Chapter One

A Story Proposal

Smelling the enemy's body odor for hours on end became the final straw for Natsu Dragneel. Even at a few meters of distance between them, his nose crinkled as if he was sitting inside a cramped room full of sweaty men at a hot sauna. Yet, shaking off the enemy's location from behind the dense bushes of the East Forest meant becoming a victim to its surprise attack.

Another whiff and Natsu dodged with a roll to his right from the heavy ton of fist hammering down on him. The earth shook and white dust clouded the area. Resting on his foot and knee, Natsu observed his enemy. As the dust settled, a 15-foot Gorian towered over him on tiny hindlimbs and beefy knuckles that could crush his lean build like a stick. It was the tallest one out of it's kind. Natsu wouldn't be surprised if the ape-like menace was an alpha male. With beady white eyes tinted with predatory heat, and a chuckle reverberating deep beneath hollow, ripped torso, the forestland creature growled. "Human."

Natsu wiped off the sweat across his upper lip with a thumb, sensing a deadly form of energy emanating from its body. It was ready for a chow down, and he was today's lunch special. "Sorry pal, but the only thing you're eating is my knuckle sandwich!"

Provoked, the Gorian pulled back a fist and swung forth. Striking the ground, Natsu high-jumped and landed on its arm. He dashed up to its shoulder, aiming his fist right between its eyes. Something smacked against his side, rattling his ribcage. He felt himself soaring through the air and his back struck against a tree trunk, knocking the wind out of him. He fell forward, crashing onto a thick branch with his stomach. He hissed at the pain rippling throughout his body.

"Natsu!" A familiar, light-pitched voice sounded from above. Happy hovered in front of him, flapping his white wings. "You alright?"

Natsu forced a grin, biting back the pain. "Are ya kiddin'? That didn't hurt one bit!"

Returning the grin that earned his name, the blue feline held up the white rose bouquet with his tail wrapped around the stem. "That monkey on steroids won't quit. I'll distract it while you come up with a plan."

Natsu opened his mouth to agree when a giant hand was heading their way. "Happy! Look out!" He shoved him out of the way before beefy fingers gripped his entire torso, squeezing the air out of him. Leaves and branches slapped his face and arms as he was pulled to face the monstrosity up close and personal.

The Gorian chuckled victoriously. "Time to get in my belly, Pinkie."

Natsu forced tight air through gritted teeth. Intense heat began to boil beneath his skin; a precursor of unregrettable destruction. "Call me Pinkie one more time."

Broad, yellow teeth spread from ear to ear, needling with a long drawl. "Pinkie."

That was all he needed. His hair color was reddish, not pink. His entire body ignited into a smoldering inferno. The Gorian roared in agony, pulling back its hand covered in third-degree burns. Natsu landed on one knee, heaving tons of air back into his lungs. He picked his head up and found another fist heading towards him. But Happy head-butted into the Gorian's cheek. A yellow tooth flew out upon impact.

Nice shot!

The Gorian stumbled back and fell against a tree that tilted beneath its weight and hung over a cliff that overlooked the heart of the forest.

Natsu formed an idea. "Happy, catch me!"

"Eh?!"

He was already darting towards the Gorian, chanting. "Fire Dragon Wing Attack!" Fiery ropes shot out of his hands as he whipped them forward. The flames latched around the Gorian's torso as Natsu flipped in mid-air and landed on the other side. He yanked with all of his strength and the tree dipped under their weight. They plunged down into steepening heights. Free-falling, the Gorian reached out to grab Natsu, but he shot flames in directions to evade its crushing fingers. Happy nose-dived, pushing off rock debris and branches with his paws to gain momentum and snatched Natsu in time for the Gorian to fall into the bed of tree canopies below them.

Moments later, the Gorian picked its head back up, recovering from a daze, shot them a murderous glare, and rolled off the canopy to scramble back to the uncharted territories of mystical beasts. Natsu chuckled as they soared towards the sunset behind the snow-capped mountain range of Mt Hakobe.

"Told ya we should've flown instead of walk." Happy muttered, securing his grip beneath his underarms. "The roses would attract those monsters right to us."

Satisfied with the outcome though, he crossed his arms. "Nah. I needed something to get all this pumped up energy out somehow."

Happy shook his head light-heartedly. "Figured you would say that."

As soon as they landed near their destination, Natsu walked over to the sparkling stream peppered with blossoming lilypads and ugly-looking amphibians croaking for potential mates. He kneeled down by the riverbank, cupped cold water for a refreshing drink, and splashed some on his face. He loosened his scarf and pressed the warm, cotton fabric against his tanned skin. The grey scale-like patterns caught his eye, reminding him of the familiar dragon scales of his father. Since the day Igneel had disappeared from him as a young boy, Natsu had sworn to find him and the answers to all of his questions that'd been tamped down for many years.

Why did he leave him behind? Where is he now? If the place where Igneel had flown to was dangerous, did he believe Natsu wasn't strong enough to follow him? The idea of Igneel being taken hostage by man was out of the question. Nobody on earth could take out a mighty dragon, especially if one of them taught him Dragon Slayer magic. So no matter whether or not Igneel is nearby, Natsu will keep training hard and make him proud to be his son.

"Hey, look what I found!"

Natsu glanced over at Happy being mesmerized by the shimmering rainbow scales of exotic fish spawning near the waterside. His stomach growled, having not eaten anything but pancakes left in Lucy's fridge since this morning. He reached over the water, fingers extended for a quick grab of late lunch, but soon came to his senses. The school of fish fled within seconds, leaving behind pink marble-like eggs that blended with the colorful pebbles. Best to let them have their fun first and catch more of them next season. Happy watched them disappear with disappointment, but only for a brief moment. Years of fishing with Gildart, the coolest adult in the guild, had taught them that all good things come to those who wait.

"Come on." Natsu gestured with his head. "Let's not keep Lisanna waiting."

Passing by a few hedges around the corner and under low-hanging tree branches, they stepped into the yellow grassy plain near the crystalline, snowcapped mountains. In the center of all the natural beauty, there stood a straw hut and a gravestone. Happy replaced the dead roses from last year with the new bouquet on the threshold. The white roses were all of Natsu's idea. Whenever he'd flipped the white petals upside down, they'd looked identical to Lisanna's hair; short and white. They'd framed her big, blue eyes and sweet smile. There wasn't a day that he could forget that smile, especially when they radiated unconditional kindness to every living soul.

As a loyal member of the Fairy Tail guild, Lisanna had gladly called the members her family. She'd never wanted to be away from people unless she was too busy looking for those who don't like people. Natsu knew this about her because he was one of them. She'd found him sitting alone outside in the grey downpour one day, and he'd lashed out at her. But instead of countering with the usual jab, she'd coolly countered with a question about Igneel. It was a curveball that he didn't expect. Most of the orphans from the guild didn't believe that his father was a real dragon. To them, dragons were just a myth.

But she believed.

Kneeling down before the gravestone that her brother, Elfman, made with his bare hands, Natsu wiped off the moss with his thumb, revealing the engravings: In Memory of Lisanna Strauss. His shoulders grew taut; the pain of her absence still weighing heavily on him as if it was yesterday. But this year, he found closure from the help of his friends in Fairy Tail. Lisanna had always wanted that for him after all. With a sigh of inner peace, Natsu turned his back towards the grave, sat beside Happy, and watched the sunset.

Just like the good old days.


"You did what?!" Lucy Heartfilia's mouth dropped, her soul nearly escaping out of it.

Levy McGardner, whom Lucy was beginning to see the new side of her gal pal, folded her arms with pure satisfaction. "You heard me right! The infamous best-selling author of all times, Thomas Wilson, is interested in hearing the proposal of your romantic novel! Of course, it took us a lot of begging and pleading, but we made it work. No excuses this time, Lucy. Mira already put in a good word to the headmaster."

As if on cue, Mira Jane set down two large glasses of iced drinks onto the bar counter, and winked at Levy. "It's official. Our Lucy is finally about to become the next famous author. Master approved." Her sweet and angelic voice that complemented her snowy white hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall, could warm every heart in the guild. But all Lucy could feel was fear, as cold as her fingers paling around the glass of iced pink lemonade. She was hoping to take a break from finishing her romantic novel after being cooped up in her apartment for an entire month. And knowing Levy would do anything to make her happy with her pursuit of creative writing, Lucy had entrusted her to keep her work on the down low.

Of course, look how that turned out...

Levy must've noticed her pale expression because concern and regret painted across her face. She wrapped a comforting arm around Lucy's shoulders. "Oh Lucy, I'm so sorry. I didn't think you would be this upset. You've just worked so hard on this book that I really think you deserve some recognition. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. It's time to show the world what you're made of."

Lucy forced a weak smile. "Yeah, you're right."

"So you'll do it?"

She said it so quickly that Lucy wondered if she was being genuine earlier. Then, she looked down at the ice floating aimlessly around the pink cloud of liquid. "I don't know about this, Levy." She said slowly. "I don't think I'm even ready to show my work to a professional. I mean sure, I'm psyched that my favorite childhood author is here in the flesh. But... what if my story is not good enough?"

"Are you kidding me?!" Levy gripped both of her shoulders, appalled. "You're the most talented writer I've ever met! Your novel about the Dragon Prince is amazingly romantic, Luce! Here." She rummaged through her brown, leather knapsack, pulled out the blue floral notebook, and held it out to her.

"And," Mira quickly added. "I especially loved the part when the princess shared her true love's first kiss with the handsome prince." She sing-songed wistfully.

Her eyebrow twitched, and Lucy gawked at Levy. "I thought I told you not to let anybody else read it."

She raised her hands up in chagrin. "Sorry! Mira was so curious to the point she had to bribe me. But I promise you that nobody else had read your novel."

Some time ago, Lucy had permitted Levy to read her first completed masterpiece as leisure, as well as to offer her critique. But at this point, Lucy was beginning to regret of ever lending her written work to ANY friend.

Mira's smile remained on her face, giving Lucy a creepy vibe. "On the bright side, Mr. Wilson and the Master are playing catch up over a few drinks at his office. Apparently, they'd used to be old colleagues from long ago. So what better time to propose your book to him than now?"

Lucy sighed irritably and sipped on her pink lemonade. They made it seem like impressing Fiore's award-winning author with her amateurish writing would be a walk in the park.

"Remember what I've told you about taking risks?" Levy asked, her tone growing serious.

"Yeah." She rested a cheek on the heel of her hand. "And I also remember saying that I don't take risks." In fact, she'd avoid any risk from the face of the planet; usually, the ones with the higher chances of experiencing an early death. In this case, a book rejection was an act of suicide to her self-esteem. And in her line of defense, she'd already received plenty of rejection by the man who raised her without her mother.

Levy evened her gaze at hers. "Well now is the time. And as hard as this may sound, and because I love you to death, you'll never become a famous writer if you don't get your foot in the door. Mr. Wilson can make your book famous and, trust me when I tell you this; you got potential."

Mira had returned to polishing a glass tumbler in silence but kept her ears open to the conversation.

Blinking at the two women before her, Lucy exhaled slowly to stop the churning in her stomach. "This may be the scariest thing that I'll ever have to do. But..." She smiled. "With friends like you and Fairy Tail, there's no room for fear." She could imagine it now. Lucy Heartfilia, the next best-selling, youngest author with a hidden talent. Mr. Wilson himself would praise her as the writer he'd been searching for all his life, and tell the world of how her work had astounded him beyond all measures. Her story was engaging, enchanting. The kind of literary piece Fiore has been looking for!

"And always remember this, Lucy." Levy placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "No matter what happens. Rejection or not, you'll always be my number one favorite author." She gave her a friendly wink, and Lucy felt the weight lift off her shoulders. Levy always knew how to encourage people on a bad day.

"Okay!" Lucy rose up from her seat. "I'll do it!" She pulled up her heart-shaped blouse higher over her cleavage, but the fabric fell back down from the immense weight of her bust. Her lips pursed out with a pout. She smoothed down her miniskirt to cover a few inches of leg skin, but the hem rose back up. She exhaled. Last-Minute shopping for a classier outfit reaching a few inches longer than her fingers was out of the question. She looked down at her black, leather, knee-high boots and wondered if they could distract him from staring at her smoking hot curves. Unless the guy was a secret pervert, she hoped her first impression wouldn't become the primary cause of her book rejection.

After receiving good luck exchanges from the girls, Lucy ventured down the hallway towards the wooden oak double doors. Lifting a hand to knock, she stopped at the sound of glass clinking behind the door, followed by random incoherent mumblings.

The door creaked open slightly, and she angled her head in. Her eyes skimmed across the office. The closed velvet curtains, wine glasses stacked precariously on the coffee table near the fireplace, and a man slumped against a leather armchair. His strange figure startled her nerves to rise in her chest again. Her eyes quickly rested on the familiar tiny old man, with thinning white hair surrounding his baldness, sitting on the armchair across from him. Master Makarov looked up, and his shoulders stiffened, but his tone remained soft and fatherly. "Yes, child? What do you need?"

Lucy quickly thought of apologizing and get the heck out of here, but hope kept her still. Fearing the worst should be the last thing on her mind. Not when she made it this far, and definitely not when the sudden bad feeling simmered in her gut. She approached the two men, wearing her best positive smile. "Hello Master, sorry if I'm interrupting anything. But I was informed that Mr. Wilson wished to hear my book proposal?"

After what felt like long hours of silence, Master Makarov exhaled from his pipe, the smoke curling its way up towards the ceiling, and looked at the man sitting across from him. "Care to let in one more potential author before your early retirement?"

Lucy's eyes widened. Early retirement?! This prospect was never mentioned in the latest issue of Sorceror Weekly. He and his wife owned a prestigious publishing firm. His wife worked as a publisher while he worked as author and editor. In the world of finance, of which her father had practiced religiously, an author doesn't get paid a decent, steady income as much as the publisher. So for him to retire early would either mean he'd saved enough profit in a separate account from his wife or in a marital joint account. But still, even if it was money he was after, why retire from doing the things he loved all his life?

She leaned to the side to see his face more clearly from behind the armchair, waiting for an answer that would solve all of the millions of mysteries popping into her head. The old hand raised up from the armrest and made a dismissive wave. Her heart sank.

"Forget about it," Said Mr. Wilson. "There's no use for another trivial pursuit."

Another trivial pursuit? Lucy looked to Master Makarov, confused. Earlier ago, he'd granted her permission to speak to him. So why on earth would he get her hopes up if he'd expected Mr. Wilson wouldn't be in the mood to look at her? She should feel rejected. But somehow, Mr. Wilson's tone didn't sound like a rejection of her book or her as a potential author. It was more like giving up something truly valuable to him.

Master Makarov grunted. "I'm not one to tell you what to do, Thomas. But hear me out when I say that Miss Heartfilia would love to have this opportunity to speak with you."

There was a pause. The air shifted towards something more positive then. With a sip of amber liquid, Mr. Wilson sighed heavily and set an empty glass down next to the others. "Where is she?"

Master Makarov gestured for her to approach him. "Have a seat, child. Don't be shy." He encouraged gently.

Touched by the headmaster's support of her wishes, she loosened her tight grip on the notebook and made her way to the leather couch. The smell of backhand smoke wafted in the air, mildly disorienting her for a bit. She took another glance at her headmaster. He was still holding his smoke pipe. Usually, he would take it out whenever he'd just received some bad news.

Mr. Wilson leaned over the table and poured himself another drink. In all of his pictures in magazines, his eyes were usually filled with warmth and crinkles at the sides with wisdom and cheers. When those sunken, dark eyes landed on her, she could've sworn there was a glimmer of recognition before replaced with doubt.

Leaning back in the armchair with a slouch, he muttered. "Let's get this over with."

Clinging tighter onto her story, Lucy braved the waters with a light smile. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Wilson. As a little girl, your stories had inspired me to become a writer one day, and so meeting you for the first time has been a great honor. I even look forward to your next weekly advice for amateur writers on Sorceror Weekly."

He only grunted.

Closing her eyes, she took another deep breath. "This story is about a beautiful princess whose kingdom was terrorized by ferocious dragons. A handsome prince strives to win her heart by slaying the leader of the dragons, known as the Dragon Prince. Feeling hopeless by her inability to stop the ongoing battle between man and beast, the princess runs away from home to find a solution. And even though the prince, arranged to marry her, offers his aid upon her quest, she refuses, believing he only loves her for her dowry and her father's crown." She paused to see if the author wanted to stop her. His eyes were on her now, expecting more. So she continued. "Then, the princess was captured by the Dragon Prince, the leader of the dragons and an enemy whom everyone in her kingdom greatly feared."

"What is the name of your book?" He asked.

She stuttered slightly, "Uh, The Dragon Prince."

"And what made the princess feel repulsed by the royal prince?"

"Well, the prince was well-known to have a promiscuous history with other women. And in order for her to fall in love with him, he must win her trust." Lucy blinked when he chuckled out of nowhere. Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his temples. "Funny how women believe in that stuff and still leave the good guy anyway."

She blinked, uncertain how to properly respond. "Excuse me?"

Did this mean her story was unbelievable? If so, he could at least have the human decency of telling her so without scoffing at her.

Master Makarov cleared his throat and looked at Lucy with an unreadable expression. "I'm sorry, Lucy. You'll have to forgive my old friend here. Perhaps a different time would be the best."

"No, it's fine." Mr. Wilson spoke up, straightening up in his armchair. "Do you have your manuscript?"

Lucy tentatively handed the novel to him, and he pulled out his wing-tipped reading glasses. Lucy smiled upon recognition: Gale-Force glasses. She and Levy have their own pair whenever they want to browse through the guild's library. Upon will, his glasses shimmered magically. The pages of her manuscript flipped rapidly like a picture flipbook.

A few moments had passed when Lucy caught a brief twinkle in his eye, and fresh hope filled up within her. Her friends were right. Maybe she would become the next youngest author with a hidden talent. For a split second, she imagined herself waltzing down the red carpet in a beautiful princess gown, poised and confident, taking in all the glory from her obsessed fans. They would cry out her name and rave to everyone about how her stories had touched every young heart, mind, and soul.

The manuscript snapped shut then, jarring her back into attention. The twinkle in his eye was gone as if its existence had only been conjured up by her imagination. A faint color filled his face, and after a pondering silence, he returned the folder to her. "You've mentioned of reading all of my writing tips from Sorceror Weekly. Well, your creative writing had certainly proven itself worth reading through." Lucy perked up by a million as another brief pause followed. "Who is your targeted audience?"

She grinned widely. "I'm writing for young women and men. Teens included. I hope that the themes in my story would encourage romantic couples everywhere to never give up on loving someone, even through hard times. You see, you've also mentioned in one of your weekly tips that a successful romantic story should inspire readers to fall in love, either with the characters or with someone else in their world."

"Hm." He nodded with a soft smile. "I did say that." He swirled his drink in his wineglass thoughtfully. "Let me give you another advice. About targeting your male audience. To engage them, you must learn how to make them fall in love with your princess."

She blinked. "Haven't I done that already?"

"You've managed to portray the handsome prince character quite well. If a young teenage girl were to read this, she would instantly fall in love with him. But your princess character… You need to work on her."

"Oh… I see." Lucy felt the warmth spreading across her cheeks. She'd never expected this kind of feedback. "So how can I improve in that area? Is there a way I can learn how a boy falls in love?"

The man finally smiled, shared a knowing glance at Master Makarov, and glanced back at her. "Your guild has chock-full of strong men. Ask around and learn what they value most in women."

Lucy caught the slight edge in his tone when he said the last word, and a strange cold feeling settled in her gut. Did he know someone who gave him a sudden distaste against the opposite gender?

Mr. Wilson cleared his throat. "Take heed to this advice, and you'll be on your way to writing the greatest romantic story."

Right. The subtle rejection of her novel didn't sting as much as she'd thought. She would consider his advice and do some major research with Levy at the guild's library. She may have to form interview questions with some of the guys. But she also sensed there was something he was not telling her.

Master Makarov interjected. "Perhaps your wife could help her in that area."

Mr. Wilson grunted and gestured to Lucy. "She would have to speak with her without mentioning me. That woman had stopped taking people whom I'd recommended to her."

The headmaster furrowed his brows. "How come?"

He shook his head and waved dismissively. "Beats me. It seemed that she didn't want anything to do with my influence on the business."

Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle began to form a clearer picture. Lucy trod carefully in choosing her words to confirm her suspicion. "If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Wilson, why retire so early in your career? You got a huge fan base that loves you, with thousands of clients proposing books to you and your wife left and right."

"Because…" There was a hitch in his breath, and his tone was rougher than before. "I've lost my inspiration in writing romance novels."

A dead silence brewed in, and Lucy quickly found her voice. "I-I don't understand. What was your inspiration?"

Another few moments passed as he gazed at her with some concentration and shook his head. "My wife." He lowered his head. "But of course, life has a way of changing things."

Lucy grew speechless. Marriage was something she would fantasize almost every night in her bed. A million romantic fantasies didn't exactly qualify her as an expert in giving marital advice. Placing herself in his shoes, she let her heart go out to him. How would she cope if her lover was her inspiration and soon leave her with the divorce papers in the end? She would be so heartbroken; if only his wife could remember the reasons why she'd fallen in love with him. Tired of watching her idol in his state of depression, Lucy shifted her gaze to something more cheerful. Old scattered books were collecting dust on the bookshelves, just like her dream of finding true love one day.

That thought wasn't cheerful at all.

She lowered her head with a huff. There must be a way that could remind her of the fondest memories that would outweigh the bad ones; a perfect reminder that could change his wife's mind about the divorce. Then, her eye caught the golden letters imprinted on one of the books: The Art of Stage Crafting.

An idea struck.

"Mr. Wilson, I would like to make another proposition." With every word more saturated with pure confidence, she rose from her seat and moved across the room. Picking up the book from the pile, she turned to the men watching her curiously. "A successful romantic story can inspire people to fall in love. Wouldn't you think those same stories played on stage can also inspire people?"

Mr. Wilson returned a blank stare.

"Where are you going with this, Lucy?" Master Makarov asked slowly.

"If I have your permission, Master," Lucy grinned and closed her eyes. "I would like to inspire his wife to fall in love again with a romantic play, based out of my novel."

Mr. Wilson rubbed the dark grey stubbles on his chin, eyeing the blue manila folder resting on the coffee table. He eventually glanced up at her. "I'm listening."