Her heart beat heavily against her ribs; she held her breath, veins buzzing with anxiety and fear. So far, she'd only encountered Igneel once—and she'd honestly prefer never to meet him again. He'd been harsh and cold and furious, and he terrified her. But now, she was on her way to his headquarters to meet with him and the rest of the leaders of the brotherhood.

Natsu and Gajeel were both tense but unafraid. This was normal for them, meeting with the Drache—because even though they were the lowest rank in the gang, they were one of the most important. The brotherhood's muscle. The brotherhood's most vicious killers. The ones the brotherhood relied on most.

She felt numb, trailing behind the two boys. Perhaps it was the fear under her skin, diluting her ability to feel—but Lucy knew that wasn't the truth. She felt numb because she'd just witnessed the death of multiple people and she only felt relief. When she'd watched Natsu kill those enemies—she'd felt better. And when the man coming for her, the man who'd put his hands around her, had his neck snapped and fell to her feet—she wished she'd been the one to do it.

She knew she should be upset. She should be horrified and repulsed and disgusted, but she wasn't. Relief and peace flushed through her blood, through her bones.

Lucy pressed her lips together as she followed the boys, trying to hide the small smile of relief she wore.

Gajeel led them into an elevator and down a few floors; they wound through corridors until they finally hit what appeared to be a foyer leading to the Drache's suite.

The room was empty—no members of the Drache—aside from a guard standing beside the door to the suite. He wore a bulletproof vest and had a large gun slung over his chest. He looked at Natsu and nodded, quickly stepping through the doors behind him—probably to notify the Drache as to who had arrived.

The boys stopped in the room abruptly; Lucy slammed into Natsu's back, taken by surprise as to their lack of movement.

His big hand reached out, catching her hip; his other hand fell on her shoulder, readjusting her quickly so that she wouldn't fall. He stabilized her, dark eyes flickering to meet hers. For the first time since she'd met him, Lucy could sense that he was worried about something.

He didn't speak, but his head tilted to the side as if he were questioning whether she was okay; Lucy gave him a nod in return.

Lucy was surprised by how plain the foyer was; there was a small sitting area beside a rather plain bookcase and a few framed images on the walls, and that was it. But she supposed this was to be expected—this was their secondary base, the place they opted to hide after being driven out of the bridge.

Her eyes fell to the picture frames on the wall, frowning when she realized it wasn't pictures inside of them. Rather than images, inside the frames were various plaques. Lucy narrowed her eyes, attempting to read the far one, the frame closest to the Drache's door.

The Children's Hospital of Fiore would like to send their sincerest gratitude to…Igneel Dragneel and his close family & friends for their extremely generous donation. This generation has enabled the hospital to expand our Neurology department. The staff and children at the hospital send their love.

Lucy couldn't help but make a face, her eyes darting down to the ground. She locked the information away, fully intending to ask Natsu about it once they were in safe quarters. After all, he'd warned her not to speak—it wasn't safe here.

The guard stepped through the door and gave the boys a nod, stepping aside and allowing the three into the Drache's room. Gajeel entered first, then Natsu, with Lucy following behind timidly. The guard's hand lingered over his weapon; Lucy diverted her eyes quickly, picking up her pace so she was walking slightly closer to Natsu.

She held her breath as she walked, not knowing what to expect behind the door. Dead bodies? Hostages?

To her surprise, it was a boardroom.

The room was large and spacious; on the far side of it was a large, oval table seating the leaders of the brotherhood. These walls in this room were covered in more thankful plaques showcasing the brotherhood's donations to local charities.

The Drache turned to look at the trio as they walked in, eyes immediately falling dark once they saw Lucy. She shuffled awkwardly, head turning down, eyes flashing to the floor uncomfortably.

Natsu's right hand flicked out and touched her hip, bringing her to a halt. He stopped her so she was just behind him, his body slightly blocking hers from the Drache. He was subtle with the movement; he twisted his body so it looked they'd simply brushed against one another as they walked. Lucy glanced up, eyes flickering over to him; he continued to look straight forward at Igneel, but she could see his jaw tense.

She remembered what he'd said. Don't say a word.

Igneel's deep voice rang through the room; it made Lucy jump. "I see you've brought your guest." He stood from his seat at the head of the table and began to slowly walk towards the trio. The words he was saying weren't negative—but the tone he used made it very clear he wasn't impressed. "I wasn't aware she would be joining us."

Natsu's eyes stayed focused on Igneel. He ignored what his leader said. "The shadows—they've attacked us from multiple points."

Igneel swallowed, darkness rising to the surface. "You think we're gonna talk about this?" He spat. "With an outsider in our midst?"

Lucy blinked, forcing herself to keep her eyes on the wood floors. She wanted to look up, wanted to watch Igneel, wanted to see the fury play out on his face—but she couldn't. If she slipped up, Natsu would pay for her mistake.

"They're coming," Natsu spat back, frustration clear in his tone. "We're wasting time."

Igneel stepped closer, now, so he was only a foot away from Natsu. "Have you had enough fucking around?" He asked. His voice was gentle, quiet and low—but there was a snap of venom in each word he spoke. "You're ready to finally get to business?"

Natsu's voice was hard. "Yes." He wanted to argue, wanted to fight back—but knew better.

The older man's head tipped slightly to the side, a strange mangled smile brushing onto his lips. "Yet you've brought her here."

"What did you want me to do?" Natsu snapped. "Leave her there with the bodies?"

"She shouldn't be here to begin with," A man from the table said, voice stiff. "She doesn't belong here."

The table murmured in agreement; Gajeel rolled his eyes.

Igneel waved his hand over his left shoulder, giving the Drache instruction to leave it to him; the table fell silent immediately.

"She's a captive," Igneel asked, darkness rolling off of his tongue. His eyes flashed to his son's, tried to read them, tried to understand—but Natsu was good at putting on a mask, good at hiding everything. There was nothing to find in the boy's expression. "Why was she in your room to begin with?"

Natsu didn't hesitate. "Interrogation."

"In your room?" A woman at the table hissed.

Igneel gave a sharp look over his shoulder, fury echoing from his glance. "Silence," He growled at the woman. The words were fierce and sharp, and the entire table's heads dropped, eyes falling to their laps. He wouldn't allow that kind of insubordination. Igneel turned back to the boy, and raised an eyebrow—effectively asking the same question the woman had just hissed out.

Natsu's jaw locked. "Manipulation," He said, voice void of all emotion. "She trusts me when we're alone."

Lucy felt her eyes go hard as she looked at the flooring, felt a burn of betrayal bubble up her throat. So that's what it had been—manipulation? He'd taken her there, taken her alone just to get answers from her that she wouldn't have given to him in an interrogation room? She felt anger, felt fury, felt—

Lucy paused, the hurt in her chest fading away instantly.

Wait. That didn't make sense. The entire time they'd been there…they'd mostly discussed him. Him, and his mother, and how he wasn't loved. She'd talked about her parents, sure, but he wouldn't have interrogated her for that.

In fact, there was no reason for him to interrogate her at all. She had no information relevant or worthy to him.

Lucy blinked at the floor. Was he…lying to Igneel? Lying to cover up her staying with him, rather than a prison cell eight floors down? Lying to cover up them spending time together, talking?

Igneel looked at Natsu, eyes unchanging. "Ah."

Natsu's eyes didn't stray away, didn't blink or look down. There was clearly a struggle between them, a struggle for dominance; neither glanced away for a long few moments.

But then, suddenly, Igneel's eyes flashed to Lucy, and he stepped towards her. His head cocked to the side as he looked her over, eyes running down her body, noting her blood-stained clothing. When he spoke, his voice was low again, darkness creeping through it.

"And how are you, my dear?" He asked, but there was no hint of concern in his voice. "Holding up alright?"

Lucy kept her eyes on the ground, not saying a word.

"My, my," Igneel murmured, glancing back at Natsu. "You've got her well trained."

Natsu's expression remained flat, cold. He didn't respond.

Igneel turned back to the girl. There was something angry in his eyes—it had been a long time since someone hadn't met his gaze, hadn't obeyed him. But the fury was more than that—he was furious she was here, furious Salamander would dare to save this girl and keep this girl and talk to this girl. And he knew she was soft, and he knew she was gentle, and he knew his son would bend to her will because he was weak, and he would always be weak, and no matter how many years had been devoted to break him and make him strong. He just wouldn't be.

Igneel's hand reached out, about to touch the girl's chin, about to lift her head and force her to look him in the eye. But the second his hand moved forward towards the girl, Salamander's arm twitched. It moved as though he were going to stop Igneel, as if he were going to hit his hand away from the girl's face, like it was an impulse. But it didn't reach out—he stopped his arm the second it began to move. He flexed his hand, then tightened it into a fist.

Igneel caught the movement, his own hand freezing. His lips twisted into an awful smirk, eyes flickering over to Salamander. "Is something going on here?"

Salamander glared forward, not bothering to meet Igneel's eyes, his body unmoving. "Nothing's going on."

Igneel's gaze flashed back to the girl. Her head was still dropped, her eyes still on the floor—but her shoulders were shaking in fear. And anyone else would've dropped the subject. Anyone else would've believed Salamander, would've seen the blankness in his eyes and believed that he didn't care for the girl.

But there was something there.

Because if there wasn't something—if there was nothing between the girl and Salamander—she would've looked up. It was human nature, after all—humans couldn't bear to look away from something they were afraid of. Based off of how much her shoulders shook, based off of the wobbliness in her knees, Igneel knew she was afraid.

Yet, still, her eyes stuck to the ground. They didn't look up, despite the urge. He could see it in her hands, in the tension in her elbow. She wanted to look up, wanted to see him, wanted to have eyes on the threat at all times—but she didn't.

Salamander must've advised her not to—and she was listening. And he wouldn't advise that if he didn't care.

He cared because he was weak. He was always weak. Saved that fucking dog because he was weak and couldn't kill his bitch of a mom because he was weak and couldn't let this fucking girl die because he was still weak. He'd always cared too much for his own fucking good.

Maybe he cared a lot. Maybe he cared a little. It didn't matter. He'd always been like this. Gave the tiniest shit about something and he'd fucking die for it. Igneel hated that. He always had.

Fury ripped through Igneel's stomach, tore up his throat in a fiery blaze. His dark eyes slid to Salamander, noted the emptiness in his eyes, then back to the girl. "You care for her," Igneel spat, disgust in his tone.

Salamander's voice was icy. "I don't."

Lucy felt her heart skip a beat, felt her stomach get heavy. Maybe he was lying—but it still bit at her. She wanted to look up, wanted to see Natsu's expression, wanted to see if there was honesty in his eyes—but he'd told her not to, told her to keep her head down and stay silent. So, she did. Because she had faith.

Igneel swallowed, trying to force the rage back down to his chest. He looked at the girl, watched her head stay bowed in obedience, and then back to the boy. He searched Salamander's expression, waiting for something to give it away—but he was good at this. His face stayed blank, stayed empty.

Igneel smirked, but it was filled with anger and frustration and annoyance.

And he hated this, hated how Salamander could care about something so weak and useless. Mostly, he hated being lied to. Don't say you don't care if you do—and don't care about stupid shit.

Igneel reached out, hand outstretched, reaching for the girl's throat. He put all of his strength behind it because fuck this girl—he'd choke her out if he fucking had to. She was a distraction, keeping Salamander busy when he had responsibilities, duties to attend to. He had to protect the brotherhood, had to kill anything that got in his way and she was distracting him, taking him away from what mattered. So he threw his muscle behind it, as much as he could muster in a split second, and pulled his hand into a deadly claw—because if he got a hold of her, that's what she was: dead.

Salamander's torso didn't move. His head didn't move. His eyes didn't falter, didn't blink. But his right hand had snapped out, faster than the eye could see, and caught Igneel's wrist before his hands wrapped around the girl's throat.

Lucy flinched at the action, slamming her eyes shut. She was holding her breath, fear flushing through her body—but also relief. Because even though he'd said he didn't care, even though he'd said she was nothing—he'd been lying. This was proof of that. He cared.

She was glad.

Salamander's voice was low, ravenous and filled with scathing hatred. "Don't."

Igneel's lips split into a gruesome smile—because that simple little action had told him everything he needed to know. Because Salamander wouldn't have spared this girl now, from the brotherhood's leader, if he didn't care.

Because he was so fucking weak—it was easy to find the truth.

A perfect example of why Igneel had tried to make the boy strong—because the enemy would use it all against you. They'd use everything you loved to hurt you, to beat you. If he cared about this girl, then she was dangerous—because the shadows would learn this and they would take her from him, and they would hurt him more than he could ever imagine. Because caring would become a weapon against him.

But he'd never listened when Igneel had tried to tell him this. That's why the dog was the first lesson, to break the kindness in those children's hearts. Because you can't care for things, because caring is like offering the knife to your enemy. Because when those kids don't kill the dog, it's used against them.

Salamander was the only child in training that wouldn't kill the dog. The others—they listened. All of them. But this little boy—he cried and refused, because he couldn't. And when Igneel sent some men to kill it—because that was part of the lesson—Salamander had slaughtered them. Three men dead over a dog.

Igneel killed the dog himself and thew the carcass at the boy's feet. Because when you loved something—it would be used against you.

Igneel knew that better than anyone.

Igneel leaned back, furious satisfaction in his eyes. "I thought so."

Salamander's arm released the older man's wrist, his hand reaching back and touching the girl's shoulder; he shuffled her behind him, behind his protection. He kept his hand on her arm, touching her skin.

"I should slaughter you both," Igneel hissed, then paused. "Or maybe just her."

Lucy grimaced at the words.

"Try it," Salamander spat. Everything about the boy was pure darkness.

Instinctively, Gajeel shuffled to his right, closing the gap between his own body and Salamander's, prepared to defend his comrade at any second. The motion made Igneel's stomach burn with even more anger, but he ignored it. This wasn't about anyone other than Salamander.

"You're a fool." Igneel shook his head. "This will be the death of you."

The word was a snarl out of the pink haired boy's lips. "Maybe."

Igneel's nose wrinkled, fury and madness and disgust seeping from every pore. He wanted to hit him, wanted to bit the living shit out of the kid, wanted to slit his throat. But he couldn't, and he didn't. Instead, he turned on his heel, eyes turning back to the Drache.

"We attack tomorrow," He said, voice flat again. "The shadows can't get away with this."

"Fine," Salamander spat. "Where?"

Igneel paused, turning his head ever so slightly, only able to see the girl in his peripheral vision. "Right in the heart." He paused for a beat. "And she'll be with you."

Lucy blinked, head rising as Igneel's words flashed through her brain. Her heart was hammering and she felt dizzy and lightheaded, and she repeated the phrase in her mind over and over, trying to make sense of it.

"What?" Natsu hissed. "No."

Igneel didn't move, didn't reply.

Natsu's voice was a low growl. "She stays here. She stays safe."

Igneel turned, now, and he shouted the words with more fury than Lucy had ever heard in her life. His voice roared through the space, ripped at everyone's ears. He was madness and frenzy and fire abruptly. "If she stays here, I'll kill her myself!" He stepped back towards the trio, entire body tense as though he was holding himself back from killing them all. And just as suddenly as he'd been yelling, his voice dropped to that reserved, tense quietness that he'd always had. "You want to fuck around? You want to save her? Then save her. But she will be fucking with you on the front lines, in the heart of the war. Save her from that."

"You can't ask me to do that. I won't do it."

Igneel walked up to Natsu, got up in his face. Natsu's body went stiff.

"I'm not fucking asking." His words dripped with hatred, with insanity. "I'll kill you, too. Don't you ever forget that."

Natsu's eyes were sharp, glaring at the face that lingered so close to his. They looked at each other for a long moment, a silent war for dominance between them.

Lucy wanted to shout, wanted to demand answers, wanted to take her fist and beat the hell out of Igneel. Because Natsu deserved better, and she didn't want to be in a war, and she wasn't ready to die.

The silent war played out, but it wasn't in her favor.

"Three days," Natsu spat.

Igneel's eyes narrowed. "Two."

"Fine."

"I'll gather the rest."

Natsu glared at Igneel for a second longer, letting out a little growl of anger and frustration before he turned to Lucy. He nudged her forwards, pushed her lightly towards the door; she peered up at him and felt her veins go cold.

There was fear in his eyes—something she'd never seen before.

Igneel spoke to her as Natsu pushed her from the room.

"Good luck, my dear," He called out, voice fading as they left the room at a quick pace. "You'll need it."