AN: The journey continues! Glad to see so many of you along for the ride, both new readers and regulars; know that you're all wonderful, and I can't tell you how much your comments mean to me.

Warning: This is an AU, so I will take my share of artistic liberties regarding the plot.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Rae.

Chapter 7

Once Metalicana had finally relented, Igneel had come with her before the Queen, to relay their plan of action.

Levy told her about their thoughts regarding the rift – if it was possible to create something similar to the Eclipse, and in which case, what it would take. Makarov was still searching Kalwyn's archives for more information on time and ways to traverse it. Levy had asked Metalicana how they'd managed to send their children centuries into the future, as the spell could have become the basis for the new rift. But he'd been unable to offer more help – they'd employed a stellar mage, one with tremendous power, but who was long gone, now. A child of a different time.

"Human lives are fickle things," he'd told her, when she'd asked. "And for all the knowledge that remains with us, we cannot utilise half of it ourselves."

That was why they needed her, now. Levy, plus another stellar mage, but this one with enough power at their disposal to send ten thousand dragons back to their original time. And so Levy told the Queen about Lucy, and that if they had any hope of achieving their goal, it was through her powers.

"Lucy's magic will power the rift. She's got the twelve keys. We just need to figure out how to create a portal powerful enough to summon all the dragons at once. I," she paused, and swallowed thickly. "I'll be working on a spell, to make sure we don't expel every anomaly from this time."

"Our children will remain, if we succeed," Igneel agreed with a nod towards her. His yellow eyes crinkled with his dragon's smile, and she felt her shoulders relax a little. It was at once absolutely terrifying, and near overwhelmingly humbling, the faith the dragons had in her powers. It made her think she really could do it – that she could craft a spell so intricate as the one they needed – but at the same time it made her question whether or not she'd let them down. And if she did, it would be a failure she couldn't possibly hope to live with. Because in the event that she failed, she wouldn't just send them back to their original time – she'd send them back to a world just as ravaged as theirs was now. Or worse.

The Queen regarded her coolly from her perch. On their first meeting, Levy had thought her old – older, probably, than most of the dragons there, what with being their sovereign leader. But Kalwyn had fondly called her a hatchling on more than one occasion, and now that she studied the gleaming scales and the brightness of her eyes, Levy wondered instead how young she really was. She couldn't claim much knowledge on the ways of dragon monarchies, but if they followed any of the same regulations as the human equivalent, she'd have been crowned the minute her predecessor passed, so long as she was considered old enough by whatever standards they abided by. She wondered how long ago that had been.

She thought then, suddenly, of the princess of Fiore, and if she'd survived. If she had, Levy figured she had to be feeling their defeat harder than anyone. Her entire country, invaded and claimed by a near invincible army, and there was nothing she could do, though her family had once sat at its throne. People always looked to their leaders in situations like these, but in the aftermath of the fall, there'd been no one to look to but themselves.

And me, now. Just the thought of it made her want to laugh – she'd never once entertained the idea of being put in such a position. Erza, maybe, or Natsu, but never her, little Levy McGarden with her books and her script magic, fanciful but nothing overtly special. The future was in her hands, cupped fragile like a glass heart, and it was all she could do not to drop it.

She wondered if the Queen felt it, too – the pressure of a whole world's expectations, weighing down heavier than the crown of scales circling her brow.

If she did, she didn't let it show. "You'll be careful," she said, her smooth voice casting a pleasant resonance in the towering chamber. "The skies are ours no longer." She gave the dragon at Levy's side a lingering look, but Levy didn't know enough about dragon expressions to properly decipher it. But she seemed...sad, almost. "Watch yourself...Igneel. And keep her safe, the best you know how."

The great dragon nodded his head, the gesture an acceptance, heavy in the space spanning the distance between them that seemed vaster than the few paces it really was. And Levy didn't need to know much about dragons to see there was a whole world of words unspoken there, in that vast space.

But even if she'd entertained the thought of asking, her attention was quickly claimed by the Queen turning her bottomless gaze back on her. "And you'll do your best not to draw attention to yourself, Levy McGarden. We need not include more humans than we already have; your numbers are scarce as it is. The stellar mage alone is enough."

Levy nodded, and tried not to look disappointed. Gajeel would be at the shelters, unless he'd moved on already, though she doubted that, as his plan had been long term and to stay until they'd gotten properly settled. Which meant she'd have to somehow get Lucy without alerting either Gajeel or Natsu. The best would be to avoid the two of them altogether, and the thought hurt – to be allowed so close, and not even given a chance to tell him she was safe.

"We'll aim to return shortly," Igneel said then, as he rose from his seat, and with a wide gesture of his head, motioned for Levy to follow.

"May your skies be clear, and your journey safe," the Queen bid them leave, and Levy tried not to let her mind linger on the thought of flying across Fiore on a dragon's back, the naked expanse of the sky on all sides, leaving them completely open to attack...

She clenched her trembling hands to fists, determined not to let herself be overwhelmed. There were bigger obstacles to come than flying, and it wouldn't do anyone any good for her to lose her nerve before she'd even begun. One thing at a time, one step at a time.

"So, exactly how are we going to get her to come with us without alerting anyone? There could be up to two dragonslayers there, and we can't just go knocking on the front door – they'll never let her just leave. Not when things are like this." Not to mention, Natsu wouldn't be letting his father out of his sight if he caught a glimpse of him, and the shelters needed him for protection; he couldn't go running off at a rumour like he had in the past. Which meant their mission required a great deal of stealth in order to succeed.

She glanced at the dragon looming at her side, the size of a small house. Any notion of stealth seemed suddenly laughable.

Igneel rumbled low in his throat. "I figured we'd take a page out of the old scrapheap's book – is that how the saying goes?" he mused. "But don't tell him I said that." He snorted. "The old grump will start thinking his ideas are valid."

Levy frowned. Suspicion drummed a heavy tune up her spine, like a shiver of discontent. Nothing good ever came out of a dragon grinning like that. "What...page exactly?"

Igneel's smile widened, pointed teeth peeking out. "A good old fashioned kidnapping," he declared with a rumbling laugh. "Isn't that what we dragons do, in your fairy tales?"

Levy groaned. "Are you serious? Can't we just ask her to come along? Because I can attest that there's nothing remotely fairy tale-y about being kidnapped."

He raised a scaled brow – another uncannily human gesture she could never fully get used to on a dragon. "No? To be taken to a kingdom of dragons, high above the mountains? And to be granted use of the largest collection of books in the world?" He grinned. "From what I've learned of you thus far, little human, it certainly doesn't sound like a horror story."

She glared up at him, but found her anger half-hearted at best. "Alright, you've got a point. But the plucking-off-the-ground part, can't we skip that at least?"

His laughter trailed in his wake, loud and booming in the mountain caves as they made their way towards the outer crag, and the world that still existed at the foot of this hidden kingdom of dragons, and the open skies stretching far and wide above it.

"Not a chance!"

Madrigal watched them leave, a sigh from her soul releasing some of her built-up tension as the fire-dragon's massive shape turned the corner, the little mage a small shadow at his side. Shifting her weight, she stretched her legs languidly, until she rested more comfortably against the rock. The morning sun had just risen, and the slivers of light crawling slowly across the Aerie had not yet succeeded in warming the stone to her liking. It was still a too early for court to be in session; she'd made an exception for the mage, whose mission required them to leave at daybreak. But now that they were gone, she had some time to herself, before the Aerie would begin to fill up.

"My Lady," the mellow voice spoke from above, and she looked up to see Grandine lift off one of the crags near the ceiling, to land soft as a feather before her.

"Deeney," she greeted, the warmth in her heart a fiercely fond thing for the dragon who'd long been the closest thing she'd had to a mother. "Listening in on my private audiences again?"

The great sky-dragon laughed, the sound a trilling hum in her breast, so different from the rumbling mirth of her usual companions. Madrigal had always loved the sound. "Oh, don't mind this old crone," she said, tucking her feathered wings against her sides. "I merely wished to see the little bird off on her journey. She reminds me of my daughter – so much strength, in such a small form."

Madrigal smiled. "You miss her."

Grandine sighed. "Every day." She gave her a pointed look, but there was a fondness in her kind eyes. "It's not always easy being a mother, when your littlest has flown the nest. I remember you used to give our late Queen so much grief." She shook her head. "You probably don't remember; it's been so many centuries."

Madrigal shook her head. "My earliest memory is of her sitting on this throne," she spoke, as she searched her mind for the images, and the sounds and smells that made up those first few decades after her hatching. "I think I was with Father at the time."

Grandine grinned. "You used to sit under his wing, when court was in session. The hours were too long for your liking." She shook her head fondly. "He had to hold you still, to keep you from running off."

Madrigal laughed, but her heart ached at the mention of a time long gone, so vague now in her mind she wondered which were her memories, and which she'd simply conjured from stories. "I don't remember that. I must have been very little."

Grandine's smile turned sombre. "A princess' duties begin early, and your mother wished for you to grow into your role, so that you'd be prepared when the time came for you to take the throne."

Madrigal tried not to think about the weight those words carried, like a terrible foreshadowing gone unheeded. For all the hazy memories of her youth, she remembered more vividly than anything the day she'd ascended to the throne. She'd barely grown into her own scales, and had just been allowed to fly without an escort. She hadn't been meant to take her mother's place for a good few centuries, but war doesn't wait for princesses to become ready – not to lose a mother, or to have an entire kingdom's worth of trust and expectations placed upon her back. The loss of their Queen had hit them hard, her father most of all. The war had already been raging for months, but it was her mother's death that marked its beginning in Madrigal's memory.

"Nyra was a wonderful Queen," Grandine spoke then. "Strong and fair. You've got much of her in you."

Madrigal sighed. "Sometimes I wonder just how much. I've ruled this clan five centuries, but I still feel like the princess who wouldn't sit still." She craned her neck, to look up towards the ceiling, and the sky visible through the cracks. "And sometimes I doubt if we'll ever get out of this war."

Grandine watched her with a soft look. "The war is not your doing, and you've led us well and wisely this far. Know that, if anything. Your subjects have put their trust in you, and with good reason." She smiled. "And so has the little bird. Hers is a burden much like yours."

Madrigal smiled. "Humans have proven to be...quite surprising. I can see why Father made the choice he did." She didn't mean for her words to sound bitter, but they did, regardless.

And judging by Grandine's expression, it had not gone unnoticed. "You are still the fire of his heart, Madrigal. Never doubt that. But losing a mate is hard, and you are your mother's spitting image. Do not begrudge your father his grief."

The words hurt, mostly because she was right. She wouldn't hold his grief against him; she'd not taken a mate herself yet, but she knew of the repercussions of losing one through hearsay, and what she'd seen for herself throughout her life. For many it was a loss that proved too much to bear, and they disappeared into the mountains, to wait for the spirits to claim their tired hearts. Others prevailed, often for the sake of hatchlings or duties yet unfulfilled.

Her father had disappeared for a time, and she'd thought him gone forever, following her mother to the eternal skies of the afterworld. But he'd surprised her by returning one day, Metalicana and Grandine at his side, and with a plan to end the war for good. The fire had returned to his soul, but there'd been new shadows behind his eyes, no longer just for her mother, but someone else.

A human child, he'd told her, when she'd gathered the nerve to ask. A boy he'd trained and raised like a dragonling – like his own.

She'd been too young at the time to know better, and her anger had festered like a wound, the sense of unfairness growing to a bitter taste on her tongue. But the years had softened her edges and her temper, and she was wiser, now. She did not begrudge her father his grief anymore than she did this human child a parent; knowing the loss of one herself, how could she?

"I suppose you are right, Deeney."

The sky-dragon didn't respond, but Madrigal could feel her gaze, and the sympathy in the depths of her eyes. But their warmth was a burn more than a comfort, and she shifted her weight, feeling suddenly exposed. She looked up again, towards the sky peeking in through the slits in the mountain, and offered a prayer of protection to her family: the little brother she'd never met and only heard about through her father's stories, and her father himself, whose heart was so deeply rooted in the affairs of humans, she wondered sometimes if there was still a place for her there.

Remember, you are Queen first and daughter second. She reminded herself of the words that had met her upon her ascent to the throne. Her priority must always be her subjects; it was the way it had been for her mother, and it would be so for her own daughters, when the time came.

But her young, restless heart refused to relent its worry, and so for a moment Madrigal allowed herself the luxury of feeling every ounce of it – to grant it passage to the forefront of her mind. Just for a moment, she allowed herself to be a daughter first. She breathed in, filled her lungs with the clear mountain air of her home. Her nest of stone and sky to keep and to protect. Good luck, Father...Igneel. The blessings of the sky upon your wings.

Fly safe.

Then she drew her eyes from the ceiling, and back to the cavernous throne room sprawling at her feet. And she tried not to let her thoughts linger on the memories that sprang up unbidden in the depths of her mind – the phantom feeling of a warm wing tucked over her back, keeping her restless form in place. Of her own making or not, she tucked the images away to remote corners, and drew her resolution about her like armour. And with her next breath, Madrigal the daughter had retreated.

And she was Queen once more.

"Oye, Lucy? Would you mind if I went to take care of business?"

She glanced up from her work, brow quirked. "Business?"

Ren gave her a look, but a wry smile pulled at the corner of his usually downturned mouth, and he shifted his weight rather tellingly. "Nature's calling. Or would you like me to spell it out?"

She held up a hand. "Please don't." But her dry laugh sounded hollow even to her own ears. "I'll manage five minutes on my own," she said, with what she hoped was a convincing smile. In her chest, her heart contracted, and she had to force her breath out through her nose.

From across the stream, Ren watched her, his wary expression sign enough that she wasn't fooling anyone. She sighed. "I'll be fine, Ren. Go...take care of business." She waved him off with a look. "I'd rather you didn't do it here."

He smirked. "Fair enough." With a last glance back at her, he made for the bushes. "I won't be long. Five minutes, tops."

She watched him disappear amongst the greenery, and had to clench her hands around the cloth in her grip to keep them from shaking. Five minutes. You can handle being alone for five minutes. With a deep breath, she turned her attention back to her task. The basket of laundry sat, half-full at her elbow. It wasn't the worst chore imaginable, and she'd done it enough times that she should be more comfortable than she was. There were enough trees around to hide her completely from sight from above, and they did enough scouting in the area to make sure no new nests sprang up unnoticed.

But the fear lingered, still, like a phantom itch under the skin – a prickling at the back of her neck whenever she turned her back, as though the skies themselves were watching.

The end of their world had left many of her friends with scars, gruesome testaments of their staggering defeat, like living mementos for all to see. Some bore it on their faces, their chests and backs; others had no scars but entire limbs missing. Lucy had been lucky; she had no scars to show the world. Only in her mind did she carry hers, hidden from view for all eyes but her own. They hurt just as much – the fear of being outside, that seemed to want to crawl up her throat with every breath. She'd grown used to the safety of the shelters, and of having a roof of her head. The naked expanse of the open sky made her feel sick.

Trespassing in her own world – it was a truth that made her eyes water with angry tears, and the injustice of it all was a wound that would never fully heal, even after the physical ones did. This was their world still, but they'd been reduced to prey, hiding in the hollow husks of their old homes, or in the new shelters they'd made for themselves. But even safe beneath their mountain sanctuaries, there was always the feeling that it wouldn't last. How could it hope to, so long as the dragons continued to rule?

Wringing the cloth in the stream, Lucy spared only occasional glances at the scenery around her. There was a hum in her throat – a merry, half-remembered tune from her childhood – but she kept herself from allowing any sound to slip out. Around her was only the trickle of the water, and the steady slosh-slosh-slosh of the laundry as she scrubbed it in the cold stream. She forced her breath to come out evenly, and tried to relax her stiff shoulders.

Only three more shirts, and you can go back. Putting the clean cloths back in the basket, she grabbed another. He'd said he'd be five minutes. She couldn't – wouldn't lose her head in that time.

A rustle in the bushes drew her gaze then, and she looked up, expecting to find Ren come back from his business–

–only to find someone else entirely.

The name fell off her tongue, a disbelieving croak. "Levy?"

Her best friend offered a smile, and Lucy rubbed at her eyes. Was she hallucinating? Had she been so deprived of sunlight, it now took so little to confuse her mind entirely? But when she opened her eyes again, the script mage was still there, looking the same as she had the day Lucy had last seen her, when she'd left to travel south with Natsu. The scars dissecting her face were still prominent, but the raw pinkness had faded with the months that had passed, and her complexion looked healthier than it should, for someone who lived beneath a mountain.

Lucy rose to her feet, the cloth in her hands falling into the stream, forgotten. "What are you–"

"Are you alone?"

Lucy blinked. "Alone?" She frowned. "Levy, what are you talking about? And more importantly– what are you doing here?" She stepped forward, unmindful of the water soaking into her shoes as she crossed over to touch her – to make sure it wasn't just a mirage, a figment of an imagination deprived of the presence of people she'd become so used to having at her side, and who weren't within arm's reach anymore. When Gajeel had shown up at the shelter and presented her with the salvaged draft to her novel, claiming it a gift from Levy, Lucy had cried for an hour; the distance between her old life and now had been thrown into perspective by the simple fact that she couldn't give her best friend a hug at a moment's whim.

At the thought of Gajeel, Lucy peered behind the script mage, to see if the iron dragonslayer wasn't lurking there, but frowned when she found nothing but green things and early evening shadows. "You didn't come here by yourself, did you?"

Levy pressed her lips together – a tell-tale sign she was withholding information."No...not exactly."

Lucy felt unease as it shivered across her skin. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I'm fine. I'm...good, actually. I'm here for you." She drew a breath, as though steeling herself for something. "I need you to come with me."

Lucy's brows drew together. "Come with you?" Levy was tugging at her hand, now. "Come with you where? Back to Haven?" She still hadn't entirely wrapped her mind around the fact that her best friend was in front of her; it was the last thing she'd expected to come out of the underbush. A hostile dragon, maybe; Ren having come back from taking a piss, yeah, but Levy McGarden as she lived and breathed? "Lev, hey – would you stop for a moment?" She pulled at her hand, but to no avail. The idle thought came to her, that her friend seemed nervous – and not the healthy kind that simply being outside demanded, but another, almost guilty sort. "Where are we going? Sanctum is that way–"

"We're not going to the shelter," Levy cut her off, as she pulled her further into the forest, away from the stream. "We're–"

There was a sudden crack – a massive whip of a sound like a tree snapping under a great weight, and Lucy's gaze leapt to the previously silent forest looming before them. Her heart had taken a jump into her throat; she knew that sound – she listened for it whenever she stepped foot outside.

Dragon!

And not a moment after the thought had fully registered, an enormous shape pushed through the treeline, the branches bending along a scaled back to allow it passage. Its shadow fell over the two of them, heavy and impossibly dark, but her feet wouldn't run – wouldn't so much as twitch where they seemed to root her to the forest floor.

Memories of the last day of the games assaulted her – hands pulling at her arms, to draw her away from the battle; the smell of smoke and fire; a drawn-out scream piercing the air before it was suddenly cut off.

"We're out of time," came the rumble, and the scream that had been on its way off her tongue was forced back down her throat as Levy clamped a hand over her mouth. Brown eyes met hers, but there was no fear in them, Lucy saw, but a determination she hadn't seen since before the world as they'd known it had gone up in flames.

"Lucy, I need you to just go along with this for now, okay? I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

Lucy didn't know what to say to that; she couldn't seem to remember how to formulate a sentence, let alone use her voice to speak it. All she could do was watch the dragon looming before them, her fear an anchor holding her in place even as her mind was screaming at her to run – run or you'll die, you'll die just like all the others, and then–

"Little bird, it is time to go."

Levy nodded – as if in response to its words, and Lucy could only stare, gobsmacked. What's happening? Did I fall asleep? I'm dreaming – I'm dreaming, that's got to be it, it can't be anything else, it can't–

The dragon turned its yellow gaze on her, and her thoughts pulled up short. "My apologies in advance," it spoke, voice so deep it seemed to reverberate within her like a mighty drum, and before she'd had the chance to so much as gather her wits about her, because had it just spoken?!– Levy had locked an arm around her waist.

"Igneel – a little help?"

The name registered, but she wasn't given the time to connect the dots that formed in her mind before the dragon ducked its great head, allowing Levy to grab onto the ridge lining its back. Then with surprising force, Lucy found herself hoisted upwards, a startled noise like a yelp falling from her lips, and all rational thought left her mind as instinct kicked in, forcing her to grab hold so as not to fall off.

"I'm so sorry for this," the script mage whispered in her ear, and the words were at the tip of her tongue, the demands of an explanation – any explanation to make sense of what was happening, but the moment she'd been about to speak them the great shape beneath her pushed off the ground, its enormous wings spreading wide as the dragon took to the skies. And the words were lost in her scream as it tore itself from her throat, only to die on the wind as it surged past her ears, branches cutting like whips against the skin of her cheeks–

"LEVY WHAT THE HEELLLLL....!"

Four weeks later, somewhere in the wilderness

"We're lost, aren't we?"

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Gajeel peered between the foliage to the sky above, but nothing stirred in the blue but the wind rustling the leaves. He made a mental note of the position of the sun – they'd been up since dawn and walking, but had yet to come across Blue Pegasus' old guild, which by his estimations they should have reached two days ago. Damn it. "We're not lost."

"Juvia thinks Lily might be right."

"Thank you, Juvia. See, Gajeel? You're outnumbered."

"We're not lost."

"We've been walking in circles for two days. Are you sure–"

He rounded on the two of them, his ever-thinning patience snapping like a wound cord. "Goddam– if I say we're not lost, we're not fucking lost!"

If the Exceed was put off by his outburst, he didn't show it. A look passed between them, but it was Lily who spoke up. "Gajeel, it's been five days. We should have reached it in three. Just admit it – we're lost. We should have found the guild by now, and you know it."

"We had to take that detour to avoid that new nest – that cost us a whole day," he argued.

"Fair point, but there's still one more day you haven't accounted for where we've just been walking," the Exceed pointed out. "Let's just go over our route again, and see if we can't figure out where we went wrong."

He resisted the urge to take his building irritation out on a nearby tree, but kept his anger in check – the last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves. Just because they hadn't encountered a dragon in a while didn't mean there weren't any around. And abandoned guilds had long since been flagged as dangerous, as the residual magic drew the beasts like bears towards a beehive.

But then, not a moment after thinking it, he felt it – the thrum of magic, dearly familiar after so long in the wilderness without it. It was faint, but it was something, and more than they'd had to go on in days. Picking up his pace, he cut a path through the underbush, leaving his companions to catch up.

And like he'd predicted, the old guild's hall came into view not soon after, sitting silent in an overgrown patch of the forest. Back before the end of their world, the land around it would have been kept orderly through regular grooming, but it had long since been abandoned, and the forest had grown wild and free around it, reclaiming its lost sovereignty.

"HA! Told ya we weren't lost." But his victory felt like a fouled thing, polluted by the worry that roiled like something sick in the bottom of his stomach. The guild was their only lead, and if they couldn't find anything here...not even a hint of how to proceed...

He pushed the what-ifs to the back of his mind as he physically pushed forward, cutting through the grass as he made for the guild's entrance. A lingering stench of dragon clung to the place, but there didn't seem to be any sign of a nest, or any lurking stragglers. In fact, going by the near deafening silence, it looked to be completely abandoned. But then, that was what Laxus' team had thought when they'd sent her in to retrieve those damn scrolls in the first place.

When I find ya, Shorty, you better be prepared ta explain what the hell you were thinking.

Without another glance at Lily or Juvia, Gajeel made his way inside. He heard his partner say something to the water mage in low, muttered tones – no doubt something about having a care when approaching, but Gajeel was too close to give a single fuck about being careful. And so, picking his way across the rubble that littered the inside of the building, he headed straight for the basement, taking the steps of the staircase two at a time, until he was finally at the bottom.

Not a breath stirred in the dust-ridden chamber that met him, and his ears couldn't pick out a single sound of movement – not even the skitterish feet of a mouse amidst the overturned shelves. His eyes skimmed across those still lining the walls, the ones still intact holding row upon row of books of all sizes. And he tried not to think about how damn pleased she must have been when she'd found it. Right before a dragon had snatched her up for her efforts. Damn it, Levy.

The bright afternoon sun shone in through a massive hole in the wall, and he made his way towards it, ignoring the books that littered the floor at his feet; he hadn't come for scrolls and trinkets. Reaching out, he trailed his fingers along the opening; it looked like a piece of the wall had been ripped out. He frowned as he studied the hole, the size as well as the near-perfect circular shape of it. At first he'd thought it the result of an attack aimed simply to destroy, but that didn't seem to be the case. An attack of that sort would have levelled the entire guild. A hole like this would have required precision, but why?He closed his eyes, and drew a breath, deeply through his nose until it filled his lungs wide.

His eyes snapped open a moment later. This is–!

The scent was faint; it was old, but still there – the scent of a dragon who'd stuck around long enough for it to cling to the walls, the books, the dust, even. It invaded his nose, enveloping his senses, and it was all he could do not to fall to his knees because he'd searched years for even the tiniest hint of that smell.

And suddenly it all became clear – the missing piece to the puzzle fell into place with such a vivid sense of realization it almost knocked the breath from his lungs. A dragon, laughing. A dragon who'd take a script mage without question, because she'd know him, of course she would. All those stories she'd asked for, and every question about his old man he'd answered – she'd know him on sight.

"Gajeel?" Lily was beside him now, a paw on his leg. There was concern in his voice, wary but vehement, and all his earlier humour was gone.

"My old man," he rasped.

The Exceed frowned. "What?"

Gajeel rose to his feet, hands shaking where he held them clenched at his sides. Then he stepped into the gaping hole – an entrance so massive a decent sized dragon could easily fit through. And he breathed in again, drawing the scent into his very body, until it seemed to fill every inch of him. He had to be sure – he couldn't let it be a trick of his mind, so easily convinced because he wanted it to be true.

But the scent was still there – still faint, and barely distinguishable if it weren't for the fact that he knew it better than no other, save maybe Levy's.

He turned to Pantherlily and Juvia, standing amidst the rubble behind him, silent in their shared concern. But realization was slowly dawning over Lily's whiskered cheeks, and hope had kindled in the water mage's eyes. His hands clenched, and unclenched.

"My old man was here."

AN: I am taking so many liberties with these dragons, but since this is an AU of epic proportions (and until we get some straight-up facts in the actual manga), I feel free to let my imagination run wild. Also, I got an anon after the last chapter asking about the timeline, and here's how it is: at the moment there's approx. four weeks between the events in Levy's and Gajeel's respective timelines. They will eventually converge, but for now they're doing their own things. Hope that made it a bit clearer!