twinkle, twinkle little bat
how i wonder where
you're at
up above the world you
FLY
like a tea tray in the
SKY
twinkle, twinkle little bat
how i wonder where
you're
at
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.
.
a game of thrones
and we're playing for keeps
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"The sky has darkened."
He flicked his hat back, dark gray-blue eyes sparing a glance skywards, the toothpick in between his teeth spinning as his tongue toyed with it.
Indeed, the sky had darkened to a nice shade of midnight blue, the stars just about out, twinkling along with the glowing moon. The night looked about ghastly; mist floated from the outskirts of the village, curling around the houses and every alley it could find.
It warranted trouble.
Everything about the situation warranted trouble; he'd known it since it happened about mid-afternoon when he'd stolen into the Never Ending Forest, sprinting, jumping and practically gliding through the trees as he confused any wandering eye that could be watching his movements; taking longer routes and backtracking through a different direction, getting back on track to his actual destination.
It hadn't been enough to shake Natsu Dragneel off, of course.
He should have known.
"So it has," he muttered, an eyebrow raised and the corner of his lips tilting upwards in a languid smirk. "Maybe we should wait a bit more, eh?"
"What for?" Natsu asked, his eyes narrowing and his lips curling into a sneer. "We gotta get this food over there as soon as possible and you know it."
He raised both his eyebrows at this, nodding in understanding and lifting his top-hat from his head so he could scratch at his messy hair. "Well, yeah, but you kinda ruined the entire thing by following me."
"You were going alone."
"And I'd be much safer then, than I am now," he sneered, his eyes glinting like razor blades. "You seem to forget your place on the food chain, Natsu, and it's pretty damn annoying. You left the base casually—as if we can even afford that kind of attitude—"
"Ah, save your damn lectures, Gray; you're ten kinds of casual even when your life's just in danger as mine is."
Gray pressed his lips together, his teeth clenching over the tip of the toothpick until it snapped and broke and he was left with no other option but to spit the remaining piece out of his mouth. He placed his hat over his head again, fixing his worn out coat and picking up one of the four bags.
"You seriously piss me off," he drawled, swallowing back the chance of losing his cool. "And your ignorance makes me want to kill you myself."
Natsu snorted, grabbing the other two bags and throwing him a flashy grin. "As if you could."
"I can," Gray replied, coolly. "But I won't. I will, of course, tell you that your life and mine are very different and you should start stamping that into your thick skull before I punch it in there for ya." He glared at him for a second longer. "Now c'mon, before you get us into any deeper trouble."
They stole into the night, sneaking out of a shed of a trustworthy family, sacrificing themselves by both enduring the life the new Order has given them and by granting them sanctuary as they so boldly moved through the shadows with a high risk of being caught and killed upon sighting.
And treason of such caliber could very well cause immediate death for any and all villager playing double agent.
They sprinted through the streets, hazel and dark blue eyes sharp as they took in every single movement the night made; from the chilly breeze that blew, taking stray with it dead leaves and the occasional scrap of garbage littered onto the ground at some point during the day. They hid in alleys, sucking in air and studying every corner, every window, every door and every tight spot they could find; trying to depict any eyes or any glint of a weapon and then sprinting away when they found none.
Upon reaching the outskirts of the village and the expanse of dry land that led towards the Never Ending Forest, they were homebound and safe.
Gray smirked, letting out a sharp chuckle as he lifted his head up and mocked the moon for its inability to catch him yet again.
Too soon, too soon, he heard the voice inside his head mutter as the group of enemies made themselves known. Gray stumbled into a stop, snatching Natsu by the collard of his jacket and pulling him back. He moved to stand in front of him in a protective stance, ripping the bags of food off his body and producing a lousy knife from one of his coat's many pockets.
"Pleasure," he called out, tipping his hat in greeting. "Lovely night, huh?"
One of the group of eight tilted her head, brown curls falling over her shoulder-armor, an unamused grin on her lips. "Ever the funny one, aren't you, Hatter?"
"You know me so well, m'lady, your oh so graceful Jabberwocky."
She spat in his direction.
"Gray—"
"Shut up, Natsu. Shut up right now."
Gray surveyed them; the Elite. There was not a single bone in his body that lied to him—he was outnumbered and outmatched. He would die, right then and there, and he would die with pride as he fought against the Secret Union's enemies and saved that…
"You have something of ours," Jabberwocky called out, leaning forwards and jabbing a thumb at her chest.
…They wanted.
"Natsu, listen to me," Gray muttered, over his shoulder. "You're going to run—"
"What?!"
"You're going to run and I'll handle them myself. You're going to get yourself to safety—somewhere far away from here and upon not arriving; They will know to send a search party out for you."
Natsu punched at his shoulder blade, anger emanating out of him in violent waves. "You're going to die, you asshole!"
"It'll be fine."
"Hand him over," Jabberwocky screeched, her movements growing violent—a command to go in for the kill.
"Run now, Natsu," Gray called out as he sprinted towards them, meeting them halfway and having no regrets.
.
.
.
This pang was not normal. She knew it from the instance it had happened, as she was inclined to know with matters of love. It told her that she needed to go and soon. It told her things were not right.
Her heart was in danger, and the tight feeling in her chest, squeezing her lungs in a vice grip made of panic and discomfort, only confirmed it further. Arrhythmia was somehow much nicer sounding than it was, and, irrationally, in those moments, she began to rethink her earlier snack of jam and butter biscuits.
Thump, thump. Thump. Thump, thump.
Jerkily, she pawed at the ring of skeleton keys on her hip, placed a calming hand over her erratic heart. Fingers adorned with rings, relics of an earlier time, slid against smooth red satin, and her chest heaved. With her back against a trunk and all the way down at ground level, the Queen of Hearts looked around hastily, drawing the black cloak closer around her, hands shaking the whole while.
"Natsu?" she called out hopefully, again, like she had done twenty times earlier.
There was no response.
Her fingers flew through the keys quickly, the metal rattling as she felt along the edges to recognize what each was for while she counted.
They were the most important to her, and she'd always worn everything she was on her clothing, sleeves or otherwise.
Twelve.
She paled.
"It is gone. The twin is gone," she mumbled to herself in disbelief.
In the distance, she heard a shrill cry for her name, but all she could do was sink to her knees, the crunch of leaves her only companion in the night. The heady smell of moss filled her senses, and she squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the soft skin of her inner wrist hard.
Her nails dug into her flesh, breaking through to emerge slick with red reality.
Opening her eyes, nothing had changed. Her mouth set, and she bit out a crass curse, distraught at everything. The darkness was nearly impenetrable, and she could barely make out anything right in front of her.
As a girl, she'd always dreamed of some grand love. The kind of love scripted in the stars, remembered forever, long after she'd gone. Maybe they'd change the world together, make good from evil, refine hate into love.
Never did she consider the quiet feeling of heartbreak.
Never did she consider losing him.
Without conscious thought, her fingers counted through the keys again. "One, two, cuckoo, cuckoo. Three, four, shut the front door. Five, six, pickup tricks. Seven, eight, lay them with Fate. Nine, ten, crooked again. Eleven, twelve, no such luck—fuck. Twelve. One, two—"
Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. "I gave him thirteen."
She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, curled at the base of the mighty oak, and allowed herself to be swept away.
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Sometimes, to keep her from worry, White Queen retold herself stories of the old days.
She remembered high ceilings painted with murals, light laughter in the hallways, the iron throne, and her diadem encrusted with sapphires and pearls. Her garden, the large peach tree, her best friend's rambunctious antics, and Duchess's smile.
The feeling of waking up to a sun that bathed her in dreams.
But even the thought of the world she once shared with her elder sister, even the thought of the golden palace that rose on edge of the world opposite her own pearl white one, could not bring away the worry of the tick, tick, tick.
The sky was dark, and as White Queen peered out of the open space in between the branches to look at the barely visible moon among the thickening clouds, she didn't know whether she wanted to put a name to this ugly, blackened feeling in the pit of her gut.
"No, no," she murmured to herself, pacing along the rickety flooring of her treetop room. "Just the Dark Days is all, not anything to be worried about."
Still, the glance at the slow clock on the wall made her anxious. "Late," she repeated to herself lowly. And then, "No, no. Nothing to be worried about."
It had been a long time since she had reigned.
It had been longer since it had rained.
The silence was enough to kill. Sighing heavily, she set the empty teacup down on the table.
"Tell me, Juvia, do you make a habit of yammering to yourself like a deranged rabbit?"
"Erza," she said without turning around, hands crossed behind her back, "do you smell it? The moisture?"
Cheshire dangled a leg off of the window sill, looking at her funnily. "Have you drunken too much blueberry tea? Hatter's going to drive you madder."
Juvia picked the cup back up at the mention of tea, clicking her nails along faded porcelain. "The moisture, the smell," she continued, as if nobody had said anything at all. Abstractly, she tried to gesture to the air as if to explain the feeling, blue hair curling around her shoulders. "It's going to rain."
"Well, not to be rude, but it hasn't rained in—"
A horrifyingly bright flash of light sliced through the eastern sky, and Juvia's eyes widened with the terror of sudden comprehension. "Erza," she whispered, fingers tightening around the cup's handle. "Where is Natsu?"
And for once, Cheshire lost her smile, stilling as a gust of wind blew through the small room.
Juvia's eyes turned glassy, unseeing. "Where is Gray?"
The thunder cracked, the teacup shattered against the floor, and in the distance, a woman screamed.
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.
.
The fire crackled; the flames violent as they fought a war against the wind. It was losing, she noted as she stared at it with apathy. The fire was dimming down with every passing minute; it'd all be gone, soon.
The air smelled like rain.
It hadn't rained in a long, long time, she noted, rolling her eyes skyward and watching as the stars hid behind thick, dark clouds. Her lips curled into a sneer, thick hair whipping at her bare skin as if reprimanding her for not wearing her full armor.
Cuts and bruises littered her abdomen, her back and her chest. They stung as the chilling breeze licked at them but she paid no mind to it as she returned her attention to the dwindling fire.
"What do you suppose happens now?"
Her allies looked up, startled out of their own thoughts. Their eyes flashed as they regained their composures, darkening with the same kind of animosity that she housed. It's been so long, she doesn't even remember why she carried such a heavy feeling—it's been so long, she doesn't even care, any more.
Her question isn't answered and it's not like she was expecting one—not as if she wanted one.
"The rain's coming," she added, her lips barely moving.
"It hasn't rained in a long, long time," one of her cohorts murmured, sky-blue eyes hidden under pale lashes. "Do you remember what it feels like?"
"What what feels like," she asked, turning her head and spitting.
"The rain."
"Like water."
"No," the other woman hummed. "It feels different. Like acid kisses to the flesh; cold and stinging."
"Bandersnatch, do you listen to yourself when you talk?"
Bandersnatch looked towards her from under her lashes, pale lips lazily twisting into a grin. It looked sharp and feral and threatening even as they parted, as she murmured, "Do you, Jabberwocky?"
Jabberwocky looked away.
"Times are changing," she said, instead.
"So they are…"
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.
In the end, Natsu didn't run because instead, he was right at his heels, looking as about angry as a spark of flame. In the end, Gray did not battle the Eight Elite alone and he did not die.
In the end, Natsu Dragneel was taken right out of his grasp and Gray Fullbuster was unable to do anything about it, left but a bloody half-dead mess on the ground, drowning in a pool of blood that could very well be his and everyone else's.
In the end… In the end everything was over.
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NOTES.
les. hello, foolish mortals and welcome to your doom. also known as the next best thing, we're that damn confident, check it out.
rhea. omg I don't like to make promises that I can't keep, but I'm pretty sure that you might get tingles in your pants from this 'cause I sure am.