The Scars That Make You Whole
By CrimsonStarbird
Epitaph for an Insane World
They held a funeral for Yukino three days later.
There could have been any number of reasons for Sabertooth to choose that day. Maybe they wanted to give Sting and Rogue a chance to recover from the battle first. Maybe they wanted to make sure they had enough time to find and inform her wayward sister. Maybe that was just how long it took to organize a funeral.
Lucy had a feeling, though, that they had deliberately waited just to hold it on the first overcast day of an otherwise beautiful month.
The occasion was overcast too: a grey church, a monochrome crowd, well-wishers who shuffled and whispered so bleakly that they didn't seem too far from a coffin themselves. Hymns written at a pitch most people couldn't reach forced a choice between singing quietly or singing badly, and the congregation mumbled their way through words which might have been pretty, had Yukino's estate been able to afford a professional choir.
Sorano Agria stood in the front row and said not a word. She wore black uncomfortably, a dress too long for her but still too short as far as the rest of the congregation were concerned; yet another reason to withhold sympathy from the known criminal. They tolerated her on this day of mourning, but nothing more.
Yukino – who had supported Elfman's decision to retire from mage work when his own guild had not; who had accepted Lucy's relationship and encouraged Sting and Rogue to do the same; who couldn't have cared less that her long-lost sister was an escaped convict – would have put them in their place.
But Yukino wasn't here.
It was Sting who stood in front of the congregation, as was the Guild Master's duty, looking as out of place in a suit as Sorano did in a church. His gaze roamed the crowd, sweeping unsatisfied across rows of sombre Sabertooth mages, and finding Lucy at the very back. They hadn't spoken since the battle had ended, and she only remembered that as a blur of anguish; the airship's wounded limp back to civilization as everything had collapsed around them.
"Today, I want to talk to you about someone you may not have had the chance to meet," Sting began. "I myself only met her for the first time three days ago."
A murmur of confusion ran through the crowd.
"Do you know who Acnologia is?" Sting continued. "I'm sure, by now, you've all heard the stories. I'm sure you're wondering why I'd bring him up. After all, he's got nothing to do with ordinary people like us. He's a nightmare. A myth. He's the monster who lurks at the end of a Hundred Year Quest; he's the hubris of the world's most powerful mages; he's a million miles away from our modest, sensible lives. Why should we care?"
Flatly, bluntly, he answered his own question. "Acnologia killed my dad. He has kidnapped some of my closest friends. He attacked Fairy Tail once, and he'll do it again. Acnologia is threatening this world, our world. When they tell you he's not interested in the likes of us, that we don't need to worry about him, it's because they're afraid."
There was a pause, and then he added, "It's because we were afraid."
The eyes that swept across the rows of Sabertooth mages were as hard as iron left out in the cold. "Well, we were, weren't we? We knew he was out there. We saw what he did to Tenrou Island. We saw him kill Igneel with our own eyes, when Tartaros fell! But still we turned our backs, and stuck our heads in the sand, and waited for someone else to deal with the threat.
"Three days ago, I met someone who wasn't afraid.
"Three days ago, I met someone who didn't care how dangerous Acnologia was, or how powerless she seemed in comparison. She wasn't born with the power to slay dragons. It was never her fight. But if there was something she could do to help, she was going to do it. If that meant trusting people we thought were our enemies, then so be it. If that meant putting her life on the line to offer us the slightest chance of victory… then that was what she would do."
Sting was silent for a brief eternity. He flipped over his page of notes, found nothing there worth saying, and let it fall to the floor.
"Yukino was a good friend to all of us in Sabertooth," he said. "We knew her as a welcoming smile and a sympathetic ear, an advisor and a confidante, a beacon of light in a guild which didn't deserve her. We took her for granted. We assumed she'd always be here when we returned home. But she was more than that."
Sting raised his head and met the gaze of anyone who dared to look. "Yukino Agria was a hero. A fighter. A better person than any of us. And if I'd only realized that more than three days ago, she might not have been alone when it mattered."
Abruptly, he turned and strode for the door, quickly enough to leave most of the congregation milling in confusion, but not quickly enough to hide his angry tears. As the others began to follow him out to the graveyard, Lucy remained in the emptying church, her hands clasped in the shadow of her hanging head.
But she wasn't alone, she thought numbly. I was right there with her. And that was what got her killed.
Yukino was a hero, that much was true, but her death hadn't been heroic. It had been pointless.
A faint hiccough reached her ears, and Lucy glanced up, startled. She had thought herself alone in the church, but Sorano stood at the altar, staring up at the stained glass windows, all angels and sunlight crudely pasted over the harshness of death.
Silent Sorano had been throughout the service, stoic, unfeeling, exactly what the crowd wanted to see from the criminal they had been forced to allow in their church for one day of amnesty. Only alone was she allowed to cry.
Lucy took a step towards her, and stopped. What could she say that wouldn't make things worse? She was the one responsible for this. She was the reason why they weren't celebrating Acnologia's defeat – why Sting hadn't been able to name a single concrete achievement that Yukino's sacrifice had wrought.
Someone brushed past her: Jellal, striding down the aisle. He wrapped Sorano in his arms as she laid her head against his chest, pride forgotten, and wept freely.
Over her trembling head, Jellal's gaze met Lucy's. His expression was indecipherable. Not accusatory, not friendly, not forgiving – just unreadable.
She thought that was worse.
Lucy bowed her head, turned on her heel, and slunk out of the church.
"Lucy."
The word jolted Lucy out of her reverie. So much for her to attempt to avoid any more members of Sabertooth until the end of the day. Loitering at the back for the burial and then taking the most convoluted route possible to the pub where they were holding the wake hadn't worked when the streets seemed full of people she knew. She had thought this back alley was empty, but there he was, one of the people she most didn't want to see.
She forced a smile anyway. "Rogue."
He stepped out of a patch of shadows he must have generated himself, for the sky was too lacklustre for any to have formed naturally. There was a well-worn backpack slung over his shoulder. It was an odd accessory to take to a wake, Lucy thought, but even as she wondered, he unzipped a small pouch at the front and reached inside.
"Sting and I have been talking, and we both think that you should have these," he said.
Even before the Dragon Slayer uncurled his fist, she knew what she would see: two gold, one black, and two silver keys. "No," she said automatically. "I can't."
Patiently, as if he had been expecting this reaction, Rogue said, "It's what she would have wanted, Lucy."
"But Sorano-"
"Also thinks that you are the best person to have them," he overrode her. "Although, she did make us promise not to tell you she said that, so please don't repeat it."
Lucy did not smile. "I killed her, Rogue."
"Don't be silly." He pressed the keys into her palm. "If her Spirits refuse to form a contract with you, then by all means, come back and throw them in my face. But we both know that they won't want to be with anyone except you right now."
He made to leave, and then stopped, glancing back at her hesitantly. "Lucy, if you're looking for somewhere private, I would recommend the guildhall. Everyone's at the wake, so it's empty right now."
"Thanks," Lucy muttered, guessing exactly where he had appeared from. Eyeing his backpack, she wondered, "Will you… will you be joining me? Or are you going somewhere?"
Rogue shook his head. "I've got work to do. The jobs haven't stopped coming in just because we're in mourning. I owe that to my guild."
"Right," she said, and found that swallowing did nothing to the emptiness inside her. "Well… thanks."
Sure enough, Sabertooth's guildhall was empty. Last time Lucy had been here, it had been alive with the guild's unruly antics; the time before, the Tora Tora Tora Eating Contest had been in full swing, a competition whose aim seemed to be to encourage everyone involved to enjoy life to the fullest.
It was hard to believe that these silent halls and tucked-in chairs were part of the same building. Some infernal spectre had lifted it from the city of Jasmine and dragged it into the same empty world she was inhabiting.
She perched on the edge of a table and threaded Yukino's keyring onto her own. All the Zodiac keys in existence were now hers – apart from the Key of the Lion, which had shattered.
Eleven gold keys. An incomplete set.
Not once since Anna's death has any Celestial Spirit mage held all twelve Zodiac keys, Zeref had told her, and now she was seeing with her own eyes the consequences of a magic that was embedded in the fabric of reality; how fate would always conspire to make it so.
Her fingers drifted over Yukino's keys, but her heart constricted in fear, and she summoned Virgo instead. "Princess," Virgo greeted her demurely. There was none of the sarcasm Lucy was used to – only a horribly knowing look in her eye.
"How is Loke, Virgo?"
"Oh, you know. He'll be fine once his key regenerates, in a few months…" She gave a shrug, which wouldn't have been effective even if she had been meeting her owner's eyes.
"Virgo."
The Celestial Spirit sighed. "He's in pieces," she admitted. "We're doing what we can for him, Aquarius especially, but…"
Lucy's shoulders sagged. "Please, tell him I'm sorry. It wasn't his fault in any way, and for what it's worth, I don't blame him one bit."
"I will. Though, you would be wise to take your own advice, Princess."
Lucy glanced at the floor and said nothing.
After a moment, Virgo spoke again. "Don't neglect Libra and Pisces. They care about you, and they need to know that you feel the same."
"I do. I'll summon them, it's just… it's a bit much, right now."
"I understand. Don't forget, we know…" Pain briefly twisted Virgo's face as the oath she had taken long ago stabbed its warning into her. "We know your friend very well."
"Not my friend any more," Lucy told her quietly.
It looked as though Virgo was going to say something else, but she just nodded and vanished.
Lucy returned to running her finger over the indentations of Libra's key. She knew she should summon them, it was basic etiquette for a Celestial Spirit mage, but knowing that she was responsible for their former owner's death…
The door to the guildhall suddenly swung open. A familiar blond Dragon Slayer ducked inside, but he disappeared into the cloakroom too quickly for Lucy to say anything. She didn't think he'd seen her. It was only when he re-emerged, a rucksack held loosely in one hand, that he realized with a sharp intake of breath that his guildhall wasn't as empty as he'd hoped.
"Sorry, I didn't think there'd be anyone-" Sting started, at the same time as Lucy said, "Rogue said there wouldn't be anyone-" They both stopped and glanced aside with shared embarrassment upon realizing they had caught each other committing the same crime.
"I'll go," Lucy offered quickly.
"No, it's okay. Stay."
The impulsive offer was clearly born from guilt rather than any real desire to speak to her, as they shifted for a moment in the silence, not meeting each other's eyes.
"So, uh… Rogue gave you the keys?"
"Yes. Thank you. I'll see if they want to form contracts with me."
Silence.
She offered, "It was beautiful, what you said in the church. About Yukino, I mean. She truly was a hero."
A terse nod. "Thanks for coming." Words he must have said countless times already today. Still, his next words made her wish he'd stuck to platitudes, as he looked her in the eye and demanded with a distaste that Natsu would have struggled to match, "Have you seen him since? Zeref, I mean."
Lucy bit her lip. It was as good a way as any of keeping her feelings suppressed, feelings she had been trying so hard not to acknowledge over the past three days. "No," she answered truthfully. "And after what I said to him… he won't come back."
"Good."
The word thudded uncomfortably into the pit of her stomach. "I really hurt him," she blurted out. "I blamed him; I told him it was all his fault-"
"It was his fault!" Sting exclaimed savagely.
"It wasn't! I should have talked to Loke beforehand, I should have been open with Yukino, I should have consulted with Zeref and the rest of you rather than taking matters into my own hands! Hell, I shouldn't have convinced him it was a good idea to take the fight to Acnologia in the first place-"
"Oh, I see what this is," Sting interrupted. "You feel some stupid, misplaced guilt over pushing him away, so you've decided to take responsibility for everything he did as a way of punishing yourself."
"No, that's not it! If not for me-"
"We all chose to take part in that fight, Lucy! No one forced us, not even him! Don't act like you're the only person in the world who has the ability to make their own decisions!"
Zeref had said the same thing to her before, hadn't he? It was unsurprising, then, that hearing it now only made her more upset. "Yes, and if Yukino had been ripped apart by Acnologia, we'd be raising a glass in celebration of her memory right now! But that's not what happened! It was entirely because of me that her death was so pointless-"
Sting seized the collar of her blouse and almost wrenched her off her feet. "It wasn't pointless!" he screamed, his eyes flecked with tears. "As long as we keep fighting, as long as we don't give up until he's defeated, it wasn't pointless! But instead, what are we doing? Running from our enemies! Hiding from our friends! And you, Lucy, who got to live when she didn't – you're abusing the sympathy of others and wallowing in a blanket of guilt in order to avoid facing up to what happened!"
"I'm not, I'm-"
"Three days you've been in Jasmine, and it's not for our company, given how desperately you've been trying to avoid my guild! You're better than this, Lucy!"
"I… I don't think I am," she whispered, broken. "I lost Yukino… and I lost him, too. I just don't know what to do."
Grimacing, Sting pulled her into a hug. His eyes were closed tight against the tears. Her defences were a lot less effective, and she broke down as he awkwardly patted her on the back.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so, so sorry… Even you and Rogue are going out on big missions for Sabertooth again already, and I'm just…"
"Rogue is?" Sting glanced at the pack in his own hand, and frowned. "Yeah, well, I guess we've got to focus on what we still have. You should do the same, Lucy. Fairy Tail is waiting for you. They're waiting for the woman Yukino believed in to show them the way forward."
"I… I know."
"You've been through a lot, Lucy. It's about time you went home."
On the same day, and at the same time, allowing for the six-hour difference in time zones, they held a state funeral for Ajeel.
Crowds filled the streets of Vistarion as the military procession wound its way through the city. The buildings quailed before the thunder of a thousand marching boots. Drums and horns and trumpet-fanfares rose as the parade approached the palace and then faded, surrendering to a choir who sang of eternal glory in wistful voices. Trails of smoke from the saluting cannons sought freedom in the vivid blue sky.
It was glorious and loud, and yet, for those who were there not for the spectacle, but because they had loved him, no trained choir or military tradition could dispel the same overcast feeling that had smothered a small church in the city of Jasmine.
And when the gates closed on a private ceremony in the palace grounds, the procession dispersing and the band having fulfilled a very well-paying assignment, all pretence that this was in any way different disappeared.
Brandish stood by August's side, gripping his hand tightly, letting her grief spill down her cheeks and soak into the shoulder of his robes where she buried her head. On her other side, Yajeel leaned heavily on his cane as he watched them lay his grandson to rest alongside his son, the blunt reality of having outlived both of them eroding him where he stood. All those who had lain exhausted on the airship as Ajeel had bought them time to escape clustered round, and their tears fell louder than cannon-fire in that quiet place.
Only Dimaria stood alone.
She had eschewed the black of tradition in favour of her golden armour, which was her privilege as a knight, but her eyes were so guarded she hardly needed it. She refused to speak when invited to; she sneered at the saccharine words spoken by others. The proceedings seemed of little interest to her. The only thing capable of holding her attention was the empty spot on the front row, reserved for an emperor who, as always, was absent.
Invel was in the middle of saying something uncharacteristically kind when Dimaria's patience snapped. She turned on her heel and pushed her way out of the congregation, heedless to the alarm and annoyance left in her wake.
Brandish stepped into her path. "Don't, Mari."
The tip of Dimaria's blade appeared at her throat. The hand which held it was steady, the eyes which guided it were hollow. Re-forging the blade Acnologia had broken was all Dimaria had done while the others had been organizing the funeral, and no one, in that moment, would have been surprised if this was the purpose she had had in mind for it.
"Don't you dare try to stop me," she spat, and when she stepped around her and strode off, Brandish watched sadly and did not follow.
Dimaria did not stop until she reached the palace, and even that was only to kick down the door before she marched inside, naked blade still in hand. Even as she crossed into the residential wing – supposedly off-limits without express invitation – no one tried to stop her. The only thing which dared to get in her way was a forty-layered resonant seal protecting the door she was headed for, as perfect as she had ever seen one cast.
She wouldn't be able to break that in a million years.
However, she could break it given no time at all.
The corridor was already still, empty. The only indication that time had ceased to flow was the silence of the resonant seal where there should have been a low hum, its layers frozen, the overlapping resonance which gave the ward unrivalled strength stripped from it. She slid her blade between the layers and prised them apart. With the sound of shattering glass, time resumed, minus one resonant seal.
Dimaria kicked this door open too and strode inside.
The imperial chambers wore darkness like a shroud: lacrima-lamps off, candles unlit, windows covered by drapes so thick that not even the smallest chink of daylight was permitted to enter. How hypocritical, that one who didn't think the funerals of others were worth turning up for would adopt that same imagery for his immortal self.
It was with a sneer that she slashed through the velvet as she marched forward, letting a blade of sunlight pierce the darkness.
Curled up in the centre of a four-poster bed almost comically too large for him, a small figure twitched.
And a voice hissed: "Get out."
Dimaria's laugh was every bit as terrifying. "What the hell do you think gives you the right to hide away in here?"
"Do not push me, Dimaria. I will kill you."
"Oh, you'll do it yourself, will you?" she challenged. "I was starting to think your style was more leading others into danger and leaving them to die for you."
The room shuddered with more anger than a bedroom knew how to express.
Dimaria's sword lashed out, shattering an ornamental lamp into pieces. "You saved me!" She spat the word like it was a cardinal sin. "You jumped into Acnologia's mouth to pull me out! Why didn't you do the same for him? Why did you let him die?"
The silence tasted bitter on her tongue, like an easy way out. Another slash took the legs out from under an antique table. The next, she thought, would sever the columns of that tasteless bed, and the blankets, and the pillows, until he had nowhere left to hide.
"You abandoned us," she snarled. "The plan fell apart and we were going to lose, so you fled."
This time, he did bite back. "That's not what happened."
Her laugh bordered on hysterical. "Oh, no, Brandish told us what happened! Apparently, when you said that everyone had to be prepared to make sacrifices for victory, what you really meant was everyone but you. Even Lucy was willing to do what had to be done, but even though the world and all our lives depended on it, you just couldn't let go!"
"You wouldn't understand!"
"No, what I don't understand is how you think it's acceptable to mope like you're the only one who lost anything!" she screamed back. "Your bloody girlfriend is still alive! You've still got a chance with her! But Ajeel is dead! I've got no chance, now! So how dare you act as though you've got it worse than any of us?"
"You have no concept," he hissed, like he was trying to murder her with words alone, "of what I gave up for this, what I sacrificed-"
"I don't care! It cannot, by definition, be more than what Ajeel gave up for all of us, but you can't even be bothered to show up for his funeral! You don't care about anyone but yourself. Has it occurred to you that maybe that's why Lucy pushed you away-"
She caught a glimpse of his eyes as he reared up, and they burned, a fiery flood of hate. His hand moved in a familiar motion-
Time stopped again, and her impending death stopped with it.
Her lips curled into a contemptuous smile. The room wasn't fully still; in the world which should have been outside time, she could see his body shaking, straining against the moment she'd stretched infinitesimally thin. Given enough time, he would probably have broken into her domain.
If only he could have applied that mental focus to the battle which actually mattered.
Too late, now. She was done with this. With him. With all of it.
Turning, she took her sword and slashed the letters 'I QUIT' into the velvet curtain, and then strode back out into the corridor.
She made sure to smash the door fully off its hinges as she passed, just to make it easier for the next person.
Fairy Tail.
The most famous – or was that infamous? – guild in Fiore.
The guild known for never being out of trouble. The guild with a reputation for causing destruction wherever it went, demolishing homes, businesses, and dark guilds in just the right proportion to keep them on the right side of the law. The guild which had risen to prominence with an astonishing victory in last year's Grand Magic Games, only to drop off the face of the earth two months later.
The guild which, against all expectations, was once again rising.
Lucy stood in the centre of Magnolia, staring down the street that led to the Fairy Tail guildhall, and wondered why she was feeling nervous.
The city had… changed.
Of course it had. She'd been living in Crocus for most of the last year. Nothing stayed the same for that long, not even her own memories. Besides, the last time she'd seen it, Magnolia had still been reeling from the damage done during the battle against Tartaros. Why would they rebuild the city exactly the same as before, when they could take this chance to change it, improve it, produce something better than before?
The familiar-unfamiliar streets spun away before her, and Lucy wondered if the same would be true for Fairy Tail.
She had often thought so, in the brightest moments of her quest to reunite the guild, but since Yukino's death, nothing had seemed bright at all.
"Lucy!"
That voice sparked memories of two unlikely companions riding a speedboat across a frozen ocean. Lucy closed her eyes and pushed the thought away, so that she was smiling by the time Cana slung an arm around her shoulders.
"You finally made it back!" Cana crowed. "Come on, come on! We've all been waiting for you!"
Lucy barely got a glimpse of the scaffolding clinging to the guildhall or the piles of construction material still congealing around its base before Cana dragged aside the plastic sheet hanging in place of a door and pulled her inside. "Hey, you lazy lot!" Cana shouted. "It's celebration time! Break out the booze!"
The assembled mages continued eating their lunches without looking up. They probably heard those words from Cana a lot.
"No, we really do have something to celebrate this time," Cana sighed. "Lucy's back!"
The sudden rush of interest around the room was enough to make Lucy take a step back. All of a sudden, a hundred people were looking at her. Some she'd met in person on her journey, some she'd written to about the guild's reunion, some must have heard through word-of-mouth – but however they'd found out, it seemed that all of them knew she was the reason why they were back together.
Someone at the back gave a whoop.
Next thing she knew, the whole guildhall was chanting her name. There was cheering, there was applause, Cana had magically obtained two glasses of champagne and was waving one under Lucy's nose; the hall reverberated from wall to unfinished wall with excitement.
"Drink up, Lucy!" Cana encouraged, like the bad influence she was. "All your drinks are going to be on the house for years after what you've achieved- Lucy?"
But Lucy had burst into tears.
"Too much?" Cana guessed. "Sorry. We've all been looking forward to seeing you. Or are you just that relieved to be home?"
Lucy shook her head, knowing that she wouldn't have answered even if she were capable of speech.
Happy clung to her, shedding tears of relief, for Gray had refused to come back to the guild with him, and he had arrived to find that neither Carla nor Pantherlily nor any of his usual partners were here.
Mira was the one who finally concluded that no more construction work was going to get done that afternoon and ordered them to break open a fresh keg of ale, having temporarily taken charge, for no one had seen or heard from Master Makarov since he had disbanded the guild.
Laxus raised a hand in acknowledgement from the other side of the room, and maybe he wasn't crowding her along with everyone else because that wasn't really his style, but maybe it was because getting up wasn't so insignificant a hurdle for him these days.
Juvia hugged her warmly, but in her tight embrace, Lucy could acutely feel Gray's absence.
In Levy's distracted smile, Lucy could sense her worry for Gajeel, who hadn't been seen for days and was probably still in Acnologia's claws.
When Erza thumped her on the back in what was probably supposed to be a friendly greeting, all Lucy could think about was the expression on Jellal's face as he had comforted Sorano at the funeral.
What they had rebuilt of the guildhall only emphasized the work they still had left to do.
There were people missing.
There was no Gray, no Gajeel, no Wendy, no Master Makarov.
No Natsu running out to meet her, laughing, grinning, their next impossibly dangerous mission in hand, ready to drag her along whether she wanted it or not (though she never put up much of a fight).
She was back.
But it didn't feel like home.
The chamber had been silent before Zeref walked into it, but now it began to contort under its own weight, as eight people who had been quite happy avoiding each other's eyes had no choice but to look at their emperor. He moved without haste. Every footstep shook the earth.
There were thirteen seats at the table, one for Emperor Spriggan and twelve for his advisors. Four were empty: Irene's, God Serena's, Dimaria's, Ajeel's. Zeref did not deign to look at them as he kicked aside his own chair and stood, his hands flat upon the table.
"Dimaria has left the Twelve," said he. "You are to kill her on sight."
No one spoke.
"Nothing has changed," he continued. "We owe Fiore nothing, and what they owe us, it is time for us to take by force." His gaze flicked to Invel. "As some of you are aware, Fairy Tail is in possession of a source of unlimited magic called Fairy Heart. If we had possessed it, we would not have lost to Acnologia, but they will not yield it to us. We will destroy their guild, seize Fairy Heart, and annihilate anyone who stands in our way."
There was a pause, and then Invel said, "Understood, Your Majesty."
August bowed his head without a word.
Brandish gave a slight shrug, as if it was all the same to her.
No one cheered. The one who had always been most enthusiastic about challenging Fiore was already dead.
"Then go," Zeref said. "And leave nothing in your wake."
"We need to talk," August stated.
Zeref's eyes narrowed. All he wanted was to return to the privacy of his rooms, and yet this man had the audacity to step into his path in the corridors of his own palace. "I have nothing to say to you."
He made to push past him, only for August to seize his shoulder. "Please don't run away, Your Majesty."
It was phrased like a request, but beneath those polite words, rebellion smouldered. A month ago, August wouldn't have dared. Disagreed with his emperor, yes; acted on it, no; physically tried to restrain him in the one moment between strategy meetings and military inspections when he had slipped up and let himself be cornered alone, absolutely not. Did no one know their place any more?
"Don't touch me." Zeref slapped his hand aside and stepped around him. "I have urgent matters to attend to-"
"You were dying!" August burst out.
Zeref froze.
"You were dying," he repeated, steadily, fiercely. "Your body wasn't recovering from the wound Acnologia gave you. You would have died if I hadn't healed you-"
"And why did you?" Zeref exploded, rounding on him in a startling loss of control. "Why couldn't you just have let me die?"
This outburst did not perturb August in the slightest. "I told you, I will play no part in your wish to die."
His coolness pierced right through Zeref's anger, and it carried with it the truth that didn't have to be spoken out loud: he could not have healed Zeref had Zeref not helped him do it. The only person Zeref had to blame for his survival was himself.
That was the only reason why August was still alive, and they both knew it.
Instead, Zeref growled, "If you want no part in my death then why do you persist with this interrogation?"
"I am concerned," came the even response. "About you and Alvarez. If we are to go to war with your immortality failing-"
A bark of incredulous laughter slipped through Zeref's lips. He flicked his wrist and a blade of black energy appeared in his hand. Before August could react, he had buried it deep in his own chest.
August jumped forward with a startled cry – maybe to try and dispel the magic, maybe to force his own power back into the shape of Sky Magic – but the wound had already healed before August could touch it.
"Satisfied?" Zeref spat. "Rest assured that if my immortality was failing, I would not have stuck around to have this pointless conversation with you."
August shook his head, insistent. "But if Acnologia has found a way to circumvent it – if it's linked to Dragon Slayer magic in some way – it could pose a threat-"
"Acnologia did nothing," Zeref snapped. "It has always been that easy for me to die, and that difficult. I just didn't realize it until Natsu almost killed me in Malva."
"I don't understand."
"Nor should you; it is none of your business. Needless to say, it will never happen again, and since it stands no chance of impacting the invasion, you have no right to any answers."
After a brief internal struggle, August bowed his head with evident pain.
Satisfied that logic had won him a victory raw emotions would have lost, Zeref turned away, but it seemed August was neither satisfied nor willing to accept defeat: "That may be so, Your Majesty, but we are not done here."
"What else could we possibly have to talk about?" he snarled, making it very clear that 'nothing' was the only acceptable answer.
"How about Ajeel? Or Dimaria?" August challenged, and Zeref stilled once more. "Or Lucy Heartfilia?"
"You have more of my patience than most, August, but one more word on that matter will be the end of you," Zeref warned him icily.
"Then how about the fact that Fairy Heart is no more, and your very reason for starting this war is a lie?"
Zeref froze – choked – and somehow, through the explosion of emotions, managed to force out a laugh. "And what would you know about-"
Emerald eyes blazed with rage. And despite himself, despite all that he was, in that moment, Zeref felt fear. It was the same fear he himself invoked in others, now reflected back to him from a man who had learnt from the best but never had cause to show it to him until now.
"Do you think I didn't feel it when she left this world?" August snapped. "Do you think I don't know what you did, or why-?" He closed his eyes, and whatever he did to rein in his anger must have been as effective as any of Zeref's own coping mechanisms, because when he next spoke, his voice was much calmer. "I haven't told the others. They wouldn't understand why setting her free was the right thing to do. However, since the magic you claim to want from Fairy Tail no longer exists, I wish to know the real reason behind this invasion."
"Why should I need a reason to conquer Ishgar the way I did Alakitasia?" Zeref countered. "No one has more right to rule than I. I shall expand my territory and make that land and all its magic mine."
Anyone else would have accepted it without question, Zeref was sure, but he had never been able to hide anything from this man before, and it was clear from the disappointment flitting through his emotive presence that that was not about to change.
"That's not true," August rebuffed. "You have no love of warfare, and the concept of tearing down civilization in Ishgar repulses you. You told me so yourself. Besides, if that were the real reason, you would have said so to the others – not promised them a power that doesn't exist."
He'd had to lie about Fairy Heart. He'd had to promise them a future, to give them some credible reason to think he could still defeat Acnologia after their failure, or he would have lost their devotion, their trust. If nothing else, Invel, to whom he had stupidly shown Fairy Heart, would have found it suspicious if he had not mentioned it. Instead, he faced suspicion from a different corner; from the man whose perceptiveness had always been more dangerous than his magic.
"What does it matter?" Zeref tried to deflect, although he knew even as he said it that it should have been his first response for it to carry any credibility. A month ago, a threat would have worked, but August had been overstepping their tried and tested boundaries with increasing shamelessness ever since. "My reasons are no concern of yours. You will fight for me either way."
August glanced away. "When we spoke in the garden of stone, you told me you would not make me fight if I did not want to."
"Needless to say, that offer is now rescinded," Zeref snapped.
"I would no more accept it today than I did back then," August reproached him. "However, you told me I didn't have to fight because you wanted to be told that you didn't have to fight. If you were willing to change your mind about war when you still had a legitimate reason to fight Fairy Tail, why are you suddenly so determined to fight now that you have no reason at all?"
"Because I don't change!" Zeref howled. "Every time I think I've changed, it's just the curse's contradiction deceiving me!"
"That's not true," August objected, but Zeref shook his head fiercely.
"I really thought this time would be different. I really thought I could be happy, that I could become a better man and live a proper life. Sanctuary and hope and love after so many years of emptiness – I thought those feelings were real! I thought I finally understood my emotions and had mastered my curse… but that was just what it wanted me to think."
A vicious breath shuddered through him, and he continued, "No matter what I do, it always ends the same way. Those who love me die. If they don't die, then they are driven away. And if they aren't driven away, then they leave of their own accord once they have seen what being with me means! Every single time, love lets me down… I knew that, but I still couldn't stop myself from believing in it! That is what the Curse of Contradiction does to me: it forces me to make the same mistakes again and again, and it never, ever hurts any less!"
"Please, don't say that," August whispered. Shock and grief had drained the anger from his presence, and without that, his words had far less clout.
Coldly, Zeref continued, "But I believed anyway. And I was so wrapped up in that blissful illusion that I forgot the only thing that works against the Curse of Contradiction. I ignored the objective evidence of the past four hundred years and trusted those fleeting feelings the curse gave me. I turned my back on the undeniable truth of my own identity. I sabotaged plans which were centuries in the making. I lost everything, August! Everything! The only chance of escaping this life I had found in four centuries of searching, destroyed by my own hand in a moment of weakness!"
August glanced away, unable to bear it any longer; the stones and earth vibrated with such sorrow it was as if the heavens had died.
"You ask why I will attack Fairy Tail," Zeref resumed. "The answer is that attacking Fairy Tail is what I do. It's what I have spent years, decades, working towards. I forged an army out of Alakitasia long before I knew about Fairy Heart. I always intended to oppose Mavis and her guild, hence the title I chose for myself all those years ago. I am going to attack Fairy Tail with my army as I was always supposed to do, because that is how I will know for certain that I am acting as myself, and not as some ephemeral, contradictory, curse-driven emotion wants me to act!"
August was silent for a long moment, and then he asked, "Have you considered that maybe that's why you don't change?"
"What?"
"If you base all your decisions on how you've acted in the past, then of course you will never change. If you let the expectations of other people determine who you are, then of course you will never be free!"
"Don't twist my words," Zeref snapped. "You have no idea what it is like to live with the Curse of Contradiction."
"Maybe there is no contradiction that you cannot overcome," August countered. "Maybe it is only your fear of the consequences and the disappointment of your own thoughts, subconsciously given form by magic."
Like an icy blade, Zeref recalled the night in Avatar's dungeons when he had forced Lucy to kill him in order to escape – and it seemed her desperation and her magic had combined to have an unintentional effect on her mind. But he had thought it surely couldn't be possible for mental magic to respond to subconscious will in such a way, because if it was, living would be almost impossible for someone so afflicted-
And August said, with great finality, "Maybe you don't change because you are too afraid to even attempt it without someone there to hold your hand."
"How dare you?" His voice was thunder and his words the river of the damned; his pain was the breath of the night, and it embraced him possessively. There were claws in that black wind, glimpses of things which should have stayed beyond this world, and they sank into his skin like they were coming home. "You have no right to lecture me on things you do not understand. You are nothing but a servant and a fool!"
"Maybe so." Undeterred by his armour of death magic, August stepped forward. "But, fool that I am, I loved the man you were letting yourself become. I loved the way he smiled. I loved the way he was able to ask for help when he needed it. And I am not the only one who felt that way."
August reached out his hand, and through his frantic anger, Zeref felt a twinge of fear. Did August not know his own magic wouldn't protect him from the death magic of the curse? Or did he truly believe that Zeref wouldn't hurt him? Did he think that this was a bluff?
Of course he did. August believed the best in everyone.
Even him.
With a ferocious effort, Zeref wrenched his magic back inside just as August's fingers touched his cheek. It was so light, so timid, so innocent. It was love of the purest kind. It did not seek to be requited; its purpose was in simply being.
"You don't want to do this, do you?" August asked gently. "You don't have to attack Fairy Tail. You can choose to be better. You can choose to change."
Against his better judgement, Zeref met his gaze, knowing full well he would be swallowed by those eyes. As the years had passed, that dazzling emerald that had reminded him so much of Mavis had darkened slightly, taking on a richness all its own. Yet despite that evidence of experience and sorrow – and, yes, wisdom too – they still shone with that devotion Zeref had done nothing to earn.
All these years, he had been so loved.
In that feather-light touch upon his cheek, he felt undeserved comfort. The longing for human closeness overwhelmed him – to rely on another, fingers interlocked, hearts touching, the precious gift of companionship in all its forms. He had felt the same fundamental need when August had healed him upon the ice, had held him, had made it seem like it was okay to cry and to need someone else and, every once in a while, to be weak…
But for that moment of weakness, he would have found eternal peace in death.
But for an impulsive act born of the fallacy that a moment of comfort could conquer all ills, Fairy Heart would still exist.
But for the fact that he had allowed himself to fall in love, his future would not look so dire.
"You're wrong," Zeref said.
He slapped August's hand away. As the other's hopeful expression became one of concern, Zeref stepped back once, twice, three times, then raised his hand and let a wave of darkness sweep forth. Amidst the hungry night, he spread his arms, overtaken by the sudden need to laugh.
"Look!" he commanded, spinning around at the heart of the fountain of death. "This is not a contradiction. This is not a choice. This is not a lack of courage or a refusal to love. This is the objective truth of my being – the proof that I can never be the man you want me to be!"
"You can be so much more than what it makes you, if you try," August argued, fiercely, pointlessly.
"But there's one other thing you're forgetting," Zeref hissed, ever so dangerous. "It didn't hurt when I didn't try. I would rather feel nothing at all than endure this pain for one day more – and I will kill every man, woman and child in Fiore for the slightest chance that it will take this pain away."
"This will not help you-" August tried to tell him.
But Zeref was done with listening. Striding forwards, he seized the front of the other's robes with supernatural strength and dragged him forward. "Kneel," he snarled.
Momentary rebellion rippled through August's presence. Death magic hovered at the boundary of existence, waiting eagerly for the excuse to strike, to rid itself of this nuisance.
Then the old man sank heavily to one knee, his head bowed, those accusing emerald eyes hidden, all defences down and completely vulnerable as he waited to learn of his fate.
Just how it should be.
"You told me once that you would stand by me either way, whether I chose war or not," Zeref stated. "Will you honour that now, and pledge your life to me? Or must I take it from you by force?"
"You already have my life, Your Majesty," August whispered. "I will accompany you even into hell."
"Then act like it, and prepare for war with the others," he spat. "Do not bother me with your petty doubts again."
"As you wish, Your Majesty."