Minerva is trying her hardest. Can't he see that? Can't he understand that perfection isn't possible for her? That her magic is still developing? That every day she keeps pushing herself harder to no effect?
"You're not concentrating. Focus. Don't you want to improve?"
Yes. She wants to. Desperately. But it seems with every passing day she is only getting worse. But all the same Minerva keeps on trying to impress him. To make him see she is good enough to be his daughter.
"You're slipping Minerva. At your age I was miles ahead of you. What's wrong with you?"
More often than not their training sessions end with her bursting into tears, curling up on the floor with him shouting at her, the room shaking with his fury.
"Get up! Tears won't help you. You're pathetic. You don't deserve to be my daughter."
Minerva grinds her teeth together, the words battering into her one syllable at a time.
Please. Stop. It.
After what seems like a millennia her mother carries her away to a safe haven, somewhere he never comes, Minerva's room. There she hides under the blankets, every word he said repeating in her head, drilling deep into her subconscious.
"Pathetic. Ungrateful. Worthless. Trash."
The sun falls away and so does she. Minerva lets herself fade from reality. Her mind shuts down. Her feelings and thoughts drift away. She just survives.
This way Minerva can make herself believe she really is good enough, she can pretend that she's worth something.
Then she wakes up and hell swallows her once again.
"Where are you going?"
Minerva fiddles with her skirt. "I picked these flowers for mother. She said she felt unwell. I thought they might make her feel better."
Minerva doesn't dare look up at the towering figure, knowing exactly what expression will be glowering down at her. "Flowers? Your mother does not need flowers!" The delicate arrangement of daisies and dandelions are snatched away. "You shouldn't be concerning yourself with such things. You should be training, not wasting your time with pointless gestures."
"But mother..."
Minerva flinches at the snarling voice. "Your mother does not need you or need your pity. She needs only rest. She is strong, stronger than you will ever be."
"Will you just shut up?"
Minerva wants to stop sobbing but her body won't allow it. She's trying to take in breaths but it's like the air's rushing by too quickly to gulp in.
"Get up!"
Minerva tries but her body doesn't respond. Her stomach lurches as if the ground's been pulled from under her and she fights the sudden nausea.
Where is her mother? Why hasn't she rescued her yet?
"Fine! If that's what you want. I'm giving up my own time to train you and you aren't even trying! Ungrateful piece of trash."
A door slams and Minerva is left alone. She feels like she's in free fall, spiralling down with no one to catch her.
Unable to fight any more, Minerva jerks forward as she vomits over the wooden floorboards. Drawing in shaky breaths she attempts to stand, but her legs fail her and she collapses in a heap. She screams for her mother to take her away from it all.
She doesn't come.
Minerva watches the dark horses pull the cart through the cobblestone streets. Inside is a beautiful ebony box, completely devoid of flowers or tokens of sympathy. And inside that is her mother.
A cold, empty expression is etched into the child's face. Ever since news had reached them of her mother's demise she hadn't smiled once. But that wasn't due to sadness. Oh no. It was something much easier to work with.
The hollowness inside of Minerva no longer scares her as it once did. Not feeling anything is better than constant pain, yes? She can disappear whenever she wants now.
Perhaps her father's right. Perhaps there is something wrong with her. But for some reason that thought doesn't worry her in the slightest.
After the funeral Minerva is walking alone through the mansion when she hears a noise coming from her mother's old room. Silently she peers through the open doorway and watches her father, on his knees, head in hands, weep. It's unsettling, the sounds strange and alien coming from the man.
Minerva finds herself smiling gleefully. Tears can't help you now.
She vows to see her father on his knees again. Defeated. Humiliated. To do to him what he'd done to her for so long.
That would be a good day.
He's yelling at her. She's on the floor crying. It would have been a normal training session but something is different.
She can see his lips moving but there are no discernible words. Everything is blurring together to create noise – irritating distracting noise. And then there is the sobbing. Minerva knows that the sound is emanating from her but she can't feel the tears trailing down her face, doesn't feel her chest heaving up and down.
It is...odd.
She still feels like she's falling, she always does, but something has changed. She doesn't know what yet everything is different somehow.
But the noise is annoying. So she decides to make it stop. She decides that he is going to hit the ground first.
Her legs don't collapse this time. And as Minerva rises from the ground the noise does stop. The sobs die away and the blur of sounds from her father cuts off abruptly. She faces off against him and for the first time she feel like she is doing something right.
She wonders why she never did this before.
Minerva is sitting alone beneath her oak tree. It has always been a quiet place for her to think. But she isn't thinking now, instead simply looking out at the world, watching with new eyes.
The sun shines down, leaves rustle, a stream gurgles, a squirrel scampers across the grass-
A bemused smile lights up her face as the creature peers hopefully up at her. Undoubtedly looking for food.
A sudden strange idea crosses her mind. Tilting her head to the side Minerva transports the creature a few feet to the right with a quick burst of magic. Startled the squirrel jerks away.
The corner of Minerva's mouth crawls upward. Interesting. Slowly she directs the creature back and forth between positions on the ground. Frantically it tries to escape the mage but Minerva doesn't let up.
Minerva sighs. It feels so liberating to have power over something else for once, for something to be at her mercy.
Maybe this is what her father feels like?
Bored with watching its reactions she deposits it a metre above the ground and watches it fall.
It hits the ground with a resounding thud. Too surprised to move it lies motionless. Minerva raises an eyebrow.
Picking up the pace the dark haired girl experiments, dropping the animal from varying heights. Before the creature can properly react it is dropped again. Her expression becomes deadly serious. Not once does she think that what she's doing is wrong. For some reason she wants to do it; so she does it.
Suddenly Minerva stops. Kneeling on the grass she watches for signs of life. Slowly, very slowly its chest rises.
So it survived. Minerva casts a glance at the stream. That can be rectified.
An older Minerva observes alongside her father as Sabertooth members begin training for the Grand Magic Games.
Her father turns and says he thinks Minerva should participate this year. She is strong. She is capable. She is...good enough.
She smiles slightly. "If you feel I am ready."
He nods. "Of course. You're my daughter. You shall not fail me."
Minerva settles back into her chair, wondering who she will face in the arena. She imagines destroying them, shaming them in front of their guild and the whole of Fiore. It will be perfect.
Her attention snaps back to the fight. A guild member is on his back, crying out in pain whilst his opponent cheers in victory.
"Trash," she mummers.
Minerva watches Sting attack him. As the surge of light passes through his body Minerva sighs.
Now, after almost a life time of torment she might be able to stop her continual descent.
But she feels nothing. No sudden rush of relief or satisfaction or glee or anything. Minerva blinks. The emptiness is still there, as stifling as ever.
Maybe she had hollowed herself out so well, numbed herself to everything, she was now unable to feel much of anything.
Minerva realises her error. Throughout the years she hadn't tried to escape her situation. No, instead she'd adjusted to her father's demands. She'd learnt how to thrive in the pain, to enjoy the never-ending falling. But Minerva had also given up on really living.
And now as she watches his body fall lifeless on the marble floor Minerva doesn't care. He has hit the bottom first. She has outdone him.
"Good," she says.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I do not own Fairy Tail. Seriously, I don't.
Now, this is my not-so-great fic I've written for Round Two of the New Fairy Tail Writing Challenges. I'm not too sure what to think of this. I didn't like the ending as I couldn't quite seem to get it right but this was the best I could do. So...yeah.
There aren't that many Minerva central fics out there (about 5 if I'm right) and I find her character really interesting. I wanted to explore just how she became the Minerva we all know and hate so I thought I would add to the collection!
I don't usually write in the present tense and I have tried to edit out any mistakes but it's likely I've missed something so please point it out to me so I can change it.
So I hope you enjoyed it! Feedback is greatly appreciated.
~ Secret Agent Codename Bob