The Scars That Make You Whole
By CrimsonStarbird
Thy Will Be Done, Aftermath
-Hero's Return-
Zeref spent three days and three nights in the grip of delirium.
He slept fitfully, writhing between the sweat-soaked sheets. His waking moments were little better. Sometimes he would mutter feverish strings of unconnected words; sometimes he screamed thunder in tongues lost long ago. At first, Lucy had been convinced that there was sense in his ramblings, but the longer she listened, the more she began to doubt the sense in her own thoughts.
Wherever he was, it wasn't the same room his body was inhabiting. Sometimes he seemed to know when she was near, pulling back from her or hitting her away if she got too close too quickly. Sometimes his eyes would silently track her around the bedroom, his expression unchanging. Most of the time, though, he didn't react to anything she did or said.
No matter what she tried, she could not reach him. He thrashed on the bed, frothed at the mouth, relived his torture in Malva a thousand times over, and she could do nothing but wait for him to come back to her.
Wait, with hope and with fear.
When the battle in Malva had ended, with her allies scattered and the authorities bearing down upon the ruined city, Lucy had acted impulsively, but also logically. If the Rune Knights found Natsu or Gray unconscious amongst the rubble, they would make sure the registered guild mages – the heroes – received proper medical attention. They would have no such sympathy for the Black Mage on the best of days, let alone one on which Avatar had demolished an entire city purportedly for his sake. She had entrusted her friends to the Rune Knights and fled back to her house in Crocus, bringing an unconscious Zeref with her.
Concern that he might be recognized was also how she'd justified not taking him to a hospital. That, and his immortality. As bad as his condition looked, she knew he'd pull through. His curse guaranteed it.
So she'd told herself, when she had placed him on the bed and dressed the wound Natsu had given him, which just wouldn't stop bleeding.
So she'd kept telling herself as the hours rolled by, useless and terrified and unable to help him return to reality.
She slept almost as badly as he did, disturbed by the long periods of silence and jolted awake by his unprovoked screams. On the second day, she had gone to change his bandages and found that the wound beneath had vanished. There wasn't so much as a scar left on his skin.
The fact that his immortality seemed to have triumphed at last brought her enormous relief, which had faded again with every hour that passed without any matching improvement to his mental condition.
All the while, Lucy didn't leave the house once.
She had to be here when he woke up. He would probably be disorientated, he was suffering from extreme magical exhaustion, and he had been through more in one day than she could imagine – she couldn't possibly let him face that alone.
Zeref wasn't the only person she was worried about, however. Virgo had been in the physical world for three days straight, trying to find out what had happened to the others who had been in Malva.
Arlock was dead. That one came as no surprise; it had been all over the news before she had even arrived home. Burned alive, the report had said. With no witnesses to the final fight, they assumed he had lost control of his own ritual, and been immolated by the very god he had summoned. Lucy was quite content to let that misconception stand.
Many members of Avatar had been captured by the Rune Knights following the incident – far more than Lucy had had the misfortune to meet. If the newspaper reports were anything to go by, interrogating them all and working out exactly who was guilty of what was going to be a huge undertaking, and Lucy was glad she would have no part in it.
Jerome was under Rune Knight surveillance in hospital. Lucy had been relieved to hear he had survived. In a way, he had been as much a victim of Arlock's schemes as anyone.
Crime Sorcière had arrived in Malva shortly after Lucy had left it. She had spoken to Erza via the lacrima, but Erza had little information to offer her, and besides, she had other things on her mind. No one had seen Jellal since he had disappeared in pursuit of Zeref's ally. Zeref had been certain that his friend wouldn't kill Jellal – and surely, if the Rune Knights had found Jellal gravely injured or worse, they'd have been celebrating that even more than Arlock's defeat – but that was of little comfort to Erza, when he had not made any attempt to contact his guild since the fight.
Gray had similarly vanished, his name neither amongst the lists of the living nor the dead. It could have meant anything, from his demonic side having walked away in full control to his body having been burnt beyond all recognition by those ravenous black flames. Erza had promised to keep an eye out, but Lucy was finding it difficult to share Erza's faith in their friend's resilience.
And as for Natsu… he was in a coma. No one knew why. Healing magic had no effect; a whole team of experts, from neurosurgeons to trauma specialists, had failed to determine the cause.
Virgo visited him in hospital every day in the hope of being able to bring some better news back to her owner. Lucy did not share her optimism. She had a feeling that Natsu's condition wouldn't improve until Zeref's did.
She knew what she'd seen at the end of their fight, even if she didn't quite know what to make of it yet.
She'd picked up the Book of END when she'd retrieved Zeref, and placed it on the bedside table, where he could easily reach it if he woke up. She'd not touched it since. She had promised never to repeat her actions of that day.
Still, as hard as she was trying not think about it, in the absence of any explanations, her mind had been able to do little else.
She was desperate for Zeref to come round. She was also dreading it. As much as she wanted to know the truth, she was afraid of what it might do to their uneasy alliance. Zeref did not give up his secrets readily, and she was beginning to appreciate why. It had taken so long for him to become willing to share some of his past with her… and this time, his hand had been forced.
She wanted answers. She knew those answers would be painful to give – and, perhaps, painful to hear. There was every chance it would destroy their friendship. Perhaps it would be better to pretend she had seen nothing at all.
But whenever she closed her eyes, she remembered the uncharacteristic hatred in Natsu's actions, remembered how Zeref had stopped him in his tracks with a single word – one command from master to demon – and she knew that she couldn't go on not knowing either.
So she waited in dread and anticipation for him to snap out of his nightmare, as the days trickled by without a whisper of good news.
Her friends were scattered. She was alone. She did not know if Zeref would find a way back from his waking torment, or what would become of their relationship if he did. Out in the wider world, the consequences of the multi-factional clash in Malva were still unravelling.
Arlock had been defeated by her hand, but she had never felt less like a hero.
With a final flutter of wings, Happy deposited the last branch onto the pile and stepped back to admire his handiwork.
A respectable stack of firewood stood in the centre of the cave, more than enough to burn for a full night. Once he lit it, it would look just like the kind of campfire around which Team Natsu would once have gathered, a little piece of hearth and home they could take with them into the darkest of dungeons.
Happy nodded to himself approvingly and tried not to think about how a little cat like him didn't need nearly as much light as his whole team did.
About how it wasn't nearly cold enough to necessitate a fire that burned throughout the night.
About how, if he were truly being honest with himself, building the campfire hadn't been about the memory of adventures in days gone by as much as it had been about constructing a barricade of sorts between himself and the man on the other side – a man who had once been one of his best friends, and now was… something less clear.
On the other side of the wooden pile, Gray Fullbuster lay comatose where Happy had dragged him from the ruins of Malva. Maybe he shouldn't have done it, but the Rune Knights were closing in, and Happy had been alone and scared and the Knights were probably allies but sometimes they were enemies instead, and his instinct had been to fly the unconscious Gray to safety.
He had found a place to hide, and he'd fetched firewood and water and food while Gray had lain in deathly silence with no sign of stirring.
As the hours ticked by without any sign of his other friends, Happy had nothing to do but remember being frozen and used as a hostage, lured in by a warped smile on that familiar face…
He wished Natsu were here. Or Lucy. Lucy always knew what to do, but for so many days now, she had been getting further and further away. Team Natsu was long gone, and Happy didn't know if the last remaining member would resume trying to kill him when – if – he awoke.
It was then, as he stared up at the firewood, that he realized he had no idea how to light a campfire. Natsu had always done it with his magic. On his own, Happy could do nothing.
He wasn't a hero.
Without Natsu, he wasn't even a sidekick.
Tears welled up in his eyes again. "Where are you, Natsu? Please, get here soon…"
Jellal didn't know why he had come back here.
In all likelihood, it was – as was so often the case these days – because of his troublesome guild. They had been on their way to Malva when he had flown on ahead, but he had left the city before they had arrived. There was always that niggling worry that they'd had a run-in with the remnants of Avatar or the Rune Knights arriving to arrest them – and he wasn't quite sure which would be worse.
Perhaps, then, Jellal had come to check on them out of some vague sense of duty… but when he'd spotted his guild in the forest, Meredy attempting to corral the rest of them into squads for a dark-creature-hunting job they'd apparently picked up, killing time with a minor request while they waited for their leader to come back and tell them what they were supposed to be doing, the stone that dropped into his stomach didn't feel a thing like relief.
To make matters worse, Erza noticed him before he could fly off. He should have realized his unexplained disappearance would have put her on high alert.
Now, he had no choice but to remain perched on the branch overlooking the clearing where his guild had parked the Mobile Temple as she climbed up beside him. At least she had the courtesy not to alert the others to his presence before beginning the interrogation.
"Where've you been, Jellal?" she demanded. "We were so worried when we couldn't find you in Malva – especially since no one seemed to know what happened! Was Lucy there? Did you fight Avatar? Are you hurt?"
"Yes, no, and no," he said shortly. "I wanted to be on my own. I still do."
For one wild moment, he thought Erza was going to seize his wrist to ensure he could not enact that desire. It came instead as a gentle touch to the back of his hand. Perhaps that was why he stayed, despite how much he had been dreading her inevitable next question: "What's wrong?"
How was he supposed to respond to that? Fighting back his first urge – near-maniacal laughter – he forced himself to look at Erza, to remind himself of the genuine concern there. Quietly, he said, "Eight years, I've been doing this."
Erza's expression became quizzical. "What do you mean?"
"This." With a wave of his hand, he indicated the escaped convicts arguing outside their mobile guildhall. "Eight years I've been part of Crime Sorcière, give or take a few months."
"So?"
"It occurs to me," Jellal said, "that eight years is the same amount of time I spent building the Tower of Heaven."
"What does that have to do with anything?" The snap in Erza's voice was immediate, defensive, almost automatic, just like it was every time he mentioned that part of his life.
"I spent eight years at the top of that tower, believing I was doing the right thing. Then I found out what I was doing was wrong, was evil, and I wanted to make up for it. So I spent the next eight years pursuing a goal I knew to be right." Bitterness curled into his voice. "Why was I so certain that my second goal was any better than my first?"
Now, Erza's grip did tighten around his wrist. "Jellal, you are doing a great thing-"
"You will have to forgive me for my cynicism, but I have been wrong on that matter too many times before."
"If you don't feel as though you can trust yourself, can't you trust me? I know you're on the right path-"
"Ultear was always quick to remind me of that too, back then."
He saw her eyes widen, shocked and hurt by the comparison.
Darkly, he continued, "She was always there, by my side on the Council or pretending to be Zeref's ghost. If I ever doubted myself, she could assure me that my desires were pure. Surrounded by that evil cult, I took their admiration to be the proof of my divine purpose, but they were only ever echoing back the lies I myself had told them. I do trust you, Erza," he added softly, a small placation for her bristling offence, "but that doesn't mean you are right… or indeed any less misguided than I."
"Then look at it this way," Erza argued. "When you ruled the Tower of Heaven, you enslaved your friends, killed those who got in your way, and your ultimate goal was to bring back Zeref and unleash darkness upon the world! Now, you're-"
"Trying to kill Zeref," Jellal interrupted coolly. "It's obvious when you think about it, isn't it? If resurrecting Zeref is wrong, killing him must be right. Another blind absolute. One I didn't even have to think about. I could just devote myself to it, safe in the knowledge that I was finally doing something good with my life."
"You are. Zeref needs to be stopped. He has promised to wipe out all of Fairy Tail. He has threatened to destroy the entire world – his demons would already have done so, had we not somehow snatched victory from Tartaros. Just look at Avatar! He is the source of so much darkness and suffering and evil in the world!"
"Yes, well, most of the world says the same about me, but you seem to prefer me being alive, don't you?" he shot back. "How can I claim that destroying him is a noble and redemptive cause, when I want to live myself?"
"That's entirely different!" she exclaimed, outraged.
Jellal had always loved her fierceness, her certainty. That was what had convinced him to fight on when he wanted to blow himself up along with Nirvana and be done with it… but he wasn't weak any more. He wasn't frail or naïve or without his own memories; he knew all too well who he was.
"Is it? Is it really that easy to decide what is right?" In one swift motion, Jellal jumped down from the branch, landing soundlessly upon the forest floor. "Or have I wasted another eight years in thrall to an equally heinous cause?"
Erza stood, too, but she didn't jump down after him. From above, she called out, "What brought this on, Jellal? What happened in Malva?"
He did not look at her. "I fought a man who would have died for Zeref. Who… loved him. It wasn't Avatar's fanaticism. It was personal, just like I would give my life for you or Meredy or anyone in my guild. I am used to people seeing me as a villain for my actions in the past, and it does not faze me, because I know I am no longer that person. But to him, it was my actions now that made me the villain."
"There will always be people who see things differently to you-" Erza tried.
A sharp shake of his head silenced her quicker than any magic; the words that followed, spoken with such finality, were more decisive than any strike of a sword. "And then there was Lucy."
"What about her?"
"After I beat Zeref's servant, I went back to look for her. What I found was Zeref, imprisoned in runes that were draining his power and causing him a great deal of pain in the process… and Lucy was there with him. She was protecting him. Comforting him. She promised to free him, and he trusted her to do so."
Erza's brow furrowed. "Lucy? Our Lucy? Why would she do a thing like that? Perhaps she was tricked in some way, or she didn't realize who he was."
"She knew. She must have done. Zeref used an ancient spell to connect their magical cores together… a forced, prolonged Unison Raid. I've never seen it in action before. It isn't common knowledge, because it's very difficult to do, and the consequences of failure are devastating." With grim satisfaction, Jellal turned back to her, and stated, "It requires absolute trust to work. Without it, the recoil will kill both participants."
"That can't be right. You must have been mistaken in what you saw. You incorrectly identified Zeref's spell, or perhaps it wasn't Lucy after all…"
"That's what I thought, too." Jellal gave an easy shrug, which might have purported surrender, if not for the unyielding spark in his eyes. "That it was one of Zeref's henchmen using transformation magic. That Zeref had found a loophole in the spell to make false trust caused by compulsion magic sufficient to prevent the recoil. Even that the whole thing was a magical illusion meant to confuse me."
"Then-"
"In other words, I went out of my way to find increasingly far-fetched explanations to force the evidence of my senses to fit my pre-existing worldview." A twisted smile. "That's another thing I became very good at as the Master of the Tower of Heaven."
"Jellal-"
"I have to have been mistaken in what I saw, don't you see?" he pressed. "Zeref is evil, so I'm going to defeat him, and all those who stand with him – for eight years, that was my redemption. That was how I justified not staying in prison and accepting the punishment I force on other dark mages. That was my justification for living when the whole world wanted me dead!"
He took a deep, shuddering breath. "And if the certainty that has kept me going these past eight years turns out to be just as hollow as the one which plagued the eight before, what then?"
"Since when has it mattered what other people think-?" Erza began, alarmed, but he cut her off.
"When every act you do is weighed against a lifetime of evil, it matters a great deal, Erza. I would not expect someone who has never been despised for simply living to understand."
Are you jealous, seeing that your enemy is so loved, while you are shunned by those you protect?
Jellal closed his eyes. "I will never be a hero, no matter what I do."
She started towards him again, but it only prompted him to draw upon his magic, letting the energy to break out of the earth's orbit take form around his body. "I want to be on my own for a while. Look after my guild for me." And he was gone before she could protest.
"Gajeel?" Closing the front door behind her, Levy peeked into the empty living room, and then shouted up the stairs. "Lily! Gajeel! Are you here?"
No response.
"Guess they're still on duty," Levy sighed, reaching into her knapsack. "Okay, Davos, he's not here, you can come out."
She set the possessed radio down on the kitchen table and twisted the volume dial up from mute. Its speakers came alive at once. "Hehehe… got to make sure your boyfriend is out before bringing your other man into the house, huh?"
"You're more of a project than a man right now, Davos," Levy replied absently as she rummaged through the kitchen cupboards. She hadn't been home for days, thanks to the Rune Knights sending her straight to Malva to help with the clean-up, and if the cupboards were any indication, Gajeel hadn't been back either… but there was bound to be something edible around here. Something that didn't come out of a toolkit, that was. Gajeel never had to worry about his food going off.
"And besides," she added, "it's less that I think Gajeel will be jealous of you and more that I'm worried he'll see you and assume I've brought him a tasty snack."
"Eh?"
"He's the Iron Dragon Slayer," she explained, spying some rice at the back of the cupboard.
"…Oh." All the teasing had mysteriously vanished from the radio's crackly voice. "I suppose that does explain why you felt the need to take me with you to Malva, rather than leaving me here. I must say, though, it is very boring being stuck at the bottom of your bag all day. And for the record, I don't believe for a second that you accidentally tipped all those jumpers on top of me. You were trying to stop me from hearing anything going on out there, weren't you?"
"Of course I was," Levy sighed. "I was conducting police interviews with the other members of Avatar. I couldn't have you listening to that."
The radio was silent for a while. Even though she knew he couldn't move under his own power, she couldn't resist checking that he was still where she had left him as she continued foraging for food. Eventually, his light flickered back on. "Oh? Who've you caught this time? Jerome? Mary?"
"No, not the inner circle. Jerome's under surveillance in hospital, and there's been no sign of the man who tortured Lucy in the black church, but all the other ringleaders are already in custody. It's the other members who are causing the problem… half the population of Malva, by the looks of things, and that's just the start. Only half of them are mages, none of them are fighters, but they consider themselves members of Avatar nonetheless."
"You arrested them all?" Davos bleeped, interested.
"We had no choice! They were all happy to admit to supporting Avatar, and even to wanting Zeref to return and change things! There are so many charges we should be bringing against them – failure to report a criminal organization, for one, and freely seeking knowledge of forbidden magic – but… they're ordinary people. That's what makes it so difficult."
Levy sighed, drumming her fingers upon the counter with a shade of the restlessness that had haunted her for the last three days. "There are a few lowlifes, there always will be, but as you well know, it was the inner circle who had the dealings with the dark guilds. The rest of them are respectable members of society who attended Avatar's sermons at the end of the working day! They consider them lectures, Avatar's recruiting speeches, because they teach them about magic and history that the Council-authorized guilds won't! They hid in plain sight, operating out of a community centre in Malva, but it wasn't a cover. Avatar genuinely were part of the community. A part that will be missed so much it has prompted hundreds of unarmed, innocent people to march on the Rune Knight station in protest. They have no idea that Avatar – via Arlock – were responsible for Bishop's Lace, let alone the destruction of Malva, and most of them refuse to believe it when we tell them. They believed in Avatar's cause!"
"Arlock was always very good at propaganda," Davos reminded her. "You're the one who keeps insisting he was manipulating me. Not that you've put any more effort into freeing me than he did, but then he did go and get himself killed, so in the absence of any better options, I'm willing to give you a chance."
"I'm getting round to it," Levy grumbled, but it was half-hearted, and quickly swallowed by her sigh. "It's just… Lucy killed a god and defeated Arlock, like a proper hero should. Now it's my turn to ensure that the guilty get charged and order is restored. But after you've interviewed a hundred civilians who want to be arrested to show solidarity with a cult they just can't see as evil… well, it's hard to feel like a hero, that's all."
"That's because, to an awful lot of people, you're not a hero at all," Davos told her wisely. "To them, Avatar was change, and you've taken that away from them."
And Levy found she had nothing to say to that.
How many of those three days and three nights Lucy spent in constant worry about Zeref, she couldn't be sure, but it was enough that she was beginning to think Arlock's ritual had left wounds even his body couldn't heal when he finally stepped out of the bedroom.
She jumped up at the sound of the door opening. He was standing on his own, which was a good sign, and he seemed fully aware of where – and who – he was, but she stopped herself from dashing over to him. Even on good days, he disliked being too close to others. She didn't want to crowd him.
"Hey," she said, softly. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," he snapped.
"Can I get you anything? Would you like something to eat, or…?"
She tailed off. A dull red light glimmered in his eyes, but she was no longer sure how reliable an indication that was of his mental state, having seen him fake it on the battlefield of Malva. Her fingers threaded themselves nervously together.
Zeref seemed to be waiting for her to say something, and when she didn't, he turned on his heel. His robes spun out in a decisive gesture. "I'm getting a shower."
"Okay. There are fresh towels in the cupboard."
Again, that uncomfortable pause as he glared at her over his shoulder. She gave him an encouraging nod. With a flash of anger, he strode into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.
"I'm sorry," she whispered to the closed door, not knowing what she was apologizing for, except perhaps for being the only person to have seen him at his most vulnerable and lived to tell the tale.
It wasn't her Zeref was thinking of as he stood beneath the shower, letting the warm water wash away the outward grime of the battlefield and leave the darkness within untouched.
He twisted, touching a hand to his lower back. There was no indication a deadly cursed artefact had pierced right through him, let alone killed him a thousand times over.
He ran his fingers along the line where Natsu's claw had cut him open. Not even a scar remained.
Closing his eyes, he felt a shiver of death's certainty lick down his spine, but when he opened them again, it was nothing more than a wayward stream of water.
With the silent efficiency of one who had done this a hundred times before, a small knife materialized in his hand and he drove it into his own chest.
The water spiralling towards the drain ran red, and then clear again. And red, and clear, and red, and clear…
Still immortal, then.
At last, he returned the dulled blade to his Requip Space and turned the water off as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened – which, to him, it hadn't.
Lucy didn't see much point in pretending that she hadn't been sat around waiting for him to emerge. There was plenty she should have been doing instead, but it was almost impossible to think about anything that wasn't him. There were too many friends she couldn't help right now not to devote every minute she had to the one she could. She only wished she knew how.
"I don't know if you feel like eating, but I think you probably should," she tried, gesturing towards the fridge. "You were out for three days. I could make you something, or…"
Zeref ignored her. "Aren't you going to ask?"
She met his gaze squarely. "Not until I think you can take it."
He snarled something that didn't have to be intelligible to convey his feelings, and he strode towards the door.
"Zeref," she added, quietly, "you will always be welcome here. You don't have to talk to me, or answer any questions, or even acknowledge my existence. That room is yours for as long as you need somewhere private to recover."
He paused at the front door, his back to her. She would have given anything to be able to see the expression on his face, to know what he was thinking, to understand why the hand an inch away from the handle was trembling.
Then he stepped out and was gone in a ripple of magic, carrying him somewhere too far and too fast for her to follow.
Losing a fight was bad.
Losing a fight to the man who had sworn to kill his emperor was worse.
Waking up three days after losing said fight in the hospital of a kingdom that provided inadequate funding to its health service was the greatest insult of all.
Moonlight filtered through the half-drawn curtains, throwing dappled shadows upon the not-quite-spotless walls. The quiet hum of the equipment was atmospheric, although the newer models they used in Vistarion had done away with all unnecessary noise in favour of helping the patient getting a good night's rest. Begrudgingly, Invel supposed he had to give them credit for their willingness to take in an injured man with no consideration for his nationality or allegiance… but it didn't change the fact that this was the last place he wanted to be right now.
"Are you awake, Invel?"
The voice had spoken softly, so as not to disturb him, but the volume – or lack thereof – was irrelevant compared to the jolt of recognition that shot through Invel. For a moment, he completely forgot why he was in the hospital in the first place as he tried to stand, bow, and check that his emperor was unharmed all at once.
"Don't you dare," came the amused response. "You're already injured; further aggravating your wounds for the sake of formality is a level of idiocy I had thought beneath you."
"Protocol is protocol, Your Majesty," Invel argued, unimpressed.
"Very well, then – as your emperor, I hereby order you not to leave that bed until a doctor permits it. How's that?"
"That is a flagrant abuse of power and you should be ashamed of yourself."
"Maybe so. Still, you'll do it anyway, because I am your emperor and that's rather the point. You may not respect me, but I know you respect my office."
"I have a great deal of respect for you, Your Majesty," Invel corrected him reproachfully. "And I have truly failed you."
"How so?"
With a rustle of fabric, his emperor stepped out of the shadows. There was nothing as convenient as a chair here – perhaps that was a luxury the pressured Fiorean health service could do without – but he didn't seem to mind standing. Invel wondered how long he had been waiting, and why he had bothered, after what had happened in Malva.
"I was defeated," Invel said bitterly. "I have shamed you."
"Don't be ridiculous. I would never have expected you to win against Jellal. His combat skills are exceptional, and he has the knowledge of magic to back them up." He shrugged, dismissive; it really did mean nothing to him. "You kept him away from me without even needing to be told. There is nothing more I could have asked of you."
"Except I didn't even manage that. I allowed myself to be defeated far too quickly, and left him free to roam."
"Did you?" His surprise seemed genuine. "I didn't see him. He didn't bother me again for the rest of the battle. And while I will admit that I was not my most observant self at the time, I find it hard to believe that he would have failed to notice me, or that he would have passed up the opportunity to strike while I was incapacitated."
"You were- what did they do to you, Your Majesty?"
"It matters not."
"Of course it matters! Not only did I fail to win, but I also left you unguarded when you needed me-"
"That is enough, Invel," he snapped, and Invel fell silent immediately. "You're my Chief of Staff, for heaven's sake, not my bodyguard. It isn't your job to fight my personal enemies singlehandedly. Your job is to help me run my empire."
"And I have failed at that too, because I am stuck in a hospital in Fiore."
Another shrug. "You know that there are about four hundred people who work in the palace, right?"
"Four hundred and thirty-two."
"There you go, then. The other four hundred and thirty-one of them can start pulling their weight for a change. I'm sure the empire will still be there when you and I return."
"But we cannot prepare for war without-"
"Honestly, Invel. I didn't come here to listen to you whine."
Before Invel could stammer out an apology, his cheeks burning with shame, the emperor tilted his head in a most unimperial gesture of curiosity. "This isn't like you at all. Is this the first time you've lost in combat? No- is this the first time you've ever fought for real, away from the rules and regulations of duelling competitions?"
His Majesty already knew the answer to that, not that it made the fact of his failure any easier to bear. It was a challenge for Invel to keep the snap out of his voice as he asked, "Why did you come here, then, if not to punish me?"
"I don't really know," the other reflected. "I didn't want to be where I was any more, but I didn't have anywhere else to go. Trying to locate you gave me something simple to focus on." He thought about this for a moment. "I didn't know if you were still alive. That made me… uncomfortable."
"You do not need to worry about me, Your Majesty. I will return to Alvarez to carry out your will at the first available opportunity."
"No, you will return when the doctor says you are well enough to travel, and not a moment before," His Majesty corrected him. "You are too important to risk. The empire would fall apart without you."
As firmly as he dared, Invel shook his head. "Not at all. You ruled over Alvarez perfectly well before you hired me."
"Maybe. It's not the same."
Invel opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, the other spoke again. "Invel, why don't I want to conquer Fiore?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"I like being the emperor of Alvarez," he explained. "Building a nation, expanding it, uniting it, constructing a unique system of government from the ground-up… it is the greatest of games on an unparalleled scale. It is endlessly stimulating in an immortal life which could so easily have become repetitive. No matter how long I spend doing it, it feels as though it never gets any easier, any less interesting."
Then, tapping his heel on the floor, he continued, "When I think about invading Fiore, about conquering and subduing it in order to expand my nation once again… I just don't want to. I will do it, but only because it is necessary to obtain Fairy Heart. If not for that, I wouldn't do it. Do you know why that is?"
Had the question have come from anyone else, Invel would have assumed it was a test, but His Majesty's confusion seemed genuine. Invel hazarded, "Because there are people and places here which are dear to you?"
"I don't know. I am not sure that is enough to explain it. I have felt this way for a very long time; it is why I have always resisted the calls to invade in the past. Yet it is only recently that I have felt any kind of attachment to this place."
"Then I cannot explain it," Invel confessed, wondering why His Majesty had ever thought him able to understand something he did not understand himself.
"Perhaps it is simply another contradiction," he agreed. "Anyway, you should get some rest. My curse is calmer than I imagined it would be, in a place like this, but only, I think, because it is still recovering, just as I am. I should probably go back, while it is safe for me to do so."
"Back to Alvarez?"
Some of his hope must have slipped into Invel's voice, because the other gave a faint smile. "No, not to Alvarez. Not yet. I did consider it… cutting my losses and leaving now for war. But…"
"Do what you must, Your Majesty," Invel said, with a heavy sigh. "I suspect you will still return to Vistarion before I am able to do so."
"We'll see. Take care of yourself, Invel."
After leaving the hospital, it took a long, winding walk through the darkened streets of Crocus before Zeref was ready to return to Lucy's house. He didn't particularly want to be there, and he thought she didn't particularly want him to be there either, but as he had told Invel, he had nowhere else to go. He was far too fragile to face Alvarez properly right now, and yet he also had too much left unfinished to waste away the hours alone.
To his surprise, Lucy kept her rash promise. Despite looking like his knock had woken her from another uncomfortable nap on the couch, she opened the door and stepped aside to let him in without a word. She didn't ask about what he knew she'd seen. She didn't ask about what he knew she knew. She did speak, once, but it was only to ask him again if he wanted anything to eat. When he ignored her, then true to her word, she left him alone.
That suited him. He didn't feel much like moping, though. Not after he had reprimanded Invel for it.
Instead, he lay spread-eagled on Lucy's bed, lights off and curtains closed, his communication lacrima balanced on his chest, rising and dipping with every tired breath, as he closed his eyes and called August.
As always, August answered at once. "Good evening- are you alright, Your Majesty? I cannot see you."
"I'm alright, I'm here," Zeref responded. "I can hear you."
The thought of someone from his empire seeing him so vulnerable wouldn't normally be a welcome one, but he was too exhausted to care. In the aftermath of Malva, he did not have it in him to pretend. August would know better than to comment on it; Zeref could trust that entirely. Separated by distance and the dark, feeling the gentle vibrations of the lacrima on his chest with every word that passed between them, he had no intention of moving.
"What can I do for you, Your Majesty?"
Zeref considered this. "Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to hear your voice?"
Wryly, August returned, "Given your habit of disappearing for years at a time without so much as a postcard, to be quite frank, Your Majesty, I would not."
"I suppose I asked for that. Tell me how the preparations for war are progressing. Have the Twelve assembled?"
"Not entirely. Eight of us are in Vistarion, awaiting your next orders."
"Tell me who is missing."
"Irene acknowledged receipt of the order, but has not been in touch since. I do not know when or even if she will arrive in Vistarion."
"That's fine," Zeref sighed. "Let her do as she pleases. I have told her time and time again that she is under no obligation to serve me."
The buzzing of the lacrima was the only response. Not even a reluctant acknowledgement of the instruction. Curious, he pressed, "You disapprove, August?"
In the ensuing silence, Zeref could sense August weighing up his better judgement against the obligation to answer a direct question. As tempting as it was to offer his longest-serving advisor an easy way out, he stayed quiet.
Eventually, August said, "You were generous enough to grant her an important position and great authority in your empire, and in return she forsakes our nation and spends more time away from Vistarion than even you do. Do I disapprove? Of course I do. However, if it is your wish, Your Majesty…"
"Let her be. Who else?"
This time, August's answer came short and terse. That was enough to tell Zeref who even before he processed the word, "Larcade."
"Don't worry about him. He'll come when I tell him to."
"Very well." There was nothing well about it, if August's tone of voice was anything to go by, but he would not spell it out unless prompted, and this time, Zeref did not prompt him. They had almost-but-not-quite had this conversation enough times to convince them both that neither really wanted it.
August moved on. "God Serena is missing also."
Zeref didn't quite sit up at this – he was too comfortable, with his fingers wormed into the sheets and his body sinking into the duvet – but his eyes did open, for all the difference it made in the dark. "Now, that does surprise me. Have you heard anything at all from him?"
"He called ahead to have his rooms arranged for him, but he has yet to arrive in Vistarion. Ajeel is of the opinion that he has fled back to Ishgar. Dimaria believes he has been distracted chasing his own reflection through the shopping district."
"I suspect Dimaria is closer to the truth, although I shall keep an eye out over here for any sign that he has defected. That is strange, though. He has always been very much in favour of our conquest."
"Agreed," August said, and nothing more.
"Well?" Zeref prompted, as the silence dragged on. "You said we were missing four people. Who is the last?"
A crackle of static, and a voice did that not want to speak, but would never not do so when this man requested it. "Invel, Your Majesty."
"Oh, of course."
Last time they had spoken, August had been forced to confess to him Invel's suspicions about the war, fully believing he was signing Invel's death warrant by doing so. No wonder he was so reluctant.
Letting his eyes fall closed again, Zeref lay back, basking in the dark. "He's in no state to travel right now. Not that that would stop him, but I also warned him that if he left the hospital before the doctor gave him permission, I would personally put him back in there, and I think that might."
The connection trembled. For a moment, Zeref could sense August fighting to keep it stable as his magic sparked, and he almost wished he could see his face, and read the reason for it there… no, that was a foolish thought. He knew August well enough to know exactly what was going through his mind.
"I didn't kill him, August," he confirmed. "I was going to, but I didn't."
"I… am very glad to hear that, Your Majesty."
Sincerity echoed in every word, but Zeref had a feeling it wasn't the first thought that had crossed the other's mind. He gave a twisted smile. August would never see it; the bitterness it held was reserved for himself alone. "Even you're surprised by that, aren't you?"
"I…"
"Well, a month ago, I imagine I would have done it without hesitating. I am still not sure why I didn't. Maybe I am simply being inconsistent again."
A non-committal noise reverberated through the orb on his chest.
"Say, August," Zeref said suddenly. "Why is it that I don't want to conquer Fiore, even though I enjoy ruling over Alvarez?"
"That's obvious, isn't it?" came the surprised response.
"If it was, I wouldn't have asked," Zeref sulked.
In the subsequent pause, the texture of the magic connecting them across the world softened, became warm. "Because ruling Alvarez is an act of creation, whereas conquering Fiore would be one of destruction."
"I'm not sure I follow."
"You created Alvarez," August explained patiently. "It was nothing before you, and would have remained nothing, had you not acted. From helping it grow wild and free, to uniting it under one government, to guiding it as it continues to evolve day after day – you have created all of this out of the ashes of history. Yet in order to create anything in Fiore, you must first destroy what is already there. And it isn't as impressive as Alvarez, but it isn't bad, either… only different. I believe it is the thought of having to tear that down before you can begin to rebuild it that separates the two in your mind."
"I… am not sure that is right," Zeref prevaricated. "I have freely caused much destruction in the past. I know I will continue to do so in the future."
"The Curse of Contradiction makes that inevitable," came the calm and utterly unshaken response. "For everything that you create, it will make you destroy – and yet, for all its power, it cannot change who you are. Perhaps, in the past, you have done both in equal measure… but when you look back, which do you regret? And of which are you most proud?"
Zeref's automatic rebuttal died on his lips.
He had brought his demons to life, and when they had proven incapable of carrying out the task he had set for them, he had not been able to bring himself to destroy them, and had set them free instead. He had bound the Celestial Spirits to secrecy, and allowed their keys and their magic to flourish throughout history, when he should have annihilated their conscious selves. He had created ground-breaking artefacts, and discarded them intact; he had crafted dangerous rituals, and let the books that recorded them be hidden, or buried, or lost. He had refused to destroy a single piece of research, despite the ever-present risk of someone like Arlock getting their hands on them.
For all the death the curse left in his wake, there was also life in equal measure – life, in the form of new magic and revolutionary artefacts and insightful scholarship and living demons; life which inspired some and granted dark purpose to others, but which never left those who encountered it unchanged.
And then there was his empire. There were any number of reasons he could give for having created it: it was an experiment, a game, a weapon to use for his own selfish purposes, a way of passing the time. Yet none of those were entirely sufficient to explain how he felt.
When he had been faced with losing Invel, and with him the loyalty of his government, and the solidarity of his empire; when tearing it down and starting over had felt like the only solution – then, the decision to sacrifice his pride and his secrets and his own invulnerability to protect it was not the act of one who did not care for what he had created, was it?
Perhaps, on some level, he had chosen not to acknowledge the truth. Perhaps it had protected them, pushing his empire beyond the reach of his curse. Perhaps it had been necessary all this time – but it was not without consequence. It had created the image of an emperor whose oldest ally would be surprised that he had not killed a loyal servant who had rightfully questioned him. It was the reason for that perception of him as a distant, merciless, all-powerful god, which Arlock had appropriated to beguile his followers.
Perhaps, if he had made different choices, Arlock's ideas would never have gained any traction at all.
Perhaps he had more ability to choose than he had thought.
Zeref did not know how to put it into words, but magic hummed contentedly between them, and he thought August already knew.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"Come home soon, Your Majesty."
With a sleepy hum, the lacrima's magic faded to nothing. Zeref lay there in the dark for a long time, thinking in the solitude.
"Creation and destruction, is it?" he mused, out loud. "To destroy, to erase, to hide all efforts that we tried and let it fall to ruin… or to create, to protect, to fight for, and to preserve for ourselves and for others. It is a very simplistic way of seeing the world."
And then he gave a genuine smile. "Perhaps that is why it is beautiful."
Sending the lacrima back to his Requip Space, he rolled off the bed, straightened, and stepped into the living room.
There was a shadowy shape on the sofa, which quickly revealed itself to be Lucy wrapped in a blanket. She sat up immediately as he entered. Although her attempt to rub away the exhaustion from her eyes was in vain, her voice was sure. "Zeref? Are you alright?"
He didn't know the answer to that. The only thing he knew for sure was that it was time to find out what he did not have to let break apart in the wake of his cursed existence, but could fight for, could protect, could keep.
"Lucy. Can we talk?"