"Life is too important to be taken seriously"

Natsu was being disruptive. Not surprising, I know, but nonetheless annoying.

Another protest spewed out of his mouth.

"This isn't right Makarov! Why'd you throw Laxus out?"

Complaint after complaint erupted from the pink-haired pyro, each one louder and decidedly more vexatious than the last. And, try as I might, I couldn't just ignore Natsu. I'd quickly come to the conclusion that no one, regardless of how patient or composed they were, could ignore the fireball.

He'd been going on for hours. Hours. Perpetual protests, non-stop griping. The same refrain over and over again, always about 'Laxus', always aggravating. Laxus shouldn't have been kicked out, Gramps. What about Laxus, Gramps? Don't you love Laxus? I want to fight Laxus. Laxus this. Laxus that. Oh poor Laxus.

Oh poor Xandria was more like it.

Fucking Laxus. The very name made my hand twitch. As far as I was concerned, Laxus was an ass. It was his fault that Natsu was acting like this in the first place. My ears were practically bleedingfrom hearing all the whining. Bleeding.

If Laxus ever showed his face here again he wouldn't have his guildmates to worry about. He'd have to worry about me. That bastard would get more than just a piece of my mind.

"Someone looks mad."

I glanced up, leveling my scowl at Levy, the epitome of patience and grace, who sat across the table from me. "Is Natsu always like this?" I grumbled. She gave me an apologetic smile.

Natsu opened his mouth again, more proverbial flames shooting out, "Laxus' part of our family you know! Fighting's just a part of being family, right?" I opened my mouth to say something particularly scathing about Natsu's moral compass, but before I could expel a word, a commandeering voice rang in my ears.

"Enough of this Natsu!" Erza snapped, placing a warning hand on the boy's shoulder. Natsu practically purpled in rage.

"You don't understand! I want to fight him again! Next time I'll be strong enough to win against him face to face!"

Natsu was no match for Erza. "I said enough!" She shouted, with equal vigor, and her grip on his collarbone tightened. "Think about the Master Makarov's feelings! Do you think he expelled Laxus because he wanted to?"

"But-"

"It's because it turned out Laxus was a Dragon Slayer like Natsu." Happy chimed in from his place on his partner's shoulder, and I turned, looking at the cat in clear shock. Yet another dragon slayer at Fairy Tail. Damn.

"No, he is not a Dragon Slayer," Erza snapped. "Laxus was frail when he was a child, so his father embedded a lacrima that allows a person to use dragon slayer magic inside of his body."

Happy spoke, "Dragon slayer magic lacrima? Things like that exist?"

My eyes widened, and I failed to catch the rest of their conversation because I was so caught up in my thoughts. This Laxus certainly hadn't seemed as powerful as the man they were describing. Obviously, I could sense that he had a respectable magic power within him, but enough to wipe out a city?

And then there was the fact that Laxus had a lacrima inside of him…

I huffed and perched my head atop my hand. At least now Natsu was quiet.

~Two Days Later~

Beauty was an intriguing, multilayered, complicated sort of human construct. To some it was a tool, to others a means of self-expression, even sometimes considered a form of art. Everyone had a different concept of and use for beauty. To me, beauty was a weapon, occasionally a tool. As far as I saw it, beauty could be used for a manner of different things. Rallying, manipulating, teaching, killing, stealing, conquering. Usually there was one goal in mind. Power. Great and terrible power. Authority. Control. Dominance.

To Lucy, beauty was something of a game.

She sat at her vanity, hands in her hair, a pout on her face. Of course, I couldn't see these things, but by the tone she carried I had an idea. Lush lips turned down in a frown, appealing brown eyes wide with distaste, brows creased together.

"What do you think, Xandria?"

"Huh?" I hadn't caught a word of what she'd said.

The moue was clear in her tone. "I was just saying that I thought I needed a hairstyle a bit more cutting edge than the one I have now. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yeah sure." My gaze didn't move from the book I'd snatched from her bookshelf. She scoffed, and finally I looked up in acquiescence. In all honesty, I couldn't have cared less, but a grumpy Lucy was not an enjoyable one, and I didn't want to be stuck with her griping to me. I examined her hair; it looked exactly the same.

"Well? Isn't it drab?"

I shrugged. "Shave it all off, then."

Apparently she didn't appreciate the comment, because she huffed and turned back to the vanity. "I shouldn't have asked you," She grumbled, and with a tug she removed the updo her celestial spirit had put her hair in.

"So you don't like it, baby?" The hairstylist muttered, placing his scissors in the pouch on his hip and looking down at her with a blank face.

"No it's not that, it's just…" A grin lit up her melodramatic face. "How about I go to the bookstore and buy a hair and makeup magazine? You can use that to style my hair!"

Lucy was out the door before anyone could protest. Her celestial spirit, Cancer, turned to me, his features impassive, but his eyes clear. I released a low growl of frustration and reluctantly forced myself up.

"Yeah, I know, I'll go make sure she buys it, you stay right here."

He nodded, and I sauntered out of the house. It took me roughly ten minutes to find the closest bookstore, within which was no sign of Lucy. I rolled my eyes and turned on my heel, approaching the woman at the checkout counter. She shrank back slightly, taking note of my frustration.

"M-may I help you?" She offered, her tone wavering only slightly as she spake. I glanced over her. Young, probably fifteen or sixteen, with a boyish build and meek countenance. She was curled up within herself—submissive. Her eyes were big and brown, bearing a striking similarity to Lucy's own.

I sighed. "I was wondering if you've seen a blond woman enter this shop anytime within the past fifteen minutes." I explained. "She's average height, a few inches shorter than me, about yay high." I motioned just above my chin. "rather curvy."

"Oh yeah, I saw her. She ran out after introducing herself to a handsome young author that just arrived here from Hargeon, shouting something about a fateful encounter. Ironically enough, that same man bought a book named fateful encounter and ran out after her. I don't know what happened to them after that." She informed me, and I nodded.

"Thank you," I said, and noticed the magazines standing on a rack a few feet away. I only hesitated slightly before I gave in to kindness. "Hey, would you mind telling me which beauty magazine you like best?"

"Are you looking to purchase one?"

I bit back a sharp retort and nodded. "Yes."

"Try this one, then. The first part seems a little over the top, but I really liked some of the hairstyles in the back, and the makeup all looks pretty good, nothing too dramatic." She assured me, and I nodded vaguely, not catching onto a word she was saying. "I think it'll suit you."

"The magazine is for a friend, actually," I stated. "The blond girl that ran out was planning on getting herself a copy, but seeing as how she didn't, it seems as though it's my job to get her one now."

"Well I'm sure she'll like it." The salesclerk said and offered me a sheepish grin.

"Thanks." I placed 700 jewel on the counter and snatched up the magazine, heading for the exit. Absentmindedly, I perused the contents. Apparently 'natural makeup' was in style again, otherwise known as wearing enough makeup to pass as socially acceptable, but not enough to be considered over the top or a whore. Enough to make the ever gnostic man think a woman is going without makeup altogether. I clicked my tongue and continued walking down the cobbled streets of Magnolia without an actual destination in mind. It was always ironic. Beauty. More often than not, a woman's value to society was determined by her attractiveness. Men told women not to wear makeup—that they look better without it—yet when a woman actually foregoes wearing makeup they're criticized and castigated, told they look sick or unwell or slobby, or that they ought to do everyone a favor and actually try to look nice. When a woman wears enough makeup for it to be noticeable she is called self-obsessed and vain. And God forbid a girl wants to look attractive for herself.

Beauty. Such a wonderfully antithetical and paradoxical social construct.

I stopped, an intoxicating scent filling my nose and pulling me from my thoughts. A storefront loomed to my right, and I glanced at it. Madame Hideki's Beauty Boutique and Scent Salon was written in a swirling white typeface across a humble sable veneer. It smelled positively divine; I had no choice but to at least give a small survey of its contents.

The inside was in every way quaint and charming. Crude, wooden shelves lined the walls, and tiered displays sat in the midst of the walkway. A host of different soaps peered up at me from one shelf, the vast array of flavors crammed next to each other in an attempt to use up as little space as possible. An adjacent table held an assortment of things for bathing—tub truffles, tub teas, soaking salts, and something called bath bombs (I immediately envisioned a great explosion occurring in the bath tub, sending chunks of plaster and great waves of water splashing everywhere, hopefully I was wrong). Nearby were a variety of oils, perfumes, and lotions, as well enough lip balm to make my head spin. Towards the back of the store I found the makeup portion of the shop, which was just as unassuming as the rest of the store itself.

Anyone who knew me knew that I possessed a deep rooted, zealous adoration and affiliation with and of any and all things that smelt good. Like soaps. Especially soaps. So it came as no surprise that I ended up purchasing 4,000 jewel worth merchandise. A disappointment, maybe. But not a surprise. Soaps and oils and makeup and salts and even a bottle of all natural K9 dog wash. I didn't have a dog, but if I ever did, I would be prepared.

I made my way home after the shopping trip, my wallet far lighter and my spirits lifted.

Sighing and fumbling with my cloak, I tried to reach the pocket of my pants where I had tucked away the key. I balanced the shopping bag in one arm and extracted the key, moving to unlock the door. Surprisingly enough, the door was already unlocked. My brows knit together as I pushed the large wooden door open, assuming that I must have forgotten to lock it when I made my hurried exit.

I was greeted by the stiff voice of a spirit. "Miss Xandria, you have returned." For a moment I froze, the image of the goat searing across my mind, but as quickly as the memory was there, it was gone, replaced by the image of Lucy's spirit standing in front of me, a stoic expression on his face. I flicked on the light, my heart racing, and the spirit spoke again, "Where is-"

"I couldn't find Lucy," I said, steadying my breath. "But I did get the magazine she wanted, as well as some makeup that she could use." I fished out several products from the paper shopping bag and placed them atop the only table in the room, watching as the wooden surface was sparsed with products.

"Lucy already has plenty of makeup that I use on her," The spirit said, and I shrugged.

"So?"

"I suppose it is not of import."

I sighed and set the rest of the bags down. "I'm going to the guild to see if I can find her. " I told him, rising from my chair. My cloak swayed with me as I did so, and I brushed my hair back. "Make sure to let her know I've gone out looking for her if she comes back." The spirit nodded, and I left, exiting the room in one swift fashion, and this time remembering to lock the door behind me on my way out.

I was at the guild hall within a matter of minutes, just as dusk was beginning to take hold of Magnolia. The building was alive with energy, and great, bumbling fireflies buzzed around my head as I walked in.

The doors swung open, and the first thing I did was shout, "Lucy!" After a quick survey of the room, I noticed that the curvaceous young woman was absent. Great. Letting out a hiss of annoyance, I looked around once more, but this time I wasn't searching for Lucy. My eyes fell on Levy, and in a flash I had reached the booth she was sitting at with her two partners.

She greeted me with a smile. "Hi, Xandria!" I canted my head in her direction and glanced reluctantly at the two men beside her. She seemed to notice this, and with an understanding nod she spoke once more. "I forgot, you haven't met the rest of my team yet." Levy elbowed a carrot headed man beside her.

"I'm Jet." He announced.

"I'm Droy." The other man, one with dark hair and sharp features, stated.

"And together with me we make up team shadow gear!" Levy exclaimed proudly, beaming at me. The other two men offered a haphazard smile, obviously lacking the same enthusiasm that their female companion had. I tried to refrain from rolling my eyes.

She was just about to say something else when I cut her off, "Sorry, but I can't chat at the moment. I'm looking for Lucy, and I was wondering if you'd seen her anywhere." Levy looked at me for a moment, as if surprised by my bluntness, though she shouldn't have been. I'd been perfectly blunt with her during every other occasion we'd spoken.

Her vision moved up, landing on a spot somewhere within the tapestry of the ceiling, deep in thought. "now that you mention it, I think that I saw her with Mira earlier, but I can't be sure." She answered, "Nothing's wrong is it?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so. She just disappeared earlier after running out on an errand. I asked around and I think she might've run off with some guy she met at the bookstore. Which was really bothering me."

"She can take care of herself." Levy reassured me.

"I know, I know," I said, sighing. "Tell me, does she normally do stuff like this?"

Levy frowned. "Not as far as I know. Lucy normally plans stuff pretty far in advance. Kind of surprising that you two manage to get along, in fact."

"Huh, well, I hope nothing's wrong."

Levy gave me a smile. "Don't worry; I'm sure she's fine."

"Yeah…"

I didn't want to admit that I might've genuinely cared for Lucy, so after a decided pause I opted to change the subject. "Hey Levy, do you wanna come over?"

"Huh?"

"Lucy's got her personal hairstylist is at our house, so you might as well stop by. Plus, waiting for Lucy is kind of lonely. I could use the company."

"Are you sure?" The hesitation was clear in her tone. I nodded.

"Yeah, of course," I said.

"Do you want to have a sleepover, then?" Levy inquired. "We've never had one before, and if I'm coming over now I might as well spend the night."

"Yeah, sure."

"Alright," She said with a grin, pushing Droy aside and standing from her seat. "I'll grab my things from the dorms and be at your place in thirty minutes."

Later that night I would discover how pushy Levy could be, which was, for the record, a lot pushier than I originally anticipated. In fact, her favorite topic to push on seemed to be my particular choice of clothing, which she ragged on me for what seemed like hours.

"All I'm saying is that you need to get out of that ratty cloak and into something nicer." Levy chirped with a laugh. "Hiding behind layers of dark fabric isn't the most attractive thing to do."

"Do you think I'd wear the cloak if I really cared about being attractive to others?" I retorted, picking up the fashion magazine she had tossed at me from her side of the room. "And you can have this back; I don't need it." I threw it at her head, and she dodged to the left just before it flew into the wall, colliding with the pink wallpaper with a soft sffsh.

"You aren't getting out of this." She promised, a dark look crossing her delicate features.

"I don't care what you say; you won't be able to get me out of this cloak anytime soon."

"Watch me." She challenged, and I quirked a brow. "I'm taking you tomorrow to buy new clothes. If you're going to wear the same thing every day, at least let it be something attractive."

"I was planning on shopping next week or something, once I actually, you know, earn some money?"

"You have enough to buy a few things," She said, her features stoic. "Besides, it'll be fun."

"It doesn't sound like fun." I grumbled.

She laughed. "Oh lighten up a bit. Have you never gone shopping before?"

"Of course I've gone shopping," I said, rolling my eyes. "That's exactly why I hate it so much."

"You sound just like a man."

I stuck out my tongue and the girl across from me released a tinkling laugh.

Sure enough, she kept her promise, and the first thing she did the next morning was to haul my ass out of bed and take me to the trendiest shopping district in Magnolia. Which wasn't saying much. Magnolia didn't exactly have any places I'd call trendy.

I'd taken it upon myself to challenge everything Levy valued fashion wise. And my mission was working. It was only fifteen minutes into the start of our shopping trip and she was already getting annoyed. Levy was a joy to be around when she was annoyed. The frustrated huffs and squeaks and snaps made one really appreciate life.

"What about this one?" I inquired, holding up a dark shirt that I had found on a nearby rack. Levy's face turned pink when she saw the skull stamped across it, and I had to fight hard to smother my grin.

"Will you stop fooling around already," She snipped. "I told you, we're looking for something a bit nicer than that ragged dark hood, preferably something that will brighten your whole dark and mysterious look up a bit."

"But I love the whole dark and mysterious look," I replied. "Intimidation is one of the most enjoyable things in the world."

Levy shot me what she must have considered to be a scathing glare. She wound up looking more like a slightly grumpy bunny. I chuckled and returned the article of clothing to its home on a shelf, and she spoke, "Can you just cooperate, please? For once?"

"Alright, alright. As long as you don't make me wear something stupid."

My comment seemed to appease her, and she released a pleased sigh. "I won't." She promised, shooting me an assuaged smile as she peered over a row of blouses. "We're looking for something that reflects you're personality too, and since you're obviously so smart, how could I get you something even remotely stupid?" I detected sarcasm in her tone, which made me laugh.

"If you're getting me something that reflects my personality, then why not let me pick?" I inquired, moving towards a large display of pants. I curiously lifted up a pair, examining the leopard design and fur lining that decorated the trousers. Definitely stupid. Only an idiot would wear such garish clothing.

"Because I know you'll pick something ridiculous to annoy me again," She stated. "Like those pants. Put them down; they look ridiculous."

"Believe me, I was just about to do that," I stated, and placed the ugly pants on the table. After a brief moment of distraction, I turned around, and jumped backwards when I saw Levy standing right behind me, an assortment of blouses in arm and a look of determination on her face.

"Alright, I'll finish looking for a few things for you to try on here, and you look around to see if you can find anything else."

I nodded, and searched, but failed to find anything. Upon my return Levy frowned, but said nothing about my lack of rescued clothing.

"Here." She handed me a small stack of clothing, and pointed towards the back. "Go to the changing rooms and try everything on. Let me know what you like."

I blinked and looked down at the stack of clothes, back at Levy, and then in the direction of the changing rooms, finally tottering off where she had pointed me too. I figured there was no use arguing, and besides, I really did need some new clothing. Once I reached the changing room, I looked over the clothes and automatically threw out a few. A see-through top, a gauzy skirt, a flashy pink toga, and a frilly pair of parachute pants; none of them suited my tastes. I sighed and looked at what was left, a pair of tight leggings and a maroon, sleeveless blouse, both of which semi-suited my tastes. All the same, both the blouse and the pants looked about my size, so I put them aside, not even bothering to try it on. There was only one outfit left, and my eyes flicked over it, the sudden, shocking purple catching my eye.

My heart stopped, and the memory filled my mind.

I was eight. I couldn't have been any older than eight. I still wore ribbons, and my hair was still in curly lockets, not yet straight. My heart was still there; my soul still intact. Perhaps I was a little bruised, slightly battered, but I was there. I was whole.

Playing was still allowed, laughter was still acceptable. I could smile a real smile, not one twisted by cruelty or wrath. Maybe I wasn't wholly innocent, but I was close enough.

The sun was a brilliant, yellow orb that hung low on the horizon. I could see it through the window as I flitted past, only pausing slightly to examine the outdoors. My great huffs of breath clouded the glass, and I raised a clammy palm to swipe at the pane. It squeaked under my hand in protest. I leaned forward, pressing a small tomato nose to the porthole, peering out in anticipation. My favorite part of the day was the sunset.

But on that particular day the sky was all wrong. Red. Blindingly red. Not normal sunset red, either, but an aching shade of rust. The heavens were bleeding, or maybe just boiling. The sky looked like a great pot of soup—like the thick, hearty borscht my father loved. In some spots it was burnt. There were black crumbs and pepper, streaked and spattered across the vermillion expanse.

It was a devastating, home-cooked red, with great stacks of smoke curling up from the village nearby. My father refused to allow us outside that day. It took me a long time to realize why. I thought it was because it was cold, because when I looked outside I could see great snowflakes falling to the ground. I wanted to stretch out my tongue to catch them, to taste them. Only years later did I realize that they would have scorched my lips. They would have cooked my mouth.

I couldn't smell the smoke inside, and my youthful mind was incapable of processing the incorrigible state of the world. So I danced away and returned to my game. My brother and I played war that night, and every time he fell in a faux death, I imagined great splatters of the sky leaking from his side.

First there was red. And then there was purple.

I bounced around the expansive halls of my home, swathed in the purple cloth I'd found sitting useless and abandoned in the back of one of our closets. With a regal step and noble countenance, I valiantly approached the bearded man, the one I called my father, dancing before him with a smile.

"Papa! Look! Look at me!"

I twisted my body and performed a magnificent, albeit clumsy, twirl allowing the rich violet cloth to fan around me like a robe.

"I look like royalty, don't I? Papa! Don't I look like a Queen?"

Even at a young age I had my sights set high; even at a young age I wanted power. I wanted to be a queen.

A giggle erupted from my small frame; however, the man before me barely inclined his head. My father stared down his nose at me, glacial features scanning over me in distaste. After a moment he spoke, his deep voice enough to strike fear into the hearts of everyone; everyone but me.

He rumbled over the words, his tone a smokestack—a train. "Alexandria, shouldn't you be working on your studies?" He leant back in his enormous chair, his fingers twisting up into his beard. "I just acquired two new tomes for you. I expect a bright young mage like you to be learning from those, not fooling around with some cloth like an ignoramus."

"But-"

"My dear, you know that you're not royalty. One day, if you follow my instruction, then perhaps you will be, but not now," He said, his tone arid. "Now give me that. It's not yours and you know better than to play with things that don't belong to you. You're nine now, correct? You're old enough to know better than to act so ridiculous."

Large, salty tears began to spill from my eyes. "Daddy, I'm eight… y-you know that." I clenched my fists in the large purple cloth attempting to swipe at some of my tears. My father's mouth turned down. There it was again—the distaste.

"Don't cry. What have I told you about crying being a weakness?"

"D-Dad-"

"Stop your crying, I said! How do you expect to be a strong mage if you can't even be a strong person? You're weak, Alexandria. Weak! You have to be strong!"

"I am strong!"

My father's gaze was still cold and unflinching as he spoke, "Now give me the damned fabric already!" He ordered, and stood up, moving forward to take the purple cloth I had been clinging onto. I pulled away from him, wiping my tears and raising my arm.

"Leave me alone!" I screamed, shooting a blast of magic at the man I called my father.

I gasped, pulling away from the purple clothing that Levy had given me. My hands were shaking, and I realized that I was crying, silent droplets of saltwater leaking past my eyes. The realization only made me cry more. I don't know how long it took me to compose myself, but it must've been a while, because I heard the sharp rap of Levy's hand against the door of the changing room. It made me jump.

"Xandria, everything okay in there?"

"Yeah," I called. "Just gimme a second."

Her feet padded softly against the linoleum floor, and I released a sigh, my mind still buzzing. The memory was strong, but I shouldn't have been surprised. After trying to bury it along with the rest of my memories from my younger years, it was bound to turn up eventually.

I cleared my throat and, with great trepidation, pulled the clothes off of my body. A doppelganger stared back at me from the other side of the glass, her eyes still slightly puffy, and I worked hard to hide it. After stifling the sudden deluge of emotion, I lifted the purple outfit Levy'd given me and examined it. It was simple, a relatively long, draped purple wrap-skirt made of a hardy fabric and another, equally violet, sleeveless tank made of another thick textile. I pulled on the leggings under the wrap-skirt, pulled the shirt on, and turned to examine myself in the mirror. I smiled slightly as a final, remorseful tear slipped down my cheek. I looked nice. Screw my father's opinion; purple was my color.

"Xandria, you have any luck yet?"

I swung open the door of my stall, stepping out to greet Levy. Her eyes widened.

"What do you think?" I asked, a grin on my face to mask the earlier grimace. She stared at me.

"You look like a goddess," She announced, fixing me with a grin.

"What, did you expect me to look like a troll?" I replied, and the bluenette laughed.

"Please tell me that you're getting that." Levy piped up, looking me over once again.

I shrugged. "Yeah, I think so." I told her.

She nodded. "It makes you look strong."

Good, I thought, I want to look strong.

"Alright, then." I said, shifting the clothing in my arms. "Where do I go buy these?"

"The counter over there." She pointed, and I nodded, shoving the clothing I didn't want in her arms along with my abandoned cloak. I marched in the direction of the cashier, placing the other pants and top on the counter along with several other articles of clothing.

"I'd like to buy these, along with what I'm wearing." I stated.

"Hold still, Xandria!" Lucy barked, narrowly missing jabbing me in the eye as she applied mascara via a twisting wand. "I can't put makeup on you if you keep moving around."

"You mean like this?" I swerved to the left, causing her to nearly paint the side of my face black. She released an indignant shout, and I cackled.

"I don't see why I agreed to do this in the first place…" She grumbled, returning to her job as I settled again.

I smirked. "Because I said I could paint your face up prettier than you could paint up mine, and apparently you couldn't resist the challenge."

"You were the one who wouldn't stop berating me," She retorted, and I shrugged.

"I wouldn't call it 'berating', per se-"

Lucy ignored me and leaned back, "There. I'm done," She lifted her finger to swipe at a spot on my cheek, and jerked my head to face the girl who accompanied us. "What do you think Levy?" I quirked a brow, and Levy smiled at me, offering me a thumbs up.

"She looks beautiful." Levy said.

"Wait, so does that mean that Lucy wins?"

"It means you both tie," she said with a shrug, and I scowled. Levy only laughed though.

I turned around to face the mirror, and smirked when I saw myself. Lucy was talented. I was still the same girl, with the stormy eyes and splattering of freckles across my cheeks, obviously, but I did look nice.

The rest of the night was spent fantastically, and I laughed alongside Lucy and Levy as we gave the bluenette a makeover, spiking her hair up in a Mohawk and trying to convince her to wear the black lipstick that Lucy had saved for 'special occasions'. I even opted to pierce her ear with a clothespin that I found on the floor, but apparently that wasn't 'safe' or 'sanitary' enough for her.

Friends, I'd realized. I have friends.

A/N: Yay for friendship, feminism, fluff, filler chapters, and fleshing out characters! We've got a lot of that going on in this chapter, which has been written and rewritten and revised about a hundred times.

You're probably wondering where exactly Laxus is, but he won't be showing up until a bit later. Yes, this fic will have Laxus/Alexandria as the main pairing, but that will not be a very crucial part of the story until Laxus appears again (which will be during the Tenrou Island Arc, which starts towards the end of Chapter 9). I am writing this story chronologically with the Fairy Tail series, and hope to flesh out several of the characters as well as some events that were ignored throughout the anime/manga.

I wrote this not only because of a love for the Fairy Tail series, but also out of love for Laxus' character and out of love for writing. I especially love writing relationships, including friendships, but especially love stories. But I believe, in order to have a gripping and intriguing love story, one must bring two complex, dynamic characters together. These characters should have lives of their own, and should not be the main focus of one another's lives (especially not to begin with). There must be chemistry, and there must be the slow formation of a relationship. There must be conflict, and they must not always get along. This is why I believe it is important to focus on Alexandria's background a bit before I can go into detail concerning her relationship with Laxus. I want you to realize that she is a person, faults and all, just as Laxus is a person, faults and all.

Anyways, enough of my rambling. I really hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love you all so much, and each of you is utterly and ineffably fantastic!

As always, please R&R!