AN: Here's the final chapter. I can't believe I completed a story! Don't worry, though; I'll be getting back to my other ones soon too. Here, you guys will get a glimpse of...
Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail.
Yearning
by alberonas
"Heart beats fast; colors and promises;
How to be brave; how can I love when I'm afraid to fall?
Watching you stand alone, all of my doubt
suddenly goes away somehow.
One step closer..."
—Christina Perri, A Thousand Years
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{the first lifetime}
Cana Alberona knows nothing, out in this great, great world, yet she is alone and ostracized by society for her lone beauty, and has risen in status as of the passing years. Her first day fills her with a wonder unknown.
"Come hither," she calls, a bird's song on a fresh dewy morning. Beside her, one of her ladies-in-waiting, Lucy Heartfilia, stands in silence as the sun climbs up to face the day. The blonde lightly nudges the former, who leans further out of the balcony to welcome the crisp air.
"Cana," she admonishes sternly, her chocolate-colored eyes clouded with worry, "you might fall."
"Oh, I have nine lives," the brunette teases, although the hint of truth in it implies far more than said. Lucy has never and will never understand the queen with the purple eyes, but she knows. "I wish every morning upon the morgenstern that I will have something worth waiting for."
"Surely it must be something worthwhile," responds the patient blonde, who clasps her hands in front of her as a gesture of waiting. Cana resumes her foolish activity, casting her leg backwards slightly as to drink in the entire view of the French palace gardens like a blind man that had just seen the sun. She notices the tall stature of a figure she has yet to recognize.
The brunette squints, and she can feel her hidden ears twitching unexpectedly. The person moves, regal and astute, in the direction of their side of the castle, strolling towards their turreted lawn—who is he, this stranger?
A storey underneath the careless lady and her loving maid, Laxus Dreyar strolls on the court grounds. Beside him, his companion is another lord, Freed Justine, who ambles in accordance to his pace. The blonde man feels at ease on the lush green grass, listening to the casual banter of which Freed speaks of. Nearby, children's shrieks of laughter fill the air.
"As I was saying, Laxus," Freed interjects, "what were you talking about this morning?"
Gruffly, Laxus glances away, uncomfortable with the early hour. "My father speaks of my fiancé. Truth be told, I'd always been told of an arranged marriage, but... I don't want marriage for my kingdom." The sun blinks an incriminating white.
"If I may," Freed replies after a while, "you may find love in your marriage."
"I don't know her," Laxus grumbles. "I haven't even seen her with my own eyes." They stroll nearer to the building.
"Sometimes love is hard to find. You will grow to cherish her, I suppose."
"Hard to say." Laxus keeps it short—he likes it that way, and Freed doesn't mind.
"Sometimes it only takes one glance—"
A sudden scream pierces the air right above them, and a rush of wind ruffles Laxus' hair. Alarmed, he glances up, only to find a mass of crimson dress silk and chocolate brown hair tumbling down towards him from above, shrieking in surprise. On instinct, he holds his arms out and catches the falling bundle, which collides with him and sends them both crumpling to the grass.
With a face-full of lace and silk, Laxus blinks at the crazy person who assaulted him, only to find a lady he has never seen before sprawled on top of him. Confused, she faces him with her purple doe eyes, and somehow Laxus feels a strange tug in his heart as he takes in the person sitting on top of him. Her face is heart-shaped, with a mop of wavy brown hair messy from her tumultuous fall and features that attract him for no reason whatsoever. Funny, since he has never felt this way before.
He swallows, and gets up, her arms still latched onto his neck. "Sometimes, it does take a look," he mutters in wonder, eyes glued to the lady in his arms. He makes to put her down, but her eyes are unblinking in curiosity and her grip not even a margin looser.
Then she smiles, a cheerful gesture. "Sometimes, it really does," she finally blinks, undeterred, when she is brought back to reality. "I'm so sorry." She releases her hold on Laxus, and he puts her down. A hurried curtsey follows. "Thank you so much for catching me."
Laxus frowns amusedly. "If I may, what were you doing?"
The brunette brushes her hair out of her face and tucks the wave behind her ear, gaze still fixed upon the tall blonde, and matter-of-factly replies, "Searching for love."
"Your search surely doesn't lead off the balcony, does it?" Laxus deadpans. He knows it's not common courtesy to respond that way, and Freed tugs his sleeve with warning—surely, his father would kill him, should he have heard the way he'd just spoken—but he can't help it.
"You never know," the lady answers cryptically. She grins. "I'm Cana. Just... Cana. You?"
"Laxus, prince of France." Laxus bows politely. "Perhaps we'll meet again, Lady 'Just Cana.'"
"Maybe we will," Cana raises an eyebrow spunkily and reaches for her fallen shoes as he and his companion depart, when Lucy charges out of the doorway nearby, terrified. At the sight of Cana's tousled hair and her condition, she breaks down into tears.
"Cana, are you alright?"
The lady pays her little mind and instead glances at Laxus' retreating back. "Very," she replies absent-mindedly, glowing from her little fiasco, "very alright."
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{the second lifetime}
Cana can hear the master's grousing early in the morning.
"She isn't ladylike," he mutters, the clinking of the porcelain overbearing as he speaks. "I fear she'll never get a husband with her attitude."
"We've raised her right," comes the mistress' reply in a gentle, firm tone. She relaxes, fiddling with her hair and ears. The white fur tucks itself among the folds of her chocolate waves, snuggling amidst her mess of a bun. "When the time comes, everything will be alright. The Dreyar family's arrangement cannot be missed."
"Word's out that their son is headstrong and boorish. Perhaps he'll be a great partner in business." She sets her teacup down on the plate with calculated measure—she is fearsome as she is cunning, and, in Cana's opinion, a most threatening adversary.
"Oh, Cana," a sweet voice beseeches beside her as she gathers the remainders of what's to wash and makes her way upstairs. She glances to her side to see Mirajane. Early as it is in the morning, her corset and dress are tight and accordant to the ways her parents desire. Mira's blue eyes are bright and speak to her.
"Yes, my lady?" Cana curtsies slightly, and a light smile dusts her cheeks. She doesn't dislike Mirajane in the least; it's her hope that keeps her going with her love, not her spite. Mira clasps her hands.
"I don't know what to do! I haven't met the Dreyars' son! What if he doesn't like me?" Her snowy white locks bounce as she hisses in anxiety. Bitterly, Cana knows that she whispers only because it's deemed wrong to talk to servants.
"Trust me," Cana's brows rise into her hairline, and she smirks besides herself, "he'll have a hard time doing that."
He doesn't know you.
Mira is undeterred, but her shoulders loosen. "I don't know. All these guys; they're all so guttural! They know nothing in the least about our culture, and—and—"
"Mira," Cana ignores the supposed honorific, seeing that she and Mira are far more than just acquaintances by now, "don't worry about it. I'm sure he'll love you the minute he sees you."
Maybe this time…
The day drifts by like any other—Cana has gotten used to it, by now; the sun's rising and falling is only but a never-ending cycle. Her toiling goes unnoticed by the master and mistress, who busy themselves with pampering for their grandiose dinner with one of the richest families in the colony.
It is dusk when the clamor of new and old voices blending into a jumble reach Cana's ears, which twitch momentarily. The brunette bends down over her work—it is a turkey, magnificently cooked, which has wasted many an hour of her longevity—and shuffles into the dining room, masterpiece in hand.
The large hall is empty, and Cana sidles up to the rectangular dining table located in the middle, when she hears a deep clearing of the throat. Caught off guard, her eyes dart up to see a dashingly handsome man she finds somehow familiar and doesn't know—she does. Longing suddenly implodes in her chest, but she shoves it away with unprecedented force.
Laxus.
Her heartbeats drum to a funny little tune in her heart. The blonde man eyes her warily, yet his eyes are alight with curiosity as he steps closer. The two are in solitude in the dining hall, and the backdrop buzzes with the busying servants in the kitchen.
"Excuse me," Laxus begins, and Cana sets down the turkey hastily. Her mind is wiry with unkempt emotion. He looks exactly the same…
"Y-Yes, sir?" Her voice is fragile, weak, and she feigns ignorance as she curtsies. Her eyes are glued to the ground.
"I beg your pardon, but have we met before?" Laxus raises an eyebrow, his eyes fiery and brilliant in the light, just as she remembers. A devilish smirk makes its way onto his face. The way he gazes at her makes her heart leap into the sunset.
Cana can't help it. A smile slides onto her face easily; such emotions haven't shown so quickly in so long that she beams even brighter at the notion. She narrows her eyes playfully. "I think not." The brunette occupies herself with the cutlery.
A silence follows, in which Cana revels. She just misses him, and doesn't mind any moments as long as they are with him, be it in silence or simply anything. Quickly, she adds, "Sir."
The blonde man's eyebrows rise in amusement; she wonders what he finds funny, but doesn't care to delve. "You're interesting. Might I ask your name?" he says, crossing his arms venially. His eyes glow in the candlelight, and Cana is spellbound by the mesmerizing sapphires in his eyes.
"C-Cana," she blinks, dumbfounded and slowed.
"I'll be sure to remember that, Miss Cana," Laxus drawls, her name rolling off his tongue in a way that sets her heartbeat fluctuating wildly. Cana draws in a breath, curtsies once more, and sidles away to the kitchen, her eyes alight from finally seeing him again.
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{where did I go wrong in loving you?}
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Cana's fingers dance against her glass as she hums another tuneless song. She has grown accustomed to the loneliness that she finds herself waking up to each rising dawn, yet she finds it hard to let the memory of his warmth go—the feel of his larger hand against hers; the comfort she finds buried in the layers of his precious fur jacket, the one that could never match the texture of her own yet which she treasures even now, in the depths of her distant memory—
She yearns for his touch each and every day and night; not a single fleeting moment passes where he does not plague the recesses of her mind.
The brunette lounges on the roof now. Even in solitude, she feels enveloped by the embrace of the vast expanse of sky above her; it isn't the same as him, but it's all she can get now. She leans her head backwards and rests it against the concrete platform, her eyes drifting shut. Instinctively, her tails wrap around her in a dramatic flourish.
Snowflakes twirl and glide through the air. With graceful steps and tiptoes, they envelop her tails, frosting the tip of her nose and settling on her long, dark eyelashes—
It's been years since they split. Cana and Laxus have ceased contact completely; the fox can't afford to have her heart broken twice in a lifetime. Once per few decades is already hard enough—she doesn't know if she can bear any more.
Suddenly, her phone buzzes, and she glances up in surprise at having been torn out of her silent reverie. Awkwardly, she picks up the device. Honestly, these mundane electronics have always been too far-fetched for her liking.
Caller ID: Laxus Dreyar.
The brunette's eyes widen, and oh, how she wishes she could pick up and plead for his return. Come back, Laxus. Please.
But she remains strong as adamantine—albeit a cracked, worn piece—as her fingers drift over the two buttons: two choices she has, yet none she wishes for.
With a resigned sigh and the blinking back of stinging tears, Cana looks away and denies the call.
I'm sorry, Laxus. I can't do this anymore.
The nine-tailed fox's legs curl in closer as she sits up. Her voice cracks a tad when she speaks to the open air, to the prospective Laxus made out of swirling snowflakes that she can picture vividly sitting beside her, "I have loved him for hundreds of years."
Cana beckons to the innocent white blanket above her, as if recalling a plea. "I loved him. I love him. But he always ends up with Mirajane, or he dies." She tips her head backwards again. Her hair cascades down her back and over the edge of the building. Memories come flooding back to her, and she gladly sinks herself into the rushing river.
The brunette spreads her arms out wide in the snow; her warmth permeates through all ice and cold, and she waits as the white droplets waft towards her.
"What did I do wrong?" she whimpers childishly. Her demeanor is naive and innocent as that of a youngling's, although she could be considered anything but. Cana releases a ragged breath, eyes brimming with a stinging sensation she has to admit she has missed. "What was so wrong about the two of us? What was so wrong about my happiness?"
It is then she realizes that maybe she isn't destined to have happiness, anyway.
After all, what more can a cursed fox do?
{I've tried too hard already}
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Cana wanders in solitude as the days pass, yawning and blending into one another. Her desire to repent for what she knows not of which she has wronged is the only thing that prevents her from shattering.
As the spring breeze briskly follows its course and sweeps Cana's hair grandiosely about her, the brunette is at ease, having attained serenity. Idly, she nudges her finger against an early bud, and, as if on cue, the petals shyly claw their way out into the open.
Spring is a time for new beginnings, the nine-tailed fox decides, and can feel her tails quivering in excitement. Prospectively, she dreams of her own new beginning, where she is reincarnated not as a fox, but as a human... for various reasons.
She feels her phone buzzing, and a newfound hope blossoms inside of her, only to have her viciously shove it away. Maybe her problem was him; who knows? As the brunette answers the call and begins sauntering home, only one thing runs through her mind: if she desires a new beginning, she must purge herself of all old.
Even the apartment they once shared.
Yet, as she closes the door behind her and slings the cozy peacoat off herself, her ears and tails roaming free, another burst of longing wells up within her chest.
Oh well.
"Yes, thank you," she says into the device, distracted. "I'll be sure to inform you soon about whether I've decided to sell it or not. Goodbye."
Outside, lackluster grey clouds hover in the sky. Their teardrops wash incessant patterns on the windows, and the pitter-patter serves as a comforting coping mechanism. A mug of tea lies warm, clutched between her palms, when the doorbell rings. It's been a while since she drank booze or the like; the burn of alcohol only further reminds her of the crazy nights they spent together drinking and partying. Listless as she is, Cana sways and drifts over to the door and flings it open without a care in the world; she's long since given up any hope that in this lifetime, she'll be seeing much more of him.
Surprise shocks her in the nerves and rushes over her like a wave upon the sand, and the brunette cannot believe her eyes.
Like he's been God-sent, there, standing in the doorway, breathless and drenched in spring rain, is Laxus Dreyar.
They stand in silence for what seems like decades—the dark-haired beauty that stole his heart long ago, and the dashing fair stranger who stole hers far back yonder. The only sounds that disturb their silence are the occasional drip-drip-drop of rainwater onto the marble floor and the rise and fall of Laxus' uneven breathing.
Cana tenses, releasing a breath she doesn't realize she has been holding all this time, and a smile weaves itself upon her face. "Laxus?" she murmurs despite herself, feigning casualness.
"Cana." The blonde man seems to have been running, for he steps towards her and her artificial smile drops immediately. Said person traces her vision along the alluring scar on his right eye and reflexively takes a step back. The slightly hurt expression in his eyes wounds her, but she remains steady. "Cana, I—"
Cana steels herself, and with a vague sense of courtesy, she says in a polite and strangled tone, "L-Laxus. Why don't you come in? You're soaking wet."
Mildly perplexed, Laxus can only find it within himself to agree.
Cana slides a cup of tea across the glass table Laxus' way and seats herself next to him—their proximity is the only pleasure she allows herself.
With restriction evident in her voice, she sips from her own mug and asks, "What're you doing here, Laxus?" Even with all her restraint, she can't help the pain that slips through her facade. Laxus looks away; he is unable to bear the sight of her sadness, for he's already caused her enough pain.
He sets down the cup and turns back, his gaze firm. "Cana..." He struggles to find the right words. "I came to tell you something."
"I don't have any money, if that's what you're asking," Cana says jokingly after a period of silence, wanting to lighten the mood, followed by an awkward laugh.
"Mira and I divorced," Laxus forces out, and suddenly it feels like a great weight has been lifted off his chest. "And... I'm sorry. For everything."
Cana inhales so deeply and sharply it hurts. "W-Why?" is all she can muster.
"Because she told me that if I truly loved someone, no matter what the cause, I should always be able to find them. And that she knew it wasn't her," Laxus chokes on the last word.
All yearning that has built up from when he left her implodes inside Cana, and her eyes are wide. Her ears perk forward alertly, and her tails swish to and fro.
"I came back to find you."
The tears that never came before now well up in Cana's eyes, and she can't help but slam down her mug with unprecedented force and wrap her arms around his muscular build, unwilling to let him go ever again.
"Mhm," she mumbles into his chest as he wraps his own arms around her. "I know."
And a genuine smile finally stretches upon her face—a blooming happiness she hasn't felt since the previous year—and she thinks that maybe, just maybe, some rule-breakers can be accepted.
And maybe this time they can work.
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{just for this lifetime, maybe we'll finally have our own 'together'}
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Endnote: I hope you guys enjoyed the story! Hope you R&R!