost immediately, Heidi’s freckled cheeks reddened. Her smile grew warmer and she ducked her head.

“Y-Yes,” she replied, her voice barely audible. “Everything is good.” Then she pushed her auburn hair into her face to hide herself. “You ask such embarrassing questions!”

Gray laughed and shook his head. Ah, young love. “Hey, I’m glad.” Adelheid was Helgi’s eldest child and Peter’s older sister. She was a good, sweet kid. Luca was lucky. “Just don’t suck face in here, okay?”

“Master Fullbuster!”

“Gray, stop bothering her,” came Erza’s reprimand from her designated room. Heidi smiled at the support. “You should be grateful she takes such good care of you.”

“Hey, I think she’s adorable.” Gray reached out and tousled the girl’s hair. She hummed affectionately. “She just looks cuter when embarrassed, is all.”

“I don’t care.” Erza emerged clad in a thin, long-sleeved red thermal shirt and black leggings. Gray found it very hard to look away, but she soon requipped into a new pair of jeans and a thick, pink woollen sweater. She somehow managed to make pink look good. “You should not embarrass people for your amusement.”

“Yeah, yeah. Heidi says she won’t stay for dinner.”

Erza turned her disappointed gaze upon he girl. “Why, Adelheid? You worked so hard to make all of this.”

“Oh. Um.” Unlike him, she was not immune to this look. “My mother, she, um, she wanted me to be back early, so.”

Tilting her head slightly, Erza considered this. “Yes. It is unwise to go against the wishes of your parents.” The girl nodded, clutching the hem of her skirt. “However, you must dine with us tomorrow night.” Erza placed her hand on her shoulder. “I’ll cook. Okay?”

Heidi’s grin could’ve illuminated the whole village. Gray was sure of it. With a bob of her head, she quickly promised that she would. Then Gray told her that he’d finish up and that she’d better be going home. She didn’t resist, and, after giving them a quick hug apiece, she was out of the cabin like the wind.

“She’s adorable,” Erza said with a smile as she set the table. “I’ll make it a banquet she’ll never forget! We should invite the whole town!”

“Or you could just hijack the inn. They have a larger kitchen.”

“Would they let me?”

“They’ll love you forever if you did.” Gray put the dishes on the table and sprinkled some parsley on top as garnish. Now that the food was on the plate, he did feel rather hungry. “Seriously. They’re all good, hardworking people. Simple and friendly. They’ll appreciate it. Here, let me.” He pulled out her chair for her. “For you, Lady Scarlet.”

Erza chuckled as she settled in. “My, my. You have been very chivalrous, Gray. Did you do something bad?”

“I’m not a child.” He opened the chilled cabinet and took out a bottle. From a shelf, he retrieved two wine glasses and returned to the table. “You coulda started eating, you know.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind waiting a few more seconds.” She took up her knife and fork when he sat down. “Shall we begin?”

“Yes. Yes, we shall.”

They ate in silence. The food was good and warm. After a long day of physical exertion, it was a reward to be savoured. Only after the very last morsel was swallowed did Erza lean back in her chair and sigh happily, eyes closed.

“That was delicious,” she whispered.

Gray smiled to himself. He’d given her extra while serving. “She’s a pretty good cook.”

“A sixteen year old girl cooks better than you.”

“Listen.” He jabbed his fork in her direction. “I taught her how to make an omelette. I make the best damn omelettes around here.”

“And when are you going to expand your repertoire?”

“Eventually.” He cleaned out his plate, stacked Erza’s on top of his, and got up. “You tired?”

“No. I’ll help with the dishes.”

“I’ll just dump ‘em in the sink, Erza.” And he did just that. “See?”

“You are hopeless,” she told him with a shake of her head. “There were just two plates!”

Gray snorted and uncorked the bottle with his teeth. He filled both glasses with the clear liquid and held one out to her.

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured her. “Clear your conscience, Erza. It’s my house.”

“Still bothers me,” she muttered and took the glass, holding it delicately by the stem. She sniffed it. “What is this?”

“Mead.”

Erza stared at him blankly. “You’re giving me alcohol.”

“It’s made of honey,” he replied, laughing at her deadpan tone. “The alcohol content is very low. It’s sweet, actually.”

That was all it took. Erza took a sip. Closed her eyes. Licked her lips. “It is pretty good.”

“Right? I send Cana a few bottles from time to time. Ultear likes it, too. I take a coupla bottles with me when I go to visit.”

“Oh.” Her tone sounded somewhat subdued all of a sudden. “I see.”

Gray felt like kicking himself. She didn’t say it, but he heard her loud and clear.

You can go visit her, but not us?

The question hung in the air as silence fell between them. She took a small, measured sip but otherwise remained seated. Gray, standing by his chair, stared into the glass.

He didn’t want to justify himself. That would make for a very tiresome conversation and neither of them would go to bed happy. Sighing out of his nose, he tilted his head back and emptied his glass in one go.

“C’mon,” he said, breaking the silence. He put his glass on the table. Smiled. “I wanna show you something cool.”

“All right.”

Gray picked up the radio from the kitchen counter and led her out onto the patio. The patio was at the back of his house, overlooking a cliff. From there, on clear nights, the entire mountain range could be seen, arranged layer after layer. That night, the sky was overcast, but the view was still spectacular.

The mountains, robbed of their silver veneer, were no less impressive. They reached for the skies, proud and impassive, secure in the knowledge of their impenetrability. Over millennia, they had invited the curious and adventurous to their bosom. They had kept them, too. The mountains seldom parted with their bounty.

He heard Erza’s breath catch as soon as she stepped outside. The night air was crisp and clean. In the absolute stillness, only they existed. Gray hummed.

“You can’t form a complete image of a mountain,” he said quietly. “It overwhelms you, and thus is a thing of the sublime.”

“Like poetry, then.” Erza nodded. “To some philosophers, writing – especially poetry – is the most sublime of mediums, because it can never fully capture what it is it's trying to say. And it is within that obscurity the sublime lies. With something like poetry, it isn't complete, and so is best suited to capturing the sublime.”

“Yeah.” He motioned for her to take one of the two deckchairs. He’d covered them with two layers of bear pelts to keep them warm. “Mountains are the embodiment of that. Great and incomprehensible,” he stole a glance at her, “and all the more beautiful and terrifying for it.”

“That’s very beautiful, Gray,” she told him as she slid into one of the chairs, snuggling in between the layers of furs. “Who needs a backyard when you have a back-cliff?”

He chuckled heartily as he took the one beside her. “I just spend the night out here sometimes. When I can’t sleep. The sunrises are pretty.”

“I’ll bet.” He heard her sigh. “I can understand why you like this place so much, Gray. I have missed this view. But you said you had something to show me?”

“Yeah.” He placed the radio on the wooden floor and stretched his hands out towards the sky. “Watch this.”

Within moments, the clouds started falling apart. It was as if some great, invisible hand was gently wringing them dry. They fell apart in tiny little pieces, freeing the moon from its confines. The cloud dust sparkled in the moonlight as it fell to earth, glimmering in the night sky as it cleared, laying bare the huge canvas filled with twinkling stars. The mountains, now awash in the faerie light, seemingly came alive. Like a cold flame, they glowed gently and steadily.

But Nature was in the mood for surprises that night. No sooner did the clouds melt away that ghostly beams of dancing green light appeared in the sky, lighting up everything in sight. Gray, who hadn’t been expecting this development, was left stunned.

“Gray…” came Erza’s voice, shaky and choked. “This is…”

She trailed off, not having the words. Gray turned towards her and found her gaping open mouthed and wide eyed. For all the time she spent around mages of such high calibre, Gray was pretty sure she’d never seen anything like this. Mother Nature’s magic was on a level of its own. Not even the Queen of Fairies could hold a candle to Her.

“Yeah,” Gray said simply and, smiling, looked back at the mountains. There were no words, not in all the three languages he knew, to describe what they’d just witnessed.

Just us. Our little memory.

“How did you do that?” Erza asked after a while, after she’d recovered. She turned on her side to face him. “Did you manipulate the clouds?”

“A magician never reveals his tricks.”

Erza hummed. “This far up north, the clouds are made of ice-crystals, aren’t they?”

“Bingo.”

She smiled, pillowing an arm. “You were right. It was pretty cool.”

“Thanks.” He held up the radio. “Music?”

“Sure.”

So, Gray clicked it on, hoping for something good.

“-every step you take, I’ll be watch-” Gray shuddered and immediately changed the channel. That song reminded him too much of Juvia. “-darling, you look wonder-” Click. “-never gonna give you up-” Click. “-near, far, where-” Click. “-feel the love toni-” Click. “-just called, to say, I love y-” Click. “-have this dance for the rest of my lif-” Click. “-will always love you-”

Gray turned the radio off and put it down as gently as he could. Traitor! He coughed into his hand.

“There are, uh,” he rubbed the nape of his neck, “no good songs on.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

He turned to face her, frowning, a smart comeback on the tip of his tongue, but stopped himself. As she lay there, the half-empty glass dangling loosely in her fingers, her pink lips curled into an impish smile and her eyes twinkling with something resembling mischief, he couldn’t help but marvel at her beauty. She’s the most stunningly beautiful woman I have ever seen. It made him slightly breathless, the thought, but he didn’t mind.

Erza appeared so at-ease, so comfortable and content, that he almost asked her if she wanted to stay with him. He pushed the thought from his mind mercilessly. Don’t be a selfish prick. She already had a home. She already had people.

And he had chosen to not be a part of it.

“Why don’t you play me something?”

Her gentle, lilting voice pulled him out of his dark thoughts. Her accent felt so natural in so alien a land, that he could only concentrate on the sound of her voice. What the words meant, he had no clue.

“Hva?” he asked instinctively. Then, realising his folly, he cleared his throat. “Sorry. What?”

Erza laughed lightly. “I’m saying, why don’t you play me something? You had a guitar last time, didn’t you?”

“Oh.” It was true. He’d taken up the instrument at Mirajane’s insistence back when she was learning. She needed a jamming partner, and she’d roped him in with crocodile tears. For some reason, he’d stuck with it. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Erza drained her glass and held it out. “I’m sure.”

“As the lady wishes.” Gray took her glass and placed it on the table. Then he slipped into his room to pick up his guitar before heading back out.

Whenever Erza asked him to play something, he knew that she referring to a song in particular. It was a spooky little ditty, about a man finding a hotel in the middle of a desert and how it wouldn’t let him leave. Something about the haunting, unearthly tune made him like it, too.

“All right,” he said after he made sure the guitar was tuned properly. He crossed one leg over the other and placed it on his lap. “You ready?”

“Mhmm.”

Gray closed his eyes and started playing. He didn’t need to look. He knew she was watching him. While he didn’t do it aloud, he sang the words in his head as his fingers danced across the strings with practiced ease.

It was an entrancing, bewitching song. Like the man it was about, Gray felt compelled to keep playing it over and over. There was no escape, no reprieve. Not from the song. Not from her.

Erza had the power to pull you in somehow. That is, if she wanted to. She was the strongest person he knew. Strict, dependable, loyal. Yet also surprisingly feminine and vulnerable. She’d been through so much. So very much. If this one song made her relax, he’d play it as many times as she wanted him to.

He lost all sense of time as he played. When he finally stopped, he had no idea whether he had played it once or a thousand times. The moon was still up, and, by its light, he saw her when he turned. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically. A few strands of her crimson hair had fallen over her face. Her lips were parted slightly, but there could be no mistaking the smile.

Erza Scarlet had fallen asleep.

Putting down the guitar, Gray spent a few moments just looking at her. She really is beautiful when she’s all peaceful like this. He knew she’d be tired. No matter what she did to mask it, the journey took a toll on everybody. He felt a small bubble of happiness form in his chest at the fact that he’d lulled her to sleep. Not anybody else.

Me.

But he couldn’t let her sleep there. The furs did a good job, sure, but the exposure would induce frostnip by the morning. He didn’t want to rouse her, either. Gray sighed.

“I hope you don’t wake up from this,” he mumbled under his breath as he stood up. Going over to her side, he peeled away the furs as gently as he could. Now exposed to the cold, Erza curled up tighter, but didn’t wake up. So far, so good. Gray then put his arms around her shoulders and below her knees and slowly, very slowly, picked her up.

When she remained sleeping, Gray breathed a sigh of relief. “C’mon, now. To bed with you.”

He carried her to her room, gingerly as able, and set her down on the bed. Erza rolled over onto her other side, muttering something incomprehensible. Laughing silently, Gray covered her with the blankets up to her chin. She snuggled up automatically. It was adorable.

Despite himself, Gray lingered. Voyeuristic as it was, he liked watching her sleep. He knew he’d hate himself for it soon, but he wanted her to be peaceful. She deserved it. For everything she’d ever done for him.

“Thank you,” he breathed into the cold quiet of her room. “For sticking by me.”

She didn’t stir. Didn’t respond. Gray turned to leave.

Goodnight, Erza, he thought as he quietly closed the door behind him.

Then he went back out onto the patio. There would be no sleep for him.

Not today.

A/N: So, this is the first chapter. It’s completely unedited, and if you’ve made it down here, I salute you. Hope you enjoyed it, and yeah.

#grayza #gray fullbuster #erza scarlet #fanfic #cold #chapter one

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