Traveling With a Lonely Immortal
WARNING: This was not beta read; I only proofread this! (Sorry for errors you may find)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fairy Tail, Hiro Mashima does.
The morning was hazy, the silvery light hitting her skin from windows and her body heavy with sleep. As the beautiful, sleeping lady lay on her bed, the outside screamed of a battle and the taste of magic was a steady thrumming through the air, metallic and tangy.
From the balcony of the emperor, Zeref Dragneel surveyed the horizon with narrowed eyes. His gaze was soldering. On the shore, the ship of Fairy Tail docked and the world revolved slowly. The day went on obliviously, as he felt the pulsing of his brethren's magic through his very veins. The sky was a striking blue, empty save for the color of the sea, and before he could change his mind, he turned his back against it and walked away.
"Send Brandish after them," Zeref snapped, pinning his sash to his robes as he directed orders to Dimaria, his pace swift while he headed for his office. "Tell her she may only bring one other warrior with her."
"Yes, your Majesty."
The black mage clenched his jaw and fisted his hands in fury.
They were not getting anywhere near them. They were not going to separate her from him again.
He was going to make sure of that.
暗
She awoke to a soft chirping. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open and she froze, trapped inside a massive birdcage and surrounded by millions of butterflies and hibiscuses. Below was an endless swirl of nothing, darkness encircling as she stepped away from the edge, her breathing quick and sporadic.
She must be dreaming.
A low, chuckle caught her attention and she whirled her head around, nearly giving herself a whiplash as she found Ankhseram sitting casually on a hovering rock, legs crossed beneath him. "Awake, I see," he mused, jumping off to float in front of her where she could see him better. His eyes, carefully blank and void of emotions, met hers with ease. "Enjoy your little home?"
Lucy swallowed hard, sweat sliding down her temples. "A-Ankhseram, what have you done?"
"You will stay here, I suppose," he decided, hands moving to tuck themselves inside the sleeves of his haori. "Until I bore of you, your presence will be required in my garden."
She shuddered. "I can't," she cried, head dropping as she fisted her hands. She raised her eyes, ignoring the fear crawling down her spine. "Zeref—he needs me."
"Ah, the stupid mage," Ankhseram sniffed, a pipe appearing in his fingers. He brought the lip to his mouth and inhaled deeply, blowing a cloud of smoke in her face. Ignoring her coughs, he continued, "I was wondering when you'd mention him during one of your visits. That little boy, he hasn't learned much, has he?"
Lucy waved a hand in front of her in an attempt to rid herself of the awful smoke. "He is not who he once was," she argued, glaring up at the god before her. What was she doing? She wondered when she had gotten dreadfully brave all of a sudden, standing up to the man who had the ability to curse her, possibly even kill her. Yet she couldn't back down or bite down her anger. She was seething—angry little thing, she could feel fury boiling deep within her and she couldn't stop it.
Ankhseram lifted a cool brow, smiling in amusement. "Oh, is he now?"
Lucy bit back a retort. This god in front of her was different—he screamed more of death than life, a huge contrast to the man she spent afternoons drinking tea with. She could see the resemblance, from his short hair and captivating eyes, down to the kimono he always wore. She had no doubt that it was him—it felt like him. Still, this version was much more dangerous than before. Deadly, even.
A thunderous beat hammered at her chest.
"You will bargain with me," she growled, an animalistic rage threatening to overflow her senses. But she couldn't stop even as he entered her cage, his face treacherously close to hers and his fingers painfully gripping her chin so she would not look away.
His smile was insanity itself. "No one orders me around, human."
"I am not like the rest," she fought back, mustering up all the courage she had as she hissed, "And you will find that it's either you bargain with me or I will spend the rest of eternity with you, making your days miserable until you go mad."
暗
Zeref realized that he was shaking.
"Your Majesty!" Dimaria shouted, snapping him to reality as he almost lurched forward. "I…" she hesitated, eyes faltering before she schooled her face into the stony mask fit for the warrior she was. "I'm afraid that we have exhausted all our efforts to awaken the Lady."
He followed his guard through the familiar corridors. In that minute, he searched through his memories of spells, magic, curses, anything to pull her out of her slumber. This wasn't the first time that he had caught her in a deep sleep. But this one was different. Her magic was never present, always somehow missing from the real world, as if she were someplace else.
A theory was itching to be addressed but he wouldn't—couldn't—admit it or accept it.
The corridor they were passing through darkened as he trembled, the beginning of a storm at the edge of his fingertips, awaiting to be released. It took a frustrating five minutes to get to Lucy, and by then, his anger had burned and burned, obvious by the ashen skin of the warrior behind him.
Fear. He had never known fear to be this stifling.
"Where is Irene?" he growled lowly, and when he received no response, bellowed, "Where is she?"
Dimaria jerked into a salute. "Out with August, your Majesty. We do not know their exact location."
Something inside him broke.
"Get her here." And he didn't need to ask twice. Eventually, the warrior left him to his own devices, eyes dark and jaw clenched, magic hissing and aching. Everything was hurting. He looked at her and felt another wave of fury wash over but shoved it down with all his might. She was sleeping. She looked alright, he thought to himself. There was no mark of pain on her lovely face and she was breathing evenly, the only clear sign that she was alive. But she wasn't there either. He couldn't feel her there. Somehow, her magic was missing from her body and even though she was right in front of him at this very moment, he was staring at a corpse.
The rational side of him argued that this was most likely a god at work. He knew a curse when he saw one and this one was delicate—new, even. This was not something he was familiar with. And that was what irritated him. Four hundred years of torture and yet he could do nothing but watch. And wait. And hope.
Zeref wanted to end the world.
It took him a moment of silence to laugh quietly to himself, almost sardonically. Blood filled his mouth as he bit his cheek, bringing him back and keeping him anchored to reality. Again Lucy was there, eyes closed and breathing – breathing but not really – and he somewhat remembered that he was not one to back down. He had revived his brother once and he managed to live for four hundred years.
What was there to fear?
暗
The docks were destroyed and he was not surprised. He had anticipated Fairy Tail to be clever with their attacks with Mavis as their strategist, but he had seen this coming. So he gave them the little taste of victory he could offer. There was something beautiful about the red flames that lit the night sky from his viewpoint, carefully placed away from civilians' homes and shelters. He wanted to be grateful for their thoughtfulness, then he remembered Lucy and he was in anger once again.
A week had passed now since she was cursed. He was not even remotely certain if this was a curse, but there was no other explanation for it. Her health did not seem to deteriorate even with the lack of nutrients. Although he made sure to place her under the sun in the mornings and wipe her skin with a washcloth during the nighttime, he had expected some kind of sign that she was decaying. Paler skin, perhaps. Skinnier wrists. But there were none of those.
He figured there was something keeping her alive despite being in his presence. Something other-worldly.
He studied the map in front of him. He had memorized Ishgar in his four hundred years of living but the action was therapeutic and he needed something to keep his mind busy. His eyes landed where Pergrande was crossed off. He had given strict orders to leave the country and its citizens untouched, some weak part of him admitting that he could not ruin the place that was so full of memories. Meanwhile, they had planned the war quite well. He was to remain in the palace and would be the last line of defense. It was unlikely that the fight would be brought to Vistarion when they had already planned to push their forces onto Fiore. An unfortunate event for its residents, but one he did not really want to worry about.
Zeref clasped his hands beneath his chin and sighed heavily. It was nearing that time again, and truthfully, he was in no mood to move from his seat. Yet some part of him wanted to go ahead and touch her because he was losing a little bit of himself day by day, so he ended up going anyway.
It took him a second to teleport into her room. As always, it was warm. He made sure it was kept that way as he didn't want her to shiver in her sleep. He also made sure that she changed clothes every day, because the Lucy he knew hated wearing the same set of clothes for more than twenty-four hours.
Zeref began by stripping her of her dress. Her skin was cold to the touch, like she had been playing in the snow, so he took his time to rub the damp washcloth on her skin. The water was hot, not close to scalding, but enough to make him want the same kind of treatment. He wiped her forehead and carefully brushed her bangs out of her eyes. Long lashes tickled his fingers as he swiped the cloth across her cheeks. He lingered on her lips, a little wistfully, before proceeding to the rest of her body.
He always took his time when washing her, like she was something fragile and thin, like a bubble that would pop if he handled her wrong. Zeref knew though that his Lucy was strong. She found him after all, despite the odds, and stayed with him even though he was dangerous.
She was his little Lucy, brave and courageous. She was his light.
A sigh left his lips once he was finished. She was dressed in a pale lilac dress now, long enough to reach her legs and loose enough not to feel too tight on her. He drew the blanket over her chest and pressed a soft kiss on her temple. With gentle actions, he allowed his knuckles to caress her cheek before he finally stepped back, surveying his work, and vanished in a whirl of black wisps.
暗
"It seems that the border has been well-guarded."
Zeref read the contents of the scroll with veiled disinterest. "Continue," he ushered, waving a hand toward Invel.
Clearing his throat, the Winter General added, "Brandish and Dimaria have fixed the issue at the ports, while Ajeel has reconstructed the damage done in the west side of the Empire. Fairy Tail has not been sited near our waters for the past three weeks. However, with Neinhart stationed at the sea, it is possible that he is the reason why they have yet to attack."
"And Irene?" Zeref lifted a brow. "Where is she?"
Invel maintained his cool composure, adjusting his spectacles. "Still out with August, your Majesty."
Tapping his index finger on the mahogany desk, Zeref found himself swallowing a sigh. "I see," he remarked, "and what of the thing I asked you to do, Invel?"
Zeref received a deafening silence. His mouth twisted at the corner in frustration but he remained quiet. There was no point in all of this if she was still asleep, and if they couldn't do anything, then the fight was useless. Still, his warriors had always wanted power and glory. Fame was fickle and they wanted none of it—didn't matter if they lived in a world where they were the only ones left. This war was meant to accomplish just that, at least to a certain extent. They were aware that he wasn't in it without Lucy, and so they cooperated.
"We are trying, your Majesty," the ice mage responded, albeit a little hesitant. "We have resorted to medical means, but she is in a deep sleep. I am beginning to think that this curse is far out of our league. August presented a theory that this might be the god of life and death at work, and with the level of difficulty that the curse holds, I don't doubt that it's possible."
Zeref had guessed that much, but his mind refused to wrap around that bit of information. Because if it was true, then it would mean that Lucy was in danger. He couldn't think like that. "Have you contacted Olivia, the innkeeper? She is a hundred-year-old mage, appearing as a young woman in her late twenties. She is an old healer and knows many curses, far more than what I have encountered. She should provide at least some information."
"She seems to be missing, your Majesty."
Zeref's eyes darkened. Of course the old hag would choose to disappear at this time. He remembered the look on her face when she saw him leaving Lucy's inn room. The look of surprise on her face had been fake, and she was most likely aware that he knew. Though he didn't understand why she'd taken the form of a woman when she preferred children, he supposed it attracted more customers and opportunities. It still didn't explain why she'd decided to let Lucy stick around. She hated company as much as the next person, and she valued her time and privacy. There must have been something she wanted from Lucy—or him—so much so that she was forced to stay.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Of all the times, she had to go away when he needed her. She really did know how to get on his nerves. "Just keep an eye out for her," he instructed Invel, pushing aside the scroll on his table and opening the next one. "She's bound to return."
"Yes, your Majesty."
Dismissing the warrior, he returned to his papers and finally released the sigh he'd been holding in. He suspected he was close to losing it. It was just about a month since Lucy refused to awaken, leaving him in a constant state of brooding and darkness. He wouldn't deny that he was less human and more of the evil mage he was with his current situation, but he was neither guilty nor prideful as well. Never mind that she would surely be upset with him if she found out. He'd just have to make sure that none of this reached her if—no, when she wakes up.
She has to wake up, Zeref thought miserably. He didn't know what he'd do if she never woke up and he was already blaming himself for it. This was like Mavis all over again. He swore he'd never let that happen, especially to Lucy, but he had slipped somewhere. All his constant slip-ups were catching up to him at last, but he wished it didn't have to be now. Not when Lucy had to pay for it.
Zeref inclined his head and stared at the ceiling. Maybe it was time to meet up with Mavis. She might know something about this, but he felt like it wasn't the right thing to do.
When did he ever know what was right though? All his life he had done all the wrong things and considered them as appropriate. As long as his heart was in it, they could never be wrong. He had a flawed mind—that much he knew—but he never let that stop him. Was Mavis the answer? He knew she resented him to some sort of extent, not as much as he deserved, but enough to make their meeting intolerable. What if she decided not to help him? Or worse, what if she did? How could he assure that she wouldn't turn on his back the moment he let his guard down?
Despite being the best of friends—and old lovers maybe—Mavis was the mother of his brother's guild. Unlike him, she knew the difference between right and wrong. She was well aware that their friendship was not something that could stop her from fighting him if it meant protecting her family. So, what now? Would the risk be worth it? Would Lucy approve?
He let out another sigh. This was all getting too much and he hadn't even begun planning the next course of action. He'd give Lucy another week. Two at most. If she didn't wake up by the second week of the next month, he'd just have to force the gods to let her go. And if that failed as well, then he'd just have to end the world in return.
暗
She was beginning to wonder whether her sanity was still intact.
Seated inside her cage – birdcage, her mind corrected automatically – she had done nothing but wait. She knew not to test her own patience but this was getting tedious. After all, there was nothing fun in spending hours and hours—maybe even weeks—in a garden with nothing but butterflies and silly flowers (namely, his damn hibiscuses) and having to sit through his daily self-righteous talks. It was insufferable. This was worse than when she had ventured out to look for Zeref. At least then, there were different sights to see and different people to meet. Here? She was stuck with an arrogant and childish god who did nothing but give her tea and dango.
Lucy exhaled, frowning. What was Zeref doing? She hoped he was alright. Knowing the man, he was probably looking for ways to get her back, but Lucy knew there was no point. Ankhseram wouldn't let her go. Plus, she wasn't ready to leave just yet. She still had a bargain to make and she was going to get it, no matter the cost.
"You know, glaring at the flowers won't change my mind," a voice drawled lazily, grabbing her attention from the thoughts she was swimming in.
Lucy pursed her lips and picked up the steaming teacup in front of her, bringing the brim to her mouth for a long sip.
"Talk," the god ordered. He waved his hand languidly in some gesture that she couldn't quite understand, sitting midair with his legs crossed underneath him like always, a bored expression on his face.
She calmly took another sip.
His eye twitched. "What do you see in that foolish child, anyway?"
She knew he would ask, and if there was one thing she learned in his presence, it was to never entertain his curiosity. He liked being fed information that mattered to the speaker. He gobbled them up like a pig and as much as she wanted to defend her lover or bring to light the reasons why she adored him so, Ankhseram would just have to wait.
And she liked annoying him. It was the only thing she could do that didn't require much energy.
On cue, the god released a deep, throaty groan of frustration. She smirked secretly to herself. Bingo.
"You really are not giving up, are you?" he muttered, lip curling in distaste. Gone was the cool and collected—terrifying, as the legends claimed—god that had first let her in the temple. This was a new side of Ankhseram that she had never seen before and was glad for it. If he remained like he was before, calm and passive, she was sure she'd lose her nerves. He was intimidating that way. This version of him was simply infuriating—and fun to mess with.
Taking another long sip of her tea, she kept her eyes on the floating god. He had moved closer to the cage.
"I will not bargain with you," he repeated, lips stretching into a lazy smile. "If that's the only thing you want, then I guess you will have to spend the rest of eternity here in my garden."
Lucy barely reacted, but inside she felt her blood run cold. What was with gods wanting her to give up her whole life for them? She seemed to be attracting a lot of those lately. Though she was afraid, she couldn't seem to find it in her to simply surrender. Zeref had made her fearless, completely different from who she was nine years ago. Traveling with the black mage—and falling in love with him too—had given her a burst of courage and confidence that she didn't know she had.
Somehow, Ankhseram didn't scare her at all. What frightened her was the thought of not being able to do anything for Zeref when he was trying to do everything for her.
And the war, her mind whispered. She had to find a way to stop it. Knowing him, he would throw away the rest of the world if it meant finding her, and she didn't want that. The war was never meant to begin because of her. It was for Alvarez and its people. She needed to go back; she needed to be by his side once it began.
A bout of movement caught her eye and she ignored the butterfly that clung to her hair. "I would rather not, but thank you for the offer," she said at last, bringing the teacup to her lips. She hid a smug smile behind her hand at the ire evident on the god's face.
"You do not really have a choice, human," he quipped, brow lifting. "But suit yourself."
Lucy waited until he was completely gone, leaving her alone in a garden full of fluttering butterflies and dying flowers. It was only then did she allow herself to tremble, and everything ceased, submerging everything in pitch black, including her inside her little birdcage.
暗
The steady clicking of her heels echoed in the quiet halls of the north wing. Only a handful of servants rushed about, arms full of scrolls and unimaginable secrets, while the rest carried upon chores that kept the palace fit for its ruler. But as she ventured deeper, through twisted corridors and dimly lit hallways, fewer and fewer people passed until it was only she who graced the silence with her presence. Only then did she find her footsteps unnerving, quite unusual for a warrior of her caliber.
Must be the lack of sleep, she mused indifferently. After all, she had been patrolling the borders nonstop at the orders of her Emperor. Dimaria's presence was not wholly unwelcome, but there was a saturation point to everything – though Brandish liked to believe that she had unrelenting patience – and she might've finally reached hers. Being paired up with the intolerable woman, who not only enjoyed teasing her but delighted in her quick bursts of irritation, she had reached her limit. One could only bear the presence of Valkyrie for so long before losing their sanity.
At the very least, she would have to return to her station at the end of the day, or early tomorrow morning, but she had yet to receive a confirmation from his Majesty. Thus, finding herself with nothing to do but be crowded by her thoughts, her feet had unconsciously led her to the private quarters of she-who-was-not-to-be-named. Though Brandish would like to think otherwise, she couldn't deny the worry that continued to grip her heart as she neared her destination.
It was deathly still. Even more so than the halls she had passed just to get here, the last room in the north wing was surrounded by what seemed to be an endless void where nothing, not even the whisper of a draft through the open windows, could be heard. It was so tangible that she could almost feel it choking her, heart racing inside her ribcage with an emotion tight in her throat.
How the Lady could sleep in this kind of setting, she wondered. It was nothing like she had ever encountered before. Though there was a resemblance in the Emperor's presence, it wasn't entirely alike.
Frowning, Brandish hesitated by the door. The last news she had received was from Dimaria herself, claiming that there was nothing they could do to awaken the Lady. And yet, she found herself hoping, even just a little, that all had gone well in her absence. That beyond this door was someone wide awake, with the aura of the sun, smiling and waiting for her to enter.
Well, she drawled mockingly to herself, she wouldn't find out unless she gathered her bearings and just went ahead now, would she?
Carefully, she turned the doorknob, not wanting to disrupt the eerie silence that dominated the place. She nudged it open, stepped inside, and shut it just as quietly behind her, breath hitched in anticipation. Or was it fear? She did not know.
As quickly as it had come, the small burst of hope inside her chest dissipated.
Brandish faltered, hesitating by the door as she felt the pounding warmth inside the room, quite a huge contrast to the rest of the palace with its chilling interior. But she moved forward anyway, heels clicking and fists clenching, toward the slumbering woman not too far away.
The warrior had always seen Lucy as some kind of superior. Although her pride would never let her say it out loud, Brandish held a soft spot for the blonde and she had earned a glimmer of respect for being unbelievably liquid—flexible—in everything that occurred around her. Lucy adapted well, that much she knew. And Brandish was well-aware that her Emperor did not choose his lovers lightly, as he never had one in the period she served him, and with all the goals he had in mind, distractions and partners seemed to be something that he did not bother indulging in.
Until Lucy. Everything was different with the woman, or the Lady, as most of the Spriggan 12 liked to call her.
Lucy was, to be frank, a beacon of light in their ever-growing Empire. Quite odd, as most of her fellow warriors stated. They were not fond of anything too bright. Especially Irene, she abhorred most things bordering yellow and very nearly only accepted red, but even Brandish – though Dimaria would argue otherwise – could tell that the redhead had somewhat accepted Lucy into their family, and that was saying a lot. She was… a tough woman to get through.
And she wasn't the only one. There was Invel, who was too uptight for his own good and Bloodman (she shuddered at the thought) and if she was going to be honest, their team was not exactly the most accepting group. Most knew to steer clear of them, even herself, and she wasn't even that daunting to begin with. The only reason they were all together was because they served only one ruler, and that was Spriggan. Other than that, they could live well without one another.
Eventually there had been an unspoken mutual agreement that Lucy—tempting as it is—was not to be touched by anyone, including themselves. Brandish didn't need to be ordered by his Majesty to protect the Lady. No, it was of her own free will that she wanted to keep Lucy safe. She was her—their—glimpse of heaven through the inferno they created.
So the crippling guilt that burned through her gut had meaning. Brandish couldn't help but let a flicker of regret pass over her face once she stopped at the foot of the bed. It was pointless to blame anyone, even herself, as none of them could have stopped it from happening. But it seemed like the right thing to do so that her mind ultimately began its course.
Brandish allowed herself to linger. Lucy's complexion was the same despite the open windows, indicating sunlight during noon and exposure to the harsh winds outside. She was there, and she wasn't. That was what puzzled the warrior so. She had heard from Dimaria that there was something amiss with the whole situation but didn't believe it until she had come to visit the Lady herself. Now that she had done that, she knew Dimaria hadn't been lying. Lucy was absent and yet present at the same time, something about her aura different and detached, making a shiver snake down her spine in discomfort.
She's cursed, Brandish realized then. Although most of the Spriggan 12 had been informed about the Lady's current situation, she and Dimaria were too occupied by the docks to keep up with the rest of them. They were always the last to receive orders and reports, often having to meet with the Emperor themselves to learn of anything or to disclose any information, and so not hearing about the curse was not all that surprising. It did nothing to ease the growing remorse in her stomach though. Rather than guilt, she felt hot with a familiar emotion she disliked dealing with.
Anger was not her best suit. She was more likely to be irritated than angry whenever she was upset, and that was because she found anger to be quite taxing. There was too much energy exerted on being furious and if there was one thing Brandish hated, it was wasting her time on senseless things. On the rare occasions that she did get angry, she wound up enlarging everything minuscule and compressing all the large things in her vicinity. That, she discovered, was something she would not like to repeat again.
Now though…
Brandish swallowed the knot in her throat, shoving her wrath down. But try as she might, the uncomfortable fire that scorched her insides kept rising back up, leaving no room for air or for a moment to regain her composure.
With a sigh, she turned on her heel. Valkyrie might know what to do. She had a feeling she would only add more fuel to the fire than do good but Brandish thought it was worth a shot.
And—she added sullenly—she decided that she desperately needed a distraction and Dimaria, although infuriating, would serve good as a practice target.
暗
"Have you not gotten sick of drinking tea?" Ankhseram remarked drily one day, hovering just a few paces away from her birdcage with a scroll in his hand.
Quite contrary to the god's statement, Lucy enjoyed her tea. It was the only thing keeping her stable and calm when faced with such vexing events. And she found that if she talked to the butterflies right, they would do almost anything for her. Turns out, they did not adore the god sheltering him as much as she did and desired a brighter place to live in.
"I assumed you liked tea," Lucy replied at last, ignoring the urge to lift a brow. Though she liked teasing the god, it wasn't in her best interests to do so, especially if she wanted to force him to bargain with her. One step at a time, her mind whispered. One at a time.
Ankhseram looked unamused. "That is not the point."
"Then what is?"
He looked even more annoyed, nose wrinkling with the accustomed look of ire. "You have not given up yet," he pointed out, scroll vanishing inside the sleeve of his kimono. "I am not changing my mind, spirit mage."
Unconsciously, her hand drifted to her belly where she began to feel the soft indication of life within her. It had taken a while for her to notice, and after some meditating, she recalled that Ankhseram had already informed her last time at the temple and she had forgotten. Since then, she had taken great care of herself, even going as far as to stretching every once in a while to keep her body moving and healthy.
Whether the god noticed the small action or not, he didn't let on. "The rest of the world might have moved on as you slumber."
"It does not matter," she said with confidence, chin lifted in a semblance of the previous heiress she was. A small, sly smile graced her lips. "The world can rot for all I care, and if it means getting you to agree with me," she paused, eyes sliding shut, "then I don't mind at all."
Frowning, he inclined his head slightly to the side. "I see now why the dark mage chose you." He looked speculative. "Or perhaps you have spent too much time with him."
Lucy sipped her tea coolly. "Bargain with me, Ankhseram," she asked once again, the underlining bite in her tone not going unnoticed.
When she finally opened her eyes, she was alone and the garden thundered with his answer.
"No."
戦
Zeref surveyed the damage done with his very own eyes, arms crossed over his chest as the fire surged higher and higher, the heat so close he could feel it through the leather skin of his armor. He tossed a lazy look down below at the burning forest. It crept slowly, edging towards the border of Fiore with a roar.
He felt the presence of a familiar magic approach him.
"Why are you doing this?"
Not looking away from the flames, he answered quietly, "The world conspires against me," he looked up then, eyes meeting those of a past lover's, "and I will not let them."
Mavis' mouth tugged downwards, distraught twisting her lovely features. "This… you know you only have yourself to blame."
"True," he agreed, shrugging casually. "Although, I doubt you would understand. After all, you have never lost someone dear to you before, Mavis."
Surprise graced her face before it quickly morphed into a torrid ferocity, for once not looking like the child she was. "Speak nothing of what you do not know, Zeref," she warned, eyes narrowing treacherously as every second passed.
"What a hypocritical answer." He sounded bored. "Then stop questioning my actions when you know nothing."
"This is different," she argued, fighting back with equal fervor. The fire beneath them raged on obliviously. "I have done nothing wrong to compensate for my losses and for the cruelty this world has in store for me. Unlike you, I do not throw this planet off its very own axis."
Zeref regarded her with a cool, calculating gaze. "Do you love me still, Mavis?"
His question caught her off-guard. The fairy tactician withdrew into herself, eyes widening as she was momentarily stunned by the warm blanket that encircled her. "What… I—what are you going on about now?"
"There is this girl," he continued, ignoring her question, "and I think I would die for her."
Something within her shattered. And suddenly, everything began to make sense.
"You… this war isn't about resetting time anymore, is it?" Mavis whispered, trembling.
Zeref smiled though it was far from kind. A hint of gentleness encompassed him as if he had known all along that their conversation would flow like this. It frustrated her to no end—she, the strategist, had not even thought of this possibly happening. And why was that?
Some quiet, stubborn part of her held on tightly—too much—to the love that had blossomed between them many years ago.
Love became her weakness.
Mavis curled her fingers into small fists, refusing to give in to the sting behind her eyes and the dull ache in her chest. She held her head high. "And so what if this is over a girl? There is no acceptable reason for war—you know that. Get your affairs straight, Zeref, before my family comes to ruin you once again." The words, though not her own, tasted vile on her tongue.
He appeared unfazed, waving his hand. "Fairies were always doomed to die of extinction anyway."
Mavis hissed, "We'll see about that."
Zeref smirked, and all at once, she unraveled. She had known that the time would come where she would no longer recognize him. They were always years apart and it seemed as if they were getting farther and farther as the world spun. It still never prepared her for this kind of pain.
For the first time since they had parted, Mavis accepted their separation and left with glassy eyes.
Zeref watched her go blankly. Truthfully, he hurt from their encounter, but he had made up his mind. The love he once felt for the strategist had stretched too thin for him to feel. Like all first loves, theirs would stay in his heart for a lifetime, but it was no longer the same. He had accepted long ago that he and Mavis were on the opposite ends of a spectrum and thus were too far away to function as a whole. With Lucy—it felt different. She was always there, despite being a blur in this vast world. She was—
She was what he needed to get by.
In a second, he had teleported back to Alvarez and found three of his warriors stood in front of his office. He jerked his head to follow him inside. There was the soft thud of the door closing as he walked to his desk and sat down, ankle propped on his knee. In front of him, his warriors lined up and saluted.
"Invel," he called first, nodding to signal the start of his report.
The Winter General cleared his throat. "We have an estimate of two hundred thousand soldiers from the desert, all under Dimaria, whilst we are currently transporting another two hundred thousand from the north. That makes up one million soldiers including our own, and there are more to come. If all goes according to plan, we should have about at least two million, if not more, soldiers to fight with. Our spies have detected no such abnormality from Ishgar except Fairy Tail moving on its own with their tactician."
Zeref expected as much. "And?"
"We have established training camps all throughout the forests of Alakitasia. There is a disturbance in the south, an old tribe that we had accidentally overlooked, but last I heard, Jacob has been taking care of it."
He eyed the scroll in front of him and the sheer amount of numbers they had accumulated. He had no doubt that his brother could handle them all. Fairy Tail was as unpredictable as their founder and he wanted to make sure all possibilities had been cut clean in case things turned for the worse. He waved his hand towards Wall Eehto.
His teeth stretched into a manic grin. "All the ordered supplies and weaponry have been made and will be delivered within the week, your Majesty. I forgot to inform you but my Machias have decided to lend their aid, and three hundred thousand of them will arrive next week. I have also personally trained those who will use my advance weapons and I assure you," his grin widened, "they are doing swell."
"I expected nothing less."
He bowed, smiling pleasantly. "I am honored, your Majesty."
Without waiting for his turn, Neinhart released a snort, rolling his eyes. "Quite a stuck up, aren't 'cha?" he mocked, ignoring the glare sent his way. "Do not fret, your Majesty, as the ships have already been rebuilt and restored."
"And what of the airship I asked?"
He winked. "Already painted and polished to perfection. They should be doing test runs by now, if my memory serves me right."
This time, even Invel rolled his eyes. Zeref, however, remained unruffled. "Alright. Everyone but Invel, you are dismissed."
The two warriors disappeared in a flash, leaving behind the ice mage in front of his Emperor. He spoke without hesitation, "August claims to have discovered a way to awaken the Lady."
Zeref stiffened, eyes widening as he paused midway from lifting his papers. He eyed Invel warily. "And what is it?"
"That, I was not told, your Majesty."
He nodded stiffly. "I see. When do they plan on returning?"
"Sometime next week, I believe," the warrior answered, sounding – for once – apologetic.
Too long, Zeref thought instantly. It was almost three months now since Lucy had been cursed and the war was barely beginning. He admitted he kept giving himself excuses and kept putting the war on hold, but he just couldn't help but hope. Nonetheless, he knew he had waited long enough and his conversation with Mavis proved that.
Deciding to clear his mind, he regarded Invel with a stoic face. "The border?"
"Well managed by Brandish and Dimaria."
"Good." He stacked his papers and handed it to the ice mage. "Make a second copy to keep in our archives. Afterward, send for Brandish and tell her that I need her to keep an eye on Lucy for me." He stood up and dusted himself off, quirking a brow when he caught the warrior staring.
"Do I make myself clear, Invel?"
The said man blinked, dropping into a bow. "Yes, your Majesty."
戦
The darkness inside the Lady's room was suffocating even for a dragon slayer like herself. But she breathed evenly, sitting on the edge of the bed as she lightly touched the woman's golden hair, strands slipping through her fingers and down the length of her arm. How annoying, the dragon thought bitterly. Such bright hair didn't suit her, though she found that she did not hate it as much.
With a sigh, Irene began to braid her long scarlet tresses. She had yet to announce her presence to the Emperor, deciding to head straight to the north wing to check on the damsel in distress. Strangely enough, there was an irritating needle stuck in her chest, making it hard for her to linger without having the urge to destroy something. And the longer she stayed, the stronger the urge. So, deciding on a distraction, she had unwound her hair and began braiding it back into the thick plaits over her shoulders.
While her hands busied themselves, her mind drifted to the discovery she and August uncovered. The memory uprooted the distaste in her stomach and she frowned, remembering the man's words.
"There is no way to wake the Lady from the outside."
Irene ran her tongue over her front teeth. How troublesome, she grumbled inwardly. To think that the old man would hand her the job of delivering the news to the Emperor. She was a proud woman—dragon—but even she admitted that she would rather not be at the receiving end of his Majesty's wrath. Especially when the said man could take away everything he had given her, and she didn't want that.
She froze abruptly as her gaze snapped to the slumbering lady.
"Did you just…?" Irene trailed off, eyes narrowing suspiciously. For a moment, she had felt a spike of bright magic, almost scorching, and the only source was the spirit mage. It was a clear indication that Lucy was back so she had been surprised that it would have to happen on her visit. But then it was strange, as it did not really feel like the Lady's presence at all. It was… other-worldly.
A minute passed. Two—then nothing. Whatever she had felt before was now gone, and Irene feared that she had just done something wrong.
Ah, she inwardly sighed. She would just have to keep this a secret for now.
戦
The flurry of movement in the palace almost made his head ache. Granted, he had been thorough with his orders and it pleased him that everything was going well on their end. Still, he was in a sour mood, as Mavis had intercepted their attack well despite being heavily outnumbered. She lived up to her name well—how annoying. He did not doubt his warriors' abilities though, and knew for a fact that it was only a matter of time before the tides turned.
The wind was bitingly cold as it touched his skin, not entirely unwelcomed as he loosened his collar to allow more air to cool him. On the other hand, the sky was mockingly bright though covered with thick clumps of ivory and far off in the horizon, the color darkened to a dirty gray as the first sign of an incoming storm, shadowing over most of Ishgar in some cliché dramatic effect. He narrowed his eyes at the overall view.
"Is something wrong, your Majesty?" Invel pried lightly, nudging his spectacles up the bridge of his nose.
Zeref braced his arms on the railing and shook his head. "Nothing really," he said. "It's a little boring." To this, he earned no reply. He was quite thankful for that.
There was a small flash of lightning in the distance and he allowed the silence to wash over him. His Empire was huge—that much was obvious—but he did not feel right. He felt content but not happy and—was there really much of a difference?
He reckoned it was because he hated being idle. Although it was planned for him to be the last line of defense in case things went south—which had a probability of close to zero—he had originally wanted to be on the frontlines, far away from his towering home where he could feel nothing but hatred and anger for being unable to do anything. Not even August could find a solution and he always had one. Maybe he wasn't really bored but frustrated. And Zeref hated it.
"Has Irene come back yet?" he asked on a whim, since he didn't really know where else they could go wrong. God Serena had conquered the east, Ajeel and Wall covering the west and northwest respectively. Dimaria was taking her time with the south, and that was only because she was enjoying herself and Zeref knew she never finished things quickly. The southwest was left open, but they were in no hurry.
Invel looked through the paper in his hands. "Not yet, your Majesty." He hesitated. "Should I call for her?"
"No." Zeref inclined his head to the side. "We don't need her yet."
The Winter General bowed. "Understood."
戦
She must be losing her mind.
"You seem to be at your limit, human," the god remarked amusedly, eyes twinkling with mirth as he sat not too far away from her birdcage.
Lucy refused to show any indication that she was, indeed, at her wit's end. As much as she prided herself on her patience, this was it. She was tired and desperate, knowing that the longer she stayed here in this wretched garden, the greater the damage Zeref would cause on Ishgar. She didn't have the luxury to be sitting around, sipping tea, and talking to butterflies. She needed to bargain.
She thought of all the good things in the world. She remembered her mother's laugh during her first ever violin recital, how her face lit up like a tree on Christmas Eve; her father's voice whenever he read her bedtime stories before going to sleep. She tried to think about Sophie-san, the lovely grandmother who gave her the first and last Magical Vehicle she ever owned, and her witty remarks about Lucy being too old for such a young age. Then she was thinking about Zeref in his sleep, how unguarded he was whenever he was with her, completely unaware of the soft kisses she would place on his eyelids and his cheeks, gracing him with the love he had always deserved and more.
But then she found herself imagining Brandish, with the crosses in her hair and the ever-prominent frown on her pretty face. She remembered Dimaria arguing back and forth with the green-haired warrior, accompanying her during her bedridden state and filling up the room with their not-so-friendly banter. She thought of Olivia and the mornings they shared, of freshly brewed coffee and the best omelettes, accompanied by buttered buns and berries.
There was much more to enjoy in this world, Lucy thought peacefully, running the pad of her index finger across the brim of her cup. She could not afford being stuck in here when she could be out there beside all of the people who mattered most.
So with a deep breath, she finally asked, "Have you ever loved, Ankhseram?"
戦
There was something numbing about war. Although Brandish was one of the Spriggan 12, she loathed outright bloodshed and too much death. She was not bred for war nor was she ever a fan, but there were certain lines she had to cross and this was one of it.
She was stationed at Caelum, this time handling the backlash and dealing with soldiers that were injured and sent back for surgery. Even though she wasn't at the frontlines, she had a vague idea what the battlefield looked like. Dimaria had gone off enthusiastically, same as God Serena, and Irene was nowhere to be found. Invel was staying by his Majesty's side until ordered otherwise while the rest of their team were engaged in fights with Ishgarians. Though scattered, they worked effectively, reminding her just what Spriggan 12 truly was.
A resounding scream jerked her away from her thoughts and she resisted the urge to sigh. What a pain, she grumbled inwardly. A stretcher being hauled away caught her eye and she rushed to the soldier.
The two men carrying the wounded rushed to explain, "Two iron rods have been embedded from Redfox of Fairy Tail, Brandish-sama."
"I can see that," she deadpanned. "Is he the only one?"
"There are more! Approximately fifty on the way!"
Brandish cursed under her breath—that was too much to do in such a short time, but she refused to admit that she was weak. Nodding, she motioned her head to gently lay down the body inside one of the large tents that made up the main infirmary. There were other tents outside for delicate injuries, like that of a chopped off arm or leg, or internal bleeding that would require extreme concentration and proper care.
Once the soldier had been put down, she quickly began her task. The two men saluted and ran back out to carry back more of their wounded. While she had gotten the two rods to shrink and a healer to tend to the open wounds, more had arrived, some with more iron beams stuck into them than the rest. She worked swiftly until it was almost a trance. The stench of copper was familiar and bitter in the pit of her stomach, the scent of antiseptic and cleaning materials accompanying her wherever she went, the sound of groans and moans of men and women in pain—it attacked her from all sides.
Despite the exhaustion seeping into her bones, she had managed to use the iron beams to secure the tent with enlarged poles, making makeshift tables and crutches for the injured. It wasn't much, but as she watched the people rushing in and out, she felt satisfied by her work and finally decided to head back out of the infirmary.
Brandish hopped onto a stone and made it taller until she could see all the way into Fiore. Their army, consisting of approximately two million and three hundred thousand men, soldiers from the Empire itself and some from their own squads, stretched as far as her eyes could see. They were a mass of black, almost like ink, advancing quickly onto their enemies. At one point, their army had branched off, fighting at different places, even in Crocus, as she could see other guilds aiding Fairy Tail.
Even from where she stood, Brandish could taste it clearly from the wind that ruffled her hair. Power. It was electric—or was that excitement?—and tangy, thrumming inside of her body like an uncontrollable machine. But she did not really want power. She was quite different from her family (if they could even be called one), often disagreeing with the rest of the warriors. Dimaria was easily the one she fought with the most and everyone knew that. Nevertheless, Brandish was loyal and true to her word. She would always follow the orders of her Emperor—it just didn't mean that she had to like it.
Was this what her comrades felt? She wondered whether this feeling was what drove the Spriggan 12 to fight in this war. They were powerful on their own, yet somehow they had all ended up serving one ruler. Brandish did not mind as much, but she thought the others disliked the idea of being under someone's authority such as Spriggan. She was very much surprised at how well they worked despite being so different from one another. They were, in a sense, invincible. They could break through any fortress and Brandish would not dare go against them.
Why want more though? She did not really get the reasons behind this war for she never bothered asking. It was troublesome as it was and asking for details would only further complicate things. Now that she was beginning to understand her fellow warriors' views… curiosity couldn't help but poke her.
"Brandish!" came the familiar voice of Dimaria inside her head.
The green-haired mage couldn't help but sigh. "What is it now?"
"Backup is needed up southwest. You think you got some time to kill?"
Brandish was resolute in her decision to stay at the Ishgar borders, far away from the action, where she could avoid getting any of her painted toenails from getting chipped. "They need me here," she said, eyeing the mass of trees up ahead. "And what's with backup? Who's stationed there, anyway?"
"I wouldn't ask you to head over if there was someone there now, would I?" Her voice was incredibly laced with sarcasm. "Oh, but I understand if you can't handle it. After all, little Brandish isn't exactly strong—"
She shut her eyes painfully, shoving down the ire that boiled up her throat. "Give me a second." She tapped her foot, sending her back down to flat land as the stone beneath her returned to the earth. She snapped her fingers. "Marin."
The said man hurried to his Mistress' service, bowing lightly. "What can I do for you, Brandish-sama?"
"Take control while I'm gone," she instructed, glancing at him from the corner of her eye with warning. "If I get back and you mess up…"
Marin laughed nervously, saluting. "Everything will be fantastically in order, Brandish-sama! Leave it to me!" Just you wait until I get to you, I will let you pay for all that you've done to me!
Brandish, well aware of the lies beneath her partner's words, leaned forward until her face was inches away from the man, dangerously dark. "You do not want to be shrunk again… do you, Marin?" she questioned impassively, cocking her head to the side in mock concern.
Marin swallowed. "N-No, Brandish-sama."
She straightened, looking down at him with an annoyed glint in her eye. "Good." With that being said, she turned her head towards where she would be heading. Not even a second into the said war and she already found herself becoming terribly cross, stuck between wanting to wait it out and not wanting to disobey direct orders. If it were up to her, she would rather watch over the slumbering Lady back at Vistarion.
With an exaggerated exhale, she blinked and was already on the battlefield, smack in the middle of a guild's full members and the remains of their small patch of warriors. She placed one fist on her hip, lip tugged into a frown.
"B-Brandish-sama!" one of the soldiers cried out, conjuring up a cheer from the rest of their army as she glanced over her shoulder and huffed. What a troublesome bunch, she thought to herself. Dimaria did not train them well enough.
"And who are you?"
Brandish directed her attention to the silver-haired male in front of her. She looked back at the group of them and ignored him, heel clicking as the ground began to shake.
"Wha—an earthquake?!"
Within moments, she was moving past them, staring straight ahead as the wind pushed her hair back. One by one, men and women fell to the ground, some shrinking and some falling dead to the dagger she held in her hand. All throughout, she was thinking that this was too much effort, especially when she loathed exerting too much energy, but work was work. A plan began to form in her head. She would get this over with as fast as possible and return to the border, at least until reinforcements arrived. She was not backup per se—she knew that much—and was more likely asked to keep the southwest end quiet. The more land they conquered, the faster they could get to Magnolia. And the faster they ended Fairy Tail, the quicker they would finish this war.
It was all a deliberately formed strategy, well-thought by Invel and August themselves—with side remarks from Irene and God Serena, the insufferable lot.
"How's it going over your end?"
Brandish perked up at the sound of Dimaria's voice, once again interrupting her train of thought. "Just about done," she replied, whirling around to send a kick into a man's face, deciding to shrink him afterwards and toss him out into the forest for the vultures to pick on. "It's a small guild."
"Well, Invel asked me to tell you that you're needed back at Caelum." She didn't even sound remorseful. "I'm sending you—hey, you brats! Get your asses over here!—ah, where was I? Oh right. I'm sending you at least ten hundred warriors from my squad, think that's enough?"
"I guess," Brandish said, shrugging. "I dealt with the majority but some are still running about. The mob will crush them. Anything else?"
"Not that I know of. Now go and haul your ass back to the border before Invel gets your head."
Brandish rolled her eyes, deciding not to reply. She dusted off the dirt on her coat and teleported back to the tents.
静
The north wing of the Grand Palace was calm save for the occasional hiss of a servant's skirts amongst each other and the light tap-tap-tap of shoes on the carpet. Once it used to be full of movement, of people rushing about to tend to the ill lady, warriors paying visits, and bickering pairs gracing the halls. Now though, no one dared to speak, for fear of igniting the anger of their Emperor. No one dared to enter the room where the Lady lay, for there was no telling what could happen if they so set a foot inside.
Sometimes, he would be there to take care of her. It was only during nighttime that they could breathe for he was there to give the north wing a little life. Ironic as it was, he was the only reason they could ever venture through the corridors passing through the Lady's quarters. They would have to be quick and quiet. Their Emperor was grieving and they did not dare ruin his only time with the fair-haired girl.
They pretended not to hear the aching whispers of their ruler, the wind bringing those words of hope and wishes for the well-being of his lover to brush against their skin, and on some days they would send a prayer to the gods to ease his agony. He was a good king, they would say. Please relieve his pain, they would pray.
But the Emperor never did stay too long. He never slept with her nor did he ever lay next to her. The servants would know—they always knew. They looked through the creak in the doors and watched their Master quietly fall apart. They never lingered too long either, for their king was a strong mage, and their breaths would draw his attention. No one wanted to be at the receiving end of his anger.
They knew it was busy outside, so the Emperor's visits dwindled.
It was odd how terribly still everything was in the face of the war raging beyond the palace's walls. One could only feel the barrier surrounding the area if one would look closely enough, and even then, it would only seem like a figment of their imagination, something that could possibly be the effect of the eeriness of it all. They did not want to look anymore nor did they continue to hope. It was the fourth full moon since then. Four months since they last heard of laughter in these halls.
Suddenly, breaking through the dense thicket of silence, the Lady shuddered and gasped for air.
There are three kanjis in this part.
暗 - dark
戦 - war
静 - quiet
a/n: Well, there you have it! A whopping ten-thousand-word update for you. I've always wanted to post out long chapters but figured they'd take longer to update, but here you go! I plan on finishing the story at a solid 50k word count, so there should be at least two more chapters left before it ends. Sorry for the delay.
Now, onto the chapter. I did plan on following the events of the FTverse, but now I just went completely astray. The war is different from the one that happened before, and this one should seem more logical than the canon. Let's face it, that was a little funky. I'm also not quite sure if the Spriggan 12 can teleport? But come on, they have immense magic power, it'd be kind of stupid if they couldn't, so I went ahead and gave them that quirk. It's hard to control so many characters, but I hope I've done them justice. Brandish is my second fav aside from our beloved couple, but I do adore Ankhseram as well, as much as he annoys the heck out of me. Fight scenes are not of importance here so I don't really put them in unless needed but... yeah. If you have any questions, drop a review! I appreciate them a lot and, let's face it, they keep me writing.
"That's what the world is, after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories." —Haruki Murakami
Byee! -Anne :D
- Please support/read my other stories: Celebrity Issues, Nyctophilia, The Devil and the Assassin, Fragile, Life's Challenges, Forgotten Memories, Queen of Stars, A Love That Lasts Forever and Going Against The Current.