The Scars That Make You Whole
By CrimsonStarbird
The Chosen at the Turn of Time, Part 2
-Tomorrow We May Die-
Zeref set the communications lacrima down on the table with something of a bemused expression on his face. "Invel is… well, let's just say he's going to meet us there."
A murmur of acknowledgement ran through the war room of the palace at Vistarion. They would all be glad to have Invel with them, watching their backs with swift, dependable efficiency.
All except one, anyway. Dimaria slammed the hilt of her sword down onto the table in front of her emperor. "And why, exactly, have you gone out of your way to invite Invel I-can't-train-right-now-I-have-three-tax-laws-to-pass-by-lunchtime Yura on your little quest, when you won't even let me accompany you?"
"We've been over this, Dimaria," Zeref said patiently. Regardless of whether she should have been addressing him in such a manner – she shouldn't – he knew that rising to the bait wouldn't achieve anything. He was far smarter than Ajeel; he knew how best to deal with his tempestuous Valkyrie. "The rift in space is a spatiotemporal anomaly. It is a product of true World Magic. Your magic, however, is born of the One Magic, like everyone else's; it merely masquerades as World Magic. I do not know how your magic will interact with the rift in space, and I have not the time to investigate it, but I do not think it would be pleasant for anyone involved. Letting you join this mission would be dangerous to us all. It is not a comment on your power, but on the nature of the situation we face. You are not the only member of the Twelve I have told to stay behind."
"Even without my magic, I can still help!"
"Not enough," Zeref stated, the incensed flames in her eyes doing no more damage to his conviction than they would to his immortal body. "Everyone who is not immortal is a liability against Acnologia – otherwise I would be taking the entire fleet with me, not a single ship."
Dimaria folded her arms. "That would be a much more compelling argument if you weren't also taking Ajeel on that ship with you. Everyone knows he's the weakest of the Twelve."
"Hey!" Ajeel cried, but Zeref held up his hand for silence before the spluttering could spark off an explosion.
"Ajeel is the best pilot I have," he said. "I need someone to fly my airship."
"Yeah, well, he also can't follow orders, so I hope you're not relying on any plan that involves the pilot sticking around after he's caught sight of something he can punch."
"Don't drag me down with you!" Ajeel fumed.
Dimaria glanced at him, dismissal in the set of her chin, derision drawn high and pale upon her cheeks. "Why shouldn't I, when your support for me hasn't exactly been forthcoming these past few minutes?"
In the face of that divine disdain, Ajeel fumbled for the answer that was probably true, but also the worst he could possibly have given. Zeref's argument had been backed up by logic. Ajeel's was not. It was, in fact, the cry of a man who would never learn: "His Majesty is right, you shouldn't go, it's too dangerous!"
"So, you think I should stay here at home while you and your little friends rush off on a suicide mission against a dragon?" Her sword slid free from its scabbard with the sound of a head being severed. "Are you wanting to fight Acnologia with only three limbs, perhaps?"
"Enough," Zeref said tiredly. The two of them seemed to take the mutual decision to settle their differences by seeing who could submit to their emperor with the most obvious reluctance. Zeref let it slide; knowing these two, it really wasn't worth it. However, when he spoke again, his words were firm. "I do not care for your wounded pride, Dimaria. I have explained my reasoning to you. Whether you agree with it or not, my decision is final: I will not allow you to accompany us just to die."
"When I joined the Twelve, I swore to-" Dimaria began hotly.
But Zeref would never find out just what she thought was capable of changing his mind. After all, that was something for which he had never needed external help.
He felt it first, that loss of control, like a twisted ball of nerves dropping out of his stomach, like waking up in an unfamiliar place, like stepping down the stairs that had always been there and finding nothing beneath his foot.
Four hundred years ago, he would have panicked – but even discounting the long periods when he had been too wrapped up in apathy to care about practice, four hundred years was enough time to get good at anything. He snapped his gaze away and pressed his fist to his forehead. Like a child realizing the raspberry he was about to bite into had a spider clinging to the underside, his mind dropped that thought with zealous speed. It slipped away, a dream evaporating in the dawn; he thought so hard about nothing at all that for a moment he wondered if his heart would forget how to beat in the greyness of it.
"Your Majesty!" someone was shouting. Ajeel, he thought.
Anger was a safe emotion, and he seized it now. Their concern irritated him – mere mortals, presuming to worry about him – and the fact that they had seen his slip of control, even if they didn't fully understand it, incited nothing but hate. It sliced through the greyness like a blade.
"I'm fine," he snapped. "Leave me alone."
Dimaria was one of the few members of the Twelve bold enough to argue with him in a mood like this. "But we're not done here-"
"If you are so determined to throw your life away, then by all means, come with us," he overrode her coldly. "Do not expect me to protect you."
"I won't," she vowed eagerly. "I will be the one protecting you, Your Majesty."
"Do as you wish. It means nothing to me."
It was a dismissal. As the room emptied, Zeref rested both his elbows on the table and let his forehead fall into his hands. For a short while, he allowed himself to do nothing but breathe, until the fear had abated and every last stair in the labyrinth of his mind was right where he expected it to be.
Only then did he realize that not quite everyone had left. There was another presence in the room, so calm and quiet that not even he could bring himself to push it away.
"What do you want?" he grumbled, but without any real feeling.
"Are you alright, Your Majesty?" August inquired, and it was neither shallow nor patronizing, but rich and wrinkled with feeling.
"I will be," Zeref said, with none of the iciness of before. "Once I start strategizing or fighting, I'll be fine. It's just…" He shook his head, as if that could convey the words he himself couldn't. "It isn't a good idea for Dimaria to come with us, but only because she is likely to lose her life for little gain, and that's not something I want. Yet little gain is better than none, so that decision must, by default, attribute some value to her life. I can try and justify it – perhaps I need to look like I value her to ensure her loyalty – but… well, after so long spent ensuring that that way of thinking would come automatically to me, I feel as though I'm having to work for it again."
Perhaps he shouldn't have been admitting it so freely, but he knew full well that it wasn't anything August didn't already know. Emboldened by the other's solemn acceptance, Zeref continued, "I have never pushed my control as far as I will need to do on this mission. If I fail, I will become more dangerous to our team than Acnologia. And they don't understand, August. Not like you do. No matter how many times I tell them, they won't even know to get out of the way until it's too late. It's all on me to keep them safe."
August considered this for a moment, in that beautiful, solemn way of his. "You are more than equal to this, Your Majesty."
"I can only hope that you are right."
Dawn found a group of guild mages assembled outside the city of Jasmine. Two Celestial Spirit mages, two Dragon Slayers, and two Exceed, they could have been a team heading out on their next great adventure, if not for the absence of excitement, banter, or in fact any kind of joviality at all.
Rogue's gaze was turned towards the beautiful sunrise. He wore such an expression of foreboding that Lucy was half-expecting a stormcloud to appear and swallow the sun, the grim intensity in his eyes the magic that called it, the frown carved into his cheeks the runic array that shaped it.
Still, Lucy thought she would have preferred that ill omen to the way Sting kept shooting her half-frightened, half-incredulous looks. Ever since she had told him that she and Zeref were together, he apparently hadn't been able to make up his mind whether she needed rescuing, therapy, or an award for bravery. Only Yukino's unexpected decision to come to her defence had prevented Sting from losing it entirely, although not even Yukino was enough to protect a conversation for more than two sentences before Sting interrupted with some variation on, "I can't believe you're seeing Zeref!"
And yet, for all that the Sabertooth trio had protested, and doubted, and worried, they were still here with her, ready to face the dawn and all the danger it would bring.
Despite the tension in the air, a kind of happiness had settled into Lucy's heart. Her relationship was no longer a complete secret. The little bit of freedom that came from not having to pretend around her Sabertooth team was too wonderful for the looming threat to crush.
When a black dot appeared amidst the dawn sky, her heart leapt enough to compensate for the sinking feeling in the other three and then some. As it grew closer, approaching with a speed she hadn't seen since the dragons had destroyed Face all those months ago, the speck grew into a blob, and then sharpened into a knife-like vessel.
The black airship was so smooth, so flawless, that it looked as if it had grown from living steel. Its prow tapered to a long, thin point, born of the same forge that had brought dragons' fangs into being, and capable of piercing the walls of Mercurius as effortlessly as it cut through the air. From the silent thunder which distorted the air around the engines, to the armoured plates which shimmered with enough magic to turn away the blades of gods, it was magnificent and deadly and every bit as imposing as Acnologia had been.
A lone figure was stood on the top deck. His gaze did not leave hers as the ship descended, nor vice versa. The moment it came to a halt – suspended a few inches above the gently waving grass, as if gravity were entirely optional for this panther of the sky – he jumped down and landed in front of them.
Zeref kept a wary distance, his face impassive as he surveyed the four mages and two Exceed, and let them unashamedly scrutinize him in return. Only Lucy knew him well enough to recognize the way his gaze softened as it fell upon her, and she wanted so badly to embrace him, but she knew that it was better if she didn't, right now. She couldn't detect another figure on the airship's deck with her eyes or her magic, but she didn't think for a second that Zeref's allies weren't observing this first exchange just as closely as the Sabertooth mages were.
With a rueful smile, she stepped forward. "Hey," she said, softly.
It wasn't enough to convey how much she had missed him – and she considered that a blessing, because how childish was it to pine after someone who had been gone less than twenty-four hours? – but from the faint quirk of his lips, she thought he probably knew. "Hello, Lucy."
"Nice ship you've got there," she remarked.
"Thank you. I borrowed it from a friend."
She raised her eyebrows, no longer bothering to hold back her grin. "Must be nice, being best buds with the Emperor of Alvarez."
"Oh, it is," he smirked back. "Very convenient."
"Will it be enough against Acnologia?"
"To stop him? No. It will draw his attention, certainly, but if it could do more, I would have taken the fight to him years ago. However… it is only supposed to be a tool to enable our true plan."
Very deliberately, because neither of them could put it off any longer, Zeref let his attention move beyond her, to the two Dragon Slayers – Rogue, whose eyes were narrowed to suspicious slits, and Sting, whose fists were clenched in preparation either to attack a sworn villain or defend Lucy's honour, it wasn't clear which.
However, it was Yukino who stepped forward first. Her smile wasn't entirely natural, but the fact that she was trying to make it seem so had to count for something.
"That's where we come in, right?" she asked, bravely offering her hand for him to shake. "I'm Yukino. It's nice to meet you."
"Zeref," he said, and it wasn't at all necessary, but in a way, it was. "Lucy speaks very highly of you. Thank you for agreeing to participate in this mission."
"Glad to be of service," she tried, shyly but truthfully, before giving Sting an encouraging nod.
"I'm Sting," he ground out. He jerked his head towards the other Twin Dragon, adding, "And this is Rogue." Unlike Yukino, he did not deign to offer a handshake.
Zeref's eyes glittered, but he made no comment. "Yes, we've met before, in fact," he said smoothly, gesturing to the height of his knee. "You were about this big."
Both the Dragon Slayers looked offended at the implication that they were ever that small. Lucy was trying hard not to smile, imagining how put out they would be to learn that their last proper encounter had ended with Zeref lobbing them bodily through a portal to the future.
"I don't remember meeting you," Sting accused, folding his arms.
"So I've heard," Zeref sighed. "But then again, you also don't remember Anna, or how your own fathers died, so I don't take it personally."
Now that was an outright lie. Lucy could hear the hurt behind each word, carved from glass, but it was equally clear that Sting couldn't, and why would he? Sting didn't remember what he had lost, and if he didn't remember it, he couldn't miss it. That was Zeref's cross to bear.
It didn't stop the Dragon Slayer from giving him a threatening scowl. "I don't trust you."
"It doesn't matter if you trust me or not," Zeref told him coolly. "What matters is that you are able to trust, just for one day, that our goals are aligned. If you are incapable of following my instructions in this fight, you might as well go home right now. You'll only get in the way."
Locked in a silent stalemate, they stared at each other, unblinking. Lucy had told Sting that Zeref would be in charge of their combined mission, but it was one thing him grumbling acquiescence in his own guildhall, and quite another how he would respond to the Black Mage's open assertion of leadership… and yet there was no doubt that Zeref was meant for it. It was in the pride of his stance, the steadiness of his voice – which only Lucy, out of all of them, could see beneath – and it was in the untouchable, undeniable darkness of his eyes, which saw everything and understood even more.
"For this mission only, we'll listen to you." Sting gave a grudging nod. "I make no promises as to what will happen once Acnologia is vanquished."
"Suits me." Zeref gestured towards his warbeast of an airship. "Come on board. We have wasted enough time on pleasantries; I will explain the plan once we are in the air."
It was with no small measure of apprehension that Yukino glanced up at the ship. Sting and Rogue, however, looked outright terrified. "No need for that," Sting breezed, with false bravado. "I'd much rather fly with Lector for a bit. Stretch our wings, y'know."
Zeref frowned at him. "We have a great distance to cover, and your Exceed will need his strength for the battle."
Sting folded his arms, having only just relaxed enough to unfold them. "I don't want to."
"Please, just get on the airship," Yukino begged.
"Easy for you to say," Sting sulked. "You don't have the sense of balance of a dragon trapped in a body with only half the required number of legs."
Lucy gave Zeref a pointed look. "Very well," he conceded, surrendering to her unspoken request. "Consider this a token of my goodwill." Green light wrapped around his hand, and before the Dragon Slayers could react, he tapped each of them lightly on the chest.
"What was that?" Sting shouted, jumping back as if he'd spotted the pitch-black of death magic in that gentle glow. Light swarmed around his own fist, ready to retaliate. "What did you do-?"
Calmly, Zeref explained, "Troia. It suppresses motion sickness in Dragon Slayers."
When Sting's suspicion failed to lessen, Rogue spoke up, unexpectedly. "That's Sky Dragon magic. How did you learn that?"
"I have learnt a great many kinds of magic in my time." It wasn't an answer, but they wouldn't be getting any more out of him. Lucy knew that for sure, even before Zeref began striding towards the ship. "Come along."
It was reluctant, it was hesitant, and neither of the Dragon Slayers would have moved without Yukino steeling herself and stepping forward at Lucy's side, but it was a start.
And a surprisingly promising one, as in less than five minutes, Sting's attitude had transformed from open hostility to sheer delight. He stood at the bow of the airship, arms outstretched, wind in his hair, delighting in his newfound ability to travel without throwing up. Rogue was slightly more restrained, and Yukino duly exasperated, but it made for an amusing display nonetheless as Lucy and Zeref hung back from the others. They stood side by side, their only point of contact the fingers gently threaded together.
"I suppose that could have gone worse," Lucy reflected. No one had tried to kill anyone else, and more importantly, no one had tried to come between her and Zeref, or otherwise threatened his or her right to choose.
His fingers tightened around hers, a brief request for comfort. Softly enough that only she could hear, he murmured, "I hate this kind of thing."
"You're incredibly good at it."
"Doesn't mean I hate it any less," he sighed, though with a little less bitterness. "Where's Invel when I need him?"
"Probably in the dungeons beneath Mercurius, where you left him," Lucy pointed out. "Will he be joining us on this mission?"
"I have asked him to. He… may struggle to get here on time, but he has assured me that he will try, and he's got himself out of stickier situations in the past. I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later."
It wasn't the words she was responding to, but the sentiment behind them, when she commented, "You have a lot of faith in him."
She had meant it as a compliment, but he turned his face away, seeking shadows.
"Zeref, what happened?" she asked, concerned.
"Nothing out of the ordinary." That was what she had been afraid of, but he clearly had no intention of talking about it, instead indicating the White Dragon Slayer with his arms spread at the front of the ship. "Did they give you much grief?"
"They were fine. Yukino helped a lot. Maybe it's because her sister's a wanted criminal, or maybe it's because she always tries to believe the best in people no matter who they are, but she made an effort to understand." Lucy didn't want to talk about that either, though, so she volleyed it back to his court. "And they didn't cause me nearly as much trouble as I think they're causing you."
"I knew they wouldn't remember me," he conceded. "And that was fine, it's not as though I care, it was so very long ago. But…" His gaze dropped again. "Natsu hates me because I made him hate me. But I didn't do anything to those two, and they hate me anyway. It is… harder than I thought, I suppose, seeing how little difference it makes."
Without giving her a chance to comment, he pulled away, his hand gone from hers and the walls back in place. "Fetch the others. I'll introduce you to the rest of the team."
The ship was just as impressive on the inside as it was from the outside. More so, in fact, because it was only from this side of its armour plating that the full power of its engines and weaponry could truly be felt.
And yet it wasn't half as interesting as the people inside – Zeref's allies, perhaps Zeref's friends; the ones he'd had even when he'd thought he was alone.
What Lucy had been expecting from them, she wasn't sure, but what she found was a group of people as varied as any she had ever seen. From their ages to their magic to their styles of dress, they had as little in common as the members of her guild, brought together not by a guild mark but by their respect for the one history had tried its best to condemn – the one whose name they, like Invel, spoke with a kind of uncertainty, not because they feared it but because they were simply unused to using it.
It made Lucy a little bit nervous. For all that she knew Zeref in a way they didn't, she also knew that they knew him in a way she didn't, a way that she had never been part of until today. She couldn't help wondering what they knew about her.
In the bridge, Zeref introduced them to Ajeel, who radiated power like the desert sun, and whose hands whipped across the array of controls like bald tails vanishing into rocky crevices. He spared them only the briefest of glances, which was directly entirely towards the Twin Dragons. When he found little there to impress him, his attention returned to that perfect balance between fuel efficiency and speed.
The only other person in the bridge, Dimaria, was the opposite. She regarded them with a little smirk that conveyed her full feelings with half the effort, and a scientific kind of fascination that seemed entirely reserved for Lucy, implying that not everyone here was as oblivious as Ajeel about who Lucy was. It wasn't the golden armour or the sword at Dimaria's hip that reminded Lucy of Erza, but the sudden and inexplicable certainty that she was the most dangerous one in the room. And yet rarely had Lucy felt such magic as Ajeel was openly emitting. The realization that he was the one acting like he had something to prove was a sobering one.
Down in the engine room they came across a man who wasn't a man, whose magic felt as different to Lucy as the demons' curses had, and a little bit – but not quite – like that of Davos, the possessed radio. He was welding a ruptured pipe, except that one of his hands was the arc welder, and the metallic fingers of the other hand formed the vice that held the molten metal in place. Zeref didn't seem to care that Wall ignored them entirely to focus on his work. Lucy was secretly glad of it.
As a warship, their vessel was hardly designed for comfort. Despite this, there was a measure of peace to be found in the commander's cabin, where the other members of Zeref's team rested ahead of the battle. Two mages were engaged in a card game, featuring tarot-like cards emblazoned with fantastical beasts – and whether the game was intense or not depended entirely on which of the two you were looking at.
Jacob played as if his soul hung in the balance, affording every potential move the same scrutiny he would a contract of marriage, and using the nail of his thumb to score tiny lines into the varnish on the edge of the table, counting cards. Brandish, meanwhile, was hedging her bets behind a playing style so apathetic it was a miracle she even had the energy to pick up a hand. If she won, she won; if she lost, well, her opponent had actually been trying, whereas she had managed to paint her nails, have breakfast, and finish the crossword at the same time, so really, she was the one winning at life, wasn't she?
But it was the elderly man sat at the back of the room who caught Lucy's attention. Everyone on Zeref's airship radiated powerful magic – even those too civilized to broadcast it in polite company had that sense to them, that shimmer hanging just out of sight, a reminder that this was a very different league to the inter-guild rivalries and monster-hunting jobs Lucy was used to. This man, though – she had fought a god singlehandedly and seen Zeref furious, and she would rather face either of them again on the battlefield than him.
And yet there was nothing hostile about him. He was calm, sincere, welcoming; he gave off the reassurance of the kind of Guild Master who wouldn't burn penalty notices, but would go to the Magic Council each and every time to argue on his guild's behalf. For all that he was solemn, the magic swirling around him was bright-eyed and curious, too profoundly wondrous to be restrained. She found it beautiful, although she assumed, from the way the Dragon Slayers were entirely tense beside her, that they couldn't see beyond the thought that this ally of Zeref's would one day be their enemy.
Although he politely greeted each of them, Lucy knew his attention was entirely on her. He knew. The others may or may not have guessed what she was to Zeref – perhaps they had no right to know under the terms of their relationship with him; perhaps they did, but didn't care, or didn't dare to care – but this man knew for sure.
And it wasn't with suspicion that he regarded her, or hostility, or even jealousy, that she wasn't a part of whatever it was they had but Zeref had chosen her anyway. If it was, she'd have felt as defensive as Sting and Rogue did. Instead, she felt a pure, inquisitive faith. It left her with the strangest sense of self-doubt, for how could she live up to the belief this stranger seemed to have in her?
"Lucy," Zeref said, quietly, and she realized she was staring. "Let's go."
Her gaze dropped, and she followed him out the door. Sting, Rogue and Yukino had already gone – either to enjoy the wind once more, or to discuss, in quiet voices, the worrying fact that every one of the people they had met was as dangerous as a guild full of demons – leaving her and Zeref alone in the corridor.
Amused, he said, "Frightening, isn't he?"
"A little," she admitted, though she wasn't thinking of his magic.
A tiny smile touched Zeref's lips, and she realized he hadn't been talking about his magic either. "Lucy, should anything ever happen to me, and you need help, go to August. He will help you without question. He is a good man. The best I've ever met."
"Thank you," she murmured.
Neither of them seemed in a hurry to leave that passageway of steel.
"Lucy. There's something you need to have before the battle."
He pressed something into her hand. It was small and pointed, and it glittered grimly in the ill-lit passage, but she didn't need its physical attributes to know exactly what it was. That was a magic she never thought she would feel again, for she was the one who had let it shatter into a thousand fragments of gold.
But there it was: the Key of the Water-Bearer, whole and back with her. "How? It was broken!"
Zeref waved his hand. "As if Anna and I would create a magic that could be broken so easily," he scoffed. "The keys are only foci, after all. When they break, they are simply reformed elsewhere in the world, when the conditions are right."
Clutching it to her chest, as though it was more valuable than her own heart, she demanded, "But how did you find it?"
"I asked Aquarius where it was, of course."
"And she just told you? I thought the Spirits couldn't do that. Unless Crux lied to me…"
Zeref gave her a look. Never mind how their relationship progressed, there was something about that expression that could always make her feel like a guilty child.
"Look, I was young, okay?" she defended. "I thought I'd found a short-cut to obtaining all the gold keys! But Crux told me he wasn't allowed to reveal where any of the other keys were…"
"I suppose it isn't a rule as much as a taboo," Zeref mused. "The keys will always find their way into the hands of those of the bloodline; our magic ensured it. There was – perhaps is – a feeling that if the Spirits tried to intervene, they would only throw that off-balance. So, no, they won't ever freely give away the location of a key."
"Unless it's to you, apparently," Lucy sulked. "I suppose that's another privilege of having co-created this magic?"
"Not at all. Aquarius was rather opposed to the idea at first, in fact. I merely pointed out that it was because Layla didn't have her key when she needed all twelve that she died, and unless Aquarius wanted to be responsible for the exact same thing happening to Layla's daughter, she'd better tell me exactly where her key had regenerated."
There was a pause.
"Sometimes," Lucy ventured, "you are not a particularly nice person, Zeref."
"I have never claimed otherwise," he responded, amused. "Besides, it wasn't the fact of you having the key that Aquarius was opposed to. She just wanted you to have to work for it. And I said, if getting me on your side wasn't work, I didn't know what was."
She laughed, wonderfully, and he added, "Go and talk to her, Lucy."
"Thank you." And she meant those words as much as she ever had.
"Oh, before you go – will you do me a favour? Call Erza on your lacrima and ask her to put Jellal on. Then, when she has, pass the lacrima to me."
Lucy hesitated. "Is Jellal going to hate me for this?"
"No. He might hate me for it, but what's new?"
She sighed, but it was just for show, as there was never any real doubt that she would do as he asked. The evident concern in Jellal's voice as he opened with, "Lucy, what's wrong?" sent a twinge of guilt through her.
This guilt was clearly not shared by the man who held her heart, if the faint smirk playing across his lips was anything to go by as he answered, "Hello, Jellal."
Silence crackled.
"What do you want, Zeref?" Jellal snarled.
"I just wanted to let you know that today, Lucy and I, along with a handful of mages from Sabertooth and some of my allies, are going to defeat Acnologia for good. I thought it sounded right up your street – you know, mages on all sides putting aside their differences and coming together for the good of all."
The silence sulked better than any unhappy retort.
"We'll be flying over your guild in about half an hour," Zeref told him. "Feel free to join us." He snapped the connection before Jellal could and tossed the lacrima back to Lucy.
"Do you think he'll come?" she wondered.
"I certainly hope so. Do you have any idea how useful he'd be in an aerial battle like this? Self-propelled bait!"
They stared at each other.
"I'm going to talk to Aquarius now," Lucy sighed, and shuffled out of sight.
It could have been worse.
Zeref stood at the front of the airship, hands flat upon the railings, gaze focussed on the horizon.
That was how a leader was supposed to stand. It didn't matter that he wanted to curl up into himself, head buried, fingertips clawing frantically at the back of his neck. If he did that, his mages would lose faith in him, might even turn on him. There was a way things had to be done, as much of a difference between Emperor Spriggan and the Black Mage Zeref as there was between the Zeref of legend and the Zeref who wandered lost in the forests of Fiore for years at a time. For all that he was, truthfully, all of those things, he couldn't be all of them all of the time.
It could have been worse, but it could have been better.
The part of him that knew Ajeel and the others had no business knowing about his personal relationships, and that telling them would undermine his authority, struggled with the part of him that wanted people to know, that wanted to keep his end of the unspoken deal like Lucy had kept hers and told Sabertooth, as surely that was more important than a four-hundred-year-old reputation.
The part of him which had once stood between two young Dragon Slayers and Acnologia twisted a little more in hurt every time he saw how much Sting and Rogue disliked him, although sometimes he couldn't feel the pain at all over the part of him which observed with clinical satisfaction how they had fallen in line despite that dislike, all for the sake of his plan.
He was a tangled yarn of feelings and identities balanced on the edge of a knife so sharp that the slightest slip would cut straight through, and if it did, he would unravel, a snapping chaos of elastic, falling apart in too many different ways to count.
It was harder than he'd thought, bringing everything together after centuries of forcing it all apart.
He hadn't realized how much compartmentalizing had helped him regulate his emotions. Zeref Dragneel, who had been buried alongside Anna Heartfilia; Emperor Spriggan, who only existed in Alvarez; the Black Mage Zeref, who hid behind his own myths: those walls had helped define him. Without them, was he all, or none? More than a single man, impossibly so, but at the same time, he felt like he was less than he had been before.
He had thought his will would be unwavering, yet it seemed that the pseudo-certainty he needed to lead this mission meant not merely subsuming the other parts of himself, but losing them entirely.
His fingers stretched and curled, the only outward sign of his internal unrest. The ship flew on, towards a horizon which seemed a lot further away than he had been promised.
"Zeref."
It wasn't a question. It was too quietly hostile for that. He glanced to the side, and there was Rogue, watching him warily from slightly further away than he would have stood were Zeref anyone else.
"What you said earlier," Rogue began, and Zeref's grip tensed, waiting for the accusation. "Do you… do you know how my dad died?"
It was the suddenness of the question more than anything that startled Zeref into answering. "Yes. I was there."
"What happened?"
Wishing very much that he'd denied the first question, Zeref said, "Acnologia killed him. He had already killed Weisslogia, and Skiadrum was trying to rescue Sting, and get the two of you to safety. Acnologia… tore out his throat."
Rogue digested this with a nod or two, and nothing more.
Just as Zeref was beginning to wonder if the chance to escape this conversation would be worth letting the Sabertooth mage believe that the cannons were so unreliable that they needed checking, or that his mages were so incompetent they needed to be reminded of the plan on a regular basis, or that he was too insecure to let Lucy out of his sight for five minutes, Rogue said, "Why don't I remember it? Why did my dad take those memories away from me?"
"Because it was horrific," Zeref responded shortly. "You were so young. You shouldn't have had to see that."
"But it wasn't as though what he left me with was any better!" Rogue burst out, with surprising passion. "I grew up believing I had killed my own father!"
The scholarly part of Zeref couldn't help offering an explanation. "I imagine he had to replace it with an awful memory. That way, you would have tried to avoid thinking about it, making it far less likely you would perceive it for the fabrication it was."
"He needn't have worried. Even now that I know it's a false memory, I can't see beyond it." A short, sharp shake of his head; dark hair fluttered like a raven's wings. "Ever since he told me, I haven't been able to stop wondering how many of my other memories of him are fake. What else did he take from me?"
"I don't know." It wasn't technically a lie. Although Zeref did know that much of the Dragon Slayers' childhoods had been lost to them – everything except for the memories most strongly associated with the dragons who lived on inside them – he could only guess at how much of it had been an unintentional side effect of his improvised ritual rather than Skiadrum's conscious decision. On impulse, he added anyway: "But he loved you very much, and wouldn't have done it unless he thought he had to."
As uneasy as the silence was, no denial broke it.
Then Rogue said, "Can you restore my memories? Is that something you can do?"
Zeref stared. He couldn't help it. He could only assume that Rogue didn't understand what he was asking – perhaps he hadn't realized that for someone to even attempt that, Rogue would have to freely let them into his mind – but when their eyes met in front of the horizon, it was Zeref who glanced away first.
"I don't know, but I won't try it," he said quietly. "Without knowing exactly what Skiadrum did to you, and how it interacted with my ritual, the risk is far too great."
"What do you mean, your ritual?" Rogue asked sharply.
Zeref did not look away from the horizon, choosing to let the railings crack beneath his palms rather than his expression. He cursed himself inwardly, because this was why he compartmentalized: so that he didn't make such stupid mistakes.
"What ritual?" Rogue repeated, in a tone of voice that suggested whether or not he chose to fight Acnologia today would depend entirely on this battle of wills.
"The spell which bound Skiadrum's soul inside you was a ritual of my own devising," Zeref confessed reluctantly.
"Why would you do that?"
"To stop you and the other Dragon Slayers from turning into dragons," he answered, perplexed that the question even needed to be asked.
"No, I mean – why would you do that? Why would you care?"
Zeref closed his eyes for a long moment. "I have not always needed a reason to do what is right," he said softly. "Still, it is not as though I can't see why you would think otherwise. Sometimes, it feels like the Dragon Slayers were the only thing I got right in four hundred years of mistakes."
Rogue considered this. Then, unexpectedly, he said, "Well, if we win today, perhaps you will have two things."
"I hope so." Impulsively, since he clearly had not thought this through at all, Zeref found himself offering, "I can't restore your memories of how your father died, but I can show you mine. Perhaps it might trigger something in your own mind."
As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back, hoping against hope that Rogue would interpret it as some nefarious trap and decline, but the Dragon Slayer only nodded.
"It's not nice, though," Zeref added hastily.
"Show me."
Zeref exhaled slowly. He had tried so hard not to think about any of this for four hundred years, and telling Lucy was one thing, but telling this stranger, this enemy…
He rested his hand palm-up on the railing, and Rogue gingerly touched the tips of his first two fingers to it.
The connection sparked. Zeref saw it all as he'd once lived it: riding on the back of a dragon of living darkness with young Rogue; racing towards the forest where Weisslogia had fallen; jumping down to face Acnologia; dragging Sting and Rogue to safety while the two dragons fought savagely – Skiadrum piercing the armoured scales around the other's neck, and Acnologia changing forms, sacrificing his armour and his bulk in exchange for the magic that cleaved open Skiadrum's throat and returned his blood to the earth.
A sharp pain snapped Zeref's concentration moments before he could end the magic himself. Rogue's hand was no longer resting as hesitantly as possible upon his, but gripping it tightly. Five bloody crescents were forming where nails too long and sharp to be human were digging into his skin.
Rogue realized at the same time he did, and jerked his hand back, turning away. It wasn't quite quick enough to hide the glimmer of tears in his eyes – the sorrow and helpless rage from which Skiadrum had tried so hard to shield him.
Zeref would not show him the ensuing confrontation between Acnologia, Igneel, Natsu and himself – that was personal – but he couldn't leave it like that either. He volunteered, "Skiadrum's attack broke through the scales around Acnologia's neck. It was only because he made that weak spot for us that we were able to drive him off and get you and Sting to safety."
"He was a hero, then," Rogue murmured.
"Yes. He was."
"And so were you."
Zeref cast him a startled glance.
"Or perhaps it was all an illusion, a convenient fiction with you as the good guy, designed to make me trust you. What proof do I have either way?"
"None, I suppose."
"No," Rogue mused. "Are you the kind of person who would use my moment of weakness to try and convince me that you were my dad's friend, that you were a hero? I don't know." He shrugged. "I want to believe you, but I'd be a fool to trust you so easily."
He stepped away, and then paused. "Thanks anyway, I guess."
Zeref nodded once, rubbing absently at the claw-marks on his wrist and barely noticing the blood he was smearing across his skin. His attention was on the horizon. If anything, it seemed even further away than before.
"Zeref? Are you okay?"
It took Lucy about three seconds for her to regret asking that question. That was how long it took Zeref to pull himself out of whichever gravity-twisting realm of interlocking plans and emotional links his thoughts had been exploring, realize who had spoken… and notice that said speaker was soaked from head to toe.
Pure delight spread across his face. "Well, well, well. Isn't this a turn up for the books?"
"Shut up, Zeref."
"It's quite impressive how you managed to fall in the sea when we've been flying over dry land for the last hour."
"You know perfectly well what happened, Zeref," Lucy scowled. "And I'd put a year's rent on you having egged Aquarius on during your little conversation…"
She hated how much she loved that smirk of his. It felt like far too long since she'd seen it – and even as that thought crossed her mind, she saw his expression flicker and fade, obscured by the misty tendrils creeping out from that place of doubt and distance.
"What's wrong?" she repeated, moving to stand beside him at the very front of the ship.
"Nothing's wrong. Unless you count the fact that people keep interrupting me when I'm trying to think of a plan…"
Lucy gave him a reproachful look.
The façade that she alone could see through seemed to crumble. "I'm frightened, Lucy," he confessed.
"Of Acnologia?" She tried to reassure him with a laugh. "Who wouldn't be?"
"No. Not of him, but…"
She took a step closer. She wouldn't put her arm around him where others might see them – not until she was certain he was happy with that – but he understood the gesture.
He tried to explain, his words as tangled as his thoughts. "I've always been good at strategizing. Scheming. Viewing all of this as a puzzle to which I have to find the solution, with people merely pieces on the gameboard and my desired outcome just a way of challenging myself. It's the most effective method of controlling my magic. And I'm good at it, so good at it… I've had centuries of practice. That's how I built all this."
He lifted his right hand to indicate the airship, and in the trembling of his fingers, she caught a glimpse of a wisp of shadow moving between them at a speed all its own. He clenched his fist, extinguishing it, though it only accentuated the trembling.
"But the thing is," he continued, "none of it really mattered. If my plans failed, I'd learn from that, and avoid those mistakes the next time. If what I'd built was destroyed, I would build it again. If people died, what did I care? The only one who mattered was me, and I am immortal. Defeat was never more than a minor setback. If my goal became unobtainable, I'd just find another. There would always turn out to be something else I wanted – the curse ensured it!"
Breath dragged itself reluctantly over his lips.
"It never mattered to me before," he reiterated. "But it matters to me now. I want this future, Lucy. I want to win. And every time I try to focus on the perfectly objective moves that must be made to get there, I keep thinking about how much I want this, and how I don't know what I'll do if we fail, and… and I can't focus on what I need to do. I have supervised countless campaigns just like this, but never one with so much consequence. I don't know if I can do it."
Lucy gave a fond sigh. "You're your own worst enemy, Zeref, you know that?"
A rueful smile. "Such is the nature of my curse."
"Maybe so, but you should know better than to overthink things by now."
"It's my job to think, Lucy. We can't all get away with running in without thinking, like your accursed guild. And no one else is going to do it, since my lot are depending on me and I get the impression that Sabertooth takes after Fairy Tail…"
"That they do," she conceded, smiling. "If it helps, you are doing an amazing job."
This earned her an exasperated look. "I've not even done anything yet."
"That's not true at all. You are their leader. They are calm because they see that you are calm. They believe they can win – I believe we can win – because we believe in you. You're really something to watch, Zeref. Thank you for letting me see this part of you."
He smiled too, at that, but it was soon gone.
"This isn't how I thought I would do this," Zeref reflected, turning back towards the horizon, and the sea no longer so distant. "I don't have half the people with me I would like, and half of those I do have don't trust me. The entire plan hinges upon some impossible rift in space that I haven't had the chance to study. We don't know if it's possible to pass through it, let alone that whatever is on the other side can hold Acnologia, even if you can seal it the way you believe you can. We've not practised manoeuvres. This team has never fought together before. I have never rushed into a fight with such little preparation, Lucy! The future of our entire world depends on this battle, and I'm not ready!"
Lucy slid her fingers in between his, that gentle touch a lifeline as the rising hysteria in his voice tried to carry him away. "It's not all on you, you know," she reminded him. "You're not alone. What you can't do, we will."
Then she grinned, and added, "Besides, I don't think I've ever been ready for a battle in my life, and look at my success rate. Have you ever considered that the obsessive planning might be holding you back?"
It was clear from Zeref's expression that he was considering it now, and wasn't impressed with the results.
"If it helps," Lucy continued, a little more sombrely, "this isn't how I thought I would do this, either. Instead of my guild, I've got a ship full of people I only met this morning, and if you'd told me a month ago that I would be fighting Acnologia without Natsu at my side…"
Unsurprisingly, Zeref glanced away at that, shoulders slumping. She hadn't meant to hurt him; her grip tightened around his hand. "I understand why he can't be here, Zeref. Your reasons are good ones. I just don't want to be the one who has to tell him that he missed the final battle against the greatest enemy of our age."
He managed a small smile at that, and she continued, emboldened. "But don't you think it's incredible? We're doing this, you and me, your friends and mine. Whether we win or lose, we've already changed the world, Zeref."
"I suppose we have," he conceded.
Before either of them could say anything more, a shout tore across the deck. Ajeel was dashing towards them with Dimaria hot on his heels.
As Zeref turned to meet them, Lucy could see the uncertainty dropping away from him, tied to an anchor and thrown into the deepest depths of his soul, where none would ever be able to find it save for him and her. He was once again exactly who he needed to be, unshakeable, as he demanded, "What is it?"
Ajeel answered. "Radar's picked something up – strong magical signature, heading towards us at incredible speed-"
"Acnologia?" Lucy asked, before she could stop herself. Her heart dropped into her stomach, dragging her rationality along with it. Zeref's words echoed in her mind: I'm not ready. Because they weren't – they hadn't reached the rift in space yet, hadn't set up their ambush, hadn't…
Something glinted in the sky, and she hit the emergency brakes on her train of thought.
The scales of the Black Dragon of the Apocalypse didn't glint.
"Stand down," Zeref commanded. His gaze ran like a levelled spear over the still-growing crowd, as everyone, friend or foe, not quite trusting each other to handle any arising situation, was drawn towards the commotion. "All of you."
Moments later, the blazing light crashed into the deck of the ship. It wasn't a light at all, but a man, blue-haired and angry-eyed. He did not spare a glance for the hostile sharks surrounding him. He knew that only one of them was truly dangerous.
A smile touched Zeref's lips. "Is this your answer, then?"
"I'm not ready to give you an answer yet," Jellal stated, eyes flashing. "But nor can I stand idly by while a battle such as this is being fought. Acnologia is as much my enemy as you are."
"Are you going to fight with us, then?" Beneath that smirk, Lucy thought Zeref sounded genuinely pleased, and she shook her head at the strangeness of it.
"I will help you on one condition: I want your word that you will not deliberately put any of my friends in danger."
Darkness shifted in Zeref's eyes. "No," said he, cold and clear and unrepentant. "I am here to win. I will not shy away from any strategy that will lead me to victory, and I expect anyone fighting with me to do the same. Everyone here is willing to give their lives for victory."
Lucy nodded firmly, and by her side, Yukino did too, her resolve no less than Lucy's own. A moment later, Sting and Rogue followed suit, trusting Yukino even if they weren't so sure what to make of Lucy any more. The others simply glared at Jellal, as if insulted that he would take their commitment to their leader as anything less than self-evident.
"Accept that, or go home," Zeref told him. "If I cannot depend on you to do as you are told, you will only get in the way."
Then, relenting, as kind as he was allowed to be: "It doesn't have to mean that you accept me. It doesn't have to mean anything more than taking our best chance to stop Acnologia and rescue the other Dragon Slayers while we still can. You will have to trust me, and you will have to listen to me, but only for today. Will you do that?"
They sized each other up in the silence, something more than words passing between them.
Without warning, Jellal sank to one knee, head bowed, eyes closed. Not a trace of magic flickered around his body, the unreserved submission he had not even been able to fake in Malva. "For today only," he vowed, "use my magic as your own."
Zeref appeared somewhat taken aback by this display. "A simple 'yes' would have sufficed," he remarked, with a smirk that almost but didn't quite conceal his surprise, as he stepped forward to offer the other his hand. He helped pull Jellal to his feet, but didn't release his hand until Jellal was stood beside him, a clear gesture of support for any among the assembled crowd who still eyed the newcomer with suspicion.
No one spoke a word of complaint. Both those who had sworn allegiance to Zeref and those who pledged themselves to the far more abstract but no less powerful concept of a guild, Lucy on one side of him and Jellal on the other, were all waiting with quiet, inevitable expectation.
"Well, since we're all here," Zeref began, with a cool confidence practised so often that it wasn't pretend, but just another side of himself, as real as any other. "You know that this will not be an easy battle. Nothing with the fate of the world at stake ever is. Yet as great as the danger is, we are fighting for something far greater: for all we have built, for all that we love, and for the right to build and to love in a world without fear. Today, we take back our future from Acnologia. This is not the end; this is the turning point. We have so much left to do, all of us."
He paused, and so did they; his words were their breath and his hope their heartbeat.
Harder than steel and softer than feathers, he said, "Whatever happens out there, there are two things you must do above all: listen to me, and look out for each other. I am not losing any of you today."
A murmur of soft appreciation ran around the circle: acceptance, trust.
"Very well, then," Zeref said. "Here's what we're going to do."