A/N: Hey there, lovelies. Like I said a while ago, I have a good chunk of the GMG already written. There are still holes to fill, but I definitely have another 35k+ words down and more intermediary scenes sketched out in my head. Might actually hit 150k. Damn, that's cool.
Guest: Ah, my love, it's always so good to hear from you. And I'm glad you liked my mythology! There's just so much fun stuff to play with. But lordy you should've seen how red my face was writing that scene. Amelie was an interesting character to write-she definitely evolved into a helluva lot more than I had originally intended; but I do love writing Fae speech. "Foolhardy, tail-feathered fledgling" is my current favorite insult. Gotta love those lawful/chaotic neutrals. And yeah, the "he hurt you"/"he's dead" basically slammed into me one day and I legit scrambled for my phone to write it down. Just poses such an interesting spin into T's psyche and pulls way back to the chapter where Dimitri actually accuses her of adultery. I still don't feel like I did Tryst/Balor justice, but I kinda exhausted myself on that bit. Balor/the Fomorians deserved a little bit more fleshing out (I tried to drop a few hints throughout, but not sure how well they stuck) to be a non-2D "villain".
Little lighter this chapter. Happy things, the beginning of the Games, and Mira being Mira. Fave/review/message/etc. I appreciate y'all lots.
Talia slept for most of the next day as well. Laxus still dozed on her lap as the train sped them toward Crocus, but his coat was bunched into a pillow between her head and the window.
Her magic was stable, though. Morrigan said things were ok, and Talia believed her. The Old One was resting, but would be just fine. She just needed some time.
Crocus was loud and busy. People shuffled about their lives, happily buying and selling and running their errands. It was a lively, colorful city that opened itself and basked in the glory of the sun. They arrived in the afternoon, sore and stiff, but looking forward to seeing their friends again.
They had hardly checked in and washed up when Mira dragged Talia straight out again.
"Saints preserve us—Mira!" Talia whined as the white-haired mage dragged her, arm outstretched and shoulder pulling almost painfully, down the steps of the Lotus Leaf Inn. Master Makarov had been careful to not house the two teams together—he seemed very pleased with himself at the potential surprise announcement. Mira's response was a mischievous smile.
"Come on!" she replied, "If we're going win the Games, then we need to look the part. And lord knows you haven't replenished your wardrobe since before the S-Class exams."
"That's only been like three months!" Well, technically seven years, but that's beside the point. Talia hated shopping. It was irritating and demeaning and took forever. She was always inevitably between sizes. If she was going to splurge on anything, it was new boots. That's all she wanted and all she needed.
Mira glanced back at her, one eyebrow raised, and gave a scrutinizing once-over of her current attire. Her black jeans, ragged at the seams, were a hair's breadth away from entirely threadbare and her maroon t-shirt with the collar sliced off didn't look much sturdier. She'd let the black boots slide, but they also looked like they'd seen a few years' worth of better days. Mira gave a judgmental hum and caught Talia's eyes for an unimpressed glance before turning back to forward and pulling harder.
"Oh come on!" Talia was quickly turning into a toddler and she knew it, "It's not that bad! Mira!" She dragged out the name cartoonishly. It had no effect. She huffed, resigned. It was going to be a long day.
It was. The first store didn't even stock her size. Talia had grumbled something along the lines of I'm not even that freakin' tall before they left, Mira's determination unwavering. Mira had no problem finding clothes, everything fit her perfectly—well, minus some bust alterations. But Talia's height had posed a problem since her last growth spurt sputtered out at 17. She was a head taller than almost every woman in the guild; heck, even most of the men. Barefoot, she stood eye-to-eye with Freed and Macao, and heaven forbid she wear heels. Cana and Evergreen were the only women anywhere close to her height.
Talia followed her tiny demoness between the shops of the main fashion district in Crocus. It was much bigger than its counterpart in Fiore, and by far the biggest one she'd been to in her immediate memory. Her face reflected in the glass window of a passing shop. Her hair had gotten so long . . . she raised her hand and ran it through the thick waves; red, gold, and blonde strands catching the sunlight. It was almost to her waist now. One thing she'd definitely have to do while they were out was get it trimmed—she could feel the poor broken ends. She voiced her task to Mira, who smiled and nodded.
"I could use a trim as well. I think I see a sign for a place up ahead, want to try one more store and then head over?" Talia nodded. Anything to minimize her having to try on clothes, even if only temporarily. They wandered into a trendy-looking store on the right—all minimalist shelving and pallid colors. Talia's eyes narrowed.
"Do they have anything that isn't. . . " she gestured to the blush tones laid out before her, "this?" Mira turned back to her from where she had wandered on the opposite side of the display.
"I thought you liked a nice salmon color?"
"I mean . . . yeah, but all of these look like they got the actual color drained out of them." Talia gasped comically and made a faux-terror face. "What if there's a color vampire on the loose? Draining the color out of perfectly good accessories? How ever could we stop this fiend?!"
Mira sputtered into a laugh. Talia was pretty sure that she'd have thrown something at her if there had been something in her hand. She wasn't wrong, though, the current trend was for everything to be bright white or washed out. It did seem plausible that a color vampire had attacked the fashionable world. She took a quick glance around the shop looking for anything with an actual color.
"I think your color vampire must've drained this place pretty well, I can't find a proper color anywhere. Just blush and grey and faded blue. One more store, then hair—since this one was a bust?" Talia nodded, still entertained by her new fictitious creature.
They walked out of the store abreast. Now that Talia had made this a game of sorts, shopping wasn't so bad. They just had to explore the crime scenes of the Color Vampire and save the city from its blight. Mira rolled her eyes at her friend's childish antics. At least she wasn't as miserable this way—give her a game or a challenge and she'd always come through.
A boutique across the square caught Talia's eye: it was bolder in its color choices and notably retro. Mannequins in the window showcased a navy sailor-styled dress, the bright white lines on the accentuated and stylized collar mimicking the parallel lines on the skirt's hem. Beside it was posed, mid-strut, a long legged-pair of bright mustard flare jeans with a natural linen tee boasting a bright sunflower front and center-tucked into the wide leather belt. As fun as those two outfits were, though, they weren't what held Talia's attention. It was the pair of (long!) black pants, tapered tight to the calf, and high-waisted with large, flat brass buttons accentuating the lines of the mannequin's cotton-filled iliac crests.
Mira had to catch up to her.
Talia didn't even remember walking across the courtyard to the store, she was just suddenly there. Without a pause, she found a clerk and asked for a pair in her size to try. They weren't technically longs, but she didn't care. Prize in hand, she practically sprinted to the dressing rooms.
Mira enjoyed watching her excitement. And she especially enjoyed the happy squeal from the dressing room as Talia tried the pants and found that they fit. Talia flung open the door and had one of the biggest smiles Mira had ever seen. It was the smile of the five-year old who did, actually, get that pony for Christmas. Or, at least for Talia, the girl who found pants she likes that actually fit. She bounced around the little alcove outside the fitting rooms, her happy green eyes holding Mira's—they were infectious. Mira smiled too.
Talia squealed: "Mira! They're so cute! And guess what!" she shoved her hands into the pockets and thrust her hips forward, "THEY HAVE POCKETS!"
"They're so cute! You should definitely wear those for the games."
Talia pouted "But what if they get ripped? And have we decided if we're going to do a team color yet or not?" Mira waved off her first question.
"Just get a couple spare pairs. And I talked with Laxus and Juvia while you were in the bath—I think we're just all going to wear some version of black. So those pants would work perfectly."
Talia let out a dry laugh: "And lord knows Gajeel doesn't really understand color beyond black. Probably a good bet all around." She turned and examined her backside in the mirror, arms splayed out as if she were modeling another gala gown. "Now, the ultimate question," she put on her best serious face and voice, "Does my butt look good in them?"
Mira laughed, her voice tinkling in the air around Talia. "Of course. Though," she added, conspiratorially, "I can think of at least one person who would like to see more of it." She winked in Talia's direction and the sound mage immediately turned scarlet with flush. Talia promptly turned back to the dressing room and snapped the door shut behind her. Mira's smile remained. Maybe she'd get to play proper matchmaker, after all.
Boutique bag with three sets of matching pants in-hand, the demoness and the banshee walked into the hair salon they had spotted earlier. They were lucky that the salon had availability for walk-ins, given the excitement surrounding the Games. They were both immediately taken back for washing.
The bag from the boutique was white with a black ribbon for a handle, and Talia placed it by her feet next to the washing chair. This was her favorite part—having someone play with her hair and give a scalp massage. Highly underrated skill in her opinion, and one she was all too happy to exploit as part of a trim. Mira was at a washing station on the other side of the room and therefore too far away to talk with, which gave Talia a nice moment to relax inside her own self. She needed to meditate, to speak with the Old One and Morrigan to tell them more about the games, but that was for later. Right now was just for her.
She closed her eyes and relaxed into the warm water and precise ministrations of her adept stylist.
"So are you two ladies in town for the Games?" she stylist asked. Talia jumped slightly and opened her eyes, not expecting conversation and—to be entirely truthful—a little disappointed that she wouldn't get her quiet time.
"Yes," she said with a polite smile and closed her eyes once more.
"It should be such a fun festival this year. I hear that old guild—the one where a bunch disappeared a while back—might even make it through the semi-finals."
Talia's eyebrows raised, but her eyes stayed closed. Clearly the woman hadn't seen (or didn't recognize) the black guild mark on the back of her neck. She decided to play coy and go along anyway: "Really? That would be something. What were the guilds last year?"
"I don't remember all of them, but definitely Sabertooth. They've won the past few years in a row. They have a couple of dragon slayers—"she said the words like it was the most exotic idea she'd ever contemplated. Talia smirked, but bit her tongue—"I don't remember all the rest, but Lamia Scale was up there, too. Their ice mage is so handsome," she signed, then focused back on her task: "Goodness your hair is long, "What kind of cut are you looking for today?"
"Just a trim, please. Poor thing hasn't been taken care of properly in a while."
"It's such an interesting color. Did you get highlights or are these natural?" she rinsed the shampoo and began to apply copious amounts of conditioner.
"Just spending too much time in the sun recently," Talia smiled. She was used to getting compliments on her hair, but it was always nice. She was proud of it. The one piece of her Dimitri didn't mar.
The thought surprised her. Not the thought itself, but the dark humor behind it. Over the past few months training with Laxus and the Thunder Legion, she had stubbornly tried to rid herself of such thoughts. She wasn't marred. She wasn't broken. She wasn't anything that she didn't want to be. Her scars were reminders of her past and a testament to her survival and growth. She didn't want to be ashamed of them anymore. But, quietly, she was glad that the stylist didn't ask about them. She still had a long way to go.
Conditioned, washed out, and hair towel-dried, Talia migrated to the stylist's normal chair. Mira, once her hair was washed as well, joined in the chair set next to her. But, unfortunately for them, Mira was beginning to draw a crowd. Apparently seven years wasn't enough time for people to forget her modelling spreads for Sorcerer's Weekly. Her stylist was a chatterbox, and the stares from other customers weren't helping.
"Are you sure you only want a trim, Miss Mirajane?" her stylist asked hopefully. It wasn't really surprising, Mira getting a new hairstyle from this place would probably bring in a load of new business. But it was still irritating. Talia hated it when people looked at her and only thought of what they could gain—whether that be power or simple presence. She didn't like the idea of being used. Mira, on the other hand, was far more patient and gave polite, if stern, replies as to what she wanted done. Talia rolled her eyes and tried to block out the sounds of Mira's fawning fans.
With all the commotion around Mira, Talia's stylist had apparently lost interest in her own subject. A quick "Yes, just a trim and a couple layers," was all Talia really said until the whole process was done. But the tittering around Mira never ceased. A headache had formed pointedly behind Talia's left temple and she practically rushed through the checkout line. The Master had given them some expense money for the games, and it only just barely covered the pants and the trim. Talia groaned. I still have to find a top. But with her head pounding, that was the last thing she wanted to do. She wanted to sneak back to the inn and take a nap. They had to be there by midnight anyway, what's the harm of being six hours early?
Talia waited outside the salon, leaning against the brick façade. Mira finally made her way out, waving like the queen of a festival to her adoring fans below. Talia rolled her eyes.
"Good to know you're still adored," she said brusquely. Mira flashed a bright smile.
"You know, if you had played along, you might've gotten the same discount that I did."
Talia's jaw dropped, "Y-you. That was all for-," she chuckled, "You sneaky little minx." Mira winked at her and walked past, hips swaying even more excessively than normal. Talia gave one more little huff of a laugh and followed.
Being outside again, with less confinement of sound, helped Talia's headache subside. She began to properly notice and appreciate the city around her. The sheer amount of flowers was incredible, and the smells were amazing. The woody scent of roses and camellias wafted from a large ornamentation to her left, and the arching bridge before them was wreathed in lilies, lavender, and honeysuckle, making the brief, shaded tunnel a sweet-smelling haven.
"Hey, Mira," she said, trying to remain somewhat on-task, "I'm—" she ran her fingers through her newly-trimmed and styled hair—"I'm kind of running low on cash after that trim. Is there any chance you brought some sort of top that I could borrow?" Mira stopped and turned back toward her, the index finger of her right hand lightly placed on the edge of her chin, pensively.
She hummed in thought, "No, I don't think I do. I basically only brought dresses, and I know you're not keen on fighting in those," Talia nodded her head in agreement. "Tell you what!" she said, voice taking on a sickeningly sweet tone, "I'll get you whatever you like and then you can just pay me back after the Games!"
"But. . . but Mira. . ." Talia started, not liking where this was headed, "I won't be able to take any jobs until after the Games, anyway. And Master will likely be taking whatever winnings we get to put the guild back in order, I—"
Mira shook her finger metronomically and sounded tut tut to quell Talia's ramble. She caught a mischievous glint from the demoness's eye. "Well, then I guess we'll have to come up with some other way for you to pay me back," a devilish smile grew on her pretty little face and dread dropped in Talia's stomach like a brick. Indebted to Mira on a glorified field trip was not something she wanted to be. Especially when there was—Talia's eyes went wide and a flush crept onto her cheeks.
"Mira, don't you dare think of-!" Mira laughed and waved her off, but it did nothing to quell Talia's anxiety. Being indebted to Mirajane the Matchmaker was not a good place to be. But there was nothing she could do otherwise; she'd have to take her friend's deal and pray that things wouldn't get too awkward. Talia groaned in defeat. "I'm never gonna live this down, am I?"
"Nope!" came the tinkling sound of her answer as she walked on down the avenue. Talia dropped her head back and drooped her shoulders with a huff. Well, she thought, I'm doomed.
Two hours later, they were back at the inn, shopping bags in-hand. Mira had found Talia a black, bell-sleeved bodysuit to go with her high-waisted black pants. It took a lot of convincing, and Talia still wasn't completely sold on the idea of the garment.
"Just think of it like a bathing suit you wear pants over," Mira suggested, plopping down on one of the beds. Talia still looked skeptical and eyed the garment warily. She couldn't deny that it looked good. The scooped neckline showed just enough cleavage to be attractive, yet entirely safe from any chance of slippage, and the fact that it was a leotard meant that it would never bunch oddly at her waist or require re-tucking. And she did love the wide flow of the bell sleeves. All in all, the garment was incredibly flattering. But Talia still grumbled.
"If I wear this, you better be my stall guard anytime I go to the bathroom," she ground out bitterly, "Gonna have to entirely strip down any time I need to pee. How ridiculous." She whirled around at the white-haired mage: "If I flash someone in the bathroom, it's your fault!" Mira just laughed at her antics.
"Oh my goodness. It has snaps and you know it," Mira huffed. Talia could hear the eye roll in her voice. "Well, go on," she said, pushing Talia and her shopping bags toward the bathroom, "Put it all together. I want to see how it looks."
Talia snatched the bags and fumed her way into the bathroom, shutting the door with more force than necessary. The sound reverberated through the room and the window panes shook—no doubt agitated in cooperation with Talia's mood. Mira just rolled her eyes again and sighed. A knock came from the adjoining room. Mira hopped up off the bed and opened it. The room next to theirs held the boys of the team—Laxus and Gajeel. The adjoining rooms made it feel even more like a summer camp than the quaint little inn's first impression.
"Everything all right in there?" came Laxus's rumbling voice. The door now open; he had one arm above the door frame and leaned his weight on it, cocking his hip. Gajeel was fumbling around with something behind him, and Lily could be heard faintly grumbling. Mira smiled.
"Everything's fine. Talia is a little grouchy about her attire for the games, but I'm sure she'll come around." She tilted her head cutely—a little too cute. Laxus narrowed his eyes a bit.
"What are you fixin' up your sleeve, Mira?"
She feigned innocence, "Why, I don't know what you could possibly mean!" but her mischievous smile peeked through her angelic demeanor. Laxus raised an eyebrow and gave a disbelieving hum.
"I still don't like it—" came Talia's voice from inside the bathroom. She turned the handle and swung the door open with irritation—"but I guess it's not the. . . um, hi Laxus?" her voice quickly turned from irritated to startled and embarrassed. She fussed with a pant leg, trying to smooth out a line from the folding. She could feel Mirajane's devious little smile.
"Well, I like it!" Mira said brightly, clapping her hands together, "What do you think, Laxus?" she prodded, and Talia wished the earth would just swallow her up. She didn't want to know what shade of red her face was.
Laxus smirked. He'd play along with this one—if nothing else than it was funny to see a mage as strong as Talia be reduced to a self-conscious mess. He let his eyes wander over her. The black, knee-high leather boots were still the same: he didn't think even Mira would be able to part those from her. But the tight black pants made her hips seem even wider and her waist even smaller. She wasn't quite as curvaceous as Mira or Lucy, but she definitely looked it right now. The buttons that gleamed over her hip bones were an unusual pick for her in his mind—he couldn't remember her ever wearing something like it. And the black top, hugging her midsection and slithering up her torso made her seem even taller somehow. Bell-sleeves gave her a proper dark and ethereal look—something he had a feeling Morrigan would approve of. The wide neckline gave more of a view of her chest than he was used to, and with her current deep flush, the scars at her throat were bright white and on display. He was sure that once she was in the arena, everyone would have a hard time tearing their eyes from her. He certainly did.
Every moment he didn't respond was agonizing. I know, it's too tight. Or maybe too revealing? She looked down over herself, No, that's silly. I'm covered almost head to foot. Maybe it's too dark? Oh god I probably just look ridiculous. She kept winding circles in her mind of things that could go wrong, picking herself apart.
"Not bad," he said, finally. His smirk had grown broader, and after a moment, it clicked in her head.
"You were just trying to make me squirm! You jerk!" she squeaked in indignation, to which Mira and Laxus both laughed heartily.
The clock on the wall chimed midnight and the church bells echoed in the square outside. Mira, Juvia, and Talia glanced between each other and moved as one to the balcony. Laxus and Gajeel, their room next door, were already on the adjacent balcony. They had been waiting. Talia placed her palms wide on the railing and looked out over the city. Lights twinkled in the dark and made the flower-covered capitol even more enchanting. The only drawback was the lack of stars—the numerous lamps and lacrima lights flooded the sky with too much light to see them properly.
A sickeningly sweet and high-pitched cartoonish voice boomed over the loudspeaker. Talia winced, but kept her eye on the projection now floating in the air above the city. "Attention all contestants participating in his year's Grand Magic Games! Good morning!" Talia cocked an eyebrow at the pumpkin man in a flamboyant hat. "To narrow down the 113 guilds in this year's Games to a more manageable eight, let's begin the preliminary round!"
"That's a lot of guilds," remarked Mira, her tone serious. She was already weighing their chances.
Talia let out a groan and whined childishly: "Aw man, I was really looking forward to a good night's sleep."
"Well," replied Mira, "aren't you glad we kept you up? You'd be an absolute terror if you had to wake up in the middle of the night for this." Talia only responded with a strange mix of a grumble-whine. Mira wasn't wrong.
"Although the number of guilds increase and multiply each year, 'The Games have gotten boring now,' is all I ever hear."
"Great. Now this shit's in verse." Laxus wasn't pleased with the late-night interruption, either. And between the situation with Balor and the train that day, Talia couldn't blame him—poor guy probably hadn't gotten a proper night's sleep in days. She glanced over him through the corner of her eye. His coat was somewhere inside, and he had changed into a tight, sleeveless navy tank that hugged is broad shoulders and crept up his neck slightly. Her eyes hovered for a moment on the lines of his arm—a shadow traced the outline of his tricep and she fleetingly wanted to ghost her finger along it. There was a warmth twining low in her gut. She snapped her eyes back to the pumpkin-man in the sky and tried to quell her blush with a deep breath. It was shakier than she would've liked.
"Let's whittle them down, I say to you, and give just eight a cheer! The rules for this preliminary round are simple—" a great rumbling came from beneath them as the inn shifted, hurtling up mechanically into the sky. Talia, in her fluster, was the only one to lose balance—even if it was only slightly. Across the city they could see the other inns rising up, mechanical wheels and turbines pushing them high into the sky far above most other buildings in the city. "Now! You will all be participating in a race! The finish line is at the Domus Flau Coliseum." Talia's gaze shot to the distant arena. "Only the first eight teams to reach it will move on to the Grand Magic Games!" A haphazard wooden path appeared before each balcony, the two merging into one after only a few feet.
"You're free to use magic in any way you see fit—there are no restrictions!" The entire team perked up at that. No restrictions—this could get nasty, quick, Talia thought. "But remember: only the first eight teams to reach the finish line will clear this round! However, all five team members must cross the goal for it to count." That seems fair, she thought. "One more thing," he added, ominously, "We are not responsible for any loss of life that may occur in the labyrinth."
"Now! Without further ado, let the Grand Magic Games Preliminary Round: Sky Labyrinth, begin!"
Fairy Tail Team B met eyes, nodded, and ran up the wooden path to the sky.
The labyrinth was odd and . . . jumbled? Nothing seemed to be in the right place. Stairs went sideways, doors were upside-down, and everywhere cogs and machinery held the haphazard machination together. It was as if someone had put all the jigsaw puzzle pieces in the wrong place, but somehow they still fit together.
"If there's 113 teams," said Mira as they ran, "Then this place must pack a nasty trick to thin out the herd."
"Ya don't think 113 teams fighting with each other would thin it out enough?" grumbled Gajeel.
Mira shook her head, "No. It would thin out a lot, but not all, and it would take a while. If the teams are smart, they'll just avoid conflict and try to figure out the best way to the coliseum."
Laxus smirked, "I think I know of one team that might be dumb enough to overlook that bit of wisdom."
Talia barked a laugh. She could hear other teams around them. But nobody seemed to be fighting yet. Just getting their bearings.
"Domus Flau was to the East, correct? Shouldn't we head in that direction?" added Juvia.
"That's gonna be a bit difficult through this mess," Mira said with a smile. She couldn't wait to see her brother's face when he saw her in the games.
"If we can get in a little farther, I can try some echolocation. Won't be perfect, but it'll give a little bit better idea of the place," now it was Talia's turn to strategize. With all the odd twists of these staircases and levels, a straight line was almost impossible. If needed, she, Mira, and Laxus could do some semblance of flight—but she doubted Mira would be up for that.
"Leave it to BatGirl," joked Gajeel,
"More useful than a tin can at the moment!" Talia threw back.
The group came to a rather abrupt halt behind Laxus, his arm extended to keep them back. They'd caught up with a guild they didn't know.
"So much for the 'avoid conflict' plan," Laxus grumbled, irritation seeping through. The sooner they finished this, the sooner he could go to bed.
Wicked smiles spread over the faces of the other guild. Someone pulled a bat from its holster on their back.
"Looks like some Fairies got a little lost," a particularly repulsive man jeered, "Don't worry, we can pluck those wings real quick."
Laxus glowered. "Piss off."
He bent his elbow before him and closed his fist. A massive lightning bolt shot through the guild blocking their path, their smirks twisted into fear and pain behind the roasted crust the lightning seared onto them. With a cartoonish groan, they fell off the platform and into the city below.
"Now Laxus," Mira admonished, a playful glint in her eye, "Team A is going to figure things out if you keep throwing out your magic like that."
He rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Yeah, 'cause Talia's echolocation is so subtle." Mira pouted.
Talia shrugged. "He's not wrong."
They walked across the scorched platform where the other guild once stood. Talia looked around.
"Well, this place seems just as good as any," she turned back to her friends, "Cover your ears." They did, Gajeel already pinching his eyes shut as well. He knew from last time that the shockwave would reverberate painfully.
Talia closed her eyes, brought her hands out wide, and brought them back together with a thunderous clap that rattled through the labyrinth. She felt the sound waves explode out around her, some already returning from the nearest pieces of the maze. She cocked her head in different directions as the levels of sound found their way back to her, a sketch of a diagnostic coming together in her mind. Her brows scrunched together.
"That's weird," she grumbled. She opened her eyes and turned back to her team. "I don't think there is a way to the coliseum from here."
"Were there any particularly dense areas in the maze? Or anything else that seemed odd?" Juvia prodded.
"What, like Natsu's skull?" Gajeel's predatory smile caught the lamplight.
"Wait—" Laxus looked around them at the haphazard levels and pathways—"They didn't call this a maze."
Talia's eyes snapped wide and turned to his. A cocky smile grew on his face, and it caused a flicker of pride to burn in her chest. He figured it out. A pang of desire clawed its way through from the deepest reaches of her self; a deep-seated need to drag her nails down that broad chest of his as he tilted his head back, her teeth and lips winding their own path down his soft neck—fuck, it hasn't even been that long since Chicory.
She saw him take a deep breath, that broad chest rising so slowly.
Gajeel sputtered a cough. "You gonna tell us before I have to shove you both into a soundproof room?"
They broke their eyeline and glared in his direction.
"Shut it, pin cushion," Laxus snapped.
"Laxus is right," Talia turned back to Mira and Juvia, "It's not a maze. It's a Labyrinth." She turned around the space. "And in the old stories, Labyrinths don't have an exit, they have a heart." She rolled her shoulders. "We need to go to the center of the Labyrinth, which," she looked over the edge of the platform, "Happens to be down."
A long way down.
"Well, flying is half falling, anyway." Gods damn it, she could hear the laugh in his voice. It was going to be a very long night if her body kept up these reactions. "I can't teleport more than one without ruining Mira's fun," he added, "So let's do that. I'll take Mira. The rest of you find your own ways down."
Everyone nodded.
"There's a platform about a quarter mile directly below us. It's where the density starts to spike." Talia looked to each of the group in turn. "Stay close so we can address any threats as a unit." Nods of acknowledgement. She felt the sound in the air around her twist and nuzzle into her, that familiar scream riding the wind as her black clothing burned away into that dusty, dirty white dress. Her silver eyes sparked with playful madness.
Gajeel barked a laugh. "Race ya!"
They jumped.
Gajeel used his Demon Logs to guide his massive leaps from platform to platform, while Juvia gracefully rained down, coalescing into her human form every few jumps. Laxus and Mira appeared far below in a flash of lightning and sharp crack of thunder.
Talia danced her way down. There were so many funny noises and reverberations in here. And the thunder from Laxus's teleportation jittered through her skin, sliding her deeper into the drunken madness of the Banshee.
A little too much. By the third jump, Talia got so lost bouncing along her soundwaves that she clocked herself right into a freestanding doorframe. She screeched as the pain jolted her, hands coming up to her throbbing forehead. It was more startling than painful, but it was enough to throw off her pulses and send her actually falling. Her hands flailed out in a panic, silver eyes uncomprehending up from down in the jumble of the Labyrinth. She heard Gajeel's voice from somewhere to her right and reached out in his direction. . .
She caught the iron pole he sent her way. It slowed her fall.
But the skin of her hands burned and blistered on the metal. She screeched again and threw herself from the aid, landing roughly on a nearby platform.
She heard her name from so many different voices, but the crackle of her skin burning made everything feel distant. It smelled horrible. The Banshee powers dissipated around her as she stared at the palms of her shaking hands. They were raw and bubbling, the skin puckered and warped; sickening blisters quick to form.
"Shit, Talia," Gajeel landed heavily on the platform next to her, "What the hell happened?"
Laxus landed next, Juvia materializing beside him.
"I don't—"
"It's the iron," Laxus interjected, his voice flat and serious. "Fae hate iron. And you were in a Fae form." He caught the quick glance from Talia, "What, you thought I didn't listen to McCreary when she told her stories?"
"It's just. . ." she looked back down at her hands, bewildered. Juvia kneeled next to her and put cooling water over the wounds. Talia hissed at the shock. "I've never reacted to iron before."
Laxus's brows furrowed. "It's probably the safeguards. You said there are fewer now. The separation between the human and Fae sides must be thinner."
The pain ebbed as the burns began to heal, but Juvia kept water over the wounds a little longer.
"If my darling Gray was here, he would be able to ice it for you, but I'm afraid this is the best I can do for now."
Talia thanked her and rose back to her feet, careful to keep her hands and fingers as still as possible. She looked over the ledge, Mira's worried face just a few stories below her—she was on the final platform. There was a door—massive, round, and intricately carved. Their way into the heart of the Labyrinth. She took a steadying breath.
The last few jumps were carefully calculated and landed everyone beside Mira.
"Should I try the echolocation aga—"
The mass of staircases and columns and platforms around them shook and shifted with horrible screeching and protestations of metal. Doors flipped, floors became walls, stairs became impossible to scale as they twisted and turned in the air. Team B watched it all in wonder. Their platform didn't move. The screams of other guilds echoed throughout the Labyrinth, but a quiet giggle bubbled up and out of Talia.
"Guess that answers that," chimed Mira, a quiet laugh in her voice as well. She may be sweeter than sugar, but her sadistic streak was never too far off.
Laxus opened the massive wooden door and the whole team walked in.
"You," Mira drawled, her voice sweeter than peach tea, "Owe me a story." Those blue eyes sparkled with anticipation. Talia groaned.
They were back at the inn. Second place. They could take that—for now. It was a good starting point for an even better finish. But Mira, Talia, and Juvia were back in their shared room, each in pajamas of ridiculous colors and patterns. Talia was very proud of her purple fuzzy pants with cartoon sheep on them.
"Do I, though?"
"Yes." Mira pouted her lower lip and looked very much like a petulant child as she sat crisscrossed on her bed in bright pink. "I've been trying to get you two to really look at each other for years, and now you go off to train for a bit and suddenly there's a thing? I saw that look when he figured out the labyrinth."
A thing. Is that what it was? Some amorphous, nebulous monstrosity that sucked out the air between them. Talia tried to convince herself it was some sort of magic gravity, pulling powerful mages towards each other as their magic grew. How else could so many brutally strong mages have faced off over the centuries? It was power calling to power; a dragon looking for challenge, a God searching for conquest. That was why the treacherous thumping under her chest quickened when he was near, when she felt his eyes on her—it was the adrenaline. Or maybe it was a two-way challenge: who would best the other, Dragon or God? That was the feeling that shot down her stomach when his eyes darkened and his breathing turned low. A primal challenge.
Talia shook her head.
"It was just one night," she grumbled, worrying her bandaged hands in her lap and refusing to look her friend in the eye. She felt Juvia's curiosity, too.
"So there was a thing!" Mira's voice squeaked a little too high. Talia frantically shushed the deamoness.
"Shut up! You know he'll hear you!"
But Mira didn't stop. She wanted to know everything. And through carefully worded obfuscations and some very bright red cheeks, Talia told her.
She told her of the little platonic touches that drove her mad for weeks, the foreign pangs of lust and want that she hadn't felt in so painfully long. Told her of her apprehension. Told her of the Duchess and her hunt, told her of the spinning, sound-drunk, splendor of that one night, and told her of the mess she left in its wake.
"We haven't talked about it since." Her hands had long since stilled in her lap. Shame now burned on her cheeks instead of embarrassment. It was so stupid to ask him to wait. He could have—does have—any girl he could possibly want. And even though the moments grew less frequent, she still had pangs of longing for Dimitri. How could she try to start something new when she still felt so broken? He deserved someone better. Someone without a hole in their chest. Someone who could love him back as fiercely as he loved—
Her breath shuddered.
Mira watched the emotions play over her friend's face. Every moment of hope, happiness, freedom, and then the crashing down of reality and trying to make sense of the pieces that were left.
"Talia," she said sternly, "I love you, but you're an idiot." Lines wearied deep into the mask of hopelessness on Talia's face. Fabric shuffled as Mira jostled onto Talia's bed. She took her friend's hands, so long compared to her tiny ones. Mira dipped her head to force Talia to meet her eyes. It took a moment, but she found them.
"You," Mira squeezed Talia's hands gently, "Don't need to have all your pieces exactly where you think you need them. We're all a bit broken in one way or another. If we keep waiting for when we think we're ready, we'll be long dead and buried." Talia gave a small smile at that. It sounded so much like something Naimh would say. She missed her sharp remarks and unflinching view of life. Know what you have, learn what you need, and take all the rest. But that was her. And they were very different people.
"It doesn't matter if Dimitri was right." Mira's voice was quieter now, "He was just another person to see what you and Laxus were too stubborn to admit. It doesn't make him special." A wide smile grew across her lips and she playfully shouldered the redhead. "Besides, half the guild has been shipping you two for years."
Talia bit back a smile, and a different kind of flush dusted her cheeks.
"Only half?" she said sheepishly, and a laugh bubbled up her throat and twisted around the sweet sound of Mira's giggles.
But the laughter soon settled, and Talia's brows knitted together. She rubbed a spot on her chest. "It's a—" she started, but went quiet, trying to find the words. "There's a. . . there's a frequency at which certain things vibrate in resonance. It'll make glass ripple and wood hum. It's what gives instruments their tamber." Mira was patient while she found the words. "Everything has a different resonance, though; it's not really the same for any two things." Mira nodded, though Talia wasn't looking at her. "Sometimes. . ." her hands stopped rubbing, and instead simply rested against her breastbone, "Sometimes, when he looks at me, when he talks to me—to only me—there's this rumbling in my chest. No, rumbling's not the right word. . ."
She lost her words, then, trying to relate the way her heartbeat felt deeper, how her ribcage felt broader, how even just his attention resounded throughout her body.
"You're his resonant—or he's yours," Mira offered. Talia's eyebrows scrunched further, trying to make sense of it. She hadn't told anyone about it before, and it was difficult to put into words.
"I. . . I don't know. I don't even know what it means, if it means anything. It didn't happen when we were kids. It only started—" her face drained of color.
"It started when you were in Blackthorne, didn't it?" Mira prodded. Taila gave a dazed nod back.
"There was a moment. . ." Talia tried to keep track of the feelings, the memories. They were stretched thin, threadbare but still there-barely. Her brows furrowed, eyes unfocused on the blanket they both sat on. "I was meditating. I was under the willow with Morrigan and the Old One." She walked through the memory, eyes tracking but unseeing. "We were talking about love—Morrigan's husband, Dagda, and another. . . a burning acid of jealousy," she winced as if she tasted that acid still. "But someone. . . something pulled me out. I was still in the meditation, but some grounding must have held and it dragged me out."
She remembered that feeling now: the strong arm around her waist, the warmth of that touch, the security. But the willow roots. . . they had wound around her, pulling her. . .
They didn't pull her down.
They pulled her out.
"Remember your grounding, Little Lamb," her Aunt had said.
Then why did her grounding feel like his arms?