A/N: Hi, lovelies. Well, we're chuggin' our way through the GMG. It's kind of bittersweet-some of these scenes I wrote a long time ago. Like, the fight with Jura? I wrote that in spring/summer of 2020. It's crazy to think about; it was actually one of the first scenes I wrote and was one of the ones that just wouldn't stop bouncing around my head for literal months.
I do have to give a bit of warning: I've only really planned this story to extend to the dragon-battle at the end of the GMG arc. I've left opportunity for more adventures afterwards, but I haven't put too much energy into fully sketching it out. Idk, let me know what you all think. You've now seen me fill a 3-month gap, but the next time jump is a year. A lot can happen in a year.
Guest: Muahahaha. I love Jura and I felt bad for him to be underhanded like that, but it was necessary and I think still stays within character. And nah, love, not beta-ing anything. Just idea-bouncing and memes and puppy pictures. Also-are you reading this in Europe? Sometimes the geographic scope of people who have read this boggles my brain.
As always, please review/message/carrier pigeon/etc. Thanks for being here!
The second day of the Grand Magic Games passed in a sleepy haze. The crowd cheered like the rustle of wheat on a hot autumn day—fuzzy and crinkly and as endless as the sea. Talia had made slight show at the bar the night before—just enough to be seem as all right and for her guildmates to fawn over her. She met their passion with a tired smile and as bright a voice as she could manage, but she needed sleep.
And sleep she got. Throughout Day 2, the cameras snuck snippets of her dozing in the back corner of Team B's viewing platform before an iron wall snapped down in front of her or Laxus moved his hulking form in the way.
She roused for Elfman's fight, though. Her hand crushed in Mira's grip as they watched Bacchus hammer the blows into Elfman's armored hide. But as the drunken mage fell under the weight of his own blows, it seemed that the stubbornness that had gotten Fairy Tail in such trouble over the years was finally paying off. Mira and Talia cheered and bounced in joy, and even Laxus cracked a proud smile to the masochistic manly mage.
Talia made herself scarce for the rest of the day. Mira had given her a hint as to what her one-on-one with Jenny would likely be, and the sound mage had no inclination to be anywhere near the arena for that nonsense. So she passed the time asleep on a proper bed in Porlyusica's infirmary—the woman, for once, not berating her for taking up a bed in the ward.
She really only awoke to return to the inn and shove some food down her throat. The more she slept, the more likely she's be able to be of some use for tomorrow's round of challenges. Mira popped in briefly to check on her a few times before she and Juvia finally returned to tuck in for the night. Talia was happy to have the company—always of Mira, and she found herself growing fond of the water mage as well—but she couldn't help feeling like there was something missing. Something forgotten or misplaced. She rubbed a spot on her chest as if it ached.
She felt Mira's eyes, but didn't catch them when she looked up. But there was a little quirk to her pretty mouth. She knew something.
"If you were to bet on one person in the guild to get in trouble, who would it be?" Mira wondered aloud as she brushed her long white hair.
Talia cracked a smile and shifted onto her side, head propped in her hand. "Depends on the kind of trouble."
"Enough to warrant an earful and a rather large damages bill."
They were both smiling now. "Who or what did Natsu shishkabob this time?"
Juvia answered: "It seems that Sabertooth kicked out their celestial mage after she lost her match."
"What? Why?" Talia sat up on the bed, properly alert now.
"They didn't just kick her out," Mira's tone turned dark, "They stripped her and made her cowtow to their master while he berated her over the loss of a good fight."
"They what—" Those silver pops crinkled to life in the air around Talia's bed. Mira shooed her off with a flippant hand.
"Natsu took it upon himself to show the guild what Fairy Tail thinks of that kind of behavior. Wrecked a number of their lower-ranking mages and trashed their inn a bit. Not enough to get us kicked out of the games, but the point was made."
The pops in the air ceased, but Talia's fists still clenched white-knuckled in her blanket.
"The Master and Laxus are speaking with the Games' organizers to try to ease over the tension, but the innkeeper is apparently pretty angry," added Juvia.
Talia flopped onto her back and looked up to the ceiling. That tug was back in her chest, but this time it burned a bit. She probably hadn't had enough water.
"Let's just hope Laxus doesn't have to fight tomorrow—he's gonna be pissed and overtired from dealing with the cleanup from this mess." Mira joked, but Talia couldn't bring herself to laugh.
"You are not playing one of these stupid games."
With those massive arms crossed against his chest, Laxus was a solid wall of stalwart muscle across from her in the infirmary. They had come for a final check on Talia's neck and shoulder before the Games started, but apparently neither of them were in all the best mood.
"Oh come on!" Talia's exasperation started to turn from playful to irritated, "You just heard Ms. Porly give me the green light, and this game is called Pandemonium—how am I supposed to not play a game that's named after one of my attacks?"
"Because you're still injured. There's no reason to risk—"
"I'm fine, Laxus!" Now she was getting actually angry. They had been debating this with varying degrees of civility for five minutes already. "What do you think gives you the right to tell me when I can and can't participate in a game? Practically our entire team is made of S-class wizards. You have no authority over me," she snapped. The air popped around her, shimmering tendrils of magic dissipating from the tiny sonic booms. But she wasn't the only one who was pissed.
"You want to look in that mirror and tell me again how fine you are?" Lightning crackled along his knuckles, the thunder spinning up her sonic booms.
"They're just bruises and they're fucking fading!" She didn't look.
"They're not just bruises!" he roared, his arms unfolding as that lightning wrapped now up to his shoulders. His chest rose and fell with his deep breaths, and he closed the distance between them until he was close enough to feel the heat of her skin. "That is a weakness that everyone in this godsdamn coliseum can see." His eyes dropped down to her neck where the purples and blues had faded to brown and yellow. "That is a target." He brought up one large hand and hovered it just below her chin. "You want to tell me that you're suddenly fine with pressure on your throat? Want to tell me that you could even stand to wear a fucking scarf right now?"
Her pride held her fast, unmoving under his angry gaze and outstretched hand. But she was shaking. And she knew it. And he knew it. He dropped his hand and took a step back. Something like remorse flickered beneath his anger. He shouldn't have done that. He gritted his teeth and bit back the apology. She pushed past him with a huff and stormed out the infirmary door.
He watched her go.
"Neither of you are entirely human," grumbled Porlyusica from the store room in the back, "but you both sure are as stupid as them. Get out of my infirmary."
Laxus shot her a glare, but walked toward the door.
"She'll be all right," the old healer said, her voice creaking. Laxus stopped in the doorway, but didn't turn back. "That protective instinct of yours means something, though. Do you know what I'm talking about?" He could feel her eyes on his back. He let out a breath that clung to his ribs.
"Yeah, I do."
He'd known it for a while—longer than he realized. It started years ago, that little burning in his chest, the need to double check her well-being with his own hands. But they had been friends for so long, he didn't notice when he had slid into something more. He hadn't noticed because it hadn't changed, not really. He got the same smiles, gave the same hugs, bantered and joked all as they had. It just meant more. Every word, every moment meant more.
"Well then do something about it. You've got instincts for a reason."
The mid-morning light was bright, the sky clear for this third day of the Grand Magic Games. Talia didn't give Laxus a chance to reprimand her in the viewing box—as soon as the game was announced, she walked straight out the door and down to the arena. She could feel those irritated blue eyes on her back, just as she felt the heat of the sun. It bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
She stood by Erza in the center of the arena, and shot Jura a flimsy glare. The guy from Quattro Cerberus, uh. . . Puppy, seemed harmless enough, as did the cat-girl from Mermaid Heel, and—to his chagrin and eternal disappointment—so did Hibiki from Blue Pegasus. But at least he had a modicum of social skills. The Lightning God Slayer from Sabertooth apparently did not.
"Hey," he said, his voice rattled low and hollow. Talia had a feeling that the inside of his head probably sounded the same. "Good to see that old stone mage didn't knock you out of the Games for long. We'll have to figure out some other time to tousle, since he got so lucky in drawing opponents."
He must've been told at some point that his smile was charming, for he held the toothy grin a good deal longer than necessary or wanted. As well as the eye contact with. . . practically her whole body.
"Sorry. I've got plans," Talia bit out, not even bothering to look toward him. But he was so dang large that it was hard to ignore him completely. Saints preserve us, he's as tall as Jura and Laxus. Even in the massive arena, he seemed to take up too much space.
"Well we could always—"
"Talia already promised to be my date to the water park this evening." Erza's voice was clipped.
Hallelujah, the woman caught a social cue. Would wonders never cease. Talia wanted to hug her.
Participants announced, the massive manifestation descended from the sky. Upside down, chained, and designed to look dark and intimidating, pointed spires descended toward the arena floor.
Hibiki tried to uncover anything about the structure through his magic but came up empty-handed. The others looked on in awe. Talia liked it. The skulls were a nice touch.
Monsters were their challenge—a castle full of them. The little pumpkin-man explained the rules in that horribly squeaking voice of his, and Talia did her best to hear as little as possible. Monsters, degrees of difficulty, taking turns, blah blah blah. As long as that stupid little voice shut up faster, she was game. And if he didn't stop squawking, she knew a lovely pumpkin soup recipe that she was happy to hand-press out of his head.
Finally, he held out a box of straws and bade them choose. Erza drew first. Talia was last.
"Interesting," Erza mused, "I had assumed victory in this event relied entirely on the luck of the draw."
"It's far more than that!" Chimed the pumpkin-man, "You'll have to consider pacing, your opponent's strength, the likelihood of getting a really nasty monster—the list goes on and on. It is quite a complex game if you think about it."
"No," replied Erza. And something in her voice pricked Talia's attention. She knew that tone. Erza was about to do something stupid. A wild grin bled across Talia's lips. "In fact, this is no longer even a game."
Erza strode forward toward the manifestation.
"Inside this castle wait 100 monsters," she stated, shoulder square and voice resolute, "I choose to challenge: all of them."
The arena was stunned. Competitors gasped and blanched at the idea—squawking and sputtering about the impossibility.
But Talia only made one sound:
"HA!" she barked, the rest of the laugh bubbling up her throat and dancing along the frozen air of the arena. She could hear Natsu and Grey cackling with her from their podium. She threw her head back and laughed harder, clutching her stomach. Erza turned to her and gave a challenge of a smile.
"Raise some hell, Erza," she called once the laughs stopped hiccupping in her throat.
The rest of the mages still hadn't picked up their jaws from the sand. Talia grinned at them.
"You all may as well sit back and relax. If Erza says she'll take all of them, then all of them she'll take." She looked pointedly giddy toward Jura—"What, you thought there was only one mad redhead in our guild?"
Jura chuckled and shook his head. He knew this would be a challenge, but he was also loath to bet against anyone from Fairy Tail at this point.
And take them, Erza did. A dance of power and fortitude and pure stubborn will, she drilled through her foes with efficient precision.
It was a beautiful thing, by the end. Nobody cared what teams they had favored or bets they had placed—the entire coliseum cheered for Erza Scarlet. As one, they held their breath as she was battered and as one they cheered when she placed a good strike. The cheers rang in Talia's ears as the most marvelous of sounds. The whole coliseum was alight with joy and hope and wonder. It was a beautiful thing.
But all beautiful things come to an end, even one as wondrous as this one. As the S-class beast fell to her blade, the cheers reached their blistering finale.
Erza returned to the arena—sword alight in hand; triumph blazing as fiercely as her exhaustion pulled her breath.
"Titania—Queen of Kicking Some Ass," Talia jeered as she approached. They both sported proud smiles. Team A came scrambling across the arena, cheering and exclaiming praise and wonder.
"Hey guys," Erza said with a tired grin, "I hope you'll forgive me—dealing with them took a little bit longer than I expected."
And then there was the most important thing—the whole spectacle shocked the little pumpkin-man speechless. Which, to Talia, was almost as good as Erza's victory.
But after the coliseum chanted her name and the judges had recalibrated the test, the little mascot was back.
"Right-o!" exclaimed the pumpkin-man, is his sickeningly sweet voice, "If you cast a spell on this device, it'll display your magic power in numerical form. We'll use this number to decide the rankings for the remaining teams!"
Talia rolled her eyes. All our value whittled down to a measly little number. How insulting. She felt a hum of irritation deep in her body—apparently Morrigan wasn't happy with this either.
First up was Milliana of Mermaid Heel. The commentator made some lewd remark about her state of undress, which just lent Talia to scoff more at the whole ordeal. She was hoping for a real game, not this nonsense. She crossed her arms across her chest and stood tall. She winced at the substantial pain in her shoulder—maybe a simple game wasn't the worst thing in the world for the moment. Sneaking a glare in Jura's direction, she found him looking displeased as well. Good, she thought, no fun for you while I'm around.
She was still irritated by Laxus's outburst in the infirmary. Why shouldn't she be a part of a game? She'd had a whole day's rest! The shoulder was. . . fine. And the throat thing was really only bruising—it only hurt when she took a really deep breath. Against 90% of the competitors in the Games, she'd be ok. She just seemed to have rotten luck. But when luck turns bad, deus ex Erza and everything turns out all right. She smiled at the thought. Damn that woman is impressive.
Milliana did. . . well? A score of 365 sounded good. Apparently, she'd qualify for Squad Captain, whatever that meant. And it especially sounded good against the 124 of Quattro Puppy and 95 of Blue Pegasus. Talia winced at the latter's score. He was a sweet kid, he really was, and she felt bad for him to be humiliated so.
The one from Raven Tail. . . Obra. His score was odd. Talia scowled at the man and the tiny creature that had popped out from his coat. A score of four was abysmal. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that Ivan would bring someone so weak to the Games, much less have someone so weak in his guild at all. And how does one even score a four? Surely the machine itself gives off more magic power than that. She didn't have time to debate the topic at length.
Orga, the Lightning God Slayer was next. Talia wasn't sure if the low hum she gave was just a note of interest or a muffled growl from Morrigan. She had a feeling it was the latter. One thing was for certain—Morrigan did not like God Slayers. Especially this one with his black lightning. Talia narrowed her eyes at the attack he sent hurtling toward the device. By now, she had been surrounded with enough of Laxus's lightning to know the feel. This lightning felt. . . different. Manufactured, even. She shook her head to rid herself of the thought. Every lightning mage has a signature. This one's is probably just odd. But she still didn't like it. It crackled maliciously. And with a score of 3925, he was apparently nothing to be taken lightly.
Jura was next. Talia didn't especially want a recap of his power; she had enough of it the day before. Unsurprisingly, his Rumbling Fuji attack shattered the meter's record with a score of 8544. She could feel the tremors through the base of the arena still reverberating through the sand and stone beneath her. Suddenly, everyone was turned and looking expectantly at her. She hadn't moved—still standing with her arms crossed.
"Oh crap," she said awkwardly, unfolding her arms, "it's my turn, isn't it?" She dusted her black pants free of sand that had been kicked up, and had the sneaking suspicion she felt the gaze of a lacrima-camera recording the movement. Disgusting pigs. Now she really wanted this stupid charade to be over. Erza's fight was fun to watch, but this glorified carnival game had long since gone stale.
She stepped softly on the sand, closing the gap between her and the machine. She examined it, eyebrow cocked and utterly unimpressed. She heard the commentator recapping their previous fight and saying something about the indignity of measuring her magic power after Jura. That irked her. Indignity, she thought with a growl, if Jura had let me finish the fight properly instead of going for the cheap shot—she took a quieting breath and closed her eyes.
May I, Morrigan? she thought, trying not to let her irritation slip through too much. Three heartbeats passed before she felt the answer—and it echoed her ire: Yes.
Her eyes opened, irises red as severed vein. She focused on the device before her and brought her hands into an inverted triangle at her waist. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt Jura take a step back.
A massive magic circle appeared behind her, script bleeding from silver to black throughout. In the center was a Celtic knot, encircled by three ravens—wings outstretched. The script in the layers surrounding was old and foreign. No one had seen that language for hundreds of years, and few knew that it even existed. She felt the power humming around her, dancing above and stitching below her skin. Her red hair fluttered about in a wind only she could feel, and she focused only on the orb before her.
"Triskellion." The word cut through the air of the arena like a blade—crisp, sharp, and deadly. She had not raised her voice, but every person in every row and every mezzanine heard her clearly.
Three towering, human-like shadows loomed behind her before shattering into the specters of ravens. Huge and black as hewn from the darkest graves of the earth, they flew—wings unfurled and untethered to the laws of the mortal world—straight for the metered device. A moment before impact, the ravens merged into one, colliding together into a spear of solid darkness. It pierced the orb, and disintegrated into threads of shadow on the other side.
The stadium held its breath. A heartbeat passed. The orb cracked.
The crack went clear through the opal crystal and skittered out to every edge. It fell apart before everyone's eyes, pieces smoking and falling softly in the sand—tinkling like shattered glass when the shards met and settled against each other on the arena floor. No numbers appeared in the meter's floating hologram. Instead, four red dashes blinked back in alarm.
The crowd erupted.
Talia's eyes washed back to green and she gave a cocky smirk. She could hear the commentators sputtering over the lacrima speakers above her. She flipped her hair over one shoulder and turned back to the other participants. Almost everyone was slack-jawed, and it gave her great pride to see the particular look of terror on the God Slayer's face. Erza and Jura were the only exceptions—Erza smiled proudly in her battered state, while Jura sported a mixed expression of embarrassment and relief. He knew just how close he had been to the receiving end of that attack just two days prior. Talia jutted her chin a little higher and walked proudly back toward the Fairy Tail B viewing area.
She caught Laxus's eye on her walk back. Despite their argument, his smile beamed and he looked as proud and ecstatic as his imposing façade would allow in public. Her smile grew as well, and she felt an extra jolt of excitement. That was the attack they had shaped and perfected together, with him acting as the-usually unfortunate-receiving end. But she loved that proud smile of his. More than she really wanted to admit at the moment, she'd give just about anything for it.
"And now it's time for the third match of the day!" squawked the pumpkin-man.
"Bringing the Lighting is Fairy Tail B's Laxus Dreyer!" boomed the lacrima speakers. Laxus stood a little taller and jutted his chin out slightly. It was finally his turn. And after everything going on the past few days, he was ready to blow off some steam. "Going up against the mysterious man in the metal mask: Raven Tail's Alexei."
Talia looked cartoonish in her irritation. Her cheeks flushed and puffed out like a petulant child, and she glared at the speaker system as if breaking it would change the match. Laxus felt a smile creep at his lips. Breaking a magic machine did solve her last problem, after all. He turned toward the door, his large coat swaying with the movement.
"Talia—come talk strategy with me," he said evenly as he walked away.
Talia perked at her name and broke her glaring match with the unblinking mechanical speakers. She looked as if she was going to argue, but snapped her mouth shut and scurried out the door after him—he had entirely walked on without her. She just barely caught a teasing snippet from Mira as she left the platform:
"You'll have to make that a quickie of a 'strategy' session."
Talia could physically feel the innuendo and the wink at the end. But she was already out the door and turning back would just make the teasing worse. So she pretended not to hear. Not that it did anything to help the bright flush on her cheeks.
She finally caught up with him at the base of the stairs—the very beginning of the tunnel to the arena. She could hear the crowd murmuring and biding their time as the grace period began to simmer down.
"We have no idea what his magic is," she stated, trying to be matter-of-fact, "He is part of Raven Tail, so you'll need to keep an eye out—"
"Would you shut up a second?" his words were half in laughter and half in exasperation. She snapped her mouth shut again. He leaned against the tunnel wall, his arms crossed over his chest, "Sorry, this was the only place I could think of to talk in private for a moment." Talia's head tilted in curiosity and her brows scrunched. Laxus sighed.
"I'm sorry about what happened in the infirmary." His voice had quieted. He was entirely sincere. "I'm not sorry for what I said," Yup, definitely sincere. "But how I said it." He ran a hand through his blonde hair, turned his face up to the ceiling, and sighed, "I'm just. . . so tired of seeing you injured. I hate it. It's all I saw in my head for a year, and now it's happened three times in the few months you've been back." He looked back down to her. "I don't want to see you get hurt anymore."
Talia gave a small, sweet smile. "I think we might've picked the wrong profession, then." Laxus gave a huff of a laugh. His arms unfolded and he closed the few feet between them.
"Well, you're not wrong," he shot back. A smirk played on his lips. "Tell you what. How's about we join all the idiots making wagers. . ." Talia cocked an eyebrow.
"If you think I'm betting against you winning, you're dumber than you look."
Laxus gave another chuckle. "No, not that," he turned toward the arena and sobered a bit, "I have a feeling my Old Man is behind that mask, and I'd really like to be wrong." But he put on a smirk when he turned back to her. "So come on, you gonna turn down an opportunity to rub this ridiculous notion of mine in my face?"
Talia's brows furrowed. The chances that Laxus was right were slim—they had seen Ivan in the stands just moments before—but not impossible. Still, the idea of Laxus having to fight his father didn't sit right. "And what if you're right?"
He shrugged. "Then I guess I'd win our wager." Talia rolled her eyes.
"Fine then. What would you like to bet? Drinks? A new set of sound pods?" she jeered. His smirk grew and he held up three fingers.
"Winner gets three requests, just like with the Old Geezer's wager against Team A."
Talia sputtered into a laugh, "Requests?" A broad smile made its way to her lips. "That bet is not for requests and you know it."
"Yeah, well. At least these are only three and not an all-day affair."
"You're ridiculous," she replied. That cheeky smile never left his face. "All right, fine. I'll play your game. And when you're wrong, I'll have fun exploring ways to make your misery last as long as I can." She stuck her tongue out playfully.
"Promises, promises."
It took her a moment, but the innuendo clicked. Her face turned scarlet and she sputtered some insistence of innocence. He laughed. The sound enveloped her in its warmth within the echoes of the tunnel, nuzzling her skin, and she realized how much she really loved it.
"So how's about an advance on one of those requests?" Now he was just being cheeky.
"Oh, suddenly you're so sure that you're right?" she teased. He shrugged.
"Just a hunch."
Talia rolled her eyes. "All right, fine. What do you want—me to hold your coat or something?" She held out her hand, waiting for the massive garment to weigh it down. His smile grew a little wicked.
"I was thinking more along the lines of a 'good luck' kiss."
Talia's eyes widened slightly in surprise. Laxus grabbed her extended arm and pulled her close, his hands snaking around her waist and settling on the small of her back. Hers rested lightly on his chest. He could feel her heart rate spike. Worry crossed his mind. What if she doesn't—
Her hand gripped the tight fabric of his shirt, and she pulled him down to her. Her eyes closed as her lips found his. His fingers were wide and strong on her back, his palms pressed into the fabric of her shirt, holding her as close as he could. Talia lost herself in the feeling—the soft friction of their lips, the warmth of his touch—but what surprised her the most was how right it all felt. She did want to kiss him. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair while he slept in her lap, she wanted to catch his eye as she strode triumphantly out of the arena, she wanted the feel of his skin on hers whenever she could.
The realization was a dam-burst inside her self—whatever denial she had been trussing up in her head shattered. She wanted him. All of him. She wanted him so badly, it burned her lungs and heart. The feeling clawed out from underneath her ribcage—she couldn't get close enough, couldn't feel enough of his skin. She deepened the kiss, and her hands found their way around the back of his neck.
Something changed between them, Laxus could feel it. But he wasn't quite sure what it was. This wasn't the lustful, warmth-deprived woman he knew that night in Chicory, nor was it the friendly, flirting banter he was accustomed to. He felt hope take ahold of him, and he kissed her back just as greedily. He couldn't hold her close enough. He just wanted more and more and more. . .
"All right competitors, please take your places in the arena!"
And just like that, the spell was broken. Talia pulled away slowly, blinking the haze out of her eyes.
"Whatever thought you just had," his voice was huskier than usual, and it sent a shiver up her spine, "don't lose it." His smirk was lopsided and cocky as he unwound his arms from her and walked into the arena.
Talia was still slightly dazed when she walked back onto the Fairy Tail B viewing platform. The excitement of the crowd assaulted her from every direction, but it couldn't seem to worm its way into her head. At her entrance, she saw Mira turn toward her, mouth open and ready for some teasing quip, but without even making eye contact, Talia pointed to her:
"Don't even think about it. I'll tell you later."
Mira closed her mouth with a devilish smile and a twinkle in her eye.
"The last time these two guilds went head to head, the outcome was pretty brutal for Fairy Tail," came the commenter's voice over the loudspeaker.
Talia walked over to the railing and crossed her arms as she looked down into the arena. Laxus's back was toward her, the sleeves and hem of his black coat flowing gently in the breeze. Be careful, you big idiot, she thought, I don't like seeing you hurt either. She saw where Master Makarov had already placed scouts to keep an eye on Raven Tail's guild members—Lisanna and the Thunder Legion armed with binoculars and Bisca set and ready behind her rifle.
"Competitors, step forward," Laxus and Alexei approached each other through long, sure strides. "Let the battle begin!"
Alexei lunged toward Laxus and immediately knocked him backwards, into the air. Laxus's coat pulled off his frame from the force of the attack and settled into the dust on the arena floor.
"What the hell?" snapped Gajeel, "Since when does Laxus get hit by such an obvious attack?"
Talia said nothing, but her brows furrowed and she watched the two men fight. Laxus skidded in the sand and regained his feet, only to be launched back into the air with a kick to the chest.
This time, the masked combatant unleashed a dark purple ray of magic, and it struck Laxus hard in the gut. More and more physical attacks followed, Laxus apparently unable to keep up or able to even get a single hit in.
"Oh no!" came Mira, her voice tinged with worry.
"You've gotta be shittin' me!" chimed Gajeel. "Is he actually losing?"
More and more attacks rained down on Laxus, and his grunts of pain bounced off the arena walls.
Talia hadn't moved, her arms still crossed and glare intact. He was right. Something was off. There's no way Laxus wouldn't have dodged those attacks. Hell, he would've given her crap for a week if she missed them in training.
"Incredible! Alexei strikes with a fierce uppercut to the jaw! He's left Laxus completely powerless!"
Laxus landed heavily against the floor of the arena, and took a moment to regain his feet. His breathing was labored.
Juvia turned to Talia with a nervous glance. "Do you think he's going to be all right?"
"Mira—" Talia snapped, her eyes never leaving the battling forms in the arena, "When was the last time someone beat Laxus to his own lightning?"
"Never, as far as I can recall," Mira's light voice twinkled on the breeze, "And he's usually too flashy to stick to basic hand-to-hand combat." Now Mira's brows furrowed as well. "Do you think there's some kind of magic inhibitor in play?"
Talia cocked her head, considering. She watched as more and more blows landed on Laxus, even the most obvious and simple combinations. Alexei's arm snaked out and grabbed Laxus by the throat, lifting even his massive form off the ground. Talia recoiled slightly at the sight.
Finally, he got a hit in. Alexei was launched into the adjacent stone wall, dust and debris flying from the impact site. Lightning crackled around Laxus as he braced for a counterattack.
"There." Talia closed her eyes to be sure. The corner of her mouth cocked up in a slight smile. "I can pick out Laxus's lightning from just about anywhere," her eyes opened again, her grin spread, "and that was not it."
"Woah! It looks as though Laxus is back in the game, ladies and gentlemen!" came the booming voice over the loudspeakers.
The Laxus below them launched into a set of lightning-fisted attacks, pummeling the masked enemy.
"What do you mean that's not his lightning?" ground out Gajeel, "it's him, ain't it?"
A Lightning Dragon Roar lit up the arena and nailed Alexei dead on.
"No, it's not." The rest of the team looked to the redhead in dubious curiosity. It was clearly Laxus down there fighting, it had to be.
Except for Mira. "Do you think it's an illusion of some kind, then?"
Talia nodded and stood up slightly taller. "That roar and ambient lightning didn't echo right. It didn't even break the sound barrier."
Mira's smile returned. "Which means it wasn't even lightning in the first place." She turned to the sound mage, "Can you hear or feel your way through the illusion? Could they be fighting on the other side?"
Talia closed her eyes and tried to concentrate through the sound of the crowd and the manufactured noises of battle. She shook her head. "No. I can't hear anything other than what's projected."
"But that means Laxus hasn't used any of his actual magic, then, right?" Juvia's voice sounded more assured now, knowing that her teammate wasn't actually getting the pummeling they were seeing.
"I don't think so. Hopefully I'll be able to hear something before too long. Or else this might be a boring match." Talia's eyes opened again. Her gaze was playful and confident as she looked to Mira.
"No, 'boring' doesn't seem to be Laxus's style, does it?" Mira winked, and Talia snapped her head back to the arena before the blush crept up her cheeks. "How'd that strategizing go, by the way? Did some sort of illusion make its way into your conversation?"
Illusion—fantasy—Mira knew exactly what she was playing at. And she loved watching Talia's face go from pink to red.
Talia cleared her throat and tried to school the flush in her cheeks. "Um, no. We discussed strategy of a more. . . practical nature."
Mira gave a light little laugh and turned back to the arena as well. She could see Talia squirming out of the corner of her eye. She was antsier than normal at her teasing, which meant something must've happened. A cocky smile played at Mira's lips. Finally.
The battle below kept up as it had: Alexei got two hits, Laxus got one, then visa-versa ad infinitum. It was formulaic. Standard. Predictable. Mira rolled her eyes. Knowing now that the match was likely an illusion, it quickly grew boring.
But then Talia perked.
"There he is," a smile quickly spread across her features, "It's muffled through the illusion—like a far-off storm through ear warmers," she shook her head as if it would help clarify the sound. "But that was definitely his lightning." She pursed her lips and furrowed her brows. "A lot of it. . ."
The air of the arena shuddered, the ripples pulling against itself until it finally shredded. The illusion shattered. And standing tall in the center of the arena was Laxus, lightning crackling around him menacingly; the entirety of Raven Tail lay unconscious at his feet.
"Whoah! What happened down there?!" cried the commentator.
The small pumpkin man had made his way into the arena somehow, and was bouncing alarmedly before Alexei.
"I'm at a complete loss here folks—this is crazy!"
"Holy moly, Alexei was actually Master Ivan the whole time!" he squawked.
Talia's glare was harsh toward the slumped man. Normally, she would want to give the benefit of the doubt, but her patience with Ivan had run out long ago. He was manipulative, vindictive, and had no qualms about base cruelty. But. . . he was still Laxus's father. The Master's son. It was painful to watch someone who had once been so close to the guild veer so far off course.
"I'm going downstairs," Talia said as she turned to the door. Mira nodded. There was no teasing this time.
The tunnel was cool and relatively quiet compared to the glaring sun and chattering narration within the arena. Talia watched from just inside the shadow as Royal security took Raven Tail out of the arena. Laxus didn't move as they dragged his father away. Talia saw him observe, but he was too far away to judge his face. Only when his father was finally out of sight did he turn to grab his coat from out of the dirt. He dusted it off with a few harsh strikes and threw it over his shoulder. He walked out of the arena in silence.
"Hey," she said softly as he entered the shade, "You ok?"
He sighed and stopped beside her. His head turned up to the ceiling, eyes unfocused.
"Yeah, I'm all right," he paused a moment before looking back down to her, "Looking forward to enjoying the rest of that bet." His blue eyes glinted mischievously.
Talia huffed a laugh and rolled her eyes. "You know, I was gonna offer you a clean slate on those 'requests' before you said that."
"Might be in your best interest." Her smile was infectious. He felt his own creep up. She always found a way to make him smile, or at least she always had a decent comeback to laugh at—even if it was at his own expense. He stepped toward her and placed his large hand on her cheek. She leaned into the feeling and closed her eyes contentedly.
"We talked while we were on the other side of that illusion, me and—" his brows furrowed and his smile fell. Neither "Dad" nor "Father" felt right. It had been so long since he thought of the man as truly either. Talia's eyes opened and met his, her green depths warm and patient.
"Ivan," she offered. He nodded.
"He tried to bargain, tried to plead the flesh-and-blood tie. But I think what Gramps said finally stuck." It was strange to put into words—a feeling of home. Especially when he had dismissed or railed against it for so long. "Family isn't blood ties. Family is who you choose it to be." And that power he always strove for, the power to protect his family, it always terrified him. Because what happens when you aren't strong enough? Watching that light you hold so dear get snuffed out despite everything. Easier to just not have one. Except it wasn't, not really. Do-able? Sure. But gods, what he had been missing.
His coat dropped back to the dusty concrete floor as Laxus pulled her into a hug, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. She felt his chin rest on the crown of her head.
"I'm gonna be there for my family now, Tal," his voice was quiet, but heavy. "For you, for the Thunder Legion, for Fairy Tail. Whatever I've got, I have it to give, not just to keep in my own selfishness."
He couldn't see it, but she smiled. She held him tighter for a moment before taking a step back. Her smile was warm and one eyebrow popped up in a mischievous manner.
"How's about I meet you halfway, then?"
His brows furrowed in confusion for a moment before shifting to skepticism. He looked to her for confirmation. Don't play with this, he thought as he studied her face for any sign of insincerity. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he was sure she could hear it. Hope bubbled up from somewhere deep in his gut, and he held his breath to keep from falling headfirst into its depths.
Her gaze softened, that teasing glint left her eyes. It was just warm. Warm and welcome and utterly her. She nodded. Her voice light and breathy, as if too much force would break whatever tether still held them together.
"I'd like. . . I'd like to try, Laxus." Anxiety bubbled up the back of her throat. He hadn't just been teasing earlier, right? That burning returned from under her ribs, reaching desperately toward him. She had to physically sink into her heels to not reach back out to him, to feel the warmth of his arms again. He had been so patient after everything in Chicory.
Panic followed her anxiety-she had so much to make up for—where would she even start? She took a shaky breath. "I don't know how much I have anymore. . ." her hand came up and rubbed the pale skin over her sternum. The Master was right, that hole did shrink. Or maybe she had just finally found something to fill it with. Her green eyes met his blue again, and she could feel tears pricking at the corners, "But I. . . I want to give it to you, Laxus."
Barely a moment passed between them, the juxtaposition of terror and elation, both heavy and electric in the air, a strange atmosphere within the dark tunnel.
But then she was in his arms again, the pressure crushing as he held her tight. She coughed a startled breath and a shaky laugh bubbled out of her throat as she wrapped her arms around him. The bridge of her nose tucked into the side of his neck, that perfect fit. She felt his chest shake with laughter he couldn't hold. He pulled back for just a moment before diving in and kissing her. They fell into each other; the rest of the world didn't matter.
Laxus dove into that chasm of hope. It dragged him down impossibly far and he happily drowned in its depths. Warmth burned in his chest, he wasn't sure his bones could bear it, but somehow they did. No more holding back. Whatever came, it didn't matter. He had her.
Heat seared and simmered in her veins as she kissed him, her bones weightless and she wasn't sure her mind was fully attached—she was just so lightheaded. Is this happiness? It was so much brighter than she thought it was. She felt something in the back of her mind dissipate—that last bit of her that held onto her life with Dimitri burned away into this new light. She could breathe. Her heartbeat felt wider. And all this warmth and light, she felt it in every crevice and dark place she had hidden from the world. He embraced all of her. She could feel those hands, those arms wrapped around her so securely. She didn't doubt for a moment that they would always catch her.