"Once upon a time a brave knight took his own life into his hands in order to protect his beloved companions. The knight was indeed mighty, his determination and willpower could rival that of Kings, but he was also foolish, stubborn and hard-headed.

"The enemy was fearsome and battle-hardened from countless victories, streaked in the blood of his slain victims and half-crazed with the lust for more violence. The knight should not have dared to take on the foe alone, but as always he charged straight into the flames without a second thought for his life. The fight was vicious against an opponent who was truly cruel and cunning. Both sides inflicted serious wounds yet neither could land the final death blow.

"As the brave knight fell to his knees, panting from sheer exhaustion and trembling as the powerful muscles in his arms grew weak from overuse, the wicked opponent saw his chance. With a burst of laughter that demonstrated the depravity of his soul, he swung his sword high in the air with the intent to decapitate the poor knight.

"The light of a God shone upon the fallen knight in that second, a second that seemed to stretch on into eternity. He was gifted with the power of one last strike, it burned through his wrecked body and swelled into white-hot righteous fury. The knight rose on his knees and his trusty sword found the soft and yielding belly of the monster, the blade plunged between the gaps in his armour and sank easily into the flesh beneath.

"Stunned silence descended, the moment encapsulated forever in the minds of those who looked on. The massive enemy with sword still held aloft, a mixture of surprise and respect on his face as he faltered. His weapon fell from his grasp and clattered to the ground to echo in the silence of the scene. The brave knight twisted his own sword, grimacing at the disgustingly wet squelching sound of his enemy's innards being torn apart. He let go of the hilt and fell to his behind whilst the giant of a man toppled over with eyes that were entirely vacant.

"He had slain the foe, but at what cost?"

Zeref was transfixed, sat with a rigid back as he listened to his mother spin her tale. Natsu sat upon her lap, the toddler playing with the fallen strands of her hair and babbling contentedly to himself, completely oblivious to what was being said.

A snort sounded from the kitchen table, and both Zeref and his mother turned their gaze to the man sitting there. In Zeref's eyes, he was the brave knight of the story, and it was only reinforced by the setting sun that blazed a brilliant halo of light around the seated frame of his father.

"Not sure I like you calling me foolish and hard-headed annwyl," he grumbled.

"Don't forget stubborn," his mother cooed so sweetly in response.

Zeref's eyes widened, he rounded back on his mother with questions burning at his throat to be released. "Mam, are you saying that papa was the brave knight?" he bounced excitedly on his knees at such a wondrous prospect.

His mother smiled at him, but it was his father that answered, "I was a soldier, and a lowly one at that, but yes, your mam is telling a highly inflated version of my story."

The raven haired boy flew to his father, dancing gleefully by his side with eyes shining in wonder. Zeref watched as his father continued to whittle the wooden figure that he was carving. Brow drawn low in concentration, large calloused hands cradling the small figure in such delicate care that seemed impossible compared to his size. His own midnight hair was kept short to avoid the strange tufts that would stick up at all angles if left to grow. The boy had long wondered why his baby brother had pink hair when he and his father had black hair, and their mother was fair. Perhaps that would be a question for another day.

"It's your mam's tale, you'll have to pester her if you wish to hear more," he chuckled, sparkling green eyes falling on his son with a mischievous glint. He ruffled Zeref's hair before gently patting him on the back to usher him back towards his mother and baby brother in the adjoining room.

As he returned to the sitting room, Natsu threw his arms out and began to wail. His fists clenched and unclenched as he tried with all his might to wiggle free of his mother's hold. Zeref chucked him under the chin and lifted him into his own lap as he sat by the fire, patiently waiting for more of the fantastical story. Natsu laughed merrily, one hand stuffed in his mouth with drool dripping to his chin from gums that were sore and raw from teething, and the other tucked tightly into Zeref's tunic.

"It's getting late cyw bach, maybe the rest could wait until another day," his mother sighed wearily as she eyed the sun that was lowering into its bed for the night.

"Please, just a little more?" he begged, his mind clutched at straws so desperate was his desire to hear the rest. "I'll even help you with the sheep tomorrow, even that one that likes to try and nibble on me."

It was a done deal, he knew how much his mother hated working alone, and tomorrow was a market day meaning his father would be gone from sun up until sundown. "You'll have to help me with your brawd as well until papa returns home. Is it a deal?"

Zeref nodded solemnly, it would be worth it, he just knew it. His mother shifted in her chair, eyes cast towards the ceiling as she recalled where she had left of the story, "oh yes. The brave knight had slain the wicked foe, but at what cost?"

~.~

Glencoe, Scottish Highlands 1679

The pain was dull, a constant throb that moved through his body at an alarming rate. He could hear birdsong and it pounded at his head, he wished to strangle those beautiful songbirds until there was only silence remaining. It took him an age to gather the courage to open his eyes, he watched the swirl of colours that painted the inside of his eyelids before he dared to crack one eye open.

He regretted it immediately; the light was too intense and he let out a low hiss as he screwed the eye closed once more. Zeref tried to raise his hand to cover his face, a feeble attempt to block out more of the light that appeared to be branded inside his head, but the arm would not respond to the command.

Gently he tried to assess his condition. His toes wiggled and brushed against a scratchy fabric that scraped at his very nerves, the fingers of his left hand twitched and flexed into a weak fist, but nothing from the right side. Panic set in, his pulse increasing as his brain reasoned out why he might not have control of his right arm.

The sudden onslaught of memories caused him to thrash wildly despite the agony it caused, his weight sinking further into what he realised was a bed. His body was slick with cold sweat in an instant, it poured from him in a torrent. Fear unlike any he had known before coursed through his veins, blazing a path to every single nerve and paralysing his flailing body.

White bony hands. Green eyes. A jagged crown. Fangs that burned his neck.

Zeref could feel a power that slowly built in the depths of his stomach, coiling around again and again until he felt entirely full from it. That power calmed his raw nerves, shushed him with quiet reassurances that everything would be fine, more than fine if he would only listen.

Magic seeped into every crevice of his being, infusing him with something that felt both pure and evil simultaneously. A gentle prod encouraged him to try wiggling his right fingers again which he did, marvelling at the smooth flex of the digits. The pain that had ravaged through him was dissipating into nothing, being drawn out of him in great sucking pulls that made him gasp from the intensity.

He was so very thirsty.

His tongue lay thick and dry in his mouth, lips cracked and parched as he parted him to the sound of skin splitting. Zeref wrenched both eyes open, the light was still sore but it was no longer the agony it had once been. He was back in his room at the inn, and for a moment he dared to wonder if what had come to pass had simply been a vivid nightmare.

A hand flew to his neck searching the skin until he found what he was looking for; a wound that was jagged and felt bruised under his probing touch. The skin had started to heal and he wondered how long he had been asleep.

The bed creaked as he inched himself into a sitting position. His limbs ached, ribs protesting from the movement but he was able to prop himself on the rickety wooden headboard. The room was softly lit, the sheet that was draped over the window kept out the majority of the daylight leaving only thin strips to line the wooden floor.

He noted a bowl of water with a folded cloth sat next to it on the small bedside table, his burning throat rasped as he lunged for it. Almost tumbling from the narrow bed he eyed it closely, it seemed clean and that was good enough as he tipped it to his mouth.

The cool water flowed into him, the liquid swept inside and moistened his tongue. He took great swallows but found no relief in them. The water sloshed in his stomach, churning his insides and he threw the bowl back down with a force he had never previously had.

The ceramic bowl splintered and the remaining water seeped from the cracks to spill to the floor, a slow-flowing waterfall. Thunderous footsteps approached, and Zeref shrank back on his bed. He felt like he was a child once more and about to be reprimanded by his mother.

That deep-seated power from moments ago flared to life, a silent chastisement for cowering in fear. It reminded him of what lay within him, still untouched but ready to serve. He didn't know what to fear more, the fast-approaching steps or the thrum of a magic that he should not have access to.

Zeref had no leisure to dwell on that thought any longer as the door to his room was thrown wide. The gigantic form of Hamish filled the entire doorway, his red hair was tied back as was the norm and his green eyes morphed from savage to kindly as he gazed at the huddled form of Zeref.

"Lad, ye've returned tae us. Thank the Gods, we feared ye'd no be much longer fir this world," he boomed, walking forward with his arms stretched wide. The giant man appeared so imposing, built like a bear but it was only his outward appearance. Hamish was a gentle giant, it was obvious from the interactions Zeref had witnessed between him and his daughter. The way he cradled her so delicately in his large hands, and he frowned at that thought. Images of his father whittling small figures at their kitchen table surfaced in his mind's eye, had he been dreaming about this very thing?

"How long have I been out?" Zeref asked, wincing at the pain in his raw throat and the awful croak in his voice. That silent swirl of magic poked at him, pressed him into sitting forward so he was much closer to Hamish as he crouched by the bed.

"Two full days. Old man Gordon found ye by the water. Managed to half drag ye up ti the inn. Whit happened lad? Ye were in a right bad way, looked like ye'd been chomped on and I feared ye'd broken yer right arm. Ye seem ti be moving it fine though," Hamish mused, a curious brow arching in surprise as Zeref wiggled his right fingers in answer.

A terrible pain tore at him, forcing him forward to curl in on himself. His stomach roiled and his gums ached. A tingling pressure spread in his mouth, trembling fingers lifted and pressed into canines that had already been long but were now descended past his lip and so razor-sharp that he nearly ripped his own flesh on the points.

There was a strange smell in the air, something sweet and tangy that he could almost taste upon his tongue. His body told him this would take away his terrible thirst, only this would soothe him and make him whole once more. He tried to resist, he really did. Zeref flatly denied these thoughts to be the truth, the terrible idea of what was being presented to him was horrifying. This power wanted him to rear back and use his fangs to savage Hamish, to latch on to his neck and suck until he was satisfied.

The idea was sickening.

Then why was he moving forward? Why were his hands sinking onto Hamish's shoulders? When did he have such strength to pull the mammoth man into his lap and hold him still?

Zeref was having an out of body experience.

He watched on from the ceiling as his body ensnared the man that had shown him nothing but kindness and charity. His thin legs encircling his waist and arms banded around ones that fought for release. He heard the roaring noise like it was a muted echo, watched the mouth that spewed obscenities and threats of retribution.

His own yelling made no noise, stuck fast in the voyeuristic seat that allowed him no ability to act, only watch.

White teeth flashed in the dim room before they struck with deadly precision. Hamish stiffened in the unwanted embrace, his head thrown back, eyes rolled into his skull and jaw slack. Zeref could do nothing but watch the life drain from his face. The hulking body slumped into his own, hands that had been bunched into white-knuckled fists unfurling until he was limp.

Hamish was dead.

Zeref was back in his body, and the potency that he experienced being thrust back inside was orgasmic. His canines were still buried deep within the flesh of Hamish's neck, the final pulls of his blood slaking his thirst like he now knew nothing else ever would.

He released Hamish to collapse upon the floor and tipped his head back in ecstasy. Nothing could hope to come close to this feeling, the rich coppery tang with hints of honey that painted his mouth, the wild beat of his heart that rocked his whole body, and the flow of blood as it travelled to places most indecent given the situation.

Zeref loved it. He hated himself for loving it, for craving more. His mind shattered from the vicious war that raged within. Ultimately the blood lust won, the sensations and power far too new and raw to be overwhelmed by his own rational thoughts.

Hamish's distressed shouts had been heard, softly padding feet could be heard scurrying towards him along with the sound of a baby crying from the other side of the inn. Zeref smiled as he got to his feet, stepping with no hesitation over the fallen body.

Time for dessert.

~.~

Edinburgh, Scotland Present Day

Lucy was still on edge. She had been so frazzled after the sinister appearance of that woman in Dreyar's Drabbles that she had found herself pacing her small apartment late into the night.

After Levy walked her home, claiming that it was on her way to her own flat and parting ways once they exchanged numbers, the silence was beginning to drive her crazy. Her brain was running itself ragged with deeply disturbing thoughts, playing out all manner of ludicrous scenarios that couldn't possibly come to pass. It was exhausting, yet her mind refused to slow down.

The blonde tried playing music, setting a playlist that was meant to be soothing running as she flopped atop her still rumpled bed. It hadn't worked and the music was quickly turned off in favour of burying her face into her squishy pillow and letting out a muffled scream. That at least felt a little cathartic, the very edge of her anxiety buzz levelled off and her heart rate dropped for the first time in hours.

For hours she tried all manner of tactics; reading the novel that only yesterday she had found so addicting she could hardly put it down, setting her laptop up to watch a new show she had heard about it, opening a blank word document in an attempt to write her feelings down and nothing was working.

Lucy strode for the window, pulling up the blinds to stare out into a night that was clear and calm. A deep blue velvet had fallen like a blanket over the city, the beautiful stars shone through with their serene twinkling presence. For the first time that night, she felt at peace, gazing at those celestial wonders and the idea of taking a late-night stroll was born.

The streets were hushed with not a sound daring to be made, it was as if someone had ordered the silence and they were not to be refused. Something was stirring, Lucy sensed the warning signs of an impending change but it was presented in a way that she knew everything would be fine. She was used to listening to her instincts, from a young age they had never once steered her wrong, and although there was a slight ringing in the back of her mind, it was more a courtesy than a true warning.

Her gloved fingers curled around the crumpled map she had stuffed into her coat pocket. Lucy's phone worked perfectly well for GPS but she knew well enough not to go flaunting her phone at such a late hour when all alone, it would simply invite trouble.

She knew this walk had been a mistake when the first snowflakes had started to fall. The once clear night sky clouded quickly with low hung and ominous clouds, and the wind had picked up from nowhere. With at least a twenty-minute walk ahead of her to return to her flat, she stomped a booted foot on the ground in frustration. This surely was the calmest she had been, and the prospect of being confined to her flat was simply something she did not relish.

The snow was getting heavy, it had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and in a matter of minutes, a thick blanket covered the already frosty streets. Lucy pulled her scarf tightly around her neck, huddling into the fabric as she walked with care, retracing her steps.

It hastily became difficult to see where she was going, everything looked simple and clean in the pure white dusting. A night like this would likely be incredibly pretty to look out onto, from the warmth of a home that radiated love. That thought caught her off guard, it had been a few years since her last relationship and the less she thought about that, the better. She hadn't missed the company of a partner in all this time, but now as she found herself in this magical city with a swirling vortex of snow dancing around her, she ached for a hand to hold. Someone who would be there at night to hold her close, to whisper sweet nothings in her ear and most importantly, spend time with her.

Loneliness. It was a poison in her bones.

Lucy was given no time to lament her sorrow, not when she found herself being followed. The awareness tingled at the back of her neck, the hairs standing on end and the skin prickling unpleasantly. Something told her not to turn around, to pretend that nothing was wrong and keep moving, and she listened. Despite her growing unease, there was no swell of terror and that was deeply confusing.

She twisted through tight alleyways and carefully descended narrow steps in her hurried desire to reach the safety of her home and shake her pursuer. In one such alley she would have sworn she felt the tendrils of someone reaching out to her, there was a hesitant air to the gesture as if the presence warred with itself over what it was doing. In the end, it came to nothing, and the first wave of trepidation coursed across her lower back. Icy cold invisible fingers itched at her skin, and her pace increased.

It was hard to describe, the bone-crushing sorrow that she experienced, and it was not her own. The emotions rushed her until they were almost a part of her own psyche, someone was hurting and it was killing them slowly. Empathy was always her first instinct, the want to take that burden, to lighten the load and ease the suffering. A truly weird sensation when it seemed she was fleeing for her own safety down streets that held the possibility of breaking her neck if she wasn't careful.

The feeling of eyes watching her so intently burned into her back, and she became disorientated as she needed to decide whether to turn left or right. Panic flooded her every nerve ending as she finally swung herself to the right.

Her follower halted.

She knew they were no longer only paces behind her, and Lucy almost sobbed at the sight of the entrance to her close. "Perhaps solitude is a blessing right now?" she mused as she jiggled her key in the door until it would finally open.

Had fate saved her this night?

Or had it merely pushed her into the path of something much darker?

~.~

The next day dawned crisp and fresh. Lucy was less than thrilled when the sound of her phone vibrating across her bedside cabinet roused her from sleep. It was light outside, but after the adrenaline rush of her midnight stroll, it had been the very early hours of the morning before she had succumbed to sleep. Now after only a few precious hours of rest, she groaned and felt for the phone blindly.

With her eyes still half screwed shut she watched the assault of gifs and emojis flood her screen, all courtesy of one Levy McGarden. The smile was automatic and the flurry of activity did wonders for improving her mood.

She spent the best part of an hour in bed conversing with Levy until her new friend invited her along to meet this 'old friend' that Mr Dreyar had mentioned the other day. Levy had warned her that this 'old friend's' grandson worked for her and was the biggest pain in her arse. Lucy couldn't quite put her finger on it yet, but she had a sneaking suspicion that there was more left unsaid about that particular bother than Levy let on.

The decision had already been made in her mind, of course, she would accept. Lucy would not turn down an opportunity to spend more time with a girl that she already felt she had a close connection with after only spending one day in her company.

With that, she bustled from her bed to take care of the usual things and to get dressed for the day. One quick peek out the window told her that the snow had stopped at some stage during the night, and now it lay like a sea of fluffy cotton wool. She wished it would stay that way forever, but the trampling of feet would soon disturb the peace and the pure white snow would give way to dirty slush in the streets.

Lucy waited outside with her breath misting in front of her, hands tucked deep in the pockets of her favourite cream coat and tried not to look impatient. She had tied her hair into two low pigtails which settled against her shoulders, and beneath her coat was a rather more formal dress than she had had occasion to wear recently. Levy had hinted at perhaps heading to a bar after they had fulfilled their duty to Mr Dreyar and the blonde was practically beside herself at the prospect.

At long last Levy appeared from around the corner, her petite frame gave a wobble as she half sprinted towards Lucy and nearly lost her footing on the icy snow.

"Whoa, that was a close one wasn't it?" she grinned mischievously, that one hand lifting to rub at the back of her hair as she had done the other day. The blonde couldn't tell whether the pink stain on her fair cheeks was from the cold conditions or from her embarrassment at almost toppling into Lucy again.

"You should come with a hazard warning taped to your front!" Lucy playfully scolded before hooking her arm through Levy's and waiting for her to take the lead.

"You're no the first to say that, and I'm sure you'll no be the last," she agreed. On those words, Lucy was whisked into a brisk march, surprisingly brisk for how short her friend's legs were but she wasn't complaining as they headed towards their destination.

The pair stood outside a storefront that was the polar opposite of Dreyar's Drabbles. The store was painted in a deep rich purple with silver swirling letters painted on the large window, 'Oghma Infinium'. The window was even more eye-catching than the curious name with a small table set up to emulate a séance. The scene was complete with candles that appeared to float mid-air, a crystal ball with a strange smoke that filled it and an Ouija board with the pointer standing right up in the air on its point.

Lucy shivered at the sight. The paranormal and occult were things she had always found interesting even from an early age, yet there was still a healthy dose of respect for the things she did not understand. "Well, that's certainly an unusual name," she mumbled, her eye refusing to budge from each new thing she noted in the display.

"Don't ask, they'll bore you to tears with the history of the name. Made that mistake a few years back, I'll no have you wasting an hour of your life on such nonsense," Levy retorted whilst marching towards the door.

A tinkling bell sounded in the recesses as they entered the store. It felt stuffy as if the heating was turned up much too high, and the overpowering smell of incense threatened to burn her nose. The space was just a touch too dark which made shadows frolic on the empty parts of the walls, and it was as dead as a doornail. The echo of the tinkling bell was all that made any sound, the air was heavy and still as if it waited for something to happen.

Levy held up her hand to show her crossed fingers, her mouth opened and out spilled the calling of a name, "Porlyusica, you home?"

There was a stirring, and Lucy looked down in time to see a black cat with strange facial markings on its fur prowling out from under the table in the window display. It wrapped around Levy's legs, tail twitching and swishing at her skirt and the rumble of its purr sounded like thunderclaps in the hushed store.

Her blue haired friend crouched to give the cat the attention it demanded, tickling his large head and making soft baby noises at the feline, which seemed to enjoy it. More movement caught her attention as a tall figure loomed out of the darkness, Lucy almost gasped but caught herself just in time.

The man was basically a mountain; he must be clearing six and a half feet in height, broad shoulders that were packed with muscles in the same way as the rest of his upper torso and his hair was so wild it was a sight to behold. Thick midnight hair that coursed over his shoulders and down onto his back, stray spikes stuck up in all directions, but there was still obvious care to his locks. His hair may seem unmanageable but she knew that it would be surprisingly soft to the touch, with likely no tangles despite the crazed style.

What really struck Lucy the most, and what had almost caused her to gasp was the array of piercings that adorned his face. He had tanned skin, narrow eyes with sweeping eyebrows that arched into a rather wicked expression and lips that curled exactly in sync with the expression he was throwing directly at little Levy. The piercings must total at least ten as Lucy eyed each one of them in turn; each eyebrow was pierced, his nose, lip and several on each ear.

The hulking man walked with a swagger that told of his confidence, a rough sounding chuckle reached out as he finally spoke, "well well, wee pipsqueak is back again. Twice in as many days, ye know if ye're really that desperate for a date ye just have to ask."

Oh, now this was indeed interesting.

Lucy took a quiet step back as she watched the two of them square up, the words he had spoken were dripping in sarcastic venom but she had seen that flash of desire to cross his strangely amber eyes. It was a blink and you'll miss it moment, but Lucy had been watching for it.

"In your dreams metalhead! Like I would ever want to date someone with more metal in their body than brains," Levy sneered, regarding the male with fierce tenacity. Lucy wanted to clutch at her heart, those words were razor-sharp but surprisingly the man laughed. A deep and heartfelt laugh resulted in Levy looking extremely flustered and irritated.

"Fuck sake Gajeel, is your grandma here or not? As you may have noticed, I'm not alone so we can't go our usual rounds of nastiness… idiot," the last word was muttered under her breath but he caught it, and his nostrils flared.

The man named Gajeel turned abruptly to Lucy, his gaze travelled her length but not in a suggestive way, more to size her up and she wilted under the intense amber stare. "You been picking up strays again pipsqueak?" he asked yet his eyes never moved from Lucy's face.

"Behave yourself you brute! This is Lucy, and answer the damn question before I tell my new friend all about that time you lost that bet and –," the blue haired pixie was cut off by the barking of Gajeel who was suddenly looking rather red in the face.

"Aye, she's in but no in a good mood. Sure you want to chance yer arm?"

Levy only beamed at him, an unnervingly large smile that caused his brow to quirk and a sharp tooth to peek over his bottom lip as he gnawed on the flesh. Even Lucy looked taken aback by the sinister cheery smile, and she realised that she had not yet spoken one single word.

"Fine, follow me." he sighed. The pair followed after the mammoth sized man as they all disappeared into the space behind the store. A set of stairs leading to an upper floor came into sight and Gajeel yelled up the stairs, "Wendy, mind the damn shop whilst I deal with the pipsqueak and her new pal!"

She heard the scurrying of feet before a girl even smaller than Levy leapt down the stairs two at a time with an excited squeal, "Levy!" Her face was so pretty like a china doll with large hazel eyes and cute little bow-shaped lips.

"Hey Wendy, sorry I don't have time to hang out today, rain check?" Levy answered.

The younger girl pouted for a second but it didn't last long before she broke into a natural smile and flounced into the still empty store with a small shy smile and wave of her hand at Lucy. Another cat appeared hot on her heels, this time a pure white specimen, beautifully sleek and head held high with an air of grace and sophistication. The cat sniffed at her and Levy as it prowled after the young Wendy, clearly, it was not impressed by their presence.

"Oi blondie, move yer arse!" Gajeel growled as he held open the door that Levy had disappeared behind.

She squeaked a timid sorry, crumbling under the heavy stare of the male and rushing to enter the room. Gajeel smirked as she passed under his arm, he was loving making her nervous, maybe he was a jerk after all…

Considering how dark the store had been Lucy was surprised to find herself in a room that was filled with light. One of the walls was a floor to ceiling glass sliding door with curtains of shimmery silver sashed to the sides and allowing for a marvellous view of an intimate looking garden. It was an enchanting sight with every inch filled with a variety of flowerbeds, ornamental birdbaths and a large section devoted to the growing of herbs and exotic looking plants.

Lucy was fully entranced by the magical garden, so much so that she did not note the person seated in a chair by the window with a grim expression fixed in place. Her mind conjured pixies, fairies and imps that would scamper and play in between the flowers and she thought of how she would have loved this garden when she had been young.

"Who are you, my dear?"

The blonde squeaked for the second time this day, turning towards the elderly voice that had called out to her with such a harsh English accent. A formidable woman sat with an extremely rigid back in her lilac coloured tartan chair, her strangely pink hair was streaked with white and tied into a tight bun atop her head and blazing amber eyes assessed her with cunning precision.

"I'm – I'm Lucy. Lucy Heartfilia. It's nice to meet you," she stammered, giving a small involuntary curtsy then immediately wanting to kick herself for doing something so foolish-looking.

Levy sidled up to Lucy and grasped her hand discreetly, giving a quick squeeze.

"Always a pleasure to sit with you Porlyusica, but I've been sent from Mr Dreyar to ask for a specific favour," Levy's words forced the soul-searing stare of the older woman from Lucy's face, and she let off a sigh of relief.

"What is the old fool after now?"

Levy cleared her throat and took a step closer to the woman's chair whilst Lucy watched on. She noted that Gajeel still stood by the now-closed door, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes following Levy's every movement. There was hunger in those eyes, it was exciting and allowed her a moment to peek behind the curtain of his tough facade. He liked Levy more than he seemed willing to admit, and Lucy was pretty confident that the feelings were indeed reciprocated.

"He wishes to know whether you have, or are able to procure a copy of The Magus. He specifically said not to toy with him, he is looking for an early edition, not one of the newer versions which have been heavily altered and fluffed out."

At the name of the book the woman sat forward in her chair, hands lined with wrinkles grasped at the arms of the chair, "The Magus? What on earth is he up to? No, don't tell me –," she threw up a silencing hand as Levy had opened her mouth to reply.

"I will go speak to him myself. What dangerous tomfoolery is he straying into? Leave me whilst I ready myself," the woman commanded as she rose from her chair.

"Oh, and Levy, don't be running back to tell him I'm coming. I want to see the surprise on his wrinkled face for myself."

Her smile was sinister, and once more Lucy wilted as she hastily exited the room with Levy practically pushing her along from behind. It was odd going from the bright sunlit room to the gloom of the store once again. Wendy sat cross-legged on the floor, her long hair flowing around her shoulders as she teased the two cats with a feathered cat toy.

"Fuck me, that was intense!" Levy whimpered and slumped onto Lucy's shoulder.

Lucy could only nod her agreement, words failed to describe how intense a presence that older woman exuded.

"Time for a drink?"

~.~

Dusk had settled over the streets casting hues of pinks and purples from the setting sun. Lucy settled into her seat, listening intently to the story that Levy was telling of her very first run-in with Gajeel. For someone she claimed to despise, she spoke of him rather a lot.

"So yeah, I ended up straddling his chest surrounded by broken candlesticks and bundles of incense," Levy finished up, a deep crimson blush covering her cheeks before she hid her face entirely behind her hands.

Lucy laughed, probing her with questions about the experience, and learning that the cute little blue haired girl had maybe just maybe enjoyed the position more than she had been willing to admit at the time.

The Piper's Rest was filled with far more patrons and noise on this visit. Levy had been surprised that Lucy had already visited this little treasure, and was pleased to hear that Mira had already kindled the first sparks of friendship with the blonde. This was a favoured haunt of her new friend, and she was glad of it as the warmth this place emitted soothed her in a way that very little could.

As Lucy leaned on the bar waiting to be served, a strange shudder passed down her spine, she was being watched. The skirt of rich plum coloured dress whipped around her thighs as she turned towards the entrance, and her mouth fell open.

A man stood frozen in the open door, tall with raven hair that was long enough to fall into his eyes. A strange tuft stood at his crown, daring to defy gravity and it made her lip twitch as if she wished to smile but did not dare. His eyes were a stark black, they appeared muted but the way they focused on her gave Lucy the impression that he was stealing inside her mind to rifle through her thoughts. A long black coat graced his frame, it hung open and allowed for a glimpse of the dark grey sweater that stretched against what she recognised as a slim but toned chest, and black neatly pressed pants fastened with a leather belt.

She did not know how much time had passed since she first locked eyes with the mysterious man, but it felt like they gazed at one another for eternity. That familiar warning flare in her brain told her that this was the very person who had followed her in the streets last night, and her guard was immediately raised.

With his collar popped he gave the impression of someone that was used to hiding from sight, someone that wished to remain a part of the shadows and would shrink back from the light. Despite this, here he was standing in a halo of the light above the door. His expression was hidden from sight, but Lucy could sense the tendrils of his hesitancy. Something was holding in him place, as indecision sparked in his ebony gaze. Her pulse was erratic and she swore his fingers twitched with every thump of her heart.

Lucy swallowed and turned back to the bar. Her eyes squeezed shut, trying to understand exactly what she was being told. Was this man a threat? Should she run for the safety of her friend? The lively music and the noise of merry chatter were almost deafening, yet she could hear his every footfall, they echoed in her mind like the ominous tolls of a church bell.

The man was coming for her, and she didn't know what to do.