Did I say this would be a twoshot? Welp, looks like I lied.

This is most definitely not a two-shot.

Also, this did not end up being released before Christmas. Whoops. It seems that I am a habitual liar.

I suddenly had too many ideas for where this could go and I've written like ten different chapter twos for each idea, but this is the one I ultimately liked best.

I don't even know how many chapters this is gonna be haha. I just have a very messy outline that I'm trying to follow.

Also, btw, because of the way my idea is, Juvia will probably be a bit OOC just so that she fits in with this story better.

Also, just because I have so many ideas, this chapter may still be subject to a lot of changes if I, somewhere down the line, decide on an idea I like better. If that happens, I shall be sure to warn you.

Now, onto replies to reviews!

silenttriumph: Thank you so much! I definitely agree that the fandom has been harsh towards Juvia, so I'm glad you think I'm doing her justice. The whole Atlantis thing was just something I initially wrote without much thought, but after actually thinking about it, I realised it could be a very fun idea to work with— and now it's gonna hold a lot of thematic significance lol. Also, now that this is no longer a two shot, the tragedy has been delayed, so you should be okay... for now. ;)

Esketit: Thank you very much!

Guest (1): Thank you! Although, I must say, the rest of your review somewhat confuses me? A lot of characters in FT have tragic pasts, but Fairy Tail was never written to be a serious manga, and it was definitely never meant to be taken seriously, which is why Hiro can get away with giving them OTT personalities and turning them into comic relief. It just fits with the nature of FT. I personally don't think it's an issue, but I understand if you do.

Guest (2): Welp, this is an issue. Juvia is 100% going to fall for Gray, so if you dislike him and are against this ship, you probably won't like the rest of this particular fic. Sorry to disappoint. (Also, it literally says Gruvia in the summary? Why you read if you no like?)

Star197: Yeah, I really liked their friendship in the manga, so I do intend to capitalise on it in this fic! No Gajeel in this chapter though, but he should be appearing again some time soon. Thank you for your review!

glodenglowingsnowdemon: Thank youuuuu

I12Bfree: Thank you! I shall warn you, her suffering only gets worse. Enjoy the ride, my lovely, mwahaha!


her heart is liquescent

Chapter 2: calamity

(Atlantis: the forsaken city that yearns for return but thirsts for revenge.)


Sun, gilded skins of children building castles out of sand and shells and stone, sparkling smiles, chiming laughter; and Juvia, peeking out, watching, yearning, envious.

Everything is just beyond her fingertips, so close— Juvia sets her toes out into the sand, but her knees are weak, unaccustomed; she stumbles, collapses. The sand castle crumbles into clumps of rubble.

Crumbling castle, sodden rubble; raindrops infiltrate the castle walls, seeping through, corroding it from the inside. The children look up.

The rain ricochets off of Juvia's nose, and Juvia can't peel away her gaze from the fallen castle, the bewildered children's faces as they peer up, scouring the sky for their sun.

The bewildered children's faces, peering up, gazes shifting to the outskirts of the beach, where the sand bleeds into their small village: how their eyes widen, how so many fall to their knees, how so many tremble.

Juvia doesn't understand, but everything is cold. Falling. Not just the sandcastle; collapsing roofs, crying elders and screaming children, rushing to the beach, away from the rubble, the unquiet floods, the destruction.

They scream at her. So many of them— crying; Juvia is crying, drowning in their gaping mouths, like whirlpools, dragging her in, a malice that crashes against her small bones.

The water screams, loud — they grate against her ears — abrasive words, malevolent song, the cacophonous cries of a perishing home, of tumult orphans.

The children throw rocks at her. Juvia doesn't feel the pain, but she first learns the agony of an emotional bruise.

Monster.

Juvia scrambles back into the ocean.

(But the village rises with the sun as Juvia returns below to her lost city; buildings are recovered, homes re-constructed. The waters calm, but Juvia's heart still yearns for the world beyond the sea.)


Juvia lies on the carpet, head pulsing, knees weak, breaths ragged. Moonlight filters through the sheer curtains, paints her skin pearlescent (Would mermaids or sirens have such glittering skin? Juvia wonders, swallowing down the bitter lump of resentment.)

Juvia clings to the bed support herself as she stumbles up, unbalanced on her feet, and she hurls herself back under the duvets, sighing deeply into her tightly clutched pillow and feeling her face warm at the graze of her breath.

She wriggles her toes. She wriggles them, kneading at the air, the blankets, letting the thick cotton catch in the crevices between them, trying to remember the feeling of using her feet because dreaming always makes her forget.

(It's just that they feel so real— they were real, once. Juvia dreams frequently of her childhood, of when she first stepped out of the ocean and every time after, and her body helplessly relapses back to a time where walking was foreign.)

Her toes start to ache now. Juvia can't fall back asleep. Her heart is five again, restless and murmuring like the unquiet waters. Screaming waters — she still hears the thrash of waves, the sound of collapsing structures (the silence of sand, the groan of brick), the cries of survivors.

Her heart is five again. Her arms tremble and she sobs into her pillow, burying herself further underneath the duvet, hiding from sight.

Juvia didn't mean to harm anyone. Juvia didn't mean to do anything. It wasn't Juvia's fault, it can't have been— she didn't know.

She was too young, too innocent. Nobody ever told her about her magic, and nobody ever taught her how to control it. She was scared, too. She didn't know that would happen when she first stepped out. She didn't want to hurt anybody. She just wanted to make friends. She was lonely. It was an accident.

Two years had passed before Juvia stepped out of the ocean once more— her yearning for company triumphed her fear and confusion. First, there was sand uncomfortably clinging to the skin between her fingers as she crawled across; then, there was rain, a skittish drizzle as her heart thrashed in her chest. And then, the children: their groans when they peered up at the grey laden skies, before their eyes flitted to her and they collapsed to the ground, like their sand castles, overwhelmed by an initial fear as they anticipated another calamity.

Except nothing happened— there was only rain. One boy smiled, approached Juvia. She smiled back. He outsretched his hand, and her seven year old heart burst with excitement. Oh, she was so hopeful, so stupid, thinking that this would be the start of a friendship, of the company she long desired.

She went to take his hand — but then, an impact, against her stomach, the boy's foot — and Juvia grovelled into the sand, spitting and coughing and gasping for air.

Monsters and heroes, he said, pointing at her, and then himself. A game, he said.

Juvia played along. She tried to, anyway. She wouldn't let herself liquify in the spirit of the game, but after a point, instinct set in and the boy's foot passed through. He scorned her, called her a cheater.

Juvia was sorry, but the pain was too much for her. He didn't listen. The other children joined in and she scrambled back into the ocean (burdened body, heavy heart), with the internal promise she'd try again tomorrow.

Too many tomorrows passed in her naivety before she realised that it was never a game. She learnt that it was better to keep her defences up, but she never stopped trying anyways.

Looking back, she was such a fool, believing that her persistence would yield results, that she could one day win them over.

Juvia scowls (a stupid, ignorant fool).

. . .

. . . . . .

. . .

No matter how many times she stepped out, the disaster never occurred again. There was only ever rain.

Juvia assumes that staying within the oceans had kept her magic under control and that, eventually, age had allowed her powers to mellow, taught her body restriction— enough to allow the incident to never occur again, but not enough to prevent the rain from falling.

The children must have thought she was easy. There wasn't anything to fear anymore. They knew that Juvia was desperate and that she wouldn't dare attack them, and they took advantage of it. Juvia always let it happen.

But something changed when she was kidnapped. She doesn't know what or why, but there was another calamity, and she was the one who caused it—

(Juvia still feels sick, remembering them, remembering what she did. It's not her fault — she didn't mean to do anything. And even if she did, she would only be trying to protect herself. They were going to hurt her. Juvia was scared.

She chokes on the lump in her throat and presses the pillow against her mouth to muffle the sound of her coughs, the uneven rhythm of her breaths.)

— but Juvia's okay now. There's still rain, but Juvia can get it under control most of the time when she isn't fighting. Combat weakens her concentration and control, but Juvia's working on it.

(The sobbing doesn't stop—)

She's working on it.

(—and it patters softly against her windows.)


Juvia doesn't think she's ever seen eyes like his before.

A deep, cool, raw silver, abrasive against her obsidian stare, veiled in mystery, like the dark side of the moon, and her heartbeats rise for him like tidal waves (and Juvia feels like she is falling).

Oceans stir and thrash against her ribcage, and the feeling is so unfamiliar, so complete, so much of a contrast to her her chronic numbness that she can't help but be drawn to him.

(She doesn't notice the rain starting to fall, the small, dark mosaics that begin to dot the small stone bridge.)

"Uh," he says, stiffening (his voice sends ripples through Juvia, and she shivers even as her cheeks burn), "do you need something from me?"

Juvia's blush deepens when she finally notices that she had cupped his cheek in her hand, and she squeaks, jumping back.

"No!" she exclaims. She peeks up at him, twiddling her thumbs and gulping. "Oh God, no. Juvia is very sorry for her inappropriate behaviour. She was just mesmerised by your eyes."

"Um, what?" He face crumples and he inches a step back, running his hand through his hair. He sighs heavily, and Juvia flinches in surprise when she realises that she can see his breath, like translucent cotton, swirling into the air, and feel the warm summer—rain?—crystalise against her cheeks. "My eyes?"

"It's summer," she breathes out. He raises a brow. "But I can see your breath, and my—" she pauses, looking up in bewilderment, praying that the shift in weather isn't because of her— "and the rain around us is turning to ice."

"I have ice magic." He shrugs, slipping his hands into his jean pockets, glancing up at the sky with a narrowed gaze. He points up. "I guess this rain is yours?"

Juvia stiffens. "Summer rain isn't abnormal."

He scoffs. "It is when it was blistering just a minute ago."

Her cheeks tint red and she looks down, biting her lip. The rain can't be hers— it just can't. She's not in battle, so it should be fine, right? But what if it is hers? Does that mean she's losing control again? Her mind races, and the rain falls harder, heavier, and the stone dyes completely black.

The boy gapes in surprise. "What the hell?" he cries, before turning to her. "Make it stop!"

"Juvia can't!" Juvia squeaks, shivering, her breathing shallow and ragged. She clutches her head, presses hard as if the pain of her grip could infiltrate and consume her sporadic thoughts.

"Ah, shit," he mutters. She feels a hand, his hand, rhythmically patting her head. Juvia jolts up straight, startled, but it only encourages him to pat her head more firmly. "Just calm down."

Juvia widens her eyes in realisation and meekly nods, trying to stabilise her breathing. He continues to pat her head. It's comforting, she supposes, but his fingers get somewhat tangled in her hair and he consequently agitates it further with every motion.

"Thank you," she says, breathing in deeply, peering up at him. She giggles when she sees that he's awkwardly looking off to the distance, his expression disgruntled. "But Juvia must say, you're not very good at this."

He instantly retracts his hand, his brows furrowing in indignation. "What? You—" he pauses, blanking, before ruffling his hair and defeatedly muttering, "Shaddup."


The rain fizzles back down to a drizzle, and the surrounding people continue to complain as they run across the bridge, searching for the closest shelter.

Juvia twiddles her thumbs. "Juvia can't make it go away entirely," she says, turning to him. "She's very sorry."

He stuffs his hands back into his pockets, shifting his weight predominantly onto one leg, cocking his head as her peers over at her questioningly. "Why are you sorry?"

Juvia blinks. "Is her rain not a bother?"

"Not necessarily." He shrugs, his gaze flitting back to the sky. "Rain is pretty nice in the summer."

Her jaw drops slightly and her eyes widen. Nobody has ever complimented her rain before. Her chest flutters and her cheeks warm. "But— but it's cold," she argues.

"I'm an ice mage— I thrive in the cold." He looks at her as if it's obvious.

Juvia feels the heat spread to her neck, and the rain is a little warmer. "Uh, um, yes," she stammers out, clearing her throat, "Juvia supposes you're right."

"Hey, no need to get flustered," he says. "Jesus, you overthink things too much."

Juvia gapes, almost in offence. "Overthink things too much? Juvia doesn't... she isn't— " Juvia pauses, purses her lips and stares blankly. He quirks a brow. A moment passes and for lack of better words, she responds drily, "Juvia believes you're being redundant in saying so."

He groans and throws up his arms. "See?" He points back at her. "Overthinking."

. . .

. . . . . .

. . .

"Who are you?" he asks. Some time has passed in silence, with the boy leaning over the stone railings and Juvia twirling her hair.

She stops twirling her hair, looks up at him in surprise. "Juvia is Juvia," she replies. She resumes twirling her hair.

"Would never have guessed," he deadpans. "What I meant was that I haven't seen you around before."

Juvia's cheeks burn red. "Are you perhaps—" she pauses, eyes wide. "Are you perhaps flirting with Juvia?"

"What the fuck?! No!" He recoils away instantly but, in the process, trips over his half-removed shoe. His eyes widen and Juvia gasps as he loses his footing, the shoe flying above their heads, and his body tips over the railing. "Oh shi—"

Juvia squeals when he grabs her arm and they both tumble over, splashing into the waters. The birds beat their wings as the shoe follows.

. . .

. . . . . .

. . .

"You're melting," is all he says and Juvia doesn't know what to say.

. . .

. . . . . .

. . .

"You're naked," is all she says in response and she is so red and so flustered and oh, she's going crazy— and he just nods like it's normal and Juvia can't believe she didn't notice it earlier.

(And oh, God, now she can't look away.)


Y'all know who this mystery boi is, and I'm not even gonna attempt to hide that it's Gray. (Juvia still doesn't know his name yet, though, so merp.) So yay, they finally meet! Is he OOC? It's been eons since I've last glimpsed at FT, so the specifics of each character's personalities keep slipping my mind lol.

I like to think that this chapter was fairly light nearing the end, but I still intend to make this a tragedy, and even if I decide against making it a tragedy, it's still gonna be one hell of an angsty ride, hopefully, if I can write this the way I want.

Also, random related thought, could this fic technically kind of be considered to have a first person POV? Simply because of how focussed it is on Juvia's perspective alone, and because Juvia only ever refers to herself in third person? Idk, maybe it's a bit of a stretch.

Well that's me! Please review!

~Adieu!

X's and O's,

Liberty