Lucy experienced something that was truly rare, instant kinship.

The walking pile of books that she had crashed into on that cold winter morning had hidden the tiny frame of a young girl around the same age as she was. Her short hair was wild; strands stuck up at awkward angles with an orange hairband adorning her head in what appeared to be a lacklustre attempt to tame the locks. The colour was a striking and very vivid blue, and Lucy had wondered how often she had to dye it to keep it looking this bright.

Her initial angry outburst had been swept aside as soon as she noticed Lucy laying crumpled on the cobbled pavement, half-buried by the fallen books.

"Fuckin' hell! Are you alright?" she had asked in earnest. The girl rubbed at her bruised butt and crawled to the trapped blonde, hastily moving the books aside. She stacked them neatly into two piles, checking them quickly with an appraising eye for any damage from the tumble.

The blue haired girl seemed rather underdressed for the weather. A black pinafore dress over an orange long sleeve top paired with grey knitted tights that were tucked into heavy black boots. She didn't even have a coat on, and Lucy shuddered at the very thought of venturing out into the Scottish winter without several layers of clothing tightly in place.

"I think so. I'm sorry for walking into you," Lucy had replied, sitting up slowly for fear of any pain from the impact onto very solid ground. The girl had swung her head around at the apology, her large hazel eyes widened in shock then crinkled as she gifted Lucy with a beaming smile.

"Dinny be daft, it was my fault for insisting on carrying so many books in one go. It'll serve me right for not wishing to look foolish in front of that damn oaf," the blue haired girl had explained as she got to her feet at last. It had taken a moment for Lucy to interpret the words, but she was slowly becoming accustomed to the slang used here, and she found it rather endearing.

The petite girl extended a hand to Lucy which she had accepted. She had been shocked with the strength of the pull to her feet, rocking a little into the girl until she was again steady. Lucy glanced down and was relieved to see that she was not covered in muck, the icy ground had protected her clothing. Now she was merely chilly, and feeling maybe a tad winded.

"I'm Levy, by the way. It's nice to meet you, well, I mean – it could have been under better circumstances, but yeah, nice to meet you all the same," the petite girl had enthused until she was fumbling over her words, it was rather adorable to watch. Her hand had moved to her wild hair, scrubbing at the back of it in what seemed like a nervous habit.

This girl radiated friendship that was similar to how Mirajane had on their first meeting. Were people around here just that friendly?

"Lucy," and she stuck her hand out in a more formal greeting. They shook hands and descended immediately into a fit of giggles over how silly this would look to passersby. It was hard not to immediately like Levy, she seemed like an impish little fairy full of mischief and Lucy found herself wanting to befriend the girl.

Levy moved to stack her two piles of books together, and it seemed as if she was going to attempt to lift the massive pile once more. "Let me help you, don't want you mowing down more unsuspecting pedestrians," Lucy had offered, crouching to lift one pile of books. They were heavier than they looked, and again she was amazed at how Levy had been able to carry them all in the first place.

"Och, that's kind of you. Are you sure you dinny mind?" Levy had asked

It had been a brisk walk, the pair had strolled along the frost-covered streets chatting idly as Levy pointed out various points of interest that mostly seemed to consist of good places to drink.

Levy was a naturally exuberant girl, she had a spring in her step that never faltered. Lucy had been over the moon to discover that she was a student at the University of Edinburgh, she was about to start her second year and was studying the history of English literature. The pair had squealed in shared delight as Lucy told how she was starting the same University this coming year and was also studying a form of English literature. The bond was instantaneous as they fell into a deep conversation over their favourite authors and writing influences.

The Grassmarket was a large mostly pedestrianised area that had clearly once been an open-air market, the streets were cobbled and there stood a slightly raised square in the corner furthest away from the shadow of the castle.

Now the area housed many shops, restaurants, tourist traps and pubs, with many of the premises painted in vibrant colours which gave the place a rather pleasing kitsch appearance. Lucy had looked up to the stunning view of Edinburgh castle, and it had felt strange to feel almost below ground level from this vantage. The castle towered over the space, a looming presence that was a reminder of the history this place held.

Levy had nudged her with an elbow as Lucy had paused to take in her surroundings, "not too far to go, come on."

Wedged tightly between two pubs, one which claimed to be the 'smallest in Scotland' was a narrow set of stairs. Unless you were looking for it, you would never see it with the bustle of the surroundings. A small black sign sat above the brick wall above the stairs, it read 'Dreyar's Drabbles' and was painted in golden flowing calligraphy.

The steps had been narrow and well worn on the left-hand side making it an uneasy climb, especially carrying the weight of the antique leather-bound books. Levy had ascended first, reaching a tiny landing that housed one sole door that had once been black, but now was peeling and scabby looking. The shop name was painted here too, but the gold leaf was peeling away in places until it was almost unrecognisable.

Levy gave the door a hearty kick with her heavy black boot, and it swung open with an ominous creak. Lucy braced herself. For the first time since meeting Levy, she felt unsure about following her into the shadowy store. She waited for a moment, holding her breath as she decided on whether to take that trusting step.

Her mind swam with all the times in her teenage years where she would be more than eager to accept the hand of friendship that was offered to her, only to be burned shortly afterwards. Lucy swallowed those fears, this was different. Levy didn't know her from any other stranger on the street, and she had been nothing but nice.

It was time to start trusting again, and she hoped she had made the right decision.

~.~

That step across the threshold changed Lucy's life forever.

She didn't know it, but it set into motion a series of events that no one in this world had any true control over. Her fate became entwined with that of another's, their shared destiny could take many paths and not all of them would lead to a happy ending.

~.~

The warmth was immediate.

Lucy couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it settled like a welcoming blanket being draped around her shoulders. Love was the emotion that this place radiated, pure and unconditional. A love for knowledge and a passion for the rarest of books. Her shoulders relaxed from their position near her ears, and she marvelled at the sight before her.

A small counter sat near a back wall with an alcove behind it which seemed to lead to an employee or storage area. The surface of the counter was strewn with books open to various pages, sheets of paper with messy scribbled writing and a large mug of what looked like black coffee. No steam rose from the mug, it had clearly been sat there for some time and had now grown cold.

Around half a dozen deep-set bookshelves lined the space from the door to the counter, they were of descending height with the tallest being closest to the door, and the shortest being nearest the counter. Books filled every available space, crammed into every shelf and lining the walls as well as a stack the height of the counter resting precariously against the side.

The room was a deep burgundy with dark wood detailing, intricate wooden carvings sat in each corner of the ceiling and the smell of paper and ink invaded her head. It was extremely heady, the musk of pages that were several decades old, perhaps more.

Lucy was reminded of the small library at her family home, a space that her mother had sought out in her worst moments. She could vividly recall discovering her mom in that quiet room, curled in one of the wingback chairs with her nose buried in a book. Her mom would smile and open her arms for Lucy to climb up and listen to the story. Her mom preferred fantasy novels, full of magic and mischief and her soft Scottish accent had been so alluring that Lucy would find herself deep within the world of the book, captivated as if her mom had her own magical powers.

This was surely where her own passion for books and storytelling had been born. All those times spent with her mother listening to fantastical tale after tale, some from books and others straight from her mom's memory. Lucy had started writing at a very young age, a hobby that her mother nurtured whilst her father refused to even acknowledge it.

If she closed her eyes she could almost smell her mother's perfume and the tears filled her eyes despite the grit of her teeth. Lucy had no wish to look weak in front of someone she barely knew, but the grief was so sudden that it could not be halted. The weight of her sorrow bowed her back, and her skin felt flushed and too hot despite the chill that had followed them inside.

It had been more than ten years since Layla Heartfilia had passed away, but in this moment it felt like it had only been yesterday.

"Just chuck those books down somewhere where there is space. Hey – Lucy, what's wrong?" Levy had been cheerful until a glance over her shoulder had the worry bubbling inside. Lucy felt her burden being lifted, the books were removed from her arms and for a second she had wished to cling to them.

A moment later and a small hand was placed on her back, gentle and wary, "come tell yer auntie Levy all about it," the blue haired girl cooed, ushering Lucy towards a small table where two leather tub chairs sat. Although the sadness had not left, the thought of Levy describing herself as her auntie birthed a quick chuckle as she was carefully pressed into a chair.

Lucy wiped at her eyes and straightened her spine, she watched Levy disappear into the hidden area behind the counter. "I'm back Mr Dreyar, and I've brought a friend with me," Levy yelled out of sight. The blonde stiffened, she had not expected to meet another person so soon and definitely not when she was crying.

There was no returning answer, maybe this Mr Dreyar was not home?

Levy returned with two steaming mugs and a box of tissues cradled under her arm. "I'd have offered you tea or coffee, but well – we don't actually have any coffee, sorry." Lucy gazed at the dark brown liquid that glinted with an amber glow under the soft wall lights.

"Milk? Sugar?" Levy asked, and when Lucy shook her head a wide grin split her face, "ah, a girl after my own heart. Black tea is the only way to truly experience it."

"Thank you, I didn't mean to worry you. This place, it reminds me of…" Lucy paused as she searched for words that would not rub her throat raw from trying to stamp down on the tears, "it reminds me of my mom, and I miss her."

Levy listened intently, blowing on her steaming mug as she took a tentative sip and waited to see whether Lucy would offer more. "She was born in St Andrews but she lived in Edinburgh for most of her childhood, and she loved books. She would have loved this store." Lucy had continued, the more she spoke the easier it became. Levy offered no judgment or prying questions, content to listen to whatever she offered and she appreciated that more than she could verbalise.

"She died when I was twelve."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Levy patted her hand and offered a sad smile, "she sounds like she was a lovely lady."

Lucy smiled, the pain was receding slowly. It had been a long time since she had spoken of her mom to anyone else, and perhaps this was what she needed to make the hurt not feel quite so raw. "She was a gentle soul, and I miss her every day."

The pair sat in companionable silence as they sipped their tea. It didn't feel awkward, more like she had known Levy for a long time and they were now just enjoying each other's company. After a few minutes had passed, Levy sat forward and glanced over her shoulder, "I hate to leave you alone, but I should really go and check on Mr Dreyar. Why don't you have a look around? I'll no be long."

"I'll be fine," Lucy waved the worried looking girl away. It wasn't a lie, it had felt relieving to unburden herself, even if it was merely the tip of the iceberg.

As Levy scampered away Lucy got to her feet and wandered aimlessly down the rows of books. She stopped from time to time, her fingers drawn to the spines of specific books as if she were magically pulled to them. She refrained from pulling any out, but there were several volumes on the darker history of Edinburgh and Scotland as a whole, she would have to remember to ask Levy about them.

She found herself by the lone window in the tiny store, the blinds were drawn most of the way up and she gazed out on the Grassmarket. Her eyes danced over the familiar looking pubs and shops until the name of one specific place held her gaze, 'Maggie Dickson' and underneath the bold letters a smaller sign said 'Half-Hangit Maggie'.

Whatever could that mean?

Footsteps sounded from where Levy had disappeared, they grew closer and Lucy called out to her new friend without turning around, "what on earth is Half-Hangit Maggie?"

"Oh, tis a very interesting tale indeed lass," came the gruff reply. Lucy whipped around, her eyes casting down until they landed on a short older man. He smiled kindly at her, his grey moustache bristling as his twinkling black eyes crinkled, "didnae mean to scare you, I'm Makarov Dreyar. It's a pleasure to meet you." The man bowed deeply, and it made Lucy giggle at the exaggerated formal gesture.

"Lucy Heartfilia," she replied as she shuffled from foot to foot. Her eyes darted to the counter, looking for Levy but finding no one else.

Mr Dreyar noted her wandering gaze, he extended a hand pointing to the small table she had sat at previously, "shall I tell you the tale whilst Levy is occupied? She won't be gone long."

"If it's not too much trouble, I don't wish to interrupt anything," Lucy hastily squeaked, yet she sat once more, too polite not to. Mr Dreyar had a kindly appearance, but he was clearly not someone to be trifled with. She would guess him to be well into his seventies yet he walked with a straight back, one hand resting on his spine. He had very little hair on his head, but what remained was a deep grey. He wore tweed trousers and an argyle sweater in shades of blue, the perfect image of an old fashioned Scottish gentleman.

"The tale of Maggie Dickson begins in 1723 when the poor lass was deserted by her husband. She was forced to leave Edinburgh in search of work, which she found near the Scottish Borders. Maggie worked as a cleaner for an innkeeper in return for room and board." Mr Dreyar began, his voice was rough but held an air of authority that instantly held Lucy's attention. She rested her chin on her palm as she listened raptly.

"Well, it was fair to say that the innkeeper's son took an interest in the young lass, and after their brief dalliances, she found herself pregnant. Not a situation someone of her position would wish to find herself in, such activities outside of wedlock were most definitely frowned upon back then, and technically she was still a married woman. Maggie concealed the pregnancy for fear of losing her job and the roof over her head, but the babe was born prematurely.

"The poor wee thing wisnae healthy and died within a few days of being born. As the baby's existence had been hidden, Maggie couldnae give it a proper burial. She planned to put the babe in the River Tweed, but her heart couldn't see it through and she ended up leaving it on the riverbank. The body was found the same day and traced back to Maggie. She was charged under a ludicrous law of the time about the concealment of pregnancies, and taken back to Edinburgh for trial and execution."

Lucy gasped, a hand flying to her mouth, "execution? But she didn't mean any harm, it's not like she killed the baby."

"Aye, I know, but these were different times my dear."

Mr Dreyar shuffled in his chair, clearing his throat before he continued once more, "on the 2nd September 1724 out in the square outside, she was put to death by hanging. Maggie was pronounced dead and a dreadful scuffle ensued over what would be done with her body.

"At this time medical students at the University were allowed the corpses of criminals to use and dissect in their studies, but Maggie's family wanted her body to give it a proper burial. It got pretty heated but in the end, the family won, and thank goodness for that.

"The body was placed in a coffin and strapped to a cart bound for Musselburgh where she was to be buried, however, they say that the combination of air filtering into the coffin and the bumpy journey revived Maggie Dickson. There was banging on the coffin, and when the lid was lifted there she was, quite alive.

"The law saw it as some sign of God's will and she was free to live for a further forty years. She became quite a local celebrity and gained the nickname 'Half-Hangit Maggie'. The pub over there chose her name to keep the memory of her story alive."

Lucy slumped back in her chair, that was indeed some story and she rubbed absently at her throat as if she could feel the ghost of the hangman's noose. The pitter-patter of footsteps grew louder until Levy reappeared, red faced and puffing.

"You better not be boring Lucy to death old man!" she teased as she came to stand by the table.

Mr Dreyar ruffled in his chair, indignant at the accusation being thrown at him, "pfft, hold your tongue ya cheeky wee rascal. I am excellent company, am I not Miss Heartfilia?"

~.~

It had not felt like she had been within the walls of Dreyar's Drabbles for long, but the sun was beginning to sink low in the sky. The wispy clouds were stained a deep crimson as the night descended upon the city. Lucy glanced at her phone and was shocked to see that it was close to 5pm. She had been sitting with her back against the far wall with a large tome resting open on her lap for the last few hours.

After a conversation regarding the books, this store offered mostly secondhand and antique copies of everything from specific Scottish history, to romance novels and everything in between. Lucy had been drawn to the section that related to the occult and the persecution of witches, it had been something she had always been fascinated with but she never knew why.

Levy had pulled a thick black leather bound book from one of the higher shelves, having to use a small step stool in order to reach it. This had been met with loud chuckles from Mr Dreyar who was sitting behind the counter with pen in hand. Considering he was even shorter than Levy, Lucy wasn't surprised that the blue haired girl had rounded on him with a growl and a shake of her tiny fist.

"Give this a read, start with the light stuff before you stray into the downright dark," she said, offering the black book to Lucy. She took the book and her fingers ran over the embossed title that was pressed in gold leaf, 'The Original Folk and Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm'.

Lucy had been so absorbed in the dark fairy tales that she had not noticed the passage of time, had not even stopped to eat lunch despite being offered food from Levy who left at lunchtime and had returned with sandwiches for herself and Mr Dreyar.

The blonde was about to stand, to stretch her stiff limbs and head home when the door to the store opened forcefully. She stilled, concealed by the shadows of the bookshelves as a person swept inside. Something did not feel right, and her heart rate spiked. It felt as if all the warmth within the store was sucked directly into the unknown person, replacing it with an ominous and freezing chill that raised the hairs on Lucy's arms.

Lucy had always felt sensitive to threat, her mind seeming to have an internal warning system that had not yet failed her, and on this occasion, it was screaming at her. Signalling the intense danger that had so casually strolled inside.

"Are you Makarov Dreyar?" a female asked, her voice sounding arrogant and her accent was faintly English. Lucy scrambled to her knees and crawled to the edge of the nearest unit to peek around the corner. She had to force herself to look, to take the plunge and poke her head out as her brain screeched for her to remain hidden, to seek out the darkest corner and cower. She refused to cower, the need to be able to identify this threat too strong in her heart, and it overpowered the will of her head.

A tall woman stood by the counter, she was slim with curvy hips and her black hair flowed down her back like an ink stained waterfall. From appearance alone, she did not seem dangerous, yet malevolent energy poured from her rather innocuous frame. Lucy could almost feel the bite of a power that snapped at the air, and she did not understand what her mind was trying to tell her.

The spoken words were being drowned out by the pounding of her heart in her ears. This woman was bad news, she didn't know how or why she knew, but she did. Lucy's palms were slick with sweat as she searched for Levy, who had disappeared out the back and Lucy prayed that she stayed there until this woman left.

At that moment the mysterious woman snapped her head to the side and Lucy took in her side profile, her hand clamped over her mouth to muffle the gasp that nearly escaped her mouth. Her skin was very pale, but that could have been from the makeup she wore, flat brown eyes lined with sweeping kohl and a straight nose that tipped at the end to give her a rather snooty look. Her lips were rouged a deep red which matched the long overcoat she wore. Lucy watched as the woman's eye roamed around the store as Mr Dreyar spoke, she didn't seem to be paying any attention to what he was saying, and a hand flew up to silence him.

"Are you alone here?" she asked coolly, and Lucy swallowed thickly.

She waited for Mr Dreyar to answer. He seemed to be debating his answer and the woman's head swung back to stare down at him, "y-yes, I'm alone. My assistant is out running an errand right now," he lied and Lucy could feel the weight of the lie rest heavily on her heart.

The woman sneered, "I'll be back in three days, make sure that you have it waiting for me." Lucy barely had time to crawl around the corner to avoid the woman seeing her crouched and hidden in her fear. The door smacked shut, the reverberation rattled the window and it took another minute before any other noise was made.

Lucy and Levy appeared from their respective hiding places, both with equally scared looks on their faces. Mr Dreyar was holding a hand over his heart and his pallor was incredibly ashen. They rushed to him, and after moments of fussing he brushed them off.

"What did she want?" Levy asked.

"A rare book detailing the most prolific cases of witchcraft and the occult in Britain and the details of specific witch trials," Mr Dreyar replied as he ran his finger and thumb across his moustache with a deep scowl on his face.

"I'll need you to pay my old friend another visit," he added, offering an apologetic smile to Levy whose face had dropped into a pouty snarl. "Don't give me that look, you'll get a chance to look at that fancy boy you like so much."

Lucy listened to the back and forth but the words skimmed off the surface, there was an incessant tapping at the back of her mind that was very distracting. Something told her to look to the side, and as she did as directed she couldn't help the gasp that echoed in the room.

The small table that the woman would have looked directly upon was still cluttered with two empty mugs, and Lucy's coat and handbag were draped over one of the chairs.

So the woman had known Mr Dreyar had lied to her, what kind of consequence would that have?

~.~

"The black dragon slammed to the ground, making the very earth shake from its mighty presence. The wisest of the men fled from its sight, dropping their swords and pathetic shields as they tore away, running for their life.

"It stood more than fifty feet tall and twice as wide with its cruel-looking adenydd unfurled. Black scales gleamed in the setting sun and blood dripped from them and stained the ground. Huge talons flexed into the earth gouging trenches into the surface, and yellowed teeth peeked from its hideously snarled lips.

"The dragon laughed and its magnificent voice swayed the trees from the intensity and caused many an ear to bleed. This was no lowly dragon, this was the Brenin and he feared no one." Zeref thundered as he stood dramatically in front of the roaring fire.

Natsu gazed up at his brother in admiration, his mouth hanging agape as he listened to the tale being spun for him. His eyes were glazed as he had become so enraptured by Zeref's words, he would hear nothing other than his brother's voice at this moment.

Their mother sat in her favourite spot, two knitting needles in hand as she fashioned more winter jumpers from the itchy wool they had sheared and spun from their sheep. She smiled fondly, watching her two boys as they lost themselves in another one of Zeref's many stories.

Zeref could hear the rhythmical thump of their father cutting down wood to make into logs for the fire, and he used that as inspiration in the story.

"The war drums sounded, the steady beat of an approaching battle, but what could mere humans do against a dragon? As if to prove the futility of their situation the dragon reared it's massive head back and a jet of the most bone-melting fire filled the air to the point that the entire sky appeared to be set alight. The heat of the flames licked at the small army that remained, and indeed it did melt their meagre armour.

"Screams rent the air, men flailed in their useless attempt to remove the melted plates from their wounded flesh. The black dragon opened his toothy maw and spoke for the first time, 'hear me now you lowly maggots. I will give you but one chance at mercy, surrender now and pledge your fealty to me and you shall live to see your families once more. Refuse and I will burn you to nothing but ash.' It seemed they had no choice."

"Did they do it? Did the army surrender? I wouldn't have, no dragon could beat me!" Natsu enthused as he leapt to his feet holding an imaginary sword which he thrust wildly into the air.

Zeref chuckled and engaged his little brother in mock battle until the two tumbled to the stone floor and it became more of a wrestling match. Elbows and knees grappled and landed in tender areas that were left unprotected.

"Cut it out boys, I'll no be wiping any tears caused by your own foolishness," their mother called, yet there was no bite to her words. In truth she adored seeing her children playing, even when things did turn a little rougher than she would like, they were boys after all.

As the pair huffed from the exertion, Zeref spoke once more, "they did indeed surrender. It was either that or die on the battlefield. Natsu, it is important not to underestimate your enemies, sometimes to retreat is the best course of action. Men may not be as strong as a dragon, but they are not without brains. Perhaps this offered them the opportunity to learn the dragon's weaknesses and launch a covert attack instead?"

Natsu pulled his head free from under his brother's arm, his face tomato red and shining from the combined heat of the roaring fire and the exertion of the play fighting. "Did they defeat the dragon?" he asked in earnest.

"I'll tell you some other time, for now, let's just settle for a bit and enjoy the warmth before bed."

Both boys looked towards their mother with pleading eyes, and she let out an exasperated sigh before putting her knitting aside and patting her lap. At ten and seven respectively, they were no longer small boys but there would come a day when they would no longer want to sit on her lap so although it may be uncomfortable, she would allow it until the bitter end.

The three huddled on the small chair, Zeref held Natsu in his arms and their mother held them both. She hummed a soft tune as the flames merrily danced in the fire. Nothing could harm them, they were safe and loved in their little house. Zeref opened his mouth to ask his mother to tell them the story of how she met their father, but the memory changed.

Natsu's soft glowing face turned to face him, his chin tipping up and a sad smile sat on his pouty mouth, "I miss you Zeref, please find me soon," he murmured before burying his head into Zeref's chest.

The door swung open and their father strode inside, his face was hidden in the shadows and he carried the axe in his hand, dripping with blood.

Zeref awoke with a jolt.

It took him a moment to remember where he was, lying in an unfamiliar bed with the sound of a busy world stealing inside the room from the window that was cracked open. He was in the suite he had rented at The Balmoral Hotel.

Why not stay in luxury?

It wasn't as if he was actually paying for it, not with the underhanded mind tricks he had played on the young man at the front desk. A man that had been accommodating in more ways than one. A free room and a meal all in one neat package, what more could he ask for.

The dream came back to him with crystal clarity, it was so unlike him to dream.

This must mean something, especially since this had been a genuine memory of his childhood right up until Natsu had spoken instead of him. His heartbeat was sluggish for it had been some hours since his last meal, but he felt the way the organ wished to beat wildly in his chest.

It hurt.

It hurt so damn much to relive those memories, the pain was much more than just emotional. He could feel how it made his body heavy as if he were being crushed by a mighty weight, his breath coming in rapid short bursts as he struggled to contain his feelings. Sleep was something that he had once enjoyed, the calm descent of nothing but peace for those brief hours that his eyes were shut to the world. If this was to become the new norm, he would have to fight that urge to sleep, he couldn't lose himself to his grief when he had work to do.

I'll be there soon, Natsu. Wait for me…