The Scars That Make You Whole
By CrimsonStarbird
There Are No Stars Tonight, Final Part
-And You Will Scream Repentance-
"So?" Zeref sneered up at Acnologia.
There were lifetimes of anguish within that single word. There was a heart struggling under the weight of more affection than any human being could bear. There were a thousand nightmares dripping with fiery fear. There was the disdain of an emperor, the derision of a deity.
A month of mistakes.
Four centuries of pushing it all away.
When it came right down to it, there was no competition.
He did not so much as glance at the celestial keys lying in the mud.
Acnologia smiled anyway. "You're going to do something for me, Black Mage."
"Oh, am I?"
His voice was light.
He still did not look at Lucy's keys.
"Yes, you are. After all, if you don't, your Celestial Spirit mage will die."
"That sounds like an excellent incentive for me not to help you," Zeref said idly. "You'll be saving me a job."
Acnologia's lip curled, revealing fangs tainted pink by too much blood to ever be cleaned. "So, you want her to die, do you? To suffer and writhe and finally expire in my claws, knowing that you could have saved her, and that you chose not to?"
After a moment, Zeref bent down and hooked the ring of keys around his little finger. Heat shot through his hand: shooting stars across the heavens; a desperate cry for help.
Coolly, he tossed them back to Acnologia. "That's the point of the war, after all," Zeref reminded him, as he snatched the keys out of the air with one clawed hand. "To destroy her, along with everything else."
"You call this a war?" Acnologia laughed. "This game, of dance and delay?" He swept his hand around the magnificent wreckage of the valley. "But for my intervention, one would barely even notice there was a war going on. Where is the destruction? Where is the sea of bodies left in your wake?"
It was Zeref's turn to laugh. "You pathetic creature, you mindless beast. You know nothing of ambition or of victory. I pity you. There will be no place for you in the world once it belongs to me."
"If only rhetoric could bring you victory," smirked Acnologia. "But you know this isn't enough, don't you? You know how to obliterate countries. Just look at Carligne. You erased not only the kingdom itself from existence, but its descendants, its culture, its very memory. It was beautiful. And now you stage your so-called war against a façade of strategy and delegation, all to hide the fact that you are lost, that you are indecisive, that you are weak. You are not the man you used to be, Black Mage."
He tossed the keys to himself again, that flash of gold the only sign of life on this battlefield of corpses. It caught Zeref's eye, and held it a moment longer.
Acnologia's words shouldn't have felt like a compliment.
Zeref said, "I am who I have always been."
"If that were true," Acnologia remarked, "you would be competing with me to see which of us is truly deserving of the name Apocalypse. No matter how hard you try to pretend, the great Black Mage is gone. The only one who has successfully defied me in over four centuries, the only one I could not kill, the only human being I ever respected, the only person beside myself capable of tearing this world apart… him, I would not be able to threaten like this."
The keys spun around his finger, rising to the very tip. It was captivating, how close they came to flying off, yet never quite reaching freedom.
"But you will do exactly as I say," Acnologia continued. "Because if you don't, the woman you love will die."
Four hundred years of experience were telling Zeref to walk away.
Four hundred years of mistakes. Four hundred years of incredible grief and incomprehensible pain and an inability to learn, to do things differently next time, to avoid this suffering.
He knew what he had to do to finally make it stop. He had made his decision. He knew who he wanted to be.
And still he found himself saying, "What is it that you want from me?"
With a satisfied smirk, Acnologia closed his fist around the keyring, shutting it down mid-spin. "I hear that you're the reason the little Dragon Slayers won't ever turn into dragons."
"Yes. I created the ritual that bound the souls of their parents inside them, and the dragons themselves stabilized it over time. Why?"
And then, as he regarded the not-man in front of him, the one who had waited four hundred years to murder five dragons only to find them already dead, the obsessive hunter whose obsession had finally been fulfilled… then, Zeref understood. "You want me to do the same to you, don't you? The age of dragons is over. You want to be human again. You want to move on."
Acnologia threw back his head and laughed.
"Look at you," he marvelled. "How quaint. How domestic. How sympathetic you have become, Black Mage, assuming that everyone wants to be saved." He laughed again. It mocked the living; it desecrated the dead. "No. You are going to reverse what you did to the Dragon Slayers. You are going to make them like me."
At first, Zeref's lips moved soundlessly. The word that came out was perhaps not the first that had come to mind: "Why?"
A horrid grin stretched across Acnologia's face. "So that I can go hunting!"
"What?"
"The age of dragons is over, you say? Nothing could be further from the truth! While Dragon Slayer magic exists, dragons will never be extinct! All you have to do is reverse your ritual, and there they will be, six more dragons for me to hunt! And when I've slaughtered them, I will find new humans – I will teach them Dragon Slayer magic, I will raise them like cattle, and when they turn, I will get to hunt once more! I will feast for all eternity on the flesh of dragons!"
He swept his single arm around the valley filled with death, the world too small to contain his hunger. "But I have already waited long enough. I want to eat, and I want to eat now. You will undo your spell and let the Dragon Slayers turn."
"No," Zeref said.
"No?" the dragon echoed mockingly. "You'd start a war, you'd fight against them, you'd stand there and assure me that you intend to destroy them all – and yet you won't undo one little spell and let me help you, by slaying some of your most powerful opponents?"
"No."
He couldn't.
Because in four hundred years of mistakes, the Dragon Slayers were the one thing he'd got right.
His hand touched the locket at his throat.
He'd lost so much of himself already.
He couldn't.
The dragon-man's claw slowly uncurled, revealing the golden keys sitting on his palm. They pulsed with light, the firmament's heartbeat, once, twice, and then he clenched his fist and snuffed it out.
"That's a shame," he shrugged. "It looks as though poor little Lucy Heartfilia is going to die for nothing."
There was a sudden contortion of space and scales. The wild man was gone, and the dragon was back. He rose, wings unfurling, the mighty sun-eater standing tall. The glint of golden metal seemed so small beneath his claw.
"Wait!" Zeref shouted.
At first, he thought the dragon was going to ignore him, but there was something close to satisfaction in how he lowered his head and eyed Zeref closely.
He wet his lips. "Let her go."
"Why should I?" Acnologia laughed. As a man, the sound was horrible; as a dragon, it twisted the sky and rolled his nerves between iron fingers. "I am so disappointed in you, Black Mage. For all your bluster, and all your so-called war, you are exactly as weak to your heart as I was led to believe. How does it feel to know that your Lucy is going to die because you chose those creatures over her?"
As the dragon prepared to fly off once more, Zeref's eyes flashed red. "Fine. I'll do it."
"Oh?"
"But it will take time. I must win the war first. Then, once I'm occupying Fiore, I'll have the freedom and the resources to compile a ritual for you-"
"Hmm… no, I don't think so," Acnologia purred, his eyes glittering darkly. "You've got until sunrise."
Scornfully, Zeref shook his head. "Have you any idea how long it takes to create magic like this? It took me years to assemble the Dragon Slayer ritual, and undoing it will be no mean feat. If you want your dragons, you will have to be patient."
"If you want your girl back alive, you will have to be swift," Acnologia countered. "At sunrise, you give me dragons, or Lucy Heartfilia dies."
A thunderous beat of his wings scattered dust and blood and corpses across the valley. He rose above them all, death on black wings, gleeful destruction.
Then he was gone, and the countdown had begun.
It wasn't Acnologia's arrival that put an end to the battle within the command ship.
In fact, between dodging attacks, shielding the airship from the worst of the collateral damage, and just generally trying not to die, Invel had been too busy fighting Gildarts to notice the disaster that had struck the allied and enemy armies alike.
He certainly did notice the arrival of a different uncouth beast, though.
Namely because she had no qualms about jumping right in between him and his opponent.
Gildarts reined in his punch in the nick of time, and Invel diverted the blast of winter to paint the wall with ice instead, but Cana didn't seem to notice how close she'd come to death by disintegration and/or hypothermia, folding her arms and giving both of them a stern look. "Alright, boys, that's enough."
Her father's eyes lit up. "Cana!"
He dived in for a hug, which she neatly sidestepped. Gildarts found himself facing down the spikes of Invel's ice gauntlet, pressed against his heart; a pointed warning for him not to try and finish that gesture. The two of them glared at each other.
Cana sighed. "Flattering as it is to have you both fighting over me, I really am going to have to put a stop to it before either of you walks away with the mistaken opinion that you get any say in who I date."
"I respectfully disagree," Invel said, his gaze never leaving his opponent. "I absolutely do get a say in whether or not it's me, and I am exercising that right to tell you now, categorically, that it is not me and never will be."
"How dare you not fancy my daughter even after I've given you my express permission?" Gildarts hollered, and punched him in the face.
"Seriously?" Cana blinked, as Invel staggered out of the Chief-of-Staff-shaped dent in the side of the airship. "That's what you two are fighting over?"
"I'm defending your honour!" Gildarts argued.
"And I'm defending my honour!" Invel retorted. "I reserve the right to not be in love with someone I've only met twice, and who managed to make a spectacularly bad impression on both occasions!"
"Speak for yourself, mer-witch," Cana sniggered.
Invel did not smile. "Once I've dealt with your moron of a father, you're next."
With a disappointed sigh, Cana sat down in the seat which gave her the best view of the battling mages – which happened to be Emperor Spriggan's empty throne. Crossing one leg over the other, she remarked, "And to think I came all the way here to help you."
"I don't want your help."
"You need it."
Before Invel could retort, Gildarts struck again, and he was forced to focus on defending. Ice instantly froze over the cracks in his armour, but there were new ones forming every second, and maintaining his defensive spell was draining his magic at an alarming rate. Not to mention, it was taking so much concentration that he entirely missed the follow-up attack. Gildarts smashed his ice armour from the side and sent him flying once more.
This time, Invel was slower getting back to his feet. His fingers danced along his ribcage, and he couldn't help wincing.
"See?" Cana added.
"I do not need anything from an enemy of the empire," Invel swore.
"And I wouldn't mind, except this has nothing to do with the war, does it?" she sighed. "If it did, I'd be all for you losing. But there's a bigger picture here: my love life. It's not gonna end when the war does, you know? Letting my well-intentioned yet ignorant dad get away with interfering in my dating life this time sets a dangerous precedent. What if he does the same thing towards a man I actually like?"
"There's no need to worry about that," Invel pointed out. "The odds of you finding anyone who likes you back enough to care are laughable."
Cana laughed, water off a duck's back. Gildarts did not share her attitude. "Slander!" he declared. Gone was the ice holding him in place, gone in a blur of magic and motion, and he lunged at Invel once again.
"That is enough!" Cana shouted.
"Don't interfere!" Invel retorted, moving to meet Gildarts with a trail of frozen air in his wake.
"Honestly." Without looking, Cana pulled a card from her deck and tossed it into the air. A magical attack would have gone unnoticed in the clash between the two exceptionally powerful mages – but that was why, when the card disappeared in a puff of smoke, a crowd of bikini-clad women popped into existence around them.
The explosion of skin and lycra and physics-defying breasts put a stop to the battle faster than any kind of time-stop magic.
"What…?" Invel choked. Then, reacting the fastest, he snapped his fingers and the women closest to him were immediately encased in ice. Chill continued to radiate out from him, completely crushing the kind of atmosphere Cana's Sexy Lady cards would usually create.
"Just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't fall any lower," observed he. "Did you honestly think such crude tricks would stop me?"
"Did you really think that was aimed at you?" Cana sighed. "I've met you, remember?"
As if to prove her point, Gildarts turned his head to follow a particularly busty blonde, and she tapped him on the back of the head with another card. This one bore the image of a yellow cartoon sheep. Within seconds, he was asleep in a huddle at her feet, a contented smile on his face. The magical constructs poofed out of existence.
"…Oh," Invel said.
"Sorry for the trouble. Guess I'll see you round."
Cana grabbed her father by one foot and proceeded to drag him along the floor. They had almost reached the exit when Invel demanded, "Aren't you going to fight me?"
She gave him an incredulous look. "Does it look like I'm going to fight you?"
"I do hope you haven't forgotten that we are on opposite sides."
"What's new? We've not been on the same page from the moment we met, but I still like you." She gave a shrug. "Tell you what – if you make it all the way to the guildhall, I'll fight you there. But if you get stopped on the way – and let's face it, that'll happen, because Fairy Tail is going to win – then I don't see why we can't keep being friends."
It took Invel a moment to find his voice. "We can't keep being something we never were in the first place."
She just shrugged again, an easy toss of her hair. "Say what you like; I'm not going to fight someone I've shared a drink with, let alone someone who stood by my side against Acnologia. It goes against my principles, you know?"
"You're a fool to make this personal when your entire guild – your entire kingdom! – is at stake. I certainly have no qualms about destroying you and your friends."
Cana glanced bemusedly at the sleeping form of her father, and then back at Invel. "So this isn't you letting me walk away, then? This is you taking out me and the strongest mage in my guild while we're both a bit helpless?"
"I… am only repaying what I owe." Stiffly, he touched his bruised ribs again, already envisioning the purple blotches spreading underneath. He would never admit it out loud, but he wasn't too proud to realize that this confrontation would have ended very differently had Cana not arrived when she did. "Do not expect any mercy next time we meet. I am a servant of the empire, and very soon, you and your friends will be, too."
"We'll see," Cana said, and dragged her unconscious father off the airship.
Only once Cana had well and truly left did Invel sink down into a seat – not His Majesty's throne, of course, but the command cabin did have the luxury of a sofa that Gildarts had only half-destroyed. Invel perched on the end of that, his hand still pressed to his side.
For all that he had lectured Cana about not making this personal, hadn't he done the exact same thing when Gildarts had first appeared? If he hadn't objected, His Majesty would have dealt with the Fairy Tail mage in a heartbeat.
And yes, his emperor shouldn't have to be involved in the fighting – that was what the Twelve were for, after all – but they were all in agreement that Gildarts was enough of a threat that he ought to be dealt with as soon as possible by any means available.
Yet Invel had not only decided to fight Gildarts himself, but also let his incapacitated enemy get away.
Wars weren't supposed to be personal.
His Majesty knew that better than anyone. When he had first shown Invel what was hidden beneath Fairy Tail's guildhall, he had been all too aware of how difficult fighting against them would be for him, given his history with Mavis and her guild.
That was why Invel had vowed to do it for him. To him, Fiore was nothing more than lines on a map and an import/export figure in the treasury's annual budget. He had no connections to that kingdom, past or present. He could view the situation objectively.
And now even he was letting that damned Fairy Tail drunkard and her fool of a father drag his personal feelings into this.
The war wasn't about him.
He had to do better.
For his empire, for His Majesty, for his home; for his friends who were out there fighting right now; for the citizens and the soldiers who were depending on his leadership – for Alvarez, he would do better.
Determination was a shield of ice around his heart. It was with new resolve that he got back to his feet and turned to the array of screens and controls that collated information from the Alvarez units across Fiore. Tapping the screens, he zoomed in on the front lines of the western advance – and a slight crease marred his forehead.
Last time he had checked, there had been thousands of Alvarez soldiers battling their way through the valley. Now, there was barely a handful of scattered green lights – and far fewer red ones, indicating what they knew of their enemy's forces.
Turning to another screen, he brought up a visual feed. In the time he had spent fighting Gildarts, the battlefield had become a burning wasteland. The shape of the valley had changed beyond recognition; the electric clashes between the devious retreating mages and the Alvarez troops had ceased entirely. There weren't enough soldiers left on either side to carry out their tactical dance.
The way was open.
Perhaps the cost to their forces had been high, but no higher than it would have been had they fought their way through the pass by hand. In fact, relative to the size of their army, their losses were entirely insignificant – whereas their opponents could not say the same. In truth, Invel had not thought His Majesty willing or able to fight this battle with his own two hands, but if this was indeed his doing, it only reinforced how much harder he himself needed to work.
Space glitched, and His Majesty materialized in the middle of the airship. His gaze jumped from the new dents in the walls to the rubble marking the graves of his luxury furniture, and then settled on Invel. His expression was unreadable as Invel made a heartfelt bow, but his words, at least, were calm. "You won, Invel?"
"We… agreed to disagree," he admitted. "I was, however, able to keep him from doing too much damage to the ship before he left."
His Majesty nodded once. "Are you hurt?"
"Not enough to slow me down," he answered, in words of steel. "Right now, we need to take advantage of the opportunity you created, and press the advance."
"It wasn't my doing."
Invel paused. "Then who did so much damage to the enemy's defences?"
"Acnologia."
"I see." Invel grimaced. He, like everyone who had participated in the ill-fated airship battle, had hoped the Black Dragon would remain hidden for a while, licking his wounds, wariness staying his hand – or claw – until their conquest of Ishgar was complete. Their old invasion strategies had included several contingency plans in the event of Acnologia's interference, but there had not been time to update them for what they now knew wouldn't work against him. "Let us hope that this strike has sated his hunger. For now, we must take advantage of the situation he has left behind. The Fiorean defences have been decimated. We will reach Magnolia in a matter of hours."
"No," said His Majesty.
Invel, who had already been reaching for the master lacrima used to communicate with the generals in the field, paused. "No, Your Majesty?"
"We're not marching on Magnolia," his emperor confirmed.
"Why not? I was not informed our battleplans had changed."
"I'm changing them now. We're going north, to the ruins of the village of Aster."
Invel almost didn't question it. It wasn't his place. His Majesty was the strategist; Invel's expertise lay in domestic, not military, matters, and he had never claimed otherwise.
And yet, unless His Majesty had somehow come into information that Invel, at the centre of the communication hub of the entire army, had not, heading north was not in any way a suitable strategic move.
So he asked, "Why?"
"Because I say so."
A chill came over Invel. He repeated, "Why?"
His Majesty's fingers twitched, as if he was considering reaching for the master lacrima himself. "We're going to fight Acnologia."
"That's not the plan," Invel said, trying to keep his voice as level as possible despite the icy floe that had broken its banks somewhere within him; despite the tide of fear, rising. "We take Magnolia first. We seize Fairy Heart, along with any other magic our enemies have hidden away. We repair our ships and bolster our forces with the spoils of war. We devise a new strategy. Then, and only then, will we be ready to take on the Dragon of the Apocalypse. That was always the plan. I see no reason to change it now."
"We no longer have the liberty of time!"
Cautiously, Invel raised the argument which should have been as obvious to a genius strategist as it was to him. "It would not do to overreact to Acnologia's appearance, Your Majesty. He has not shown any hostility towards our troops beyond his normal disdain for mankind – in fact, intentionally or otherwise, he has done us a great favour. He has opened us a path to Magnolia. We must take it before we lose this-"
"We have to kill him! We have to do it now!"
"Why?"
"Because he's got Lucy!" he burst out. "He's going to kill her unless I do something that I just can't do! But I managed to buy us some time – we've got until sunrise – which is why we're going straight to his hideout, all of us, the Twelve, every man we've got left, and we're not going to stop until Acnologia is dead!"
Blinding panic, consuming concern, and a fear so cold it burned smashed together in Invel's heart, and then burnt out.
He knew what he had to do.
"No," he stated. "We're not."
His Majesty, who really had been reaching for the lacrima this time, paused. "I beg your pardon?"
"We're not going after Acnologia," Invel repeated. "We couldn't beat him when we had an elite team, a rigged airship, and a solid strategy. To spontaneously send our army after him now isn't merely foolish – it's tantamount to the mass murder of our people. It is also throwing away the best chance we have of taking Fiore with minimal cost. We have to press on."
"But Lucy will die!"
"Maybe," Invel said steadily. "But the lives and hopes and futures of millions of our citizens depend on the decisions we make today. Whether we achieve the power and military might needed to defeat Acnologia for good, or whether we do not; whether this time of strife and tension continues, or whether we bring the entire world under our banner – the fate of Alvarez, of the entire world, hinges upon our actions. You say we have until sunrise before Acnologia will bother us again. At the rate we're going, we can take Fiore by then. If you won't do it, Your Majesty, then I will."
Wild red madness danced in the other's eyes; his voice fell to a hiss. "You seem to have forgotten that you are not the one in charge, Invel."
"Actually," Invel said, "I am the one in charge."
"What?" It came out like a laugh, more surprised than offended, but Invel did not flinch.
"You told me that if you started acting in such a way that would harm our chances of winning this war, I was to assume control. If you will not order the advance on Magnolia, I will have no choice but to relieve you of command."
"You can't do that!"
"I not only can, I have to. I gave you my word that I would prevent exactly this situation from occurring."
His Majesty took a step back. "Obviously I didn't mean this kind of situation!"
Invel closed his eyes. "You warned me that you might say that."
"I take it back! That order is rescinded! You are to listen to me now!"
"You told me you'd say that, too."
There was a brief, stuttering silence, as His Majesty tried to outthink himself and failed.
All he could do was clutch at Invel's lapels, the voids of his eyes not deep enough to contain his tears of desperation. "Don't. Please."
"I am doing this for you, Your Majesty." Ever so gently, he removed those clutching hands from his jacket. "For Alvarez. When you are back in your right mind, you will thank me."
"I am in my right mind now!" he tried desperately. "I was not thinking straight when I gave you that stupid order!"
Silence, so reproachful, and so sad.
His Majesty screwed his eyes shut, letting his head fall. "I told you I would say that as well, didn't I? No matter what I say, you will disregard it. I didn't leave a single loophole, for you or for me."
"And you did so for a reason. Perhaps you have lost that reason now, but you will remember it again in time, I promise."
"And in the meantime, Lucy will die! Don't you even care?"
"Of course I do." It wasn't a meaningless platitude. Those words were every bit as hard to wrench out of his chest right now as those which took a hammer to his emperor's fragile hope. "But she isn't all I care about. She can't be; there is too much at stake here today. You asked me to keep my eye on the bigger picture when you lost sight of it. You told me to be the voice of reason when you were drowning in your emotions. You wanted me to be objective when you couldn't be, so that is what I will do. I will lead Alvarez to victory."
"I don't care about any of that!" His Majesty howled. "I just- I want- Lucy-"
"I know it hurts right now," Invel murmured. "But as I vowed to you long ago, if you can't be strong, I will be strong for you. You'll understand, in time. You'll remember why you needed me to do this. Why you chose this path."
"No!"
Invel found himself pushed back with a strength born of desperation, of a physical inability to understand.
The moment could have fallen either way.
Life or death.
Fighting back or walking away.
Into acceptance, or into fiery denial; His Majesty understanding that there was a why reason why he had chained himself to this road, even if he could not remember it, or lashing out against it, against himself, and tearing himself apart in the process.
The foresight of the past grappled with the emotions of the present, emotions which had proven exactly as compelling, as undeniable, as he had predicted – and Invel waited, his gaze locked with those cornered-animal eyes, to find out if his life would be the first casualty of the war between the two halves of the emperor he loved.
His Majesty gave a great cry, as though the entire universe was splitting apart, and he turned on his heel and vanished.
All the strength vanished from Invel's body. Had he not seized the back of the broken sofa, he would have fallen, and now he clung to it like a lifeline as his breaths came quick and shallow.
Oh, but it hurt.
He had seen his emperor wracked by pain and grief before, in Fairy Tail's basement, but he had never imagined how much worse it would be to know he himself was the cause. Not the actions of their enemies. Not the mistakes of the past. It was Invel's words that cut him down; Invel's actions that twisted the knife; Invel's hands which pushed away those that had clutched at him so frantically.
After everything they had been through together, it was no different to tearing out his own heart.
But this was his duty.
He breathed in. Breathed out.
Those were his orders.
The fabric pressed back against his fingers as his grip loosened, mimicking the relinquishing of those agonizing spikes through his heart.
This was for Alvarez, for his people, and for His Majesty – for the path he'd chosen.
So that His Majesty would never have to feel this pain again.
Invel first let his hands fall back to his sides, and then clutched them behind his back, forcing himself to stand a little straighter.
There was someone else he had to inform, and it might well prove to be more dangerous than confronting His Majesty.
Images ran through his mind as he waited for the lacrima to connect. He remembered the first time His Majesty had authorized the invasion, over a year ago now, only to disappear without warning, leaving Invel and August almost at blows over whether to proceed. A wary tension had existed between them ever since – lessened by time and understanding and Alvarez's united stand against Acnologia, but the advent of war had brought it back in full force. August's opposition to the war hadn't been subtle; it was the first time he had openly argued against His Majesty for as long as Invel had known him.
The memory of his encounter with August right before he had come to Fiore in pursuit of his emperor flashed through his mind. He had asked if August would abandon Alvarez if His Majesty did, and August had asked if Invel wouldn't.
"Invel."
He started at the voice; he had not realized the lacrima had connected. He berated himself inwardly. This uncertainty was most unbecoming of the one His Majesty had entrusted with the fate of his empire.
Clearly concerned by the silence, August was saying, "Is everything alright-?"
Invel felt a sudden urge to laugh. "Far from it."
"What's happened? Are you with His Majesty?"
"I am not," he said crisply, and then mustered his courage and let it flash in his eyes like sunlight on an unbreakable wall of ice. "As per his instructions, I have had to relieve him of command."
"…I see."
The silence stretched across the kingdom of Fiore, across valleys and plains and battles still raging on, none of them important.
"I had no choice," Invel found himself saying. "He was no longer acting as himself. You were there when he gave me the order, August; you know what he asked of me!"
"I understand." The voice that reached him from the other side of the galaxy was so gentle, so kind, and so very, very old. "Have no fear, I will keep my word. Shall I inform the others?"
The Twelve and the other commanders in the field had been told in advance that Invel might assume command during the war – although none of them knew why – but the sudden switch in leadership would be far easier for them to accept as legitimate if it was clear he had August's backing, and they both knew it.
Even so, August had been under no obligation to offer. Invel had not been expecting any more than token support. No, the truth was that he had been expecting rejection, and that was why he couldn't trust himself with more than that one word: "Please."
"Then I shall do so. What are your orders?"
Invel was sure the other could hear as he let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, but he continued as if he couldn't. "Carry on as you are. Do you require backup?"
"No. I will join the main force in Magnolia as planned."
"Good." There was a brief pause as he wondered how far August's assurances of loyalty went, and then he took the plunge. "Do not go to him, August."
"He will come to me."
"Then you know what you must do."
"I do."
"Thank you," Invel murmured.
August did not reply to that, and the connection broke without a further word.
Without wasting any more time, Invel strode forwards and set his hand upon the master lacrima that would allow him to transmit to every commander in the main body of his army, the tide of molten metal which swelled further with every passing minute. "All units, advance into the pass," he ordered. "Magnolia will be ours by nightfall."
There was cheering and feet-stamping and so much noise that it was as if they'd already won, yet Invel didn't hear any of it. Obtaining August's backing was an enormous advantage. He had fully expected the emperor's unofficial second-in-command to oppose his actions, so the fact that he had not only accepted them without complaint but also freely offered his support should have been the reassurance his uneasy heart had hoped for…
So why wasn't it?
Was he really so much of a coward that he had been hoping August would forcibly stop him from having to follow one painful order?
No. He was stronger than this. He would not show doubt; he would not give in to fear. He had promised to be His Majesty's resolve, and he could not let himself falter for anything.
Onward, to Magnolia and to victory.
That was okay.
Zeref knew it was his own fault for giving so much authority to the man whose job it was to question him. He had thought, after everything that had happened between them, that Invel might understand… but he should have known better.
Invel didn't care about him. Invel was only interested in one thing: Alvarez.
But, that was okay. Because there was one man Zeref had always been able to count on – one man who had served him faithfully and loved him unconditionally for almost a hundred years. Even if the entire universe abandoned him, August would still be there. Always.
Zeref should have known something was wrong from the moment he materialized upon the eastern plains and found August alone, having gone on ahead of the regiments who were supposed to have been accompanying him. He should have known from the sight of the bodies behind him, unconscious or wounded but not one of them dead, even though he had been explicitly told to leave not a single enemy alive. August would fight because he had been ordered to fight, but he would do it on his own terms.
He should have known long before August said, before Zeref had even got a word out, "I can't."
Either he didn't hear, didn't listen, or it was so far from what he had been expecting that Zeref subconsciously dismissed it as a mistake, because he continued as if August had said nothing at all. "I need your help. We have to go north and fight Acnologia before he can kill Lucy!"
"I can't," August repeated gravely.
Only then did Zeref pause. "What do you mean?"
"I can't go with you. I gave Invel my word, and I must honour that."
"But- I need you!"
"So does he."
Disbelief snatched a burst of laughter from his lips. Impossible. August, his August, would never choose that insensitive victory-obsessed fool over him. "But I am your emperor!" he exclaimed. "I'm the one who raised you-!"
"And he is my friend," came the steady response.
Zeref's lips twisted into an incredulous sneer. "That means nothing. You consider everyone you've ever met to be a friend."
"Just as you consider no one a friend, until you need something from them."
The bitterness of it stung. Invel's betrayal, he should have seen coming. But this?
With his eyes, he could see the distance between them; with his ears, he could hear the chastising words like the lashing of a whip; with his magical senses, he could feel only a guarded resolve where there had always been so much love – unwarranted, unearned, and perhaps that was how it could be so easily cast aside.
And still he couldn't understand it.
"I can't fight Acnologia on my own!" he protested. "I can't rescue Lucy- she'll die if you don't help!"
August's eyes flashed with emerald flames. "I do not believe I was the one who chose to walk down this path."
"Oh, I see what this is." Zeref's laugh was the laugh of a madman. "You're punishing me. You didn't want me to go to war, but I did it anyway, so now you're refusing to help me out of spite. Lucy will die so that you can say I told you so-!"
"I gave Invel my word." August did not raise his voice, and that made it so much worse. "I am bound in honour and magic, just as you knew I would be, when you ordered me to obey him. I cannot help you unless he gives me leave to do so. Even now, Your Majesty- even now, after everything you have done and all the mistakes you have made, I would aid you if I could, if only for Lucy's sake. But you were so determined not to change that you made it impossible for anyone to help you do so. This is your trial. You will face it on your own."
"I should have known you were too good to be true." Zeref stepped back, and then again, still shaking his head. "I should have known you would turn on me in the end."
His voice rose to a scream. "Well, guess what? I don't need you! You're nothing! Stay here and fight until you die, I don't care; if you won't obey me then I don't want you anyway!"
Fine!
By the time he rematerialized atop a hill in the middle of nowhere, Zeref was shaking with rage. How dare they all turn on him like that?
No, it was his own fault. He should have known better than to rely on other human beings. The only people he could trust were those who physically couldn't betray him – those to whom his word was absolute; those who didn't understand how to question him; those whose sole purpose was to serve him.
Throwing his mind wide open, he projected along the magical connections binding his demons to him a single, thunderous command: Come to me!
The mental scream died away, pressing the silence of the countryside upon the void of his mind.
There was nothing.
No one teleporting in. No telepathic response. Not even an acknowledging pulse of power along those intangible bonds.
Impossible. Neither Larcade nor Bloodman was physically capable of defying him. If they weren't able to immediately transport themselves to his side, they would have told him so at once, begging for a forgiveness he was in no mood to grant them.
Unless…
No.
No.
Out of all the battles raging, of all the fronts just starting to clash in a war that had barely begun… surely he hadn't lost the only two people he could depend on already?
He was hardly breathing as he fumbled for those bonds in his mind. Both rang hollowly at his touch: distant, incomplete. The life he had bestowed upon them barely flickered, a ghost of the response he had been hoping for.
They had been defeated. They couldn't help him.
But if no one from Alvarez would help him, maybe Fairy Tail would.
That last, desperate thought jumped into his mind before his scream of anguish had fully died away. If it was for Lucy's sake, wouldn't her guild help? They may be on opposite sides of the war, but that didn't mean they would pass up a chance to save her, right? Levy and Cana hadn't seemed like the type to put a grudge over helping their friend. Lucy's friends were good people, rational people; they'd help him, surely.
There was the smallest spark of hope in his eyes as space folded in a clever way and deposited him in Magnolia.
Or, at least, it should have been Magnolia. He'd thought he had the coordinates right – he'd made the journey countless times before – but instead of the familiar sight of the guildhall Mavis had built, there was nothing but ashes and dust.
Oh.
Right.
He'd already destroyed it.
He'd not left the fate of the guildhall up to chance. He'd arranged for it to be destroyed the moment Fairy Tail let their guard down. He understood symbolism as well as anyone; he'd had no intention of letting its survival hinge upon a heartfelt final stand, especially since, without Fairy Heart, he no longer needed it intact.
Clever plans and strategic moves. Sacrificial pawns and exploited weaknesses. Anticipating losses as well as victories; hedging, controlling, seizing the advantage. Ensuring that victories were clean and defeats were mitigated.
He was a master of strategy – thanks to a combination of natural talent, dispassionate curiosity, and four hundred years of experience – and without Mavis around to help the guild mages, there was no one capable of outthinking him.
No one except himself.
He fell to his knees amidst the rubble which had, ever so briefly, been the hundredth iteration of Fairy Tail's guildhall. The guild was scattered, routed. There was no one who could help him now.
He had outwitted himself perfectly.
He had cut himself off from everyone, ally and enemy, friend and servant, human and demon, and now here he was, alone at the death.
"What the hell have you done to my guild?"
At first, Zeref could not believe that voice was real. It had surely come from the same realm as his fear and nightmares, for that was where he heard it most often – and yet never had those awful part-dream-part-memory flashes been so lifelike. Perhaps his mind had never had the courage to imagine the strength of the hatred in those onyx eyes in full; had never dared to conjure up the familiar, painful smell of brimstone and Igneel's flames.
Natsu.
Just like last time they had met, they faced each other across a scene of devastation that neither of them had caused. Just like last time, the air rippled with the heat of Natsu's anger. Just like last time, it hurt so much, being caught in the gaze of the brother who felt nothing for him but hate. Zeref had always told himself that pain would be a good thing, until the moment he had come face to face with his long-lost brother for real.
"Natsu…" His lips moved on their own. "What are you doing here…?"
"You tell me," Natsu spat. "You called me."
"No, I…" He hadn't. At least, not on purpose. But he had called out to all his demons, forgetting that one was very much alive and free… "You heard? You came to me?"
"I came to see what the hell you were doing with my guild!"
The rubble at his feet was the rubble of Natsu's home. The flickering firelight that cast their faces into shadow was fed by the dreams of Natsu's friends and adopted family.
Zeref tried, "It wasn't me-"
It was, though.
"I didn't mean to-"
He did, though.
"You're a pathetic liar, Zeref."
He had no response to that. His gaze dropped to Natsu's fiery fist, shaking with the effort of not punching him, and he wondered why Natsu was bothering to fight the impulses buried so deeply into the Book of END.
The Dragon Slayer had come so very close to killing him last time.
If only he had succeeded.
But if he had… there would be no chance at all.
"Please, Natsu. I need your help."
The knife-edge of Natsu's startled laugh cut deep into him.
Still, Zeref tried, "Please. Just listen to me-"
"Make me," Natsu snarled. "Write it in that goddamn book and make me. That's the only way I will ever listen to you."
Zeref closed his eyes, shaking his head in meaningless rejection. That wasn't what he'd wanted for Natsu. All he'd ever desired was for Natsu to live the way he'd been meant to before his untimely death, wild and free and wonderful – the way he had lived, right up until he'd had the misfortune to run into his elder brother once more.
And yet, for all the hellfire at Natsu's fist, for all the effort it was taking to hold back his emotions and instincts and better judgement, and for all the terrible rage in his eyes, the blow that Zeref was expecting never came.
Against all reason, he found himself daring to hope. "I need your help," he pleaded. "It's Lucy; she's in danger."
The road was bubbling beneath the heat of Natsu's feet as he thundered, "What did you do to her?"
There was no point trying to deny it; if not for him, this would never have happened. "Acnologia has her. He's going to kill her at sunrise. I can't save her on my own. But no one will help me – no one will think of anything but the war. They won't listen to me…"
Despite the searing-hot air in his lungs and the flames beneath his feet, Zeref forced himself to take one step towards Natsu, and then another. A warning growl reached his ears, but he couldn't stop, not now.
"Please, Natsu. I know how much you hate me, and that's okay; I don't care what you do to me. But, please, don't turn your back on Lucy because of me. She would never have chosen me over Fairy Tail. She loved you all more than I could ever understand… she deserves so much more than me, than this."
He fell to his knees in the inferno, head bowed. The heat whipped away every tear before it could touch the ground. "All I want is to save her. Please… I will do anything, just please, I beg of you – help me save her."
Silence, amidst the fire's purgatorial shriek.
And Natsu hissed, "How dare you?"
His foot smashed into Zeref's side.
"How dare you beg me?" Natsu snarled again.
Zeref sprawled on the ground, fireworks exploding up and down his side, the struggle of drawing breath too great to comprehend trying to defend himself as well.
"How dare you act as though I'd need something from you before I'd go and save her?"
Natsu kicked him again. It was like being pummelled by a dragon.
"I hate you," Natsu howled, striding after Zeref as he tumbled through the rubble. His footsteps shook the ground; rivers of lava burst through the wreckage of the guildhall. "But how dare you suggest that I hate you more than I love my best friend? How dare you think these feelings you forced on me are stronger than the bonds of my guild? I am Natsu Dragneel of Fairy Tail! I am more than what you made me, Zeref!"
His footsteps stopped, but the strike Zeref was expecting never came. Instead, Natsu seized his collar with both hands and dragged him upright. He was shaking with the effort of being so close and not attacking him, fighting back against four hundred years of enforced hatred with every ounce of humanity he had.
There were tears in Natsu's eyes, tiny stars embedded in those onyx galaxies. It was perhaps the only thing the brothers had in common, but it was enough.
"So get up, Zeref," Natsu spat. "Get up, and take me to Lucy."
A/N: I can't believe how close we are to the end now! It's actually quite frightening to me. Thanks to everyone who has stayed with me so far, and I hope you enjoy the rest of it as the story heads towards its conclusion! ~CS