…
As Natsu meandered through the streets of the familiar amusement park, he found himself distracted by the tempting joy-rides and exotic street vendors. He then focused his sights and asked any willing civilian if they had seen his fellow guild mate. No one could cough up anything useful.
Why his nose had led him here, no one would know. Only Mavis would know.
He only had a few jewels to buy himself a lemon tart from a local bakery, and made himself at home on one of the patio tables. He sighed and was preparing himself to leave after finishing the sweet. He didn't even know where he was, where he was going to find Erza, or if she wanted to be found in the first place. He just assumed he would eventually, by some miraculous coincidence (and hopefully) find her somewhere safe and out of harm's way.
As more time passed, he realized how much of it had been wasted. This was all completely and utterly pointless.
He was tired.
Maybe he should go home?
He let a loud growl, and then slammed his forehead onto the table out of frustration.
What was he even doing here?
He found himself asking the same came question over and over again.
Just as he prepared himself to head back to the roads, a man beyond the courtyard had been giving him suspicious glances. As he entered the store and as he left it had been that same look consenting to some deeper meaning behind it all. Natsu immediately rose to his feet and to the stranger he went, grabbing him by the collar. The poor guy was startled in his wake, causing him to drop his sweets.
"Got a problem? Is there a fight ya lookin' for?" Even a highly tempered man wouldn't blow up so easily, on such an innocent looking man, as he'd only been passing by the Fairytail mage and done no harm in doing so. He just happened to be that unlucky passenger to take it all the blame. And for what?
Because Natsu missed his chance to participate in the tournament?
"Oi! Cat got your tongue?"
"H-hold on! I'm not looking to brawl at all… I-I'm just here on vacation with my daughter!" His jumpy eyes darted to his Fairytail tattoo and back up to Natsu's annoyed face. "A-are you from the Fairytail guild?"
His dark eyebrows furrowed, tightening his grip in a more painful way on the stranger's clothes. "Yeah, I'm a Fairytail mage. What of it? Huh?"
This only made the man more anxious of his imminent painful future.
"W-well… I think I can help you find the woman you're looking for."
And with that, his entire expression changed to that of an excited little boy, rather than a dangerous brute. His powerful hands let him go as the innocent civilian as he once was, and he curiously rested his hands on the man's shoulders, and all the while a wide grin resting on her features.
"And here I was just 'bout to give up. Did ya see her!? You've got to if you're askin' about my guild."
There was enough commotion at courtyard to grab the attention of all the bystanders, all nosily observing their altercation.
"Well here's the thing uh—" the man was a little regretful for even mentioning anything to him. He lowered his voice to something between a normal outside voice and an obnoxious whisper. "I didn't see her, but my daughter mentioned something about seeing a pretty red haired gal visiting here a couple of days ago."
"How do you know that?"
"Well... She kept talkin' to this one fellow about that little guild mark she had. The same one you have on your arm." The man pointed to the wing like tattoo, gloriously shining in the daylight of Akane. "My poor Lydia… she was sad about the cake. You know strawberry's her favorite and I couldn't even—Sweetie don't touch that! Daddy's almost finished buying your sweets!"
"Wait. What did you just say?"
"Eh? About the cake?" The old-looking man brushed the dust off his floral patterned button-down and adjusted his sunhat. He reached for his packaged goods and faced his attention to his preoccupied child doing God knows what. "Well since we came all this way for the—"
"No." He interrupted, a bit surprised since she hadn't gone anywhere with anyone other than someone from Fairytail, either that or going strictly alone was the protocol. But who knew really? This annoying little girl could've made it all up for shits and giggles. "She was with someone?"
The old man nodded. And out of pity he called his daughter over and asked her to recall the story of the two proclaimed thieves, if she had been willing even in the slightest.
"Daddy can we go?" asked the Lydia, the pig tailed, deceptive, and adorably chubby little girl as she ran behind her father legs. She tugged at his short sleeve and whimpered again. "I wanna go home! I'm tired!"
For a second there, Natsu was glad he didn't have any kids.
"We will sweetie. But this young man wants to know about that story you told me last night." the old man continued the change of subject with ease. "Something about cake?"
"Daddy! How can you forget? I told you that a funny looking masked man and a red haired lady—"
Natsu chimed in eagerly at the girl. "A red haired lady? A masked man? How did he look like!?"
"He was masked silly! How could I know?" The little girl looked at him like he just said something crazy. "I walked in here with mommy, and we both asked that man if he had any more of that cake he just gave out—but no. No more! No more!"
"Which man?"
"Him!" The little girl pointed to the busily situated waiter handing out delicate pastries to the diners in the bakery-café. Natsu squinted, refining his vision on the man through the distance of the glossed window, wondering what to do next. If the girl didn't know, maybe he would cough up something useful. Natsu figured that since he was older he should remember more.
And with that, he waved a highly thankful good-bye to the tourist and his daughter.
Natsu waited in the back alley for quite a while, silently leaning against the brick contours of the building. His arms crossed, eyes shut, though his nose highly alert for whatever smells would come out through that backdoor. It would be best to not disrupt the entire facility as he just did with the tourist, and he realized he should subject himself to thoughtful plans in place of mindless brutality. The man's shift would be finished soon enough and he would dissolve this as quickly and diligently as Erza would.
The door creaked open, that very waiter sauntered out and he adjusted his bowtie into loosened dangling strands of cloth to ease he comfort. He appeared to be very suspicious, which was the curious sight for Natsu, as he swept his glances from side to side and to assure his privacy.
Why was he acting like that?
He figured he would hone in on this new target. He would surely know something.
…
A few days later
"Had a good night's sleep?" A smug and disembodied voice sounded, quite grating to her ears.
She groaned and blinked several times, progressively waking up from her blissful slumber. She smiled in hopes of those words coming from a good man and a wholesome lover, but in that man's place was a dark shadow, a horrific man of her horrific past. Realization struck her again. Erza hadn't uttered a word as the food was rolled into the cavern of a room. The figure directed his attention to a guard who pulled the cart across the cemented floor, neatly arranged and situated just before her stationed body.
He smiled, stepping forward to have a thoughtful conversation with his lovely scarlet woman, and his longing arms reached out for her. His subtle fingers caressed her scarlet locks, slowly and menacing. She yanked her limbs so that she could separate his frame from hers, her calculating gaze remained there, staring into the depths of his abysmal green pools.
"Did you have a dream about me?"
There was a sharp pause for Erza, because what he said sounded too familiar. She did have dreams about him and quite unsettling ones to be exact. She looked away so that he wouldn't read the crude thoughts consuming her mind.
"Why do you ask that?" Curiously, the prisoner asked.
"You seemed delighted to see me." A moderate smile danced on his lips, "Have you missed me that much?"
"Oh, I don't know Jellal. Do you think I've missed you?" She retorted, daring not to glance at Jellal's ominous countenance.
"I'd say otherwise, my dear." His hot breath swept across her neck, and his cheek slightly turning so that he was near enough to have his blue locks dip onto the helix of her ear. "I found it… very easy to get inside your head."
What did he mean by that?
The proximity of his body reminded Erza of what torture he could leash upon her, and the woman instinctively shifted her neck and head over so that she could tilt away from him as far as possible. This almost made him laugh, as he stepped back and signed for the guard to prepare the utensils and napkins.
Erza gave a careful inspection, as this guard seemed to be equipped with special battle attire as a specialized mage would, not as a simple soldier. This one appeared to be younger, though dangerously impassive and quiet, much like her captor.
How odd.
Her scarlet hair was draping over her downtrodden features and her face which had been acutely hidden by the darkness now glowing fairly in the candlelight. She began to form dirty blotches along her skin from being inside such a dirty place, tiny slices began to form in her wrists from the metal biting into her skin, and a few licks of blood began to drip down her suspended arms.
"So my men have told me that you were spitting out the food they fed you. Do you understand what you're doing?" Jellal noted as he bit onto his thumbnail, much of his attention absorbed by Erza.
"Not at all." Skeptical and unapologetic she was.
"The other guards that work here have not been trained in respect and conduct as we have. It would be wise not react to them in such a way, Erza." The way he said it was alluding and unclear all at once, and it caused her to think about the inscrutable guard standing right beside him. "I'll be here to monitor the next few courses so that you remain obedient, is that understood?"
The scarlet sun, not as radiant as before, looked away.
"Is that understood?" Jellal repeated, though more heavily this time.
Had she really stooped to such an obedient state?
To a man like him?
She looked at him again, the brown flickering in her weak eyes.
"Good. Now bring the meal." Jellal gestured for him to continue.
The guard, now less uptight, had unveiled a metal dinner plate—a freshly cooked meal to taunt her senses. The delicious aroma crept into her nose. Under the plate was: breakfast, scrambled eggs, bacon, bread, all of which smelled extremely delectable. She assumed it was morning. That was the only way she could tell, as the darkness didn't seem to do any favors in telling the time around here.
"Im not eating." Spoke the woman flat out, obdurately tossing her head away from the direction of the food. She wasn't going to depend on him. She wasn't going to be his little puppet, to be the subject of Stockholm syndrome just because of a little tasty slice of bread here and there. The acceptance of even the tiniest acts of his kindness would show how weak she really had been deep inside. "At least not while I'm in here."
He scoffed at the inner martyr she pretended to be. "And why is that?"
"If I pass out, maybe it will give you some sense as to what you're doing to me." She muttered, the compliance not strong with her as of late.
"You'll die as the tragic heroine who defied the enemy until the very end. Is that what you really want?"
"What I really want is none of your business." She spoke sharply, condescension dancing on her wearied features and fatigue was seeping into her declining stature.
The ambience in the in the unsympathetic prison cell was quite offsetting to say the very least, and even more so awkward for the guard-servant. His metallic green eyes shifted to his fellow acquiescent to immediately back out of the room, so they he won't receive the same treatment she's about to have.
From what she could see—he's had enough. Maybe her bickering and snarky comments were finally getting to him? The future, in Erza's eyes, didn't look too promising as she found herself alone with him once again—but it wasn't that peaceful type of 'alone' where he would delightfully question her and accompany her solitude. It was that 'you've been a bad girl and you're going to learn your lesson' type of alone.
What was he going to do?
Violate her feminity?
Mentally torture her into submission?
The thought made her shudder.
The guard performed his duty, but the woman would not fulfill her role as efficiently. Erza found herself gagging with a portion of egg being shoved into her lips and coughed through her scratching throat. She to spit the food at Jellal, but such feelings were halted with the weakness of overwhelming hunger.
He eyed her, observing her every move—the way her lips moved and the way the muscles of her throat shifted under the infiltration of food. The fork was brought to her lips gradually, offering her a chance to chew. His Scarlet was the epitome of perfection, she was a warrior goddess encased with remarkable beauty and unrelieved elegance. The way her gorgeous brown eyes burned with passion as she charged into battle, the way she gracefully danced across the battlefield with unique attires and exotic weapons—it was no wonder she was so greatly sought after. But now…she was shackled to his domain as his very private mistress with none such armor or weapons to do her justice.
No one could ever explain how satisfying this was to him.
No one.
She struggled against her guard, bothering the master once again.
"This would be so much easier on you if you actually thought to follow my orders. Would you comply if I remove your chains? Would you be less of a pestering child as you are now?"
"If I say anymore, we're just going to spit fire at each other."
"You're right. The wheel of disapproval spins. I insult you, you insult me—the wheel just keeps spinning, and spinning, and it never ends. But you're not in control here, and I'm losing my patience lest you forget that."
"Fine."
"Good." He sighed, as if to calm himself from lashing out on her again.
He nodded at poised guard, awaiting approval of any further action. He seemed to be afraid; she could detect the slightest hint of fear in his eyes as he did so. As the chains were unlocked with the master key, the warden handed him a device that would attach itself to the metallic bars blocking off the entrance to the prison room.
The scarlet beauty wondered aloud, "What are you doing?"
He looked at her for a second then prompted the mage-like guard to exit the cell room.
"Wait...what are you—"
That contraption looked familiar. It…nullified any user who used magic in the room. Did that mean the poison she ingested lasted only for a certain amount of days? Would her magic return if she somehow managed to escape this room? Ideas were lighting up in her eyes as she watched the two overseers distance themselves from her. But before then, as if some insane way of telepathy or mindreading power were available to Jellal's expense, he ripped into the silence.
"I'll know you took a step out of this room. In fact, I'll know it in a heartbeat, and you'll find yourself in a worse circumstance than you are now. Do you understand me?"
She remained quiet. She couldn't argue. She promised to be compliant as long as the chains remained unattached. She then nodded like the good little girl she was.
…
She found it pathetic to be complaining of basic necessities to the guards, but really? She didn't even have a bed—only the fortified cement sitting just below her feet. She felt like a child again, the soreness cramping up to her neck and back. They guards wouldn't listen either way. They would aggressively snap at her, or even ignore and just walk away from her incessant questioning.
Two nights later, the same quiet guard came back in again and tossed down a box of what was presumed to be packaged clothing right in front the damsel. His heavily enriched brown eyes glared at her with melancholic malevolence, as if he envied the master's appreciation and devotion to her—to a slave.
He watched her unpack from the entrance of the cell with her now freed hands, the lovely freedom she had once been devoid of. It was a delightful ivory gown, with frills and silk. Was…was this the surprise that Jellal had ready for her?
"This is yours for you to wear tonight. Jellal asks that you have dinner with him in his chambers, and that you be ready within the next hour. Is that understood?"
She paused. Even if she detested the idea of a gift given to her by Jellal, she would still sully the white material with the dirt on her body. She wasn't bathed at all, or the slightest bit cleanly as a matter of face. How could she arrive to an occasion on such filthy bodily conditions?
The caretaker unexpectedly attached a device to her wrist, similar to the one that was clinging to the metallic bars outside her room. She looked at it, then back up at the distanced guard, always somehow precautious of the once mighty Titania.
What was she supposed to do?
"Wait!" She announced, as the guard prompted to leave. "Can I at least get a bath? And comb my hair? And—"
"That is not a problem for me to consider. Goodnight." Coldly he snapped and shut the metal gates on the cell.
Gah, she felt so dirty. She hated it.
…
Her eyes scanned the blackness; her mind kept playing with the idea of using magic, but silently remembered it was a stupid suggestion. A cold breeze scratched at her bare skin, sending a wave of goose bumps a thousand times over, she was instantly reminded of how horribly bare and exposed she was without her armor.
And there the dress was, neatly tucked into the crevice of her underarm as she made her way to the master of the tower. Regardless of her frustration, she kept her pace fixed and unwavering; her body protested hissed and growled, her muscles had been abused to the point where she couldn't possibly think of moving the next morning.
A substantial thought was weighing down her mind—they didn't know she brought a piece of her broken armor along, hidden in her shirt. It was crudely shaped into a weapon and was more than enough to claim a man's life. What if she attacked them? What if she ran and managed to escape?
The dark haired guard was a good distance ahead of her. Could she suddenly make a break for it, without him even watching?
But she was so tired…
Her dangerous thoughts were stopped short when she realized that the guard led her to a washroom, rather than Jellal's selective chamber room. She looked around, confused.
Didn't he say he didn't care?
"Master Jellal has been generous to offer that you take care of your basic necessities before you join with him... Show courtesy by doing this small thing he has asked you to do."
She inwardly gagged. Master Jellal? Oh please.
"You have thirty minutes. No more. No less." He reminded the woman spitefully and promptly left.
Her chocolate eyes carefully watched her personal guard click the door behind him, and continued to stare at the blank slate of a door even after the brute had left. This is was so damn… strange. She couldn't believe she was actually his prisoner—his slave now. She had to compose herself before making her toilsome trip to the shower bed, separating the shower curtains. Her ratted clothing dropped to a pool around her feet and allowed for the woman to look down at her bare body.
How disgusting.
She was covered in bites and marks everywhere, and they were especially frequent in such vulgar areas.
Before she knew it, the steaming water struck her wounds like fire rivets, spreading over the course of her body. Her frail wrists still felt like they were being cut through by a dull knife and the woman thought she was never going to be rid of the pain there.
Or the memory of its symbolic scars.
…
She didn't have the strength to look him in the face, and it constrained her to accept that reality. He was there, turned around to glare at the decorations lavishing the walls in his personal room, to which she silently felt relieved for. A haunting image of the past it was—to look at such scenery where the first initiation of their battle had begun—in the tower of heaven.
Despite the heavy breathing, she was sure he didn't hear her, but that idea quickly dispersed as he addressed her arrival.
"I'm glad you've decided to join me." His rich, silver voice echoed in the chamber room.
She remained still and quiet. How agonizing it was for her. Yet she wouldn't admit such words.
"I was told that you were obedient these past few days. Such actions won't go without rewards." He continued, with his back still turned to her.
It's not like she had a choice anyway.
…
"Oi. I—I'm not feelin' too good," uttered the fire mage in pure agony, and he gripped at his stomach, the cultivating wad of vomit was mounting his throat.
It was coming.
"Hey what's wrong with this kid?" said one of the sailors, masking his mouth with a hand.
Oh—oh it was gonna come out again! Natsu crawled to the edge of the ship and let whatever hot bile left spew out from his body and into the ocean.
"Afraid of a little water?" Joked a burly man, which led to a domino-effect of laughs on the ship.
If it weren't for motion sickness, the dragon slayer would have picked a fight with each and every one of them for insulting his greatness. While lying like a lifeless fish on the floorboards, he hoisted his head up against the wooden columns, while gripping them with his steadfast hands. His onyx eyes were tiredly staring out into the sea, inert and dull in all its glory.
'Where the hell was she?' he thought again for the hundredth time.
There was only so much travel he could take, and he'd been on this damn voyage for too long. Just then, he regretted not bringing his exceed with him, or at least anyone with directional sense. Or any sort of sense in this case. He wasn't thinking clearly when he strode off into the night, begging a group of sailors to take him on their voyage. He just blanked out. It was like something was telling him to hit the docks and use a ship, despite his motion sickness. He didn't think of anyone else, he just… assumed the worst. But for what? Only Mavis knew.
And he wasn't the type of guy to doubt someone's actions or question their motives…
Was he overreacting?
No one else seemed too worried about her disappearance. Yeah, maybe it wasn't his business but Erza wasn't the type of person to miss out on opportunities like the Grand Magic Games. Hell, even he was going to miss it because of her.
Damn it all!
He let out another groan begrudgingly and his arms heaved his unbearably heavy body so that he lay like a flat rug over the flank of the ship, his head drooping lowly and in depression. This motion sickness really gets to him. Maybe if he brought Wendy along he could've bypassed all the agony of travelling and he'd be A-okay!
Then again… if he brought her along, then he would definitely have a clue what he had been doing that night. But he hadn't. Nothing really made sense.
His eyes tiredly stared and lined the ocean view, until something black and small came up along the horizon. As If struggling against the substantial weight resting in his stomach, he hoisted himself up just enough so that he could rest his knees against the wood and give himself a better view of the object. What made him so curious about the ominous object floating above the ocean was an answer he could possibly never produce, and he continued to observe the blackness that slowly grew in size.
What was this feeling?
It wasn't the motion sickness, it was something else. It was nostalgic yet ominously overwhelming all at he didn't hear her, but that idea quickly dispersed as he addressed her arrival.
...