A/N: Two chapters in a day = starting off the week right.

Y'all know the drill. Let's goooo.

"OK folks, are you ready? The final match of the first day is going to be:"

Talia perked at the announcement. Someone from Team B was up against Lamia Scale if her calculations were right. She leaned against the railing in giddy anticipation.

"The Banshee of Fairy Tail B, Talia Mordha,"

A cocky smirk found its way to her face, and she felt the gaze of the lacrima-trons focus on her. Behind her, her teammates gave supportive cheers.

"Hah!" laughed Gajeel, "I feel bad for whatever idiot Lamia Scale has to send out." Mira nodded in agreement, and Laxus gave a proud smile. For a moment, the world was amazing.

"Versus—Jura Neekis of Lamia Scale!"

And then the moment shattered. Talia felt her blood go cold. She schooled her features to remain determined, but her fists were white-knuckled on the railing.

Laxus watched as emotions flitted through her eyes and body. She may be putting on a good face for the crowd, but he knew her better. Iron Rock Jura. Wizard Saint. There was nothing worse against sound than unyielding, ir-resonant stone. The railing under her hands was at risk of cracking if she gripped it much longer. The lacrima-trons released her from their hold as the ten-minute grace period before the fight began to tick down.

"Fuck," she snapped, and turned on her heel. Her balled fists were shaking, and she refused to make eye contact with her team. Of all the mages here, it had to be him? Damn it. She walked out of the platform, down toward the stairs and the tunnel that would take her to her match. She receded into her mind as her feet took her mechanically down to the tunnel.

Morrigan—we have a problem.

Hmmm? Black-eyes replied lazily.

We're fighting a Wizard Saint. Talia felt both Morrigan and the Old One perk slightly at this—she had explained the moniker before, and had given it due respect.

And you are joined with a God, replied the Morrigan in her stern, supportive way, We have the power to best him.

Morrigan he—he's a stone mage. Talia tried so hard not to let her anxiety show, but her internal voice shook regardless.

Her mind was quiet. An acknowledgement of the massive disadvantage she was about to be forced into.

She reached the tunnel; cool darkness a welcome change from the bright sunlight of the stands. The entrance to the arena shone brilliantly, and she glared as though it mocked her.

Trust in yourself, said Morrigan, slowly, We are here for you.

You have more power than you yet know, added the Old One, And your friends are with you, as well. Do not underestimate the power that can have.

A noise behind Talia broke the conversation, and her mind came back to the task at hand: How to defeat the Stone Wizard Saint. . .

"Hey," his voice was warm and soft, "You ok?"

She turned to find Laxus behind her, his blue eyes kind and patient—a look she was unaccustomed to. But the question shook her.

"No. I'm fighting the worst possible person I could have been paired with, I don't really think 'ok' is exactly where I'm at." She felt the tears behind her eyes and hated them. She shouldn't be this anxious; it's just a game. She glared at the stone beneath her feet and watched as they became spotted with the wet drops of her tears.

She felt him turn her back to him, and she instinctively hugged his waist, her forehead coming to rest just above his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her as well and held her tight to him. He laid his cheek against the side of her head, the smell of mint and rosemary tugging him gently closer. Slowly, her shaking ebbed.

He took a small step back, his hands following down her arms until he was able to lace his fingers with hers. They were delicate and soft, and he rubbed calming lines with his thumbs. He bent down to catch her eyes, and they slowly righted their gazes until both were standing tall once more.

"You'll be great," his voice was just above a whisper, "Just get one hit in, and go from there. After that, it's just one more, and then one more again." She nodded slowly in response.

"Better start finding your seats, folks—just two minutes left until this heavy-hitting match is set to begin!"

Talia took a steadying, if shaky, breath. She rolled her shoulders back and stood a bit straighter. Just one hit. I can do that.

"Besides," he added, "There's no collateral damage here and nobody from Raven Tail to pull shit. Just you and him," a cocky smile returned to his face. "Who knows, you might even have fun with it."

Talia raised an eyebrow and gave a disbelieving huff, but a smile broke through. It's a game. It's just a game.

What she wasn't expecting was when he bent down and pressed his lips to her forehead. The pressure sent tingles through her body and warmth in her veins. He pulled away and reclaimed her (now-wide) eyes once more.

"Go put the fear of a God into him."

Her heart beat fast, adrenaline kicking into her veins as her confidence grew. She felt his lightning dance across their still-entwined hands, and heard the rumble of thunder around them—the waves of sound wrapping around her like an embrace. Her power surged in response.

"All right, competitors, it's time for today's final match!"

She gave a confident smile and turned toward the arena entrance, her fingers slipping out of Laxus's grasp. He watched her go, shoulders set and hips swaying in her stride. Damn, Tal. You've got me some sort of way. Her black silhouette slowly shrank into the blinding light at the end of the tunnel, and he heard the crowd roar.

"Fairy Tail B's Banshee versus Lamia Scale's resident Iron Rock Wizard Saint! This should be a battle for the ages, folks."

Talia strode out of the darkness of the tunnel, chin up and ready to fight. The crowd roared and erupted the coliseum into a massive sea of sound. That energy source would be useful.

"An interesting match-up, but it does give Jura a significant advantage: sound magic is traditionally weak against stone," Yajima chimed.

Hmm somebody had a good pep talk, teased the Morrigan. Talia smirked in response.

It's not just him to fight for. But Lucy, Juvia, Gray, and Wendy as well. If I can't fight someone from Raven Tail, then I'll just have to get my anger out on a Wizard Saint.

She felt the Morrigan smile menacingly and power poured through her veins.

Let's take another safety net off then, shall we? Just don't shatter the coliseum, I like the arches.

Talia flexed her fingers and felt the new energy flow through her. It was sharp and thick, and dark as a tomb. Her smirk grew and she closed the last few yards between her and her opponent.

Jura towered taller than Laxus, and his billowy clothing made him loom even larger: "Personally, I would love to see Fairy Tail do well in this competition, but I'm afraid the old hag would throw a fit if I were to let you win."

"Let me win? You think you'll have a choice in the matter?" Talia bantered back with a grin. The stone mage smiled.

"My sincere apologies, but I won't be holding back."

"Good, then neither shall I."

The gong sounded, and the game began.

Talia pulsed into the air, bouncing along above the ground. She pulled her right arm back and threw a compressed sonic boom toward his shiny, bald head. He turned his hand, and a stone wall rose up to shield him. The explosion was massive, but it barely made a dent in the wall. Talia pulsed higher, throwing more percussions at him from varying angles. They were all thrown away by pillars of stone rising like tentacles from the ground. He aimed them at her, now, sending rock columns to knock her out of the sky.

She squeaked and bounced faster, trying her best to avoid the nasty bruises that unyielding rock would undoubtedly leave. Well this isn't working, she thought. She pranced along her pulses and landed, her feet in the sand a good distance from Jura.

"Have you finished your analysis, then? Shall we actually fight?" Jura taunted, a small smile on his lips.

Talia responded with a wide, wild grin, "Tell me, Wizard Saint," her head tilted to the side at an odd angle as silver wisps of her power wrapped ever more tightly around her. A scream slithered its way through the coliseum, sending a shiver down the spines of everyone there. Her voice became hoarse and creaking:

"What color does a stone bleed?"

In a flash of silver, she was immediately in front of him, her mercury eyes playful behind their opal sheen of death. Red hair flew wildly behind her, and the fabric of her dirty, tattered, bone-white dress pulled feebly against her inertia. The scars on her throat were red and angry as if thrashed anew. Jura's eyes went wide and he could do nothing to block her attack. Her fist found his gut and packed a sonic pulse that launched him backwards into the arena wall.

The crowd was stunned silent.

"Sh-she actually hit him—"

The lacrima-trons were split between Jura's dusty impact point and Talia. Her body swayed to a song only she could hear, her bare feet and lower legs discolored by dirt and sand. Laxus huffed proudly while Mira cheered next to him. That's my girl.

Talia's steps were uneven as she staggered toward Jura, and the camera seemed transfixed on her un-dead eyes. They bore through the lacrima-trons and into the souls of the crowd.

"How far is a stone's throw?" came her twisted, lilting voice across the speaker systems, "Do I measure by saucer, spoon, or teacup?"

Jura's retaliation came rumbling out of the dust—a pillar of stone that collided harshly with her right shoulder, and sent her careening into the sky.

"Ouch. From the sound of that crack, that one's gotta hurt."

Talia caught herself on her pulses, and slowed her path skyward. But Jura was fighting now, his pillars sped toward her from all directions, and it took most of her perceptive skills to bounce from one to another. Stone smashed and cracked as it collided a moment after she moved, and the attacks kept coming—from under and over and side-to-side.

"There you are," came Jura's voice, as he shattered one of his pillars and sent the shrapnel down to strike the sound mage back down to earth. She landed hard in the arena, dust obscuring her from the lacrima-trons' vision.

"He's definitely not pulling punches—ouch," winced Mira. She glanced over at Laxus who stood silent and unmoving, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were hard as he stared at the place she fell.

The dust began to clear, Talia's curved silhouette inhibiting the sunlight as it filtered through the particles. But the more it cleared, the harder he glared. She was panting and holding her right arm—the shoulder bulging unnaturally from the socket and shaking from pain. Her teeth were gritted, and an uncharacteristic seriousness glared out from the silver of her eyes.

"Looks like that last attack dislocated Talia's shoulder! Will she continue the fight injured or will she forfeit?"

Mira huffed. Talia would never forfeit this. She's too damn stubborn. The deamoness watched as her friend put a pale hand on the dislocated shoulder. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Crack!

"It seems that the Banshee of Fairy Tail B has re-set her own shoulder! Yowch. And that injury could potentially set her back in this match."

Gajeel swallowed the wave of nausea that accompanied the sound. But the crowd was cheering, fully enrapt in the battle.

Talia winced as she rolled her shoulder, it hurt like hell, but at least it worked. And the cheers from the crowd were replenishing whatever magic power she had lost. She closed her eyes and felt the sound waves caress her skin.

Jura watched and realized what was happening. He looked around at the crowd, strategizing. A sound mage—I'll need to cut her off from this giant battery if I'm going to wear her down. Silver eyes were sharp on him again, and he could feel her irritation. She made her way to the center of the arena, eyes never leaving him. She stopped at her intended point, and her grin returned. Jura winced slightly—it was just so damn unnerving. Like she was debating between skipping along the wind or slicing his skin off just to feel his pulse. Her movement had changed, too, and he needed to account for that.

She extended her arm toward the stone mage, her delicate fingers outstretched. Her eyes were lazy as a silvery-black magic circle appeared before her. Jura tensed.

"Pandemonium."

Screams rattled through the arena—screams of warriors, screams of heartbreak, screams of newly-childless mothers. Somewhere distant, a church bell tolled. Jura watched in horror as the sounds wrapped around him until he was entirely encased in the silvery sphere—and then the screams exploded. Everything: every fiber of his being was reduced to blinding noise. His eyes pinched shut and he desperately tried to cover his ears. He stepped forward, only to stumble and fall to his knees: the sound was affecting his equilibrium now, too. He curled into himself and tried to pull enough thoughts together to escape.

Talia watched, her magic circle languidly turning at the edge of her fingertips. She liked the way the old text twisted into itself and wound into the ravens cast into the inner loop. She couldn't see into her sonic sphere, so she just needed to wait until he was knocked out.

"I'm not entirely sure what's happening here, folks, but it looks like Jura has disappeared into Talia's attack!"

"That's her Pandemonium spell," recalled the ex-Council Member Yajima, "I've heard about it, and it is not to be taken lightly. Compressing everything into pure sound, it often leaves the victim unable to hear, see, think, or move. It's very old."

Talia lowered her arm, the magic circle fading, and watched the silver sphere melt away. Revealing. . . a large stone mound. Her eyes opened wide with shock, and she spun around, suspiciously eyeing the sediment around her. A good distance behind her, Jura re-appeared out of the ground, his tectonics raising him out of the sand like a stone elevator.

"That spell packs a nasty headache," he said slyly, and saw her whip around to face him, "I haven't had a fight with this much promise in years. Let's see how much you can weather!"

With a series of hand movements, he conjured a rock wall, and sent it careening into Talia before she could react. The wall crumbled on impact, but the pieces continued to buffet her. She screamed in pain, but gritted her teeth and pulsed out of the onslaught, bouncing and twisting her way across the arena. She landed heavily and her breath came deep and quick. Bruises dotted her body, and she could feel her endurance waning. He's really taking this seriously.

"Fine, then," she straightened and stood up to her full height, bringing her hands to her center and barely overlapping—the fingertips of one hand rested against the heel of the other palm. Jura's eyes widened and he took the moment to act.

"Iron Rock Coffin!"

Talia wasn't able to finish her spell—the ground beneath her rumbled and flexed. It suddenly reared up and swallowed her whole, leaving behind a hill in the otherwise flat arena. The crowd cheered.

Laxus gritted his teeth. This is bad.

"How is she supposed to get out of that thing?!" yelled Gajeel.

"She's not, that's the point," snipped Mira, and Gajeel winced at the unexpected harshness of her tone."And she won't be able to replenish her magic if that stone is thick enough."

Laxus closed his eyes and tried to listen for Talia. The crowd made it difficult to pinpoint, but after a moment he found her. The sounds, once he heard them, made his stomach drop. She was screaming. Unyielding, panic-stricken, and primal, he heard her.

There was nothing, just darkness. The only sounds were her own cries of rage and growing panic. She beat at the stone, pulsing, kicking, doing whatever she could think of—but it didn't even crack. Talia squeezed her eyes shut and put her hand over her ears. The silence was making her physically hurt. Unaccustomed to true, overwhelming quiet, her ears kept straining for sounds. A low, muffled hum was the only thing to pass the cold stone—minute crumbs that survived the broom. It wasn't enough. At the rate she burned through magic power, she wouldn't last long.

She screamed in a blind rage. How dare he cage her! But a tremble deep in her bones warned of another problem-dormant claustrophobia. Her screams became more panicked as her heartrate spiked. Darkness at every turn, silence surrounded, the nothingness was crushing. Her eyes were wide and unseeing as she desperately tried to slow her hyperventilating. She needed to get out of this. Every moment in this darkness would drive her more insane.

Her screaming stopped. Laxus held his breath. Come on, Talia. Crack that stone.

A sliver of a silver beam burst from the top of the mound, bringing with it screams and sounds that made the spine chill and knees shake. It shot straight into the sky and pierced the clouds.

"She broke it!" exclaimed Mira, leaning over the railing.

The silver beam widened, stone cracking and faltering under the pressure of pure power. And then, as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone. Instead, hovering above the cracked hillside was Talia—iridescent black wings wide and strong in the afternoon light. Her black silhouette loomed menacingly, raven skulls on her shoulders stared outward from dead, empty sockets. A black, triple-coattail floated elegantly behind her; her skin now blackened by the new form, she seemed entirely unharmed from the battle thus far.

Laxus smiled and gripped the railing, "Wreck him, Tal!" he bellowed.

Talia's red eyes glanced toward a familiar voice in the stands, a cocky smirk making its way to her lips.

"She has broken through Jura's Iron Rock Coffin! And somehow changed forms again. Her last form brought a heavy influx of magic power, so what will this dark form bring?"

Jura's look of surprise quickly turned to a subdued elation. He really would be able to fight this woman whole-heartedly. And in this new form, she showed no signs of previous injury and had the addition of wings.

"You have many surprises!" he yelled her way. He watched as her now-red eyes found his form below. He was transfixed by the anger in them.

"Saint of Stone," her voice was wide and resounding, an echo stretched slightly too far, "I shall see you crumble."

She closed her eyes and spread her arms wide, feeling the sounds of the arena resonate through her. The jingle of keys at a cheering fan's side, the chime of a cash register, every conversation, every footstep—they belonged to her.

"No you don't!" yelled Jura, "Supreme King Rock Crush!"

Stones of all shapes and sizes flew to her—gluing themselves to her form. Her eyes snapped open in surprise and she frantically tried to shake off the stones. But more and more came and cemented themselves around her. She was back in another coffin.

"NO!" she roared. The fissures between rocks shone silver. Jura's stones began to glow yellow, ready to detonate and crush everything within.

The explosion shook the coliseum and everyone within it. Rock shuddered and brick shifted. People fell out of their seats from the shockwave, and scrambled back up to look into the arena.

Talia was still in the sky.

She countered my spell? How? thought Jura, but the silver dripping off of her gave him his answer. She wrapped the sound around her skin and exploded it outward before I could crush her. Impressive. A wild smile lit up his face as he gazed up at her; her furious red eyes glared back at him. He turned his wrist and sent a stone pillar toward her, experimentally. Without so much as a glance, the pillar exploded away from the black form just before it touched her skin. So it's a shield, too.

Talia's eyes watched him coldly as his smile grew wider. She reached out gently, her hand parallel to the ground, and eyes never leaving his. She suddenly pushed her palm down, and a corresponding sound pulse slammed Jura into the floor of the arena, cracking the foundations below. Jura tried to rise, but another pulse smashed him brutally back down again.

With the smallest gesture he could manage while still preserving spell integrity, he sent an attack her way: "Iron Rock Fist."

This attack she had to dodge—it was far more sturdy and reinforced than his standard pillars. And, to her irritation, it followed her. Jura guided the rock fist as it attempted to overcome her evasions. She spun, twisted, and tumbled across the air, her massive wings propelling her with adept precision. If he hadn't been so fixated on countering her maneuvers, he would have been mesmerized. Black wings caught the afternoon light at different angles and shimmered in an array of greens and purples. Her hair streaked out behind her like a flaming comet's tail, and her black-clad body promptly executed every evasion.

As she threw sonic blasts his way while trying to out-run his attack, she had to admit—she was having fun. The adrenaline of fighting such an opponent, the heightened senses, the wind between the feathers of her wings. Their dance lasted longer than anyone expected. The arena was a theater of twisted stone and vibrating echoes.

Time is becoming a factor, thought Jura as he ceased his onslaught and watched her hover just above the ground—a skeptical glance at the sand beneath her kept her solidly in the air.

Talia had realized the same—but there was no clock in the arena to track the match. She huffed. Time to kick this up a notch.

"Time is starting to wind down in this spectacular fight—but who will come out the victor?"

Black wings stretched wide and snapped closed with force—Talia rocketed toward Jura, and Laxus felt his own breath hitch. He knew that formation and flight angle.

He watched as she threw more pulses at Jura, which he deftly blocked or threw aside. But each step back was exactly where she wanted him. Her wings folded tightly over her back as she spun in, avoiding an incoming stone pillar. And then she narrowly missed flying face-first into a stone wall. Jura's breath was heavy as he kept up his defense against the sound mage. Laxus had to give the monster credit—he entirely earned his Sainthood.

Jura stood in the pinpoint-center of the arena. Talia's attacks were relentless—he had been pushed back, but he could feel a that there was something behind this movement. Some reason for him to be shepherded this way. She's farther away from the energy of the crowd. . . maybe the shape of the coliseum creates a funnel of sound to the center? No, no. He glared at the black-clad woman twisting in the air about him. Why have you pushed me here?

She was flying lower now, but still gave a careful glance to the ground beneath her. Her pulses were still thrown his way at a punishing rate, but they weren't as sharp. Is the fight finally weighing on her? He blocked and threw stone rebuttals when he could, but he couldn't break through enough to push her into the defensive. Her attacks, they're. . . unfocused! And that's when he felt it: the massive amount of magic power that had slowly been building up around Talia as she fought. He hadn't noticed at first from behind her sonic blasts and his own defensive stone, but the silvery magic wove and caught the light as it twisted its way around her. His eyes widened, and for a moment he lost his focus. It's. . . armor.

A sonic blast shot through his defensive barrier, and slammed him into the ground with the percussive force of a cannon. He coughed the sand out of his mouth and slowly pushed himself off the ground. Talia had landed, too, only five yards in front of him.

"Ninety Seconds!"

Jura's eyes widened and he regained his feet quickly. Part of him wished he hadn't. Talia was standing, black wings widespread and eyes closed, an inverted triangle in her hands. Jura's mind moved too quickly to finish any of the thoughts it began. Inverted triad. . . Morriga-. . . weakness. . . scars! A massive black magic circle appeared behind her, the black script twisted and illegible.

Talia felt the power in her veins—in her bones—in every dip and divot of her skin. She could see the spell. She felt the excited crackling in her own hands.

"Triskelli—"

But, again, she couldn't finish it. Green eyes snapped wide in shock; she felt her stomach drop. Her mouth opened, but neither sound nor breath escaped. Jura had closed the distance between them, and wrapped his massive hand around her throat. She hung off the ground in shock, silver wisps of her magic power dissipated in the light breeze, and she returned to wearing her original clothing—now shredded and torn in numerous places with bruises weeping out of the battered fabric.

"NO!" bellowed Laxus from Team B's platform. He watched her with wide, terrified eyes; his grip cracked the handrail. He watched as she shakily grabbed Jura's wrist with her left hand, her right trying to push the crux of his elbow to bend. The one fucking thing. His rage crackled around him, but all he could do was watch.

Talia could feel her panic rising. She kept seeing Dimitri's livid grey eyes boring into her soul. She could feel her back pressed up against the wall in their house: please, please, don't do this.

Her hands shook and her fingers weakly tried to hold her up. A breeze blew through the arena. A place of such bombastic noise and concussive forces was silent. Her eyes pinched shut as her lungs began to burn for air.

No.

Talia's green eyes snapped open.

For Wendy. For Gray. For Lucy.

For Fairy Tail.

One hand weakly grabbed his wrist again, the other barely held its own weight parallel, her long fingers extended toward Jura. A magic circle appeared in front of her hand, turning lazily. Jura's eyes went wide, and his grip loosened just enough for Talia to steal a much-needed gulp of air. Her stubborn green eyes met his, and she stared him down defiantly.

He regained his grip-Talia winced and struggled against his hand. But his own body was failing him. He put his left hand on his chest, hoping to somehow restart his frozen lungs.

"Why that's-!"

"Swallowed Screams. For such an explosive match, it seems it will be ending in a battle of wills."

"And with less than thirty seconds to go, this match has taken a chilling turn! Both denied of oxygen, who will fall before the final bell?"

Talia's vision was blurring, the inky black spots encroached ever further into her field of vision. But she had to hold on. Just one more. She wouldn't let go. For Wendy, ambushed and drained. For Gray, tracked and hunted in the first round. And for Lucy, willingly battered to save a child. Her panic was still there, but it was dwarfed by her determination. She would not lose.

She was barely conscious in his hand, but she refused to give up. Jura's lungs burned and his every fiber begged for air, but he was transfixed by her eyes. Deep green and stubborn as hell, they never left his gaze, even if her focus drifted in and out. He watched her pupils grow and shrink, grappling to hold onto reality. He wasn't sure he'd ever win a fight against someone with that look. He wasn't even sure how she was able to keep her suffocation spell active—it should falter with her emotions and energy deprivation. Even at a disadvantage, this was never a fight to be won. I know you, now, Tithe of The Morrigan.

A bell chimed throughout the arena and the match ended.

"And that's time, folks! This match is a draw!"

Jura's hand released Talia from its punishing grip, and Talia's spell shattered immediately. Jura staggered back a few paces and coughed, his breath ragged. Talia, however, dropped to all fours in the sand and coughed violently, barely wheezing in any air before the next fit wracked her frame. Her hand rested on her chest, just below the quickly-forming bruises on her throat. She tried to slow down her heart rate. Now that she had enough air to think properly, the panic had returned, and she desperately wished to calm her own shaking. She focused on the sand in the arena—tiny bits of dark stone and granite dust, small shards of weathered glass between. Count the dark ones. One, two, three, four. Slowly, she recaptured her breath and slowed her heart. She still hadn't looked back up to Jura.

Jura slowly steadied himself and looked back to the sound mage. She was shaking, but the worst seemed to have passed. He quietly closed the space between them and extended his hand toward her.

"You are a breathtaking warrior," he said quietly, "let me help you back to your infirmary." She looked up at him, eyebrow cocked in a teasing manner.

Her voice was hoarse and painful: "That," she croaked, "was a cheap shot."

Jura smiled, "It was the only way to end the fight, though I am sorry that I did it." She coughed again, but took his hand in hers and pulled herself up on unsteady feet. "Besides, I can't afford to be laid up for a week thanks to your Triskellion."

She placed her hand on his offered arm for balance and gave a cocky smirk, "So you know."

He nodded: "And I'm happy to simply survive to fight another day."

"Speaking of," she coughed and shook her head to rid herself of dizziness, "You're less battered than you should be. I know I hit you more than those cuts and bruises bely."

It was his turn to give a cocky grin. "Cracks in stone are not always visible on the surface." Talia gave a huff of a laugh, and they limped out of the arena together to the roar of the crowd.

Mira met them at the entrance of Fairy Tail B's tunnel.

"Well you're going to feel that in the morning," her voice tinkled against the hard stone.

Talia gave a half-hearted laugh through her raw throat. It was already colorful—deep blues and purples beginning to solidify into the unmistakable form of a handprint. Mira glanced uncomfortably at it, but put on a smile. Good thing Jura and Laxus won't have a one-on-one-I think Laxus might try kill him once he sees those bruises. Mira reached out and shifted Talia's weight off of Jura's arm and onto her, Talia's long arm draped across the width of her shoulders.

"I'm not that bad!" Talia croaked a whine, "Not my fault someone kept throwing rocks at the playground." She heard Jura chuckle behind her.

"I better be getting to my own infirmary before my cracks start to show," he rumbled with a smile. Talia turned back to him with a cheeky grin.

"I'm still mad at you, ya know!" He simply chuckled and waved his goodbye. Talia turned her attention back to her friend: "I really am ok, Mira. It's mostly just bruises and a shoulder in need of a tight bandage." They began to walk the short distance down to the guild's infirmary.

Mira cocked an eyebrow skeptically and looked her up and down. "You better be. Or else I'm going out for drinks without you."

Talia feigned shock: "You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me," Mira taunted, "Besides, you'll have to convince Porlyusica to let you out first."

Talia groaned. She was never a fast healer compared to her friends—she burned through magic power so quickly as-is that healing sometimes took twice as long. It took more to hurt her in a fight, and she could take plenty damage, but the days after would really suck.

Mira opened the door to the infirmary with her left hand, the hinges creaking to announce their entrance.

"Really, three of you down here in one day is excessive," croaked the old healer. Talia had the good sense to look abashed.

"Sorry, Ms. Porly."

The healer waved her hand dismissively, "Just put her on a bed, Mirajane. I'll see what I can do." Mira dutifully followed her orders and settled Talia on the bed next to Lucy's. Porlyusica grabbed a bottle of salve and came over to inspect Talia's throat. She put the pad of one finger under the sound mage's chin and pushed up lightly. Talia winced, but raised her chin.

"Those bruises will take a few days to fade, they're quite deep." She gave a pointed look at Talia, "Will you be able to stand bandages there this time or will you throw a fit again?"

Talia's face flushed in embarrassment, and she looked down meekly while shaking her head no.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Porly, but I'd really rather not. I can help put the salve on, though?" Porlyusica rolled her eyes and huffed in indignation.

"Wendy, child, if you're up to it: start mending that shoulder of hers. See what tendons you can stitch back together and then give it a good, tight wrapping." The littlest Dragon Slayer bounced to Talia's side, happy to finally be of use. "Mirajane—" Porlyusica called, "Tell Laxus to come down here. She'll need all the extra sound energy she can get, and with today's matches over, I can't very well send her back up to the arena to watch."

Mira nodded dutifully, but there was a mischievous sparkle in her eye. She turned and left the room, her white hair bouncing behind her. Porlyusica unscrewed the lid from the bottle of salve in her hand.

"This needs to go everywhere you have bruising on your neck. It will be cold and tingle, but it shouldn't trigger one of your panic attacks."

Talia nodded and took the jar from her. "Is there a mirror I can use?" Porlyusica walked over to the counter and brought Talia a hand mirror. The redhead took it gingerly and held it up to inspect her neck.

The healer was right—the bruises were deep. Only a few minutes old, the colors were solidifying rapidly. The white scars on her throat shone clearly through the colors, and the bruising made simple sense of the pattern: each line corresponding perfectly with each finger, those scars were made by someone's hand. Talia swallowed the gag that tried to surface and took a shaky breath. The salve was cool and thick on her fingers and she gingerly spread the balm over her throat.

Mira met Laxus at the bottom of the stairs.

"I was just coming to get you," shone Mira. Her eyes held a conniving glint as she turned to walk with him back to the infirmary.

"Yeah, I had a feeling you might." His voice was hard and even.

"She seems in good spirits, at least," Mira added, "she even bantered with me and Jura when they first got out of the arena."

Laxus's fists clenched and lightning crackled around them. The corner of Mira's mouth perked up into a mischievous smirk.

"Hopefully Porlyusica will clear her to come out for a couple drinks tonight, at least. She definitely deserves one after that fight." This should be entertaining. Laxus was spectacularly protective—whether that be of the Thunder Legion, the guild, or even something as trivial as his sound pods. Watching that protectiveness flare up around Talia in real-time was going to be fun.

Laxus pushed open the door to the infirmary, coat heavy on his shoulders. Talia sat cross-legged on one of the beds, entirely focused on her task. The mirror in her hand obscured her throat from view. Wendy was beside her, using healing magic on her shoulder.

"So now we've reverted to the use of child labor?" he joked dryly, "Shouldn't you be healing, yourself, Wendy?"

Wendy looked up to him, those big blue eyes impossibly kind. "I'm ok! I was feeling better and wanted to help."

Talia perked at his voice and lowered the mirror, task forgotten for the moment. It was only then that he saw them—the bruises. The place he promised himself he'd never see her hurt again. The salve caught the light and made the area shine, as if the skin there was even closer to splitting open than it already looked. His eye turned harsh.

"Hey, Laxus," she said quietly. She felt naked under his gaze. Like a child caught in the mess their parents ordered them to steer clear of. He said nothing, but walked over and sat on the adjacent bed. He crossed his legs, ankle over knee, and held out his hand. A ball of lightning crackled in his palm, and he watched as Talia's eyes closed and her head tilted back, a smile growing on her lips.

A flash of a memory shot through his mind—her head tilted back like that, greedy smile on her lips as she lay under him, her bare, pale skin insisting on his every touch. His fingers twitched, wanting to feel that smoothness again, wanting to bury himself in her scent.

But her wince brought him back to reality. Those bruises hurt. Someone caused her pain in the one place they knew she'd feel it most. Lightning expanded with his anger, and he quickly took a breath to cool his temper.

There was something about lightning. The purity, the crispness of the thunder that broke around it, it resonated differently than other sounds. That clean snap of the sound barrier, and the massive clap of a heavy strike. She'd never tell him, but it was intoxicating. Especially his lightning. It was sweeter, lighter in her veins. It was her favorite.

She felt her power expand, the pain slowly ebbing. Her green eyes opened and met his—they were possessive. Like he realized someone had touched something precious to him. Her breath caught. Even behind his obvious irritation, he was here. And given how quickly he had arrived, he had done so of his own accord.

I propose a wager, Morrigan's teasing voice slithered into her mind.

Hmm? Replied Talia, not entirely paying attention.

Neither Fairy Tail team, as they currently stand, will claim this contest. Talia could feel the maniacal smile behind her eyes.

What? You really think so highly of the other teams?

A wager, it is. She said coyly, But what as my prize? A low hum echoed inside her head. Oh, I know. . . I wish to play one of these games.

What?! Talia snapped, her wide eyes garnering a look of interest from Laxus, No way.

Hmmm but where did all that confidence go?

It's not a loss of confidence, Talia shot back, it's just. . . What she was asking was a lot. Full control in a public event. It was risky at best and downright dangerous at worst.

What would you ask of me? Morrigan stated more than asked. She knew her price was high, and she fully expected Talia to match it. That's the only course for a proper wager, anyway.

Talia thought a moment. Words were important to Morrigan, and she didn't want to trip herself before the match was even set. If I win. . . You teach me two new techniques. Fully through.

Deal.

There wasn't even a pause of deliberation. Talia swallowed nervously. You really wanted control that badly?

He watched her internal dialogue. She always made the shades of faces when she did, her reactions to Morrigan or the Old One skittering across her features more than she realized. He hoped she was asking for an explanation. She's a fucking god. And she still allowed her to get this hurt.

"Well?" he asked expectantly, "What did she say?" Talia's gaze snapped back to reality.

"What?"

"What did she say?" he repeated, through more of a growl this time.

"Oh, it was just a—a wager. She wanted to make a bet."

That was clearly not the answer he wanted. His eyes darkened slightly, but he didn't say anything else. Talia felt uncomfortable under his glare. He was clearly irritated, and she didn't think there was anything she could do to quell it. So she finished applying the salve to her throat.

Between the salve and the thunder in the room, Talia was feeling much better. Wendy had wrapped her shoulder good and tight after using her healing magic to repair the majority of the stretched or torn tendons. She was tired and sore, and would inevitably feel worse in the morning. Porlyusica made her down a sharp-smelling tea that she said would help her recuperate. It quickly became apparent that it would also put her to sleep. They had barely knotted the sling behind her neck when her eyelids began to feel heavy, and within another few minutes, whatever could've been considered words were a groggy, jumbled mess.

She could still feel their voices through the pull of the tonic: the rasping hum of Ms. Porly, the shimmer in a high octave was Mira—she must have come back down at some point—and then there was that rumble. Deep and rich and warm, she felt it fold over her, enveloping her body. It pressed into her, and she felt herself slip farther into sleep until she couldn't think at all.

All she knew was softness, safety, and warmth. And the sleep she slowly emerged from, she hadn't slept that well since. . . There was some time recent. Some time where her body was this much at peace but something wasn't right. She tried to remember, but the memories slipped through her fingers. And she was so comfortable. Her limbs were too soft to move, not that she wanted to anyway, and there was someone stroking her from brow to temple to jaw. It was so gentle, that caress, it made her want to fall back into the perfect black sleep she emerged from. There was a shimmer in the air around her—a sound she could feel. And an answering rumble that made warmth bloom in her chest and a deep sigh to roll out of her lungs.

The stroking on her brow paused and she felt a whine grumble in the back of her throat. No, she wanted that touch. Bring it back. Please bring it back. The caress resumed, but even more delicate this time, impossibly light. She nuzzled into the warmth around her and felt something around her middle tighten securely.

The shimmer in the air was back, but farther away now, and there was the creak and click of a door closing. The rumble returned, but Talia had cleared enough of the mental fog to realize it was words.

"Hey," came the rumble, so close and warm. Talia fought the weight of her eyelids and slowly blinked herself into reality. Her mind was still sluggish, bones heavy and muddy with the effect of the tonic.

"Hey," Laxus said again, soft and low. She noticed his eyes first, that rolling blue of sea and sky. She slowly gained more focus, watching the golden hairs of his eyelashes and brows become clear, the scar over his right eye. He held her gaze as she worked her way out of sleep, trying to place that funny glimmer in the blue. They were sitting on a bed and she was curled into him, his arm around her back and stomach, his other hand pulling that delicate arc over her brow.

"We're back at the inn," he said slowly, "The Old Bat's tea kicked in before even you had a chance to be stubborn." He smiled and his hand stilled. Talia felt herself smile weakly back. She looked around, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion as she didn't recognize the room. "We're in my room," he clarified, and a teasing glint caught his eye. "I carried you back to yours, but you put up a fuss when I tried to put you down. So. . . I didn't."

Hence the room. Hence the embrace. She started to move, slowly raising the arm that had been squished against his chest and pricked of pins and needles. Her legs tensed to move her off of him, but then his fingers began to trace her brow again and she stilled, resting back against him with a soft sigh, her eyelids fluttering closed. He chuckled, and she liked the sound of it through his chest.

"You know, if I knew you had such an easy 'off' button, I would've used it long before now."

She just gave a halfhearted grumble in response. And after a deep sigh, mumbled: "What time is it?"

"Nine pm. Don't worry, the party at the other inn just started, and considering I can hear it from here, I think you'll be able to at least make an appearance." She nodded into him. He tucked her in closer. "I know it's selfish," he said quietly, "but I missed holding you." His hand brushed back the hair that had fallen across her face. "The feel of you, the scent of you; every time you're within reach I want to touch you, even if it's just to make sure you're really there."

She was quiet for a moment, but her eyes were open now. "I missed you too," she said, barely above a whisper. She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head.