Chapter I: Collision of Fates

"Princess?" came a familiar voice. Lucy turned over in her bed, wishing Virgo would leave her alone for once. She'd been up all night with the war council, listening to her father's court debate about what should be done about Lord Atlas Flame and the kingdom of Dragneel, who were still resisting even after most of their kingdom had been conquered after the death of Lord Igneel. Of course, she hadn't actually been allowed to say anything, but as she was the only current heir to the throne, she was obliged to be there.

"Did you feed Happy?" Lucy mumbled, still half-asleep.

"Of course, Princess," Virgo replied. "He very much enjoyed the fish."

"So you can talk to cats now, huh?"

"Well, I could tell by the look on his face, Princess. Now you really ought to get out of bed; I know you don't have much to do today but it's past noon and there is a limit to how much you can sleep, princess or not." Lucy sighed and rolled out of bed, allowing Virgo to dress her (which took the better part of an hour), stopping to stroke Happy, who purred in contentment, and left to meet her father at breakfast.

She sat at the end of the long table, as far away as possible from her father who always took the head seat. Of course, this meant Fried had to walk the entire length of the table to deliver the food to each of them, but being a servant, he never seemed to mind all that much. Lucy had a feeling she could insult him outright and he would just reply with that eerie, monotone 'Yes, Lady Lucy'. She never would do that, of course. She tried to be much nicer to the servants than her father.

"Lucy," Her father's voice cut into her thoughts. "I noticed that you seemed preoccupied at the council meeting last night. Are you worried about the resistance Atlas Flame is posing? Don't worry, my dear, he'll soon be wiped out like his predecessor."

"It's not that. It's just that you wanted to send out Captain Erza's troops to try and take Oshibana, while increasing armaments here to protect the capital. But shouldn't you send out the extra supplies to Captain Laxus at Clover? He's having a tough battle there and besides, the capital is already well protected."

Her father's eyes narrowed. He had always been a sexist man, and he didn't believe women should have anything to do with military strategy or running a kingdom. That's why he had been so upset to produce a daughter and not a son. But Queen Layla had died before another attempt could be made and Jude had yet to remarry, so Lucy was all he had for now.

"Don't try to sound clever, Lucy. I know you're only repeating something you read in a book somewhere." Lucy made a face at him and pushed at her food with a fork. This was why she hated mealtimes.

Suddenly Fried rushed into the room, looking rather harried, which was odd for him. He ran over and said something quietly to Jude, who looked anxious. Lucy strained to hear.

"... tell Doranbolt to halve his food supply, then." her father said.

"But my lord, it's already been halved three times in the last week," Fried responded. "I just don't think there's anyway of forcing him to co-operate. He's as stubborn as he was seven years ago."

"Well, do something! I don't care! I swear, if he causes any more trouble I'll kill him myself!" Lucy pretended to look disinterested, but inside, her heart was racing. Doranbolt was the head of security for the royal capital along with Lahar, so they were likely talking about a prisoner. But what sort of prisoner could have been held captive for seven years? And how was he still causing trouble, after all this time?

Her mind buzzing with questions, Lucy excused herself and wandered out to the courtyard, her favourite place in the castle. Looking down into the fountain at the two koi fish that were kept there, she whispered,

"Hello Aquarius, Pisces. Are you well?" She crumbled a piece of bread left over from breakfast in her fingers and watched the fish fight good-naturedly over it. Inside, she pondered what kind of prisoner could be trapped for seven years and still have the strength to fight his captors. Someone with an iron will, she thought. Images of handsome ruffians invaded her head and she pushed them away, flushing. Still, she could not totally keep her imagination at bay. Lucy could picture him: Tall, with long, dark hair and chiseled features, maybe a bit of stubble. Just like a handsome prince from a fairy tale. All of a sudden, an idea came to her. The castle was right over the dungeons, and she had most of today off, right? So why not look for this alleged prisoner? Lucy shook her head. The idea was ridiculous. She had no idea where the entrance to the dungeons were, and besides, she had never even heard of the prisoner before today, so he was probably pretty deep in them.

But for some reason, Lucy found her legs carrying her back inside to ask Virgo…

oOo

Gray was scared. That was a new feeling. He'd fought in plenty of battles before, and he hadn't felt anywhere near as scared as he did right now. Well, maybe once, when he saw his captain, Ur, die right in front of him, killed by one of Lord Jude's fiercest warriors: Deliora, known as the 'Demon of Destruction' for his ferocity in battle. But Deliora himself had been killed by Ur just before she died.

The sound of footsteps snapped Gray out of his reverie. Sweating buckets, he pulled open the door of a nearby room and slipped in. He wished his heart would stop beating so loudly; he was certain someone would hear it. The footsteps, however, passed him by, leaving him breathless with relief.

He glanced around the room. It was dim and lavishly furnished, like most of the rooms in this castle. No one appeared to be there, which was unbelievably lucky.

Without warning, the covers of the huge, four-poster bed shifted. Heart racing, Gray took a fighting stance. He let out his breath, however, when he saw that it was just a cat. The cat looked at him interestedly, then came up and nuzzled his leg. Gray blinked; in the dim light, the cat had looked blue. His eyes followed the feline as it made its way unhurriedly out of the room.

Why on earth had Atlas Flame thought it was a good idea to send him into the Heartfillia kingdom? And to the Royal City, of all places? Gray sighed. At least his mission was clear, though it was near impossible. As the leader of the Ice Assassins unit, it was his duty to carry out this one mission.

To kill Jude and Lucy Heartfillia.

oOo

"Well, that failed," sighed Lucy, striding down the corridor. Virgo hadn't known where the dungeons were after all. She might as well ask Happy, she thought sarcastically.. Speaking of which, where was Happy? She called for him, but he didn't come. That was only to be expected, though; he often wandered about castle on his own.

She paused when she heard movement in a nearby room. That was strange; she knew that room was unoccupied. The door swung slowly open, revealing Happy, who completely ignored her and walked off towards the armoury. Lucy peeked into the room, but she didn't see anything else. She was about to leave when something bright in the dim room caught her eye. On the table beside the bed lay a white scarf, patterned with scales. On an impulse, Lucy scooped it up, examined it briefly, and left the room. She didn't see the pair of dark blue eyes watching her go from the shadows under the bed. She didn't even hear Gray curse as he tried to think why he hadn't killed the blond-haired girl.

The Ice Assassin was extremely confused. He had had the opportunity. Why hadn't he done it? Perhaps he was too soft-hearted to be an assassin… But that didn't matter now. He had to do it. For the sake of his king, he would kill the man that murdered Lord Igneel and Prince Natsu, and that man's daughter as well.

oOo

"What? Why me?" Doranbolt complained. "I don't want to have to deal with him." Fried fixed the man in his piercing stare.

"You know very well that you are the only one who can even get near him, Doranbolt."

"I still don't know why, though. Fine, I guess I haven't really got a choice…" Doranbolt glared at Fried, snatched the plate out of his hands, and teleported. When the remnants of the spell faded, he found himself in a small stone room with no windows or doors. A tiny hole allowed for ventilation, but that was it.

At first glance, the room was completely empty, save for a pile of blankets in one corner. Then the pile of blankets moved, and one could see that it was not a pile of blankets at all, but a makeshift bed in which lay a boy of about eighteen. His pink hair was dishevelled and his face was dirty, but there was a fire in his eyes all the same.

"Oh, it's you." The boy's voice was hoarse from lack of use, and yet he still managed to sound scathing. "Sick of dropping food in through the hole? Come to deliver it first-hand, eh?"

"Listen, Salamander, you know I'm not like the others. I do try to help you out when I can, and when I can't, I tell you about it…"

"I don't need your help." Doranbolt sighed and set down the plate of food next to the boy's head. It was always like this; he insisted that he needed no help at all, but Doranbolt was sure that if he hadn't started sneaking in extra food rations for the boy, he would have starved a long time ago. Salamander had an appetite like nothing he had ever seen.

Yet again, Doranbolt found himself wondering about the boy's origins. No one knew who he really was save the King and Captain Erza; for in the great battle seven years ago when Lord Igneel had been slain, Erza had brought back a struggling pink-haired eleven-year-old with the request that he be made a prisoner. Not even the boy himself knew exactly where he came from, for the only thing he said he could remember when he thought back to the night of his capture was blood and panic and the screams of someone close to him, whose name he couldn't quite recall, or did not want to. From before that, the boy recounted vague memories of lessons in magic and fighting, but nothing more, not even his own name.

The guards in the dungeon called him Salamander because of the nature of his magic, although he couldn't often use it anymore since he was always so drained from lack of nourishment and good sleep. The boy would often wake screaming in the night, dreaming again of that day of blood and rage. Occasionally, he racked up enough power to make an escape attempt, but he'd never made it past all the guards.

"Well, whether you need my help or not, your food ration's been cut in half again," continued Doranbolt. "You need to stop acting out so much. The king's on the verge of having you executed, you know."

"Ha!" laughed Salamander. "I've been in here goin' on seven years, and he ain't done nothin' yet."

"Even so…"

"You can go ahead and leave. Nothin' you say is gonna change the way I think." Salamander turned away so that his face was cast in shadow. For some reason, Doranbolt got the impression that he was smiling. The man looked sadly at the prisoner, and with a breath laden with despondency, he transported out of the windowless cell.

oOo

As Lucy turned the scarf over in her hands, something fell out of the thick, white material with a clunk. It was a key. A beautiful, golden key. Lucy picked it up, examining it. It was made of gold, shaped like a dragon with flames pouring out of its mouth. She wondered what it opened; as far as she knew, only a few rooms in the castle were ever locked.

A sudden inspiration struck her. Perhaps this key led to the dungeon where the mysterious prisoner was incarcerated! It was probably too good to be true, but worth checking out. With this, perhaps she could finally get into one of those closed rooms.

She tucked the key into her dress and left the room. On her way out, she bumped into Doranbolt, who looked considerably startled.

"L-Lady Lucy," he stammered. "I-I didn't know you'd be here."

"Well, where else would I be?" inquired Lucy, curious why Doranbolt seemed so anxious.

"F-Fair point," he managed, then took off so fast he might have teleported. Lucy giggled. Maybe he'd just had to know something, and that's why he'd been acting so strange. Doranbolt was definitely a strange one, which was why he had Lahar to straighten him out.

A few minutes later, Lucy approached one of the always-locked doors in the castle. Holding her breath, she tried the key in the lock. It was far too big, however, and she breathed out with a sigh. Not this one, then.

Not the next one, either. Or the one after that. Soon, Lucy had tried the key in all the locked doors she knew of, but none of them opened for her. She leaned against the wall, depressed. Why had she gotten her hopes up? The key was probably ornamental. There was no way it would lead her anywhere, especially not to the dungeons.

A loud mewling sound interrupted her thoughts. She looked up, startled to see Happy standing in the corridor before her. She was certain he hadn't been there a second ago, and there were no doors in this particular section of hallway save the one behind her. So where had the cat come from?

Without any sort of warning, Happy leapt up, grabbed the scarf from her slackened grip, and took off. She stared after him for a fraction of a second. Then she yelled,

"Hey! Get back here, cat!"

Lucy chased the blue feline down the corridor, pausing only to hike up her skirts in order to run better. Happy wasn't running all that fast, even stopping now and then and looking back, as though he wanted her to follow him. Lucy stumbled in her heels and cursed, stopping again to chuck them away.

She was very close to catching Happy when he disappeared into a wall. Lucy cried out in surprise, tripping over a loose flagstone, and fell forward, straight into the wall. She found herself falling through a tapestry concealing a door in the wall. So this is where Happy went. Unfortunately for Lucy, the other side of the tapestry was a stairwell. She shrieked as she fell, head over heels, down the stone stairs.

Once she had come to a halt, she checked for anything broken, then started off after Happy, who had been patiently waiting at the bottom of the stairs. The hall was long and dark, with only an occasional flickering torch to light the way. When Lucy came to the end of the tunnel, the torches were abandoned in favour of glowing white lacrimas in the walls. She stopped abruptly, for the tunnel ended in a solid stone wall. There was a small hole near the bottom, through which Happy crept into the room beyond. Lucy sighed and bent down to listen.

"Happy? What have you got?" The voice was unfamiliar to Lucy; it sounded rough and unrefined, but at the same time there was a twang to it that she couldn't quite place. "A scarf? Where'd you find that, li'l buddy?" The speaker paused after each question, as though he were receiving an answer. It was as if Lucy were hearing half a conversation. "Hmm? There's a girl outside? Well, why didn't you tell me?! She's probably listening right now!" Lucy's heart was in her mouth as she heard scuffling noises. Slowly, she bent down enough to see through the hole.

"Eek!" Just on the other side, a face was peering out curiously. Onyx eyes flashed in the lacrima light, partially hidden by a shock of pink hair. Upon seeing Lucy, the face broke into a wide grin.

"Hi there!"

"Um, hello."

"It's nice to see a new face around here- for seven years, all I got were the guard's ugly mugs." Happy interrupted with an indignant meow. A look of surprise came over the boy's face.

"Wait, you're a princess?! No way!" He stared at her, slack-jawed. Lucy raised an eyebrow.

"How did you know?"

"Duh, Happy told me. He seems ta know you pretty well." Lucy stared at him. Did he really think Happy could talk? Was this guy delusional?

"I hate to break it to you, but… Happy's a cat."

"So?"

"So, cats don't talk." The boy's eyes widened. He looked considerably startled.

"You mean… you really can't understand him either? I thought… I thought Doranbolt was just screwin' around…" The boy looked down. "Maybe I'm crazy after all."

Lucy stared right at the boy without really seeing him. The only wizards who had ever been able to communicate with animals were the seven Dragon Kin, but there was no way this boy could be descended from dragons… right?

"Uh… What's your name? I'm Lucy…"

"My name? I dunno that, but people mostly call me Salamander. Except Happy; he calls me Natsu 'cos my hair is the colour of the flowers that bloom in summer."

Natsu? Like the prince who died? I suppose it must be a coincidence… all the same, the name suits him. His personality is warm, just like the summer.

"Lucy, huh? That's a real pretty name… I guess you're a princess, so you oughta have a pretty name… but you don't look much like a princess to me." Lucy frowned at him. Her cheeks felt warm. There was something about this boy that reminded her of something, but she couldn't think what.

"I hear a guard coming," said the boy suddenly. "You should probably go." Lucy couldn't hear anything, but she took his advice and hurried off down the corridor. However, she looked back, and caught a glimpse of the boy's face just before he left the small opening in the wall. He looked so incredibly sad it brought tears to Lucy's eyes.

About halfway back to the stairs she had fallen down, Lucy found a side corridor leading off the main one. By this time, she, too, could hear the footsteps of an approaching guard. Hastening down the stone hallway, she soon found a ladder of metal spikes attached to the wall. She was very glad of being barefoot now.

The ladder ended in a wooden trapdoor, which Lucy carefully pushed open. She found herself coming out of a false bottom in a trunk in the armoury. Closing the trunk behind her, she made her way back to her room in a daze, completely forgetting to retrieve her shoes from where she had thrown them down in disgust.

oOo

Gray carefully slipped around a bookshelf, making sure to remain in the shadows. He felt a cold drop of sweat slide down the back of his neck. It was now or never. King Jude Heartfillia was alone in the room; his guards were positioned outside. Jude sat at his desk, alone, writing.

Time seemed to slow down as Gray stepped forward, an ice dagger in his hand. Jude sat still, only his hand moving as he wrote. Gray raised the weapon, but he hesitated. An image of the blond princess kept flashing through his mind.

He brought his hand down a second too late. Jude moved and he missed, the ice dagger plunging into the wooden desk, cracking it. Gray barely heard the king scream for his guards, barely felt himself being dragged away. One question flooded his mind: why hadn't he done it? Why couldn't he bring himself to do his duty and kill the enemy king?

But somehow, Gray thought he already knew the answer…

"Hey! Popsicle! Come and fight me!"

"Yeah, right, Prince Pyro. You just want me to get arrested." Gray glared at the pink-haired youth. Why did this prince always want to fight him?

"C'mon, Gray! You're the only one around here who doesn't treat me like I'm made of glass… let's spar, please?"

His surroundings grew darker. Gray tried not to remember any more… but he couldn't help but think of that bloody day seven years ago…

"Gray! Behind you!" Gray turned, ducking another attack, and blasted the soldier off his feet. Prince Natsu took out the other two easily.

"Who are these guys? What do they want?" he panted.

"I dunno," Gray responded. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red. "Prince-!" A scarlet-haired girl in armour darted into the room, grabbed Natsu by the shoulders, and held her sword to his throat.

"Wha- she's just a kid!" exclaimed Gray.

"Where is Lord Igneel?" asked the girl. "Tell me, or I'll kill him." She pressed harder on the blade, causing Natsu to gag.

"Like hell you will!" choked Natsu, kicking her in the shin. She barely flinched. Gray hesitated, unsure of what to do. The door burst open suddenly, and a soldier rushed in. He said something to the girl, who nodded and started to drag the prince towards the door.

Gray made to go after them, but something struck him in the back of the head and he blacked out.

When he woke, the room was empty. He shouted and pulled himself to his feet, stumbling towards the door. He ran as fast as his feet would carry him, hoping, fearing, trying to not to think of the worst. Then he came to the courtyard. There was a huge crowd there, although it was night. People were screaming, wailing, sobbing. Gray pushed his way through the crowd, utterly silent.

In the centre there was a clear space. On the blood-stained flagstones lay two figures: the body of Lord Igneel, king of the Dragneel dynasty. And his son, lying face-down on the cobblestones.

Gray didn't shout, or cry, or sob. He walked into the clear space and kneeled next to his prince. Feeling numb, he gently turned over Natsu's body. There was no mistaking that face; it was him. The prince's pink hair was sticky with blood, and his eyes stared blankly at nothing, their onyx gaze dim.

"You idiot," whispered Gray. His face grew wet with tears, but they fell silently, without sobbing. "You idiot!" he screamed, tilting his face to the sky. "Why do you always think you can handle things on your own?! Look what your stupidity did!" The crowd grew quiet.

"I'm sorry," Gray said quietly. "Pri… Natsu, I…" He trailed off, feeling that there was nothing more he could say. His prince was gone, after all, so what could anyone say now? What words could have meaning, with the world so dark in his eyes?

His tears continued to fall, but they did nothing to wipe away the blood that stained the night.