NOTE: I will be twisting the lore of both series. Many thanks to zack32 for corresponding with me about potential connections between TES and FT.

This one is my cross-over version of how the Books of Zeref came to be.

Zeref Dragneel took a long deep breath. He could feel the visible shadowy energies radiating off the leaves of the Black Book he held in his hands. The dark magics were numbingly cold, robbing the nerves off the tips of his fingers.

"For Natsu," the young wizard said. Then he opened the hardcover.

Zeref barely turned to the next page when midnight tendrils constricted his whole body and dragged him into the abyss while he screamed and thrashed against its holds. When he came to, he could feel the humidity of the livid chambers of Apocrypha. He scrambled to his feet, unnerved by the countless macabre structures that surrounded him.

The chilling green skies, the murky waters, and the many forgotten records of knowledge that towered over him like bricks seemed to stretch endlessly. Ugly blotches in the sky spewed giant living tentacles while whirlwinds of ripped pages blew against his trembling body.

Slowly but surely, the young wizard ascended up the steps to the cryptic gate that swung open for him.

"At last, a new soul enters my realm," greeted the living abyss that was Hermaeous Mora.

Zeref gulped and hardened his knuckles.

The Nord found Zeref in his little alcove staring at the blank pieces of paper in front of him. The quill in his hand was already dripping with ink. The countless references for his unwritten opus arced around him, stacked like discarded clay blocks.

The young wizard twisted his body to face him upon hearing his boots echo off the cobbled floor. "I want to do this."

"Listen to me, Zeref," the ancient began. "You are young, intelligent, and very talented. You have so much ahead of you. I advise you to consider other alternatives."

"I know what you mean."

"Zeref!" the Nord boomed. "This is a warning. You do not know what you are dealing with. This knowledge is forbidden for a reason!"

"It doesn't matter. I have to!" he yelled back, tears welling in his eyes.

"I understand your grief. And I know how hard it is for you. But necromancy—no, the dark arts. This is not the solution. You still have a chance to walk away. Put down that quill and return home."

"I have no home!" Zeref glared at him with damp raging eyes then grabbed the quill which he furiously dipped into the ink jar. His hand trembled over the page, droplets of blank ink spreading over the empty page.

"Zeref!" the Nord growled. "Hermaeous Mora is an entity you do not want to make a deal with."

"I already have."

"No, you have not. You put a single word on that page, you seal your fate. Understand that whether or not you fail or succeed, you will be returned to this realm to serve as his lackey for all of eternity."

Zeref looked back up at his mentor. The Nord, the legendary Ysmir Dovahkiin, history's Last Dragonborn, the greatest champion of the ancient world, the grand magister of archaic magic, this man met his gaze with tired, pleading eyes. His lips were curled into a frown, his face wrinkled, scarred, and unshaven. His normally brown pupils were now flashing a fiery green.

"I'm sorry, Master Ysmir."

"Zeref."

The young wizard began to sob. His tears stained the still empty page as his hand shook with the quill. "Thank you. For teaching me. For helping me learn all these things. But please...let me put them to use!"

"Go home. Live a long, good life. Rise from the ashes and build your own legacy."

"But the dragons..."

"The dragons will fade away in time."

"There is no Dragonborn to put them down for good. You were the last. Who else can have the power to slay a dragon permanently?" Zeref wailed.

Ysmir sighed. "Zeref. In time. Events will come to pass. Changes will take place. It is beyond me or my knowledge."

"I won't wait. I've done enough waiting. Everything I've done up to this point..." Zeref shook. Then, after a while, he wiped his face. With a determined breath, he dipped the quill once more into the jar and began writing.

"Zeref! No..."

It was too late. The Nord withheld his strength as a massive warding shield encapsulated his pupil who was consumed in a trance as he feverishly wrote down word after word after word. No matter what he did, he was powerless to stop the young wizard from writing his opus, his Book of Zeref—the first of many—modeled after the Black Books. The Last Dragonborn hissed and growled, sneering at the green sky upon hearing Hermaeous Mora's laughter echo from above.

ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: December 4, 2017

LAST EDITED: January 10, 2017

INITIALLY UPLOADED: January 10, 2017

NOTE: I know, it may not make sense to some but it was worth writing about. :D

I have another outlined scenario between Zeref and the Last Dragonborn but it takes place during the planning phase of the Alvarez Empire's invasion of Fiore. It may or may not be related to this one-shot.