Disclaimer: Fairy Tail evidently belongs to Hiro Mashima.
SHE DREAMED OF BLOOD ON HER HANDS AND FIRE. Always fire. The columns of a crumbling castle in the sea were black with soot and the waves had roared along with the dragon chained to a small throne. Wife, it said to her, amber stone eyes reflecting the terror on her face with a fierce sort of anger that chilled her more than it burned. Queen.
Juvia was born to be a thing of ashes. She knew it by heart: born to the crackle of ember and salt. On the day of a bleeding star. The reality of it made her sick all the way down to her bones. Dragon Queen, but she was just a girl. And the Dragon had yet to wake. As far as anyone knew, it would not wake for another millennium.
But Juvia was never one to be lucky.
Each time she woke from nightmares, her body would always be slick with sweat. Trembling with the memory of the beast that had claimed her. How very foolish of her—she had never been just a girl.
On the day everything went wrong, she had already killed an important man before lunch. Master Jose had called her to his study to discuss a private matter that uncoiled the nerves bundled in the pit of her stomach, and Juvia regretted coming back from the mission before sundown. She walked the length of his overly dramatic wine-tinted halls, hands perfectly still, and wondered who else she was going to have to murder in cold blood until her marriage to a monster.
"Juvia," Master Jose greeted, back to her. He was standing by a large fire, soaking the harsh roar of it into his skin like a humble servant. "It's nice to see you, darling."
Juvia stopped at the doorway. She had never liked fire—not since Master Jose showed her the prophecy writ in her blood and she dreamed of it every time she closed her eyes. The cold and the dark were her friends now and, until this very moment, Master Jose did not question her constant evasion of being near any sort of hearth or candle. It was not a coincidence that the fireplace was lit.
"As it is you, Master." Juvia tried to remain impassive as she made her way to the couch in carefully measured steps. How far from the fire could she be able to get away with? Juvia felt the warmth of it prickle her skin and was suddenly dizzy. "You have another job for Juvia?"
The pretense of giving her jobs was a comfort. It meant they could still pretend to be another Master and his best guild member (once, they had even pretended to be father and daughter) and she would not have to think much of the way Master Jose looked at her like she was a goddamn Messiah.
Though she could not help thinking about it at night, just as the darkness closed around her and she had to remind herself why she avoided fire.
The story goes like this: an eon ago, when the mortals still outnumbered the Sagani, a terrible darkness had threatened to swallow the moon and conquer the sun. But before it could eat the celestial rock whole and disrupt the balance of day and night, a Dragon had been able to defeat it. He and the Dragon Queen worked together to slay the shadows that threatened death to the elementals, and the war ended in the Dragon Queen's sacrifice. It was all supposed to be very sad and romantic, though Juvia hated it with the deep, gaping hatred of a girl beholden to the ocean.
The darkness would come again and the Dragon will wake, and with him would follow the rebirth of the Dragon Queen. A prophecy had proclaimed it: a child born to the crackle of ember and salt, on the day of a bleeding star. It was a vague sort of instruction to herald the savior of the elemental world, but the rare daylight comet that appeared on the hour of Juvia's unfortunate birth had marked her for life.
Juvia was not a good person. She did not want to die for anyone.
The shadows aquiver from the crevices of Master Jose's face danced when his lips stretched into a smile like he heard what she thought and agreed with her. Juvia found him extremely ugly. "Do you know who it was you killed earlier, Juvia?"
"The Master General of Fiore," Juvia answered automatically, recalling the rage in his eyes and the cold steel of his sword against her water body. The General had called her a bitch, which seemed fair considering she had been sent to assassinate him, but he had still hurt her feelings. "Conbolt. Nothing special, easily replaceable. He was a mortal."
Master Jose laughed at her easy dismissal. "Funny, isn't it? The head of a Sagani army and he was a mere mortal!" He sat at the edge of the table facing her, his relaxed shoulders a direct opposite to her rigid back. "A defect, too. Conbolts are supposed to be powerful Gnomes. The King insults us with his officials."
Juvia did not care about what Master Jose felt towards the King or the General, but she was curious as to why it was imperative they had to talk about the death of this particular mortal. "Indeed," said Juvia absently. Had she left a trace in the General's study? Were they able to track her back to the Mansion? She had lived most of her life on the outskirts of Fiore—if they had found her, she would have to be relocated. Away from Gajeel.
Juvia always made sure she stayed in Fiore. She was good enough a killer that she'd never been caught.
"You know, Juvia." Master Jose adopted a tender crease around his eyes. It looked both artificial and wrought with scheming. Juvia wanted to know what he wanted. "I am very proud of you."
This... was unexpected. A wave crashed against her ear and she struggled to keep a straight face, to calm the sudden quick-paced litany of her breathing. Juvia wiped her hands on her skirt, shocked. "Thank you," she said, mouth dry, angry that she meant it. When she was a little girl, Juvia had longed for his approval just as much as she longed to know why her parents had left her at a mortal orphanage. She had always known it was a losing battle. "I—Juvia serves to please. Especially Master Jose."
He nodded, then pushed himself off the table. Circling the edge of it, he said, "now I have another job for you. It's unlike any other you've done." He opened a drawer, going through the files with feigned nonchalance.
"Juvia is always ready." A lie. Juvia had grown tired of the jobs, tired of the blood, tired of the hiding. Juvia wanted to see the sun, wanted to see the world she had been cursed to save. She didn't understand why they had her keep murdering people, and she was always too much of a coward to ask. Maybe Master Jose wanted to turn his savior corrupt.
He lifted a folder from the stack, flipped it open with relish, and extracted a thin piece of paper. Then he walked around the table to hand it to her, smiling that secret smile that made Juvia wary.
It was a painting, lovingly done and lovingly kept. She wondered who made it—if the person was dead or deep in the cellars of the Mansion. The paper was creased as if it had been constantly folded and opened, frayed at the edges and browned by time. A boy smiled up at her: wrapped in a white wool scarf, hair the color of a young girl's blush, and skin golden under the midday sun. He was bursting, even in the paper, with the same kind of warmth Juvia had spent years escaping and coveting in the same ferocious heartbeat.
"He's just a boy," she heard herself say aloud and cringed at how soft her voice had gone. Master Jose despised pity, especially toward victims. "What is Juvia going to do with him?" She liked to think she'd outgrown mercy, buried it in that place in her heart where she still dreamed of loving a normal boy and not some prophesied hero.
But she did not want to kill the boy. She had killed the General, so who was this to him? A thought crept up on Juvia. Perhaps this was his son—perhaps after this, she must kill the daughter. And the mother. The aunts, the cousins. Everyone. Until she was monster enough for a monster. It would never end.
"That," Master Jose said with disdain, "is Natsu Dragneel, heir to the Fiore throne." He looked especially offended by this, as though he thought the boy wasn't worthy to be the head of his most hated portion of the Sagani Nobility. Juvia didn't especially care about Master Jose's feelings about the boy's position, though it was that particular revelation that unnerved Juvia.
It was not the General's son. It was even worse. "The Salamander Prince," Juvia supplied, unable to breathe. Killing Royalty was not just treason—it was dangerous. Natsu Dragneel could breathe fire and heat Juvia's body into vapor. She asked again, "what is Juvia to do?"
"You are not going to kill him," Master Jose told her, gliding over to the bookshelves and sliding one book out of the careful arrangement. He eased it open, murmuring words from a chosen passage under his breath. Juvia wanted to throw the wretched book into the fire, afraid of heat as she was. "The boy is stupid, yes… but he is powerful. The city celebrated his birthday, don't you remember?"
"Yes," Juvia said, trying to keep the worry she felt from sneaking into her voice. "It was just last week." She had wanted to go, but Gajeel had refused to come with her.
"Yes, it's… funny. Unnecessarily lavish, which is not the King's way. But I guess it is effective, as it has caught even our attention." That glint in his eyes again, the one that ignited shivers up and down Juvia's spine. The one he wore when he took her away from the orphanage and the judging mortals.
Juvia swallowed, goading him on, "our attention, Master?"
He shrugged. "It is an effective way to broadcast that their Prince is a big boy now. He's going to be needing a wife soon, to train with him on how to rule."
Juvia understood. Suddenly the study was too much, too small, too dark, too secluded all at once—she was suffocating. The air shimmered from the heat of the fire, and the fire from the mantle licked the floor as if it was trying to reach her. She understood, but Juvia didn't understand. Not completely. Not at all.
"Yes," she said, nodding stupidly. "Yes, he will."
She was the Dragon Queen. Her destiny was to marry the savior of the elemental world. She knew that as she knew she needed air to breathe, as she knew the seasons changed, and that the sun fell to its knees for the moon every night. He had brought Juvia here so he could share in the glory of raising her, not give her away to some royal family. Juvia had never been free, but she'd at least thought that Master Jose would never try to do this—how dare he?
Juvia felt a helpless anger swell in her heart. "Is he—" She closed her eyes. "Is he the Dragon, then?"
"Hardly." Master Jose laughed as if it was ridiculous that she'd even suggest such a thing. Juvia knew—Juvia knew she could drown him right then. Feel the water in the air and gather it to the palm of her hand.
But she didn't. Couldn't. There was nowhere she could go except where he wanted her to. He was the only one that truly wanted her. Him and that vile Dragon, whoever he was. What did that say about her?
"Then why does it have to be Juvia?" She knew there were other girls in the Guild. Gnomes mostly, some Salamanders. Once, there had even been a pair of Sylph refugees. Juvia was the only Undine, but that was to be expected. The point was—the point was that there were other girls he could force into this scam of a marriage, and he was still going to make Juvia do it. As if she wasn't already betrothed to some mythic beast, as if it wasn't enough that she had absolutely no one to be someone for a creature that didn't even exist yet. Maybe wouldn't exist ever. A creature that didn't know her at all, who would be the cause of her death.
Why couldn't he have other girls relinquish their freedom? Why did it always have to be hers? And Master Jose didn't even care that she was afraid of fire. Her first husband was going to be the Salamander Prince.
Master Jose did not look happy at her question. "How dare you be ungrateful?" He dropped his book to the floor and closed the space between them with quick, hulking strides. Juvia was familiar with this fear. "How dare you insinuate even a hint of refusal?"
The slap, when he gave it, stung loudly. Master Jose was a Gnome too—his natural strength was passed down to him from the first Sagani who moved a mountain with his bare hands. She could already feel the bruise, imagine the purple color of it against her pale skin. "Juvia is sorry. Juvia did not mean to be disobedient."
"But you were," he said, backing away, trying to compose himself. Juvia knew he regretted hurting her, though that wasn't enough to make him stop. She let him think she cared that he hit her, let her body bubble and leave the bruise without healing. Let him see what he'd done to his precious Queen. "And I better not hear it again."
Juvia bowed her head. "Yes, Master."
That night she dreamed of fire again, though she was not in a castle by the sea anymore but in a field of bright, laughing green. Everywhere around her life bloomed except for the flaming circle that she was standing in the middle of. She was not crying, though it was the only thing anyone could hear for miles. Juvia never cried in her dreams.
This time the blood was not on her hands but spreading from the body of a boy sobbing on the blackened ground. He was yelling her name, reaching out his bloodied hands, scarf red and angry. Prince Natsu's hair was still the perfect pink of a startled blush and when Juvia knelt down to help him, heart stuttering as if she knew him, his skin burned so hotly her body turned to steam.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading! If you like it so far, leave a message! Constructive criticism is always welcome.