A/N: I had an odd dream the other night and, somehow, this came of it.
A/N [continue]: AU…Very AU without being modern setting…
{Disclaimer: I own nothing~}
One
Time of the Dragons
Little girl was down by the waterside; sun so hot and the roses so red where she lie. Little boys sit and watch as she twirls all around.
Sunny smiles not a rain-cloud could bring that girl down, but now...
What's behind those big brown eyes? Do you dream at night without your lullaby?
-Vertical Horizon's Children's Lullaby
"So, what happened next?"
The sound of a turning page, whispering amongst the late summer breeze and the waters lapping against the river's bank, was the only response given.
"Hey." Calloused, scarred fingers plucked at waved lock of light-blue, the same shade as the flowers growing amongst the reeds, that had escaped from its confining ribbon. "Hey, Sprout, are you listening to me?"
Another page turned. "What?"
Falling back on his hands, the boy glared at the sky…seeing that the source of his irritation was ignoring him, which was the very problem. "You heard me."
Eyes finally lifted from the hand-scribed words inked along the course paper; head titled back for brown irises could catch sight of her friend, whose lap she was currently occupying. "I thought you were tired of my reading."
"No, my legs are tired—numb even—from you, princess, using me as an ass throne."
"Aren't all thrones ass thrones?"
"Don't cuss, your brothers will have me thrown in jail for teaching you curses."
"I doubt that they can. Only mother and father have that power. Either way, this is not my fault," she tried to turn her attention back to the story that, until several long minutes ago, she had been reading to him as well. It was a wasted effort, all the words blurred into nonsensical gibberish. "You lost in chess."
"You told me that it was an easy game to learn."
"It is—as long as you follow the rules."
"I did—"
Book snapped shut, Levy climbed to her feet, hugging the borrowed tome to her chest and taking advantage of this moment where she was the taller of the two. "You can't move the knight from one end of the board to the other."
"I moved it in a fucking L shape."
"Gajeel! Watch your language…at least when there is a lady nearby." The intruding voice lost its fire as it continued to speak, the speaker knowing full where that—even at eleven—there was some bad traits too far ingrained in the former-urchin's mind.
"Makarov!" Annoyance momentarily forgotten, Levy beamed at the withered man approaching what the two children considered a hidden spot, but was perfectly known to those in their lives.
At the same time, Gajeel limped to his feet—legs still tingling from bearing the girl's slight weight for the past several hours—and spoke over the blue-haired girl's greeting. "Levy's not a lady, she's…Levy."
A tongue was stuck out at him.
He rolled his eyes.
The man watched the two with barely concealed amusement. "Come on Geely—"
"Don't call me that."
A gnarled hand rested on top of his tangled mane of ebony knots, other arm pulling Levy into a half-hug as he steered the two towards the city's wall. "We're leaving in the morning and there is enough packing to do without one able body slacking off. As for you, Princess Levy McGarden Fernandes, your brothers are tearing the city apart looking for you. Their majesties are said to return this evening, what would happen if they were a child shy?"
Levy pouted.
Gajeel would have if he hadn't noticed that she got there before him. Reaching behind his guardian's back, he pressed soft leather against her palm. It wasn't until she had been safely returned to her room—not having said good-bye when they parted despite knowing Gajeel and the Dragons were going to leave with the dawn—that she opened the pouch and allowed the iron band within to tumble into her hand.
An iris.
The ring was now too small for her middle finger, where she had worn it every day from the moment it had hit her skin until she had endeared her—as moderate as it was—growth spurt five summer's past. It now adorned her right ring finger and had long grown tarnished from wear.
And currently stained with ink…like the rest of her hands.
She hadn't realized that she was humming under her breath until the library's double-doors slammed open, announcing the arrival of her sister-in-law…married to Levy's brother Jellal three years prior and—therefore, becoming current queen of the realm after a particularly lethal strand of influenza had robbed it of its king and queen in one fell swoop. Erza Scarlet, having maintained her family name rather than conform to that of royal line, had once been the most formidable warrior within the warring lands. Now, within a time of peace-however uncertain-with the marauding lands of the west, the general had turn to that ferocity towards something, anything else.
A long list of 'conquered' hobbies fell in the queen's wake and, presently, it seemed that intense focus was to be turned towards Levy, who felt the panic attack rising the moment their eyes met.
"Um…hello, Erza. What brings you here—?"
A snap cut Levy's voice short and summoned forth two maids, assigned to Levy's care but mostly made their living from ensuring that the princess remained in supply of books and worked as interference towards anyone who may disturb her study.
The traitors fell into line the moment the queen gave them so much as a passing glance.
Getting to her bare feet—not sure what was going on but not liking the sense in the air, Levy backed away from the table her head had been bent over for—now that she caught sight of the window overlooking the ground's encompassing the elaborate western gardens—the better part of a day. "What's going on?"
Looking her younger sister-in-law over—the ink stains on flesh and shift-dress hanging losing in a figure most would consider 'yet to bloom'...at best—with lips pursed in contemplation. "We need to get you cleaned up." Erza casually motioned for the maids to abduct the princess.
Levy held up her hands to stall her inevitable extraction from her literary haven. "Why?"
Brow lifted, Erza crossed her arms and nodded towards the window. "You haven't noticed, really?"
The word brought a flick of a smile to Levy's lips. Dashing over to the window, she leaned over the sill to see the brightly colored carts slowly trekking through the side gate. They came once a year, the Dragon of Fiore. The elite envoy belonging to the empire to the north that had been founded on mercenaries who banded together long ago when faced with a common enemy. Or so the legend went. Now, the most powerful governing nation within the known lands, it sent out parties to the free countries beneath their impassible mountain range as a means to maintain the peace and lending aid when required to their allies.
Staying for nearly two seasons a year, the Dragons had been an anchor of sorts to Levy's life. Especially in regards to childhood days filled of running about with the children the ambassador had gathered during his travels. Foster children of humble birth who were destined for ends far greater than their beginnings.
And the only true friends Levy had ever known.
Smile turned to giddy laughter—delights of childhood still clinging to the young woman—and legs took off without another word, racing down the corridors, intent on bursting into the garden to help with the annual bonfire...before skidding to a stop by a hand gently gripping her arm.
Levy's short legs had no chance of outdistancing the former general turned souvenir.
"There's no need going to the gardens. Gajeel thought to meet you in the throne room."
"… … …Why?" Was the only word to come to Levy's normally over-linguistically-active mind. Even as she asked, she corrected her direction to head towards the nearest stairs that would deliver her to the ground floor's central room.
Erza, once again, deterred her actions. "Like I said, you need to clean up first."
Again, "Why?" was all Levy could think to say.
"Because…" Erza sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "I'm certain that it is something that should serve as a surprise."
"A…surprise?" The last surprise her life-long friend had attempted nearly burnt down the palace's eastern wing, forever banning fireworks from use. "That can't be a good thing."
"But it is, a very good thing." Seeing Levy's continued bafflement, Erza threw her hands in the air. "He's here to propose, officially."
"Wait…what?"
"Levy, you were well aware that you and Gajeel were intended."
Levy frantically shook her head as bubbles of delight soured in her stomach and made her want to run off and be sick. "No, it was speculated...something mother and father liked to jest about, but never. It was never etched in stone and..."
"Etched in stone or not, this should not be too much of a shock…Where are you going?"
Marching past the queen, no longer intimidated and giving off an air that made others think before stopping her purposeful stride, Levy made way to the throne room at a more measured pace. The euphoria of before having waned to ashes burning against the lashes of her eyes.
If she thought it possible, she would have kicked the doors open. Knowing that such would—most likely—do nothing more than break her foot, she settled on pushing them open with as much strength as she could muster before storming into marbled hall, where her brother—Mystogan, chief advisor to his king of a twin brother—was waiting beside a young man who towered over the heir's, until Jellal and Erza had their first child, slender stature.
Where he would normally be covered in dust from the road—black mane of hair a rat's nest of snares and knots, Gajeel wore an official uniform befitting a Dragon. A rank she knew he had acquired several years ago but had never seen him garishly display. The white and gold jacket, untouched by the slightest speck of dirt, was buttoned to his throat, when she knew such made him feel straggled and strained, and worn over what appeared to be freshly pressed pants.
He even shined his boots.
Both men turned at the sound of Levy's arrival, neither seeming to know what expression to wear as Levy marched towards them, approaching close enough to kick Gajeel on the shin. The action possibly bruising her toes more than anything, but he still jumped back in shock.
Though that may be from her yelling "No!" on impact before marching back towards the door.
"Levy—"
"What the fuck Sprout?!"
Whipping about, she jabbed a finger in the men's general direction. "No! If you think that I'm just going to act all modest and…and…grateful at the idea of some staged proposal, then neither of you have any insight to my true person. Honestly...honestly, I don't know what to be more insulted about…" The last part muttered under her breath, she turned to exit once more.
"Insulted? Listen, Sprout, this wasn't my idea. I was told—" She bit the hand that was stupid enough to attempt grabbing her shoulder. Jerking back, Gajeel cradled the hand to his chest without looking for blood. Once more, probably more surprised than hurt. "What the fuck?!"
"So, this wasn't even your idea? Makarov just told you to come here and propose and…and…" Hands turning to fists, her nails dug into her palms. "What?" Looking him over with burning eyes, she made a general wave at his appearance. "Let me guess, Mira dressed you up and Lisanna wrote out whatever speech is on those cards poking out your sleeve, planning on spouting out as if you thought of any of this yourself?"
Self-consciously touching the cuff of his jacket, crimson eyes widened in a near pleading expression. "You know I'm no good at words."
"And you thought, what, that flowery speeches and the rare bath would make any of this less humiliating…less mortifying? Well, you can go back to the caravan and tell everyone who concocted this monstrosity that it was a fail." Turning for a third time, she shot over her shoulder, "Epic poetry type of failure."
"Levy—"
She did not stop this time. "The answer is no, now and forever." The words lacked the heat from those preceding them, but still made her stance known without a doubt.
"Levy." Mystogan, though, did not plead or chastise. The more mild mannered of her brothers, saying her name was more for show than control. Also a promise that he would be checking in on her at a later time.
He being the only person she suspected who knew the truth.
The first tear didn't start until the door to her room was in sight.
Wiping at it, she smeared a speckling of blood along a cheek bone, which was then cleared away by the hem of her dress. A scarlet droplet stained her ring's metal; she yanked it off and threw it across the room before swiping at her face once more with what was now a ruined dress. Bent over, a bow to her sorrow, to achieve this, she felt the metaphorical flood gates finally burst open.
Releasing her hold on the fabric, she wrapped her arms about her stomach—the only things that seemed to be holding her together—as her limbs began to quake and sobs ripped through her chest.
She didn't even make it to her bed, collapsing onto floor. Curled on the rug she had spent year stretched out on with one book or another, she gave into the anguish and self-pity that had been mounting since realization of what fickle fate had in store for her had begun to develop.
Yes, she had been aware that she had been intended to, one day, marry someone, possibly Gajeel or one of his Dragon brothers in arms—a means to further bind their small kingdom to the Dragon Empire. What her silly, pathetic, naïve, overly-romantic imagination had failed to contemplate was, when that moment came, it would have been by Gajeel's own volition. That, even though it was expected, he would have done it because he had grown to love her as much as she had hopelessly felt for him.
That he would have fought for what he would consider an honor; his greatest desire.
That down there, what she had just endured, was none of the above.
The formality...
The production…
The fact that he was making it a public event…
That was not her Gajeel's doing.
No, none of it felt like him, which mean that none of it was him. Forget romantic love, if he had a shred of care for her—lingering remnants of their friendship he seemed to have completely cast aside—he would have gone about matters differently.
She hadn't been worth the effort of genuine thought on his part.
So now she knew, she had become nothing more than an obligation.
A/N [continue/part 2]: Please let me know what you think? For good or bad, your input is greatly appreciated.