Natsu felt the blood drip down his face.

The crowds were cheering. Their voices rose and fell in a great, booming wave. The golden sand reflected off the sun, creating waves in his vision. He felt heavy armor digging hard into his chest, sword resting near his shin. He was panting, back curved, free hand on knee, as he surveyed the opponent before him. Small cuts and bruises decorated revealed his arms and legs, a large slice across his chin making it difficult for him to clench his jaw.

His enemy was in much worse shape. A long cut had been raked across his abdomen, leaking crimson blood onto his worn leather armor. Another slash graced his arm. It had been deeper than Natsu had meant to make, and it rendered the limb useless, blood dripping down his unmoving fingertips. In his other hand he held a spiked club, but the weapon was dull and in disrepair. His armor was in a similar state. Natsu had known as soon as he'd laid eyes on the man that he was just an appetizer to get the crowd hungry.

It was working, if the noise gave was indication. He tried to block them out, but their voices were a dull roar all around him. Many chanted his name, and the chorus of 'Ignis Draco' went around in circles. He wanted to shout back, to turn his sword on them, but he knew it was hardly fair. These people were innocent, ignorant of what the play before them truly meant. They were bloodthirsty, but only because they wished to see others hurt more than they were.

They didn't care that the man presented to him had little to no muscle, that his armor was second-rate, and he could barely lift his own weapon. They hadn't noticed that he had preexisting wounds, especially ones across his back that Natsu certainly had not given him. They didn't know that he had entered this arena, eyes set and prepared to die.

More and more, that's how they came. Slaves, sent from the black fields of Crocus to play gladiator. He'd been one of them once, back when he was a boy no older than seven. His size and quick wit, as well as the mercy of those he'd been handed over to, had saved him. He'd been allowed to grow, still a prisoner, but freer than most. The ones who came up now were old and broken, and death was at their backs well before Natsu or the others got their hands on them.

The crowds jeered loudly as the man lunged forward. The hit would have been good had he been thirty years younger, but as it was his attack was slow and full of exhaustion. Natsu ducked under it, sending a bare-fisted punch into his gut. His opponent grunted, the club bouncing harmlessly off of Natsu's armored back and dropping to the ground. He followed after it, collapsing on Natsu's shoulder with a soft sigh.

Natsu shoved him off, standing up and brushing off the blood on his chin. It left a red streak on his arm, and he wondered if it would scar, blunt as the weapon had been. He heard the crowd chant for death, but his gaze rose to the grand podium at the front of the colosseum. Normal people could not see the man who rested at the top, but Natsu had no trouble locking eyes with him. He was not normal, the pulsating collar at his throat assured them of that.

The dark haired man in the observation box smiled as he noted his playthings' eyes on him. It was a blank smile, as if someone had drawn it on his face pale face. On either side of his white throne were his two commanders, Hades and Mard Geer. The latter smirked, noting the silent battle going on, but Natsu didn't pay him any mind. He kept his eyes locked onto the black-haired bastard as he raised his sword.

The blade caught in the light of the sun, shining down on the man lying on the ground. Natsu looked down to see him close his eyes, acceptance on his face. The crowd expelled a great sound of excitement, and Natsu rose his chin in a silent nod to the man in the podium as he slashed the blade down.

Lucy felt the blood drip down her face.

She sucked in a breath, head turned to the side, eyes wide and cheek stinging. The slap echoed in the air of the bathing chamber, bouncing off the walls in some sort of haunted melody. She could feel the bright sting of where nails had dug in, scraping the skin. Her cheek burned from the hit, blood rushing to the area of contact and making it heat up. The magic in her revolted, pushing to unleash itself, but she held it back with gritted teeth. Slowly she turned her head back toward the woman in front of her. She took in the superior smirk and the narrowed cruel blue eyes before bowing her head.

The woman was completely naked, still-dripping with water from the bath she had climbed out of. She barely seemed to care, even with a group of other serving girls cowering behind her. "I told you to bring in the mint scented wash, did I not?" Her abuser spit out. Lucy knew the question was a trick one. Angel hadn't told them anything, and Lucy wasn't the one responsible for picking the wash anyway. Still, she wasn't about to rat out the poor brown-haired girl shaking behind her, and so she lowered her head and demurred a soft apology.

That earned her another slap, which was so sharp it brought unbidden tears to her eyes. She grit her teeth against the pain, forcing her blood to settle. There was no collar around her slim neck, and now was not the time to unleash her magic. She had a mission, and it didn't require her revealing herself under the threat of a few beatings. There were things to be done, and she'd damn well do them.

"Speak up!" Angel demanded harshly, her voice tinted with sick humor. Slapping was hardly the worst thing Lucy would have to deal with while within these walls, so she sucked up her fury and pain and locked it in a dark place in her stomach. She let it sink into her skin, until all she felt was a blind numbness.

"I apologize for my ignorance, Lady Angel," Lucy repeated, head still bowed but loud enough to be heard. She braced herself for another slap, but Angel had seemingly tired of her. She raised her head at the sound of a splash, watching as the white-haired woman sank back into the purple water. Water laced with magic, Lucy had realized when she'd first entered the room, and she'd been careful not to touch it. The other women hardly seemed to mind it, but that was because they had nothing hidden in their blood.

Taking the boon given to her, Lucy shuffled over to the wall of soaps and grabbed the mint. She shuffled as it was impossible to do much else in these chains. Out of everything, they were the worst thing here. Lucy despised the metal cuffs that bit harshly into her skin. They made walking impossible, and the sight of them brought about nightmares that were better off left forgotten.

She grabbed the bottle, handing it off to another serving girl, and stepped back. She joined the other two girls waiting against the walls, backs straight and chins lifted, eyes unseeing. She melted into their group with ease, the only thing that offset her being the four bleeding crescents across her left cheekbone, which she knew better than to wipe away.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dark wisps of her hair. Perhaps it was vain, but a part of her soul cried out at it. Gone were her distinguishing bright blonde locks, covered beneath thick, dark dies and oils. Thin, pale, brown-haired, brown-eyed girls were hardly noticeable. Blonde, golden-eyed women were a bit more eye-catching.

Lucy tried to keep her mind from wandering as she waited her new mistress to finish bathing. However she couldn't stop herself from picturing that dimly lit room, the last time she'd seen her friends. They'd dyed her hair in that room, the stench of the sewers and the irregular dripping of water their only company. She'd been briefed of her job long before, and it had been her own choice. Still, nothing had helped the shivers along her body when they'd clasped those damned chains on her wrists. Her magic had leaped, and it had only been Leo's soothing voice that had calmed her. She could still feel his warm hands on her face, green eyes bearing into hers, as he promised she would come back alive.

Blinking, she thrusted the image away. It was an empty promise, simply meant to keep her collected, but she had felt the tug on her soul that bound Leo to that ridiculous promise. A promise that looked more and more bleak as time went on.

Already it had been three weeks since she'd been thrust into the mass of slaves headed for the capital. Lucy had only ever seen Magnolia's underbelly, where her and her guild operated through. To see the top, to be led through the industrial district and into the palace itself, even bound in chains, had been surreal. But stepping foot into the grand, black palace owned by King Zeref, Lucy had known immediately that their mission was in vain.

Demons prowled the intricate and beautiful hallways, members of the Balam Alliance going to and fro. Slaves were an abundance, but each had their own place. Lucy was unaware of how she had been placed under Angel, but she was sure it was due to the help of their secret spy, of which she was not aware. Angel was one of the less cruel masters, yet she was farther down the chain than Lucy needed. She needed to get near Mard Geer, but that possibility seemed steeper everyday.

She supposed she should be thankful for her guardian angel, irony intended, but she was not fulfilling her mission in such a case. She knew of Mard Geer's cruelty, and had prepared herself for it. She knew she would not come out of this place unscathed, perhaps not even with her life, but she was willing to make that sacrifice to get the information that Fairy Tail needed. There was a book, by the name of END, and within it was the key to defeating Zeref. An ancient book, there wasn't much known about it beyond its spell capabilities. Spells that could turn the tides of this war, so long as she could get her hands on the damn thing.

Lucy was snapped from her musings as Angel exited the bath for the second time. She paid Lucy no mind, instead holding her arms out as two girls began to dry her off. Lucy broke off with her companions, grabbing the long white dress laid out on the side and bringing it to their mistress. Lucy worked silently as they wrapped Angel in it, and it seemed the woman didn't even recognize her when she worked on combing through her hair. When they were done, Angel snapped at some of the girls to have her meal brought to her room, and began to head down the hall.

Lucy and the other girls followed obediently behind, shuffling after her. However they didn't make it much farther than the door when Lucy sensed a spike of magic. The wave felt cold and dark, and she was unsurprised to find Midnight leaning on the wall outside the bathing chamber. His eyes were closed, though there was a smirk on his face. He wore odd yellow pants and a black vest, little bits of fur lining his shoulders. His hair, a mis-matched combo of black and white, was thrown all over the place, as if he had been lying around all day. Lucy knew better, and felt herself shrink when his black eyes flashed open.

Midnight was a mystery, and not one that Lucy had any intentions of looking into. As far as she was aware, he was a member of the Oracion Seis, Angel's guild, but his allegiance was iffy. A rat, Lucy had heard Angel call him, sent to do Zeref's dirty work. Him and another member, Cobra, were always lurking around. Lucy feared Midnight for his senses and ability to pick out your fears, but she was terrified of Cobra. The red haired man with the sharp ears had the ability to hear thoughts, as well as the smallest mouse scuttling around from the other side of the castle.

Cobra was a curiosity all of his own, though. A member of Oracion Seis as well, yet he seemed to have no affiliations outside of the green boa that hung around his neck. He was missing an eye, the skin scarred closed, and most curiously he wore a collar around his neck. It was the same collar that slaves with the ability to use magic wore. When Lucy had inquired about it quietly to one of the other slaves, she'd been told that Cobra used a rare breed of magic called dragon-slaying. It was a lost art, and extremely coveted. Apparently he had been a slave once himself, and had ended up in Zeref's clutches through the gladiator rings. Lucy knew of those, as one of her other guildmates was in their clutches as she worked. Cobra had shown his capabilities, and as a result had been risen to work under Zeref. He wore the collar now as a reminder, but Lucy thought it was more likely a threat.

Still, she supposed she was glad that it was Midnight rather than Cobra waiting for them, even if the short, pale boy gave her the creeps. There was something sadistic about him that had Lucy insanely grateful she had not been put under his care.

Angel stopped short at the sight of him, tilting her head at her guildmate with a petulant look on her face. "What do you want?"

Midnight's eyes scanned their group lazily, but there was burning intent behind those dark spheres. She could have sighed when they simply glossed over her, feeling her own magic sink low in her gut. Where hers was light and full of life, his spoke of darkness and death.

"Our Lord has called a meeting. Everyone is to attend." He shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head. The act was child-like, but on him it looked like a predator sizing up his prey.

Angel only scoffed, folding her arms. "When?"

"After the next battle," he supplied, standing up with an eager look in his eyes. "You should come to watch it."

"I don't enjoy watching barbarians kill each other for sport," Angel scoffed, trying to sound superior. Lucy figured that was doubtful, considering the dark glee in her eyes when she'd been hitting her earlier.

Midnight smirked benevolently. "Oh, but this one will surely be of interest. It seems a new dragon slayer has arrived to challenge our Ignis Draco." He chuckled. "I'm sure it will be quite the show."

Lucy froze at that, her heart nearly stopping. She had known that one of her friends would be in the gladiator rings, trying to infiltrate from down below while she worked up top. Yet, she had not assumed that they would send in one of their dragon-slayers, though she supposed in hindsight it was the most logical choice.

In her mind she pictured the four that belonged to their guild. Her heart tugged painfully at any of the possibilities. Laxus, her long-lost cousin, the only living relative that shared her blood left. Or the twins, whom had been by her side for as long as she could remember, Sting's bright smile and Rouge's diminished smirk. Least of all Gajeel, who was the newest addition to their group, yet no less valued. He and Lucy had picked up an odd sort of friendship since his joining a few months ago. She shook to imagine that they would send him back in so soon after he had escaped his own hell.

Angel was curious as well, the disgust wiped off her face at his words. "How interesting," she mused, curling a strand of white hair around her finger. "I suppose I could make an appearance."

"I'm sure Master Hades would be most pleased," Midnight demurred, a wicked smile on his face. Angel scoffed and watched as Midnight pushed off the wall, slowly beginning to saunter away. She didn't dare remove her eyes from him until he rounded the corner, offering a lazy wave without turning around. His chuckle haunted Lucy all the way back to Angel's room.

It seemed to have haunted Angel as well, and she was even more vicious when they arrived back to her quarters. She hit two more slaves when her dinner took too long to arrive, and she even whipped one who had accidently dropped the pitcher of water.

Lucy had been forced to take her place, grabbing the pitcher off the ground while other girls hastily cleaned up the water. She flinched at each sound of the whip against skin, and was relieved to be allowed to leave the room and get more water. Her heart thudded with each step she took away from the door, the sounds growing quieter, yet somehow louder in her own head.

She remembered the feel of leather against skin. The harsh, burning line of fire it would create. Her fingers involuntarily ghosted over her white shirt, body flinching at the memory. If the pain weren't enough, the lines of scars she had over her back could tell her story. A story that many people shared, though she doubted to the extent that she did.

Lucy shoved those images from her mind, refusing to dwell on it. I escaped. I escaped. I escaped. She repeated it over and over in her head, feeling the truth in the words, despite the iron chains that bound her once again. She was cuffed, but she was not a prisoner. Never again would she be a slave.

Eventually she reached the kitchens, which were predictably in a busy hustle as the servants scrambled around to get their master's food prepared. The staff were only distinguishable by the black circle over their coats, and the fact that their feet were unchained for quicker movement. Lucy slipped around them as best she could, shuffling for the well in the corner of the room. It was thankfully unused, so she was able to get her water with little to no trouble.

When it was filled, she began the grueling task of heading back up to Angel's room. Going down stairs with bound feet was hard, but ascending was going to be impossible. Lucy didn't look forward to the task as she moved.

By the time she had reached the fifth floor, she thought she might collapse from exhaustion. She stumbled down the hall. She considered stopping for a break, but the sound of the whip kept her moving.

She was so focused on her task, that she didn't realize she'd walked down a hall with people in it until she was nearly on top of them. Lucy froze, horror drawing upon her as she looked at the three males gathered.

One was Cobra, who looked rather amused at her being there. The null colar rested around his neck, his red hair spiked up to reveal his stitched eye. He wore common clothes, only a black jacket that reached his boots making him look relatively distinguished. She supposed he would have been handsome, were it not for the cruelty that danced across his face.

The other two were strangers to her, but that only served to make them more threatening. The one in the middle was a stout man dressed in fine cloth and jewels. Glittering rings decorated his thick fingers, and shining necklaces covered his ruffled chest. He had long orange hair with a thick mustache, his blue eyes peeking out and eyeing her shrewdly.

The second man was the one who had her pausing. He radiated light magic, which called out silkily to her own. He was tall, dressed in a long white cloak, a tight black shirt and pants visible under it. His hair was short, a dark blue color. His eyes, as brown as hers, watched her with a strange blank expression. Under his right eye was an odd red symbol, a tattoo of sorts.

"What's this?" Cobra asked, leaning toward her with a leering look in his eyes. Lucy forced her mind to be blank as he watched her. "A little slave girl got lost?"

She backed up a step, uncertainty flooding her. "I'm sorry, masters. I was on my way—"

Cobra slid forward, a green snake suddenly twirling down his arm. Lucy froze, fear making her stil as the snake slithered toward her, wrapping its thick body around her legs. It's diamond-shaped face peered up at her, tongue flickering out to taste the fear she was releasing into the air. It's black eyes glittered dangerously. She would have shook if she weren't certain the creature would bite her for it.

"Good timing," Cobra mused, pacing behind her. She felt him lean beside her ear, eyes going wide when his tongue licked the shell of it. He released a humorous laugh, no doubt hearing her thoughts. "Cubelios was due for a snack."

"Enough," the blue-haired man said. He didn't speak loudly or warningly, but there was an air of authority that had Cobra pausing.

For a minute Lucy feared he wouldn't listen, but after a long, drawn out moment of tense silence, her tormentor backed away with a disappointed huff. A second later the snake was gone from her skin, leaving Lucy feeling like she would collapse.

She turned slightly to watch the snake rejoin its master, unwilling to leave her back to him. Cobra offered her a mean smile, more like a baring of his sharp teeth, and turned away. "Whatever. We'll finish this later. C'mon Hoteye."

The larger man mumbled an apology to the second man and followed after his companion. He didn't look at Lucy, but she didn't stop watching them until both men had disappeared.

Only when they turned the corner did she release the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her magic itched under her skin, especially when she turned back to the remaining man. She had no beliefs that he'd saved her out of kindness, especially when he turned those critical eyes on her. Her body froze, hand gripped to the pitcher.

"M-master I—"

"Who are you under?" He asked suddenly, ignoring her quiet muttering. She gulped, willing her knees to stop shaking.

"Lady Angel," she told him.

His eyes widened for a second, and then he nodded, as if he'd confirmed something. He spun on a heel, walking away. Lucy watched him until he stopped, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Well? Follow."

Not needed to be told twice, she scrambled after him, careful to keep the pitcher from spilling over.

The blue-haired man walked steadily. At first she had to scramble to keep up with him, the cuffs on her ankles chafing uncomfortably. As if noticing her dilema, he slowed slightly, though Lucy was convinced it was her imagination.

Lucy was surprised when he led her up to Angel's door, and even more shocked when he put out a hand to tell her to wait. He reached up and knocked, and the sounds of bustling in the room stopped.

The door opened under the hand of a small brown-haired girl. Lucy recognized her as the one who she had saved earlier, and it appeared she recognized her too by the widening of her blue eyes.

"Lady Angel is not to be disturbed," she whispered, eyes turning back to the man before her. "I'm sorry but you must come back."

"Tell her Jellal is here," he said smoothly. The girl shook, realizing he wouldn't leave, and hastily turned back into the room. There was a sound of murmuring, then yelling, and then the distinctly harsh noise of skin on skin. Lucy flinched despite herself, but the man—Jellal—appeared undisturbed.

A second later the door was opened by a new girl, and this time Angel was beside her. Lucy glanced into the room, but she couldn't see the brown-haired girl from before. She hoped she was ok.

"Jellal," Angel crooned. She fluttered her eyelashes flirtatiously, leaning against the doorway. "What can I do for you?"

He smirked, amused and unaffected by her display. He reached down, taking the pitcher from Lucy's surprised grip, and extended it to the woman. Angel blinked, taking it slowly and glaring down at Lucy, who was half a step behind Jellal.

"That's my—"

"She's mine now," Jellal informed her without delay, already turning away, a hand on Lucy's back pushing her forward. She was surprised by how warm and gentle his push was. "We merely wished to return the pitcher."

Angel's sputters were heard from behind them. "You can't just!"

Jellal stopped. Lucy turned around, watching with amusement as Angel's outraged face turned white with shock and a healthy dose of fear.

"Can't I?" He growled back challengingly, his magic flaring enough that Lucy was sure Angel could feel it. The blonde looked up at Jellal and blinked at the dark look across his face. It was a bit feral, transforming him into something she had more-so expected, but didn't seem to belong.

Angel's protests died, unsaid on her gaping lips, and Jellal took that for acceptance. Without another word, he turned back around and continued to lead Lucy away. The blonde followed, silently wondering if she had been graced or cursed.