Homeward Hours

By CrimsonStarbird

Chapter Eleven – Just a Broken Man

Vistarion.

It was paradoxical how a city could look identical to how he remembered it, and yet feel so different.

Zeref remembered when this street had been a dirt track leading up to the most promising hill he'd found for the site of his future palace. He remembered how rapidly the road had been trodden down as houses had sprung up around it; he remembered approving the order to layer it in asphalt, the first in a city-wide infrastructure project, like it was yesterday.

This was his city. His will had shaped it, nurtured it, guided it. Everywhere he looked, he could see evidence of his decisions embedded within its foundations: from the symmetrical sprawl of the streets to the regulation-quality construction materials to the classical arches of the exhibition centre, a novice architect's design he'd picked out on a whim as it had reminded him of the great Academies of his childhood.

No one, living or dead, knew this city like he did. For hundreds of years, it had been the seat of his power. It was a sanctuary, a place where he was protected from the outside world not by magic, but by respect and a hard-won title. It was a distraction when his mind was inside-out and his magic raged against the fraying leash of his control. It was a weapon that had jumped faithfully into his hand when an opportunity for him to escape this life had arisen in the hands of his enemies. It was power and responsibility, it was ambition and experimentation, it was the only place from the last four hundred years that had any positive memories attached to it.

As far as a man so cursed could ever have one, it was a home.

But today, it felt… different.

Perhaps it was the time he'd spent away that did it. Certainly, he'd been absent for longer periods before – for years or even decades at a time, much to the dismay of his staff – but the tumultuousness of the past few months had more than made up for their shortness.

Maybe he'd just forgotten. After all, he'd intended to teleport directly into the palace, but found himself on the outskirts of the city instead. The fallibility of human memory would explain the mistake in his spatial placement.

Someone shouted at him to get out of the way. Snapping out of his thoughts, he stepped aside as the world continued to swirl around him. A man dressed in the regal armour of an imperial guard caught his eye just long enough to express a patronizing disapproval, and then turned back to his patrol.

Zeref watched him for a moment longer, weighing up whether or not to respond. Anonymity had been his choice as emperor. Only his closest advisors would recognize him on sight, and all overseas diplomacy had been done by proxy for decades. For a ruler who was frequently absent for long periods of time, it was necessary to prevent enemies from catching wind of his country's vulnerability; for a man too often subject to the whims of his curse, it helped to keep the machinery of empire running smoothly.

This was his city, but no one knew it.

Hands in his pockets, he walked on up the street.

He wondered who was in charge, now that everyone thought him dead. August would have been the natural choice to succeed him, but he'd died mere hours before the war had ended. From the other side of Magnolia, Zeref had felt his life flare and burn out.

It was so pointless. August must have realized he couldn't have got what he wanted either way.

Sometimes, Zeref wondered if that had been the moment he had first started to question if this was what he wanted.

His hands curled into fists where no one could see.

Irene would probably have refused the responsibilities of becoming a leader again, even if she had lived – but he'd felt her give up too, one more ally deciding that not even the infinite potential of Fairy Heart could bring them happiness.

Invel would have been a decent choice of successor, Zeref supposed. What had happened to him? Had he survived the war?

It bothered him that he didn't know.

It bothered him that this city, his city, still thrived when so much that mattered had been taken from it.

There was a lurch in his chest. Pain streaked through his skull. The nails biting into his palms did nothing to release the pressure building up behind his eyes. No matter how he gasped, it seemed his lungs had forgotten how to circulate oxygen around his body.

People were starting to take notice, now, for all the wrong reasons. He ducked into a back alley. His fingertips pressed to his forehead, cold stone against his back. The shadows held him tight. They'd missed him dearly.

He breathed and didn't think, and the panic began to ebb.

It had taken him too long to get here.

That must be the explanation. He had been so angry when he'd escaped the Fairy Sphere – a cold, simmering anger, a derision close to indifference, where the curse that so often was his bane became his servant instead. He wanted to remind his captors why they'd once feared him. He wanted to destroy them utterly, them and their kingdom and their Magic Council and everyone who had facilitated their decision to keep him as their pet. He wanted to travel far away and burn to cinders every last trace of a connection to Fairy Tail. As his enemy or as his jailer, that guild would not define him.

But, while he could teleport from the closest point in Fiore to the closest point in Alvarez in a single jump, doing so took all his strength. He'd had to rest before attempting it, and recover on the other side before pressing on to Vistarion. With every passing hour, the coldness had thawed further. He'd started noticing, questioning, things to which he should have been apathetic.

So it always was, with his moods, he told himself. The Curse of Contradiction did not like to be controlled.

Shaking off the thought, he focussed on his immediate situation. He needed to be more careful about how he acted. This was not how he had intended to draw attention to himself.

With a reassuringly full breath, his fists unclenched and he continued on.

The city looked well, for the capital of a nation that had attacked a foreign power unprovoked and been soundly beaten. He would have expected Fiore and its allies to heap economic sanctions upon the chastised empire, especially considering the punishment they had inflicted upon its leader.

It wasn't until he was almost at the palace that he understood why they hadn't.

Fiore didn't blame Alvarez for the invasion. They blamed him.

To them, he wasn't truly an emperor. He was just another dark mage trying to overthrow them, and Alvarez was as much his victim as they were, manipulated into throwing its future away for his selfish goals.

That thought rankled. He had built Alvarez from the ground up; it would never have existed if not for him. Ishgar's Magic Council was entirely ignorant of the time and energy he had poured into making this haven for himself. They understood nothing.

And yet Vistarion felt different.

In the harbour, merchant ships proudly flew the Fiorean flag. A prime plot of land in the heart of the city had been cordoned off for the construction of a new embassy. This patchwork empire had always been a proudly multicultural entity, emerging organically from the varied survivors of the mad dragons across Alakitasia, but when he skimmed the crowd with the observant gaze of the strategist, he noticed a higher proportion than ever of fashions and people from beyond the continent – tourists and traders and students from far away.

After all, Alvarez had no quarrel with Fiore. He did. Why would they continue fighting, now that he was thought dead? They didn't know what had been done to him since the war.

They would soon, though.

Or so he had intended, but the wards around the palace refused to admit him.

Startled, he took a step back from the invisible barrier and stared up at the towers beyond.

It was a shock, that was all. One that wouldn't have surprised him if he'd thought about it logically. It explained why he'd not been able to teleport straight inside – he hadn't got the coordinates wrong after all. It was good practice to update the palace wards on a regular basis, and why would they bother keying in a man they believed was dead?

It was just common sense. He'd probably have done the same.

It didn't mean anything.

Besides, it wasn't as though they would keep him out for long. These standard-issue defensive spells were no Fairy Sphere. Already, he could feel the barrier beginning to give beneath his fingers. He'd shatter it and storm into his throne room and-

And-

His thoughts stalled.

And then what would he do?

Seize power back from whoever it was that had bravely stepped up to succeed the only ruler Alvarez had ever known?

Throw his empire back into a fight it clearly didn't want?

Shatter the peace and the reconstruction and the burgeoning evolution of this nation for the sake of his revenge?

His hands fell softly back to his sides.

Would they even do that for him? He had been so sure they would jump at his command that he had come to Alvarez without hesitation, but now that he was here, he was no longer certain. The city felt different. Like he didn't know it any more.

He could force them to obey.

Oh, yes, he could. It hadn't been that long since he'd been this nation's absolute ruler, an immortal mage of immense power and terrible reputation. Whoever was in charge now, it was almost certainly someone he himself had trained in magic and politics – someone whose strengths and weaknesses he knew intimately. A simple show of strength would be enough to bring them in line.

But.

In four hundred years of hatred, grief, and regret, Alvarez was the one thing he had been able to look back on with pride.

He had built this country from nothing. It was strong because he had helped it become so, after the mad dragons had devastated the continent and all others had given up on it. It was a haven for so many people, not just himself.

And oh, he abused it, like he abused everything good in his life – kept his servants at arm's length, manipulated them for his own gain, ensured that they remained worthless to him. But it was… mutually beneficial. That was how he kept them alive. He hadn't needed to be a dictator; he had never been hated. His closest advisors – in as much as he could call anyone close – had been aware of his unique circumstances, and had remained loyal despite everything. His war had been selfish, but he hadn't forced them to fight it. They had done it freely, for him.

This… wasn't his Alvarez.

Those who would have welcomed him home and yielded power without a second thought were dead, now.

The diplomatic tension and international hostility he had cultivated to facilitate his eventual war, which once had made Alvarez the most feared nation on the planet, would only hold them back now that Fiore had offered them the hand of friendship.

Here on the cusp of a new age, Alvarez needed to look forwards, not be dragged back into the past.

Maybe he could take back control. But for the first time in four hundred years of leadership, they would not thank him for it.

The mood in the city was a happy one. Happier without him.

It should have been a triumphant homecoming, but his home had… moved on.

This wasn't his Alvarez.

Not any more.

"And you're absolutely sure he's not in Alvarez?" Lucy demanded.

"Positive," Natsu grunted.

"It's just," Lucy continued doggedly, "Alvarez is the only thing he used to talk about with any kind of fondness. I think he'd have wanted to go back there…"

"Well, maybe he did, but he's definitely in Fiore now," Natsu rebutted. "Take it from the guy with a direct connection to his magic."

"…Natsu, you didn't even know you were a demon until he told you."

"Part-demon," he corrected stubbornly. "The part that doesn't matter."

"I know that, but-"

He overrode her firmly. It wasn't rudeness; it was simply the fact that he despised talking about this, and if he absolutely had to do so, he was sure as hell going to get the words out as quickly as possible.

"I couldn't feel his magic at all before I had that fight with Gray. Then I could, a bit, but it faded almost to nothing after the war. I guess whatever the Council did to him was blocking it. I'm still kinda getting used to it… but I know he's not as far away as Alvarez."

Then he added, "Besides, we have diplomacy and stuff with Alvarez now. If their evil emperor had returned from the dead, it would have been all over the news."

"…Huh, that's a good point," Lucy remarked, taken aback that Natsu had actually resorted to a logical argument.

"Plus, we've already proven we can beat Alvarez. I think he'll have gone recruiting amongst the dark guilds of Fiore. I fought loads of 'em while I was doing solo missions. There are a bunch of wannabe evil cults out there just like Avatar, who'd sign up straight away if Zeref appeared to lead them. Trust me, Luce, the best way to find him is to look in the areas where dark mage activity has shot up in the past few days."

"…Right, right," Lucy sighed, gesturing to the mess of papers spread across her kitchen table like she was at a recruitment fair for suicidal guild mages. "But did you have to take every single dark-mage-related job on the Request Board?"

"I left the ones that were more than ten days old," he shrugged.

"Natsu! You do realize that we will have to complete all these jobs now that you've accepted them, right?" He blinked at her, like he genuinely couldn't see the problem. She resisted hitting her head against the table, but only because it would have disturbed the half-finished map they'd been assembling to try and triangulate Zeref's location. "And besides, didn't anyone think it was suspicious that you took thirty jobs all on your own?"

"Nah. I told 'em I was trying to make up for the Hundred Year Quest and they all left me alone." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "I told Laxus what we're doing, though."

"Laxus?" Lucy squeaked. "I know we agreed that someone had to know the truth, but why him?"

Natsu brushed away her concern with an easy wave of his hand. "'Cause he trusts me. And he knows how to keep a secret. If we don't check in with the guild by 9pm tonight, he'll tell Gramps what happened, but otherwise, he's cool with letting us handle it."

"I'd feel cooler about it if he was coming with us, for the extra firepower," Lucy grumbled, trying not to think about how much of Laxus's decision was based on the mistaken belief that Natsu had defeated Zeref the first time round.

"We talked about this, Luce. The only person we can guarantee Zeref won't throw death magic at on sight is me."

Her heart thudded in her chest. She wasn't sure this was entirely accurate; Zeref could have killed her when he had broken out, and he hadn't done. And he had been silent for ten days, now. When she had been alone, the lack of news had terrified her, but now that Natsu was by her side, she could look at it more rationally. Something wasn't right here. And she could only hope that it would be enough.

Natsu's hand rested on her shoulder. "I told ya, Luce, we got this. There's nothing to worry about."

It was strange to hear those confident words from him, when she knew he wasn't sure whether or not he could hold his own against Zeref either. But, looking into those fiery eyes, at Natsu Dragneel being Natsu Dragneel for the first time since he'd lost that final fight, she felt a sudden and inexplicable certainty that they would get through this, no matter what.

"Taurus!"

There was no opportunity for the Bull Spirit to make one of his normal inappropriate comments as he deflected the blast from the enemy's staff with a sweep of his axe. Usually, Lucy would have been glad about that, but right then, she would have given anything for a laid-back battle full of levity and friendship.

The dark mage followed up with lightning speed, and Taurus was back in the Celestial Spirit Realm before Lucy had managed a single step forward. If not for Loke, using the distraction to appear out of nowhere and punch their enemy through the nearest window, she might not have survived unscathed at all.

At the far side of the hall, Natsu dispatched the last of his own opponents with an explosive blast of fire. As if sensing her gaze upon him, he stood a little straighter, adjusting his scarf with an air of nonchalance. It might have worked, if she hadn't known that the blood on it didn't all belong to his enemies.

He'd insisted he was fine when she asked earlier, though – and been downright furious when she'd made the mistake of implying he might not be fit enough to take Zeref on.

Instead of bringing it up again, she remarked, "These guys are much tougher than I was expecting. I can't believe you were fighting whole guilds of these on your own."

"They weren't this strong," Natsu admitted. He nudged his unconscious opponent with his foot, exposing an unfamiliar guild mark on the side of his neck. "Look. They're all from different guilds. I bet he's gone round all the aspiring evil cults in the region, handpicking the strongest and cruellest of the lot. Probably made all these deadly magic weapons for them while he was at it, too."

Lucy said nothing. While it was true that there were plenty of fanatics out there committing atrocities in his name – Avatar being just one example – the only time she had ever known Zeref to be involved himself had been Alvarez: a nation that wasn't good or evil, only hostile; an army that had, largely, fought with honour, accepted defeat gracefully, and yielded to the code of international warfare. She'd seen how he could draw the best out of people during the S-Class Trials. Indeed, the only time she'd seen him invested in anything since they'd broken him out of the Council's prison had been when he was directly or indirectly guiding others.

This assortment of uneducated, violent thugs, who had attacked without provocation the first two guild mages to knock on their hideout's door, was not him.

But she couldn't say that to Natsu. She knew he didn't want to hear it.

"Do you think we're in the right place, then?" she wondered.

"He's here. I can smell him."

His hand went to his bloody scarf again, adjusting it unconsciously.

"Natsu-" she started, not knowing what to say, but not able to say nothing.

"I can take him," he swore. "He's not going to hurt my guild ever again. He's going back in that cage no matter what."

Lucy bit her lip and said nothing.

There were three enemies waiting beyond the door, and the corridor was too narrow for both her and Natsu to fight at once. She knew he'd heard them with his Dragon Slayer hearing and taken the lead on purpose, and it was probably for the best given the dangerous magic their opponents were throwing around without much control, but she couldn't help worrying. He hadn't been nearly this tired when he had faced Zeref the first time.

Speaking of which, where was Zeref? Surely he was entitled to all the confidence Natsu was having to fake. Unlike any random dark guild's Master, he knew for a fact that using his underlings to wear Natsu down was unnecessary. Why hadn't he shown himself? Was he trying to drag this out? Certainly, his inexplicable and prolonged silence after breaking free had struck fear into Lucy's heart, but the end was almost upon them now. What did he gain from another few minutes? Why was he doing this?

As she listened to the sound of Natsu's heaving breaths, something else reached her ears. It sounded like someone sobbing in the distance.

It was such an unexpected sound to hear in a dark guild's rundown hideout that she had to confirm with Natsu, "Do you hear that?"

Her teammate's mouth was set in a grim line. "He's probably torturing one of his new recruits for failing."

Normally, Lucy wouldn't have hesitated to defer to the Dragon Slayer's enhanced hearing, but she couldn't shake the sense of doubt as she fell in behind him once again.

She was prepared to fight in the next room, determined to take some of the pressure off Natsu, but there was no need – the dark mages here weren't ready for battle. She thought they were asleep, at first. She'd already reached down to tie the first one up before she realized he was dead.

There was no sign of what had killed him. No wound, no lingering magic, no expression of fear resting like a death-mask over his face; just a corpse that had not realized it was dead.

There was only one kind of magic which caused death and nothing else.

The sound of sobbing was louder here.

A low growl stole from Natsu's throat as his gaze fell upon the half-open door at the far end of the room. Flames of justice ignited around his wrists, but before he could step forward, Lucy placed her hand upon his arm. "Natsu. Let me deal with this."

The growl became a little louder. She didn't need to be a dragon herself to understand Natsu's emotions: concern and protectiveness, but also vindictiveness and anger and blame. Perhaps his fierce opposition was justified, perhaps it all was, but the fact that it was allowed didn't mean it was the best solution.

"Please," she murmured.

He gave a jerky nod.

Taking strength from his presence at her side, Lucy shuffled forwards and edged the door open. The room beyond had probably been an office, once, before the building had fallen into disrepair and the scoundrels of society had taken up residence. In the centre was a crude imitation of a throne, complete with a skull to crown it. The seat itself was empty.

Lucy approached, gesturing for Natsu to stay back, which he did unhappily. She didn't need a dragon's hearing to tell that those sounds of distress were coming from behind the throne. Carefully, her feet almost soundless upon the floor, she crept forward.

He was curled up in a ball in the shadow of the throne. His arms were wrapped around his shins, his face was pressed into his knees. So small was he that it was a wonder he didn't simply disappear.

There was nothing but air between them. No impenetrable barrier, this time – not even enough distance to turn and run.

Lucy swallowed.

Tried not to think about the hand that had wrapped with merciless indifference around her neck, but about the fact that he could have killed her that day and hadn't.

"Zeref?" she whispered.

No response.

She could see Natsu tensing as she knelt down beside the trembling ball of black and white. If he lashed out, intentionally or otherwise, she wouldn't stand a chance.

"Hey," she murmured. "It's okay."

She saw him give a tight shake of his head.

"It's okay, I promise," she repeated. "You don't have to do this."

At those words, he seemed to collapse further in on himself. "I don't want this," he begged of his knees. "I don't want to be like this, I don't want to destroy everything I touch, I don't want to be alone, I don't want to be obsessed over by people who don't know me, I don't want to not belong anywhere, I don't want to kill anyone any more-"

"Shh, it's okay." With a courage she had not known she possessed before that day, she softly smoothed back his sweat-soaked hair. She smiled at him, knowing he wouldn't see it. "They can't make you. We'll make sure of that. We will keep you safe, for as long as you need us to."

He didn't say anything, but through the lightest touch to her palm, she could feel a yearning for comfort far too great for words.

She murmured, "Let's go home."

Gently, she scooped him up in her arms. She remembered how weightless he'd felt as she'd carried him from the Council's prison; she'd blamed it, then, on starvation and torment and the prolonged separation from his magic. Yet he felt no more substantial now than he had back then. Immortal he may have been, but the smallest thing could break him; the lightest breeze could carry him away. She held him a little tighter as she got to her feet, and he did not uncurl from his ball, except to press a little closer to her. She didn't mind. It mattered, she thought, to a man who was forced to live on the other side of a wall lest he kill everyone around him.

"Can you transport us back to Magnolia?" she asked. Against the front of a top already damp with tears, she felt him nod.

Magic swirled around them, a glimpse into the immensity of space, and when the darkness melted away, they and Natsu were stood in that familiar clearing in the forest outside Magnolia.

Not once since she'd helped the guild get the prefabricated house habitable in record time had she – or anyone else, for that matter – been inside. It looked so… normal. Lucy carried him slowly through a living room that was tidy but not sterile, through a kitchen that was clean but not unused. Apart from the odd book that looked as though it had been stolen from a medieval archive, and the half-built contraption of wires and lacrima on the table – she wasn't sure she wanted to know what he was doing with that – anyone could have been living here.

Perhaps it shouldn't have surprised her. He had no more been born an emperor than Natsu had. He had spent enough time alone to have learnt the motions of life, to have understood the importance of small routine.

Only when she passed the bathroom door did she smell the blood. She threw an alarmed glance at Natsu, knowing he must have noticed long before she had with his senses, and though his jaw was set in distaste, he shook his head. "It's his. I think he did it to himself."

He pushed the door open a crack, and then closed it again, scowling. "I'll sort it. There's gotta be a mop and bucket around here somewhere."

Lucy nodded gratefully, though she had a feeling Natsu would rather have done anything than be in the same room as his brother right now. Zeref knew full well what had caught their attention; he was crying again, pressed tightly against her, and she wondered how he could weigh next to nothing when fear and pain resided so heavily within him.

Moving on towards the bedroom, away from the sound of Natsu trying to get to grips with a cleaning tool he'd probably never used in his life, she murmured, "What happened, Zeref?"

She was almost surprised that he answered, his words more bitter than any he had ever directed at her. "Had a bad day. It happens. I'm used to it."

There was so much she wanted to say to that, so much that she wanted to scream at the universe that thought this was acceptable, but what good would it do?

Instead, she said, "If it happens again, will you tell me?"

"No," came the immediate response.

"I can't help if I don't know it's happening."

"You can't help anyway."

"Zeref," she said, reproachfully, as she lowered him onto the bed. Rather than turning away from her and hiding, he stared up at her, eyes locked onto hers. Though rimmed with the red of tears, they glimmered with a sharp self-awareness.

It was worse, she thought, than the nothingness they'd held when she'd first met him in the Council's prison. He knew exactly what it was doing to him.

Bluntly, he told her, "It was sheer fluke that you arrived when you did. An hour earlier, I'd have killed you by accident. Two hours earlier, and I'd have done it on purpose."

"I'm not sure about that," she returned. "Why didn't you kill me when you broke out of the Fairy Sphere? You promised you would, after all."

There was a long moment of silence, as he stared up at her like he'd never seen her before. Sometimes he was so alien, cursed and immortal and hostile and alone, that she didn't know how to deal with him. And sometimes – sometimes he was so frantically human that it hurt.

"I don't know," he said finally. "It didn't occur to me, I suppose."

"Then," she tried, "if it happens again, will you at least tell me afterwards, so that we can help you pick up the pieces?"

"Maybe," he murmured. His chest rose and fell with tired breaths. She decided it would be best to let him rest.

She was halfway to the door when he spoke again: "Lucy."

His eyes were open, fixed on her with an intensity that the distance could not diminish – and for the first time, she didn't see a captive enemy or a threat to her guild or a powder keg one stray spark away from destroying everything she loved, but a man so very damaged, who needed help and support more than anything. Maybe he didn't deserve it, after everything. But she was damn well going to make sure he got it anyway.

He warned, "I will probably despise you for this tomorrow."

"That's fine," she smiled. "You can rage against me all you like. That's what the Fairy Sphere is for. It will pass. It always does, doesn't it? And when it has, call me on your lacrima and give me your grocery order for the week and tell me what books you want me to track down next and let me know if you're feeling up to some company."

"Mm. I will."

"Don't ever think that you don't have a place to belong, Zeref."

As she closed the bedroom door behind her, a wisp of a voice reached her ears: "Thank you."

Natsu was waiting for her outside. At the edge of the circle of dead grass, she stopped and raised her hand, restoring the Fairy Sphere. The muted gold settled back into its old position as easily as breathing, the clearing once again becoming a prison – but also, perhaps, a sanctuary, sealing away the worst parts of him in a way he couldn't do himself. She couldn't begin to imagine what it was like, having nowhere to call home but this.

It wasn't until Natsu placed his arm around her shoulders and drew her into a one-armed hug that she realized she was shaking.

"You okay, Luce?"

"I…" A breath shuddered through her as she thought about the question, really thought about it. What would they have done if Zeref hadn't wanted to return? What if he'd still held that cornered, claustrophobic anger that had driven him to leave in the first place? What if he was right, and there really was nothing more than luck guiding the roulette-wheel of his moods?

She'd come to realize, today, that she trusted him as much as she trusted any of her friends – and yet she knew, objectively, brutally, that he wasn't trustworthy. The fact that he didn't want to hurt her only made it more likely that he would do so, one day. If his curse couldn't break through the Fairy Sphere, it would break him instead.

She didn't know how to stop it. She didn't know if anything could. This had been going on for four centuries before she'd met him, after all.

Some of her doubts must have shown on her face, because she could feel a low growl reverberating through Natsu's chest, and she knew he was glaring through the Fairy Sphere at a house he wished more than anything didn't exist.

"I'm okay, Natsu," she reassured him. "Just…" After one look at his deeply glinting eyes, she went with honesty. "Just a bit scared and overwhelmed right now, but I'll be okay."

"You didn't seem scared when you were talking to him," he pointed out.

"No, well, I knew he would never have believed me if I couldn't even look like I believed myself," she deflected. "Besides, you're one to talk. I know you were afraid the entire way there, thinking you were going to have to face him again."

"I was not."

She just smiled. "But you came with me anyway. That's what matters, Natsu. Not the fact that you were frightened, or the fact that you don't like him – but the fact that you stood by me in spite of it."

At last, he seemed to stop glaring a hole through the side of the house, and turned to look her in the eye. "I hate him, Luce," he said quietly. "I really hate him. I hate that he exists, and that I'm not allowed to just be me any more, and that, even though he lost, he still managed to take the life that I fought for away from me."

A long, low exhale. Letting go. Keeping only what mattered.

"But I get that he needs you, Luce. And I get that it's in a different way to the way in which I need you."

When she glanced up, surprised, he only smiled ruefully. "I wanna support you, Luce. If you're so determined to help him, then… I'm determined to not make that any more difficult for you. You be there for him, Luce. I'll be there for you."

"Natsu," she breathed. Tears sparkled at the corner of her eyes. Too many feelings for one moment, too complex for his beautiful, straightforward affection. She tried to smile: "Where's Happy when you need him?"

He laughed. It was the first time she'd heard it since the end of the Alvarez war.

"You know," she continued, as his fingers threaded through hers, "a lot may have changed, but change doesn't mean things have to be worse. I know you were hoping things would go back to normal after the war, and I guess that normal is a bit different now, but maybe, while everything's still in flux, we can change some things for the better."

"Like what?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something." She set off back down the forest trail with a shrug, and, not wanting to lose her hand from his, he followed.

It wasn't until they reached Magnolia that she mustered up her courage. "To be honest, I'm not sure I feel up to going back to the guild tonight. Everyone believes we're on like thirty dark-guild-hunting jobs at once, so they won't think it's odd if we don't show up. Do you want to just come back to my place instead, get a takeaway, maybe watch a film?"

"Sure," Natsu agreed, though he still sounded puzzled. "We hang out all the time, though, Luce. Not sure it's gonna be that much of a change-"

It had been quite a while since she'd wanted to Lucy-kick him into a brick wall in the vain hope of knocking some common sense into him. Then again, maybe this one wasn't his fault. Maybe they both needed to stop beating around the bush, since Happy wasn't here to do it for them.

Though, she was rather glad of this last fact, since it meant there was no one there to ruin the mood with a snarky comment as she kissed him.

"…Oh," Natsu said, after a moment.

"Oh?" she echoed, one eyebrow raised.

"Change is great. Let's keep going for change. The more the better, that's what I always say."

There was nowhere better in the world, Lucy decided, than being snuggled up next to Natsu on the sofa. His chest was weirdly comfortable, his easy contentment was contagious, and he was so warm that she figured she could save a fortune on heating bills if she could convince him to stay over more often.

Not that Happy and the others would buy that excuse. Natsu would probably believe it, but then again, she was beginning to realize that she didn't need an excuse with him. That thought alone was enough to wipe away the tension of the last few days.

They'd both changed, she knew. In a way, they had been through more since the war than during it, and their troubles were far from over. Natsu had grown up a lot, but in order to do so, he had sacrificed a lot, too – and a humbling amount of it had been for her. For all that he struggled, and for all that he fought, he was the best man she'd ever met. The future didn't look easy for either of them, but there was no one she would rather face it with than him.

She knew she was different, too. She'd made mistakes, terrible mistakes, and by the kindness and support of others, she had somehow always managed to escape the consequences. She knew she had a lot still to learn; she knew she had to be better.

She was hesitant to wonder what Natsu thought of it all, but if the thumb stroking back and forth over the curve of her hip as they half-watched the movie was any indication, he seemed to be okay to learn alongside her. This was definitely the kind of quiet night she could get used to.

As if her good mood had summoned it, a series of explosions resonated in the distance.

Lucy blinked blearily at the screen, trying to recall what had happened in the last few minutes, but the film didn't seem to be in the middle of an action sequence. When she raised her head, she could see Natsu's attention turning towards the window.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Don't know."

A surge of magic swept over them and continued across the city. Though it seemed harmless, it was powerful enough to make all the hairs on her body stand on end. The last time she had felt magic like this, it was Freed and the others preparing to shield the city as Alvarez's air fleet advanced.

Natsu seemed to be of the same mind, as he added, "Feels a bit like the guild's preparing for a siege. Think we're under attack?"

Lucy was halfway to her feet when she froze. "Natsu," she began, doubtfully, "you did remember to call Laxus and tell him that we'd sorted the Zeref situation, right?"

"…Ah."

"Natsu!"

"It's not my fault! You were distracting me with the change is good speeches and the kissing!"

Well, alright, that had been pretty distracting. Lucy massaged her temples. "The guild is never going to let us live this down, are they?"

"No, sir!" chirped a voice from outside.

They spun around to see a saucer-eyed demon of a winged cat floating at the window, sniggering into his little blue paws. "They're in loooooove! I'm gonna tell Mira first, so she can start planning the wedding!" He did a delighted loop the loop and flew off into the night, still sniggering.

Lucy's eyebrow twitched. "I am going to kill that cat."