Ch. 17: Sabertooth Sleeps
Levy seems to have forgiven me for what I did to Lucy. Guess everyone has; or maybe it just seems that way, and I'm being too hopeful. If someone hurt my family, I don't think I'd be so forgiving either.
Anyway, Levy and Gajeel are visiting Sabertooth—a lot of people are coming over tonight, too. This would be a welcomed occasion if they weren't arguing the night away. My head is throbbing from their voices, still, and it aches my eyes. I rub them and squint at the podium, studying the gold lace of my professor's university. Professor Krescent directs a laser pointer at the overhead screen, jabbering away about the Germanic invasion of England and the Celtics' paganistic culture. My hand throbs under the wrappings from last night, so I run my thumb over the layers to make sure I'm not bleeding. Or to occupy my mind enough to make it for another hour. Operating on only an hour of sleep combined with two dreadful hours of physiology is the perfect dish for a crash-and-burn. I stare at the projection, then my stark Surface screen, and finally my motionless fingers on the keys. The professor's voice tunes out to white noise, the projection translates into nothingness in my mind, and I barely have the energy to even type today. I doubt I have the stamina to allocate a timed essay, if he so desires one. I run my hand through my hair and rest my cheek in my palm, shutting my eyes for a moment.
"Cheney." Krescent's voice approaches me. I open my eyes to see everyone turned around and staring in my direction. My face flushes, more so when the professor takes it upon himself to walk all the way to the fourth row to me. He crosses his arms. "You catch that?" By my gaping expression, he asks, "Wergild. Can you explain it?"
For the first few seconds, I keep staring at him like he's slapped me. "Uh, right." After a calming breath, sliding my hands to my lap, I say, "Wergild is the belief that every person's life has value, and that, in the event he is killed, his death can be excused in payment, vengeance, or avengement. It is sometimes called The Splendid Repayment. A literal man-price or quid pro quo, give or take."
"And which work that we've read thus far have we seen this wergild?"
"Beowulf."
"Is wergild, in your opinion, a good thing?"
"I'm not sure."
"Think, Cheney. Think hard."
I give him an unappreciative stare, and sigh when he raises an expectant eyebrow at me. "I…" What do I think? What do I think? I shrug, at an utter loss. "No, I guess."
"Elaborate," he orders, turning his back to me, walking to the front again.
I hold back a long, tempting groan as my classmates whisper and giggle. "Wergild breeds an endless cycle of death. Person A is killed by Person B; Person A's, say, brother goes out and kills Person B, whose brother kills Person A's mother, whose husband kills Person B's brother, and so on. It's a constant chain of revenge and death, and it's never equal." Krescent turns around, now at the podium, and narrows his eyes on me. "Or at least that's just my opinion."
He nods. "Good." The red point of the laser in his hand quivers on my forehead, prompting my classmates' giggles to rise to laughs. My ears burn. "You may understand the material, Cheney. But I expect that you refrain from staring immensely out the window or dozing off." I swallow. "Pay attention."
"Right," I cave. "Sorry." He redirects the red dot to the projection and continues class.
I take a deep breath and focus on my heartbeat in an attempt to slow it. Frosch's huge black eyes shoot up to me from under the desk, raising his paws in encouragement. I pat his head. My phone vibrates in my lap. Levy, a message reading: Your brother's a PIG!
I type swiftly, keeping my eyes to the front: I know. Sorry.
She replies in seconds: It isn't your fault Oh! You excited for the dinner tonight?
Me: What dinner?
Her: Gajeel's belated bday dinner. It was last week, but I guess he wanted to celebrate it in Crocus. Figured might as well go to Sabertooth. I look away from my phone for a moment before it vibrates again. He didn't tell you?
I reply: I'll make sure the family knows.
Levy types quickly, quick to excuse my brother's usual lack of consideration. He would want you there, as his brother. Why else would we be at your guild?
I consider this. Why else would they be here without a job request? Here I go again, hoping. I already know the answer. Crocus has the best food and drinks and whatever else a guy could want on his birthday. But regardless, I answer, Well, I'll make sure to be home after my last class. I wait a moment before texting more: Thank you. Frosch's smile spreads across his face immediately. When I look at him, his paws fly into the air again in celebration.
"Class dismissed. See you all next week."
##
It has been awhile since Sabertooth roared. Music booms from overhead speakers, everyone's stuffing their faces and chugging whatever their Thursday night poison is. And, as usual, Gajeel and Levy are fighting over something infinitesimal. It must be a special occasion because they chose to argue right here, with me in the middle. Adria pulls an uncomfortable face—we were in the middle of a conversation when the couple from Hell came storming over. Her eyes trail from Levy to Gajeel, then to me for help. I shrug and take in some rum straight. "So, Rogue…" I raise my eyebrows to show I'm listening, despite the spitfire between us. "I heard Grigia pulled a cheap move last time you two sparred."
"I don't know if I'd call it sparring," I say, simply. "Pretty sure Orga saved us from killing each other."
"I hope he didn't break anything," Adria comments, clasping her hands together around her Jack and Coke.
I chuckle. "Grigia does what he wants. I'm actually glad I pushed him to fight dirty."
"Yeah? Master Sting allowed that?"
"Well, he doesn't know." I'm sure he already knows. Underground fights can only be so underground…
"So, who won?"
"Uh—"
Levy lunges forward, pushing my arm, almost spilling my drink. "I wouldn't be so demanding if you weren't such an asshole!"
Gajeel growls and yells back, higher than her, "Levy! Stop hollerin' at me in front of Ryos! You just love an audience, don't ya?!"
"No! That's you, jerk!"
"It's my birthday! Why do you want to fight me on my birthday?!"
"Your birthday was last week! This might as well be a Christmas party!"
"Then why're we doin' this?!"
"Because you have family at Sabertooth!" Levy snaps a finger straight at my nose. I sigh, and drink some more. "I'm sorry that I wanted you to be a brother for once!"
Adria stares between the three of us again. She puts up a finger to cut in. "I'll come back to you later, Rogue." I nod. "Happy birthday, Black Steel." But Gajeel doesn't notice her.
I endure about fifteen more minutes of pointless back-and-forths before I speak up. "Okay." Gajeel scowls at me as if I walked up on him with this nonsense. I tense up for a moment before loosening up when Levy gives me an exhausted sigh. "You two can't keep fighting like this. How long have you been dating?"
"Like, almost a year," Levy murmurs.
"Well…?" Seeing them fight is giving me flashbacks of Kagura. Right now, I really don't want to think of her, or us. "Whatever you did, Gajeel, apologize. Levy, cut him some slack, please." I turn my back to leave. I need more alcohol if this is how the rest of the night is going to play out.
"A lot of talk from a fallback."
"Gajeel!"
I stop. When we meet eyes, his frown hardens. In his irises, I see my reflection surrounded by scorn. His gaze tears me apart, searches down in my soul for the ugliest parts, and holds them out for display. They read: you'll never be good enough; you're a coward. Like the black marks of branding irons; a mark worn by those coneived by sinners. My burnt hand aches. The black plaguing my arms from my magic stabs down to my fingers. I can feel it rising, getting nearer to my shoulders.
"He didn't mean that," Levy says, hurriedly. She tugs at Gajeel's sleeve. "It's been a strange day for everyone. Let's just forget the drama and party."
Yukino's voice approaches me. "Rogue," she chirps, "would you like some of the—"
"What is your problem with me?" I assert, facing him. Why is he so— Did I cross some goddamn line when I said hi to him this morning, or when I gave him a damn gift? "Every time we see each other, you just can't help but take a quick jab at me, can you?"
"What," Gajeel scoffs, "you don't think it's odd you're giving relationship advice?"
"My relationship doesn't concern you."
"Neither does mine. So, buzz out, pipsqueak."
I squint. "Kind of hard to ignore it when you come to my home screaming to the freaking gods!" The glass in my hand shatters before I realize it. Yukino gasps, as if the shards are sinking into her palm. "Spend more time attending to your girlfriend instead of making her cry." The room's temperature rises, and I see numerous, dumbstruck faces surrounding us.
Gajeel steps close to me, growing taller and taller. "You act like you're so in-tune with everyone else's problems. You're not." He stands over me. "So, when you're hiding behind Sting, what have you been doing?" I suck in a breath. "Nothing."
Against my better knowledge, against my own desires to make peace with him, I open my arms and gesture at myself. "I'm standing right here, right now, if you want to go there."
"Yeah, hidin' from your magic and bullies behind Sting like a goddamn sissy!" With that, he shoves me hard enough to make me stumble. The glass shards fall between us, a trail matted with alcohol. A fuse. Levy winces at the noise, backing up into Yukino, who holds her arms for reassurance. Frosch whimpers under them. "Freakin' coward!"
As the entire room falls dead silent, I pounce back and shove him harder. "I've been here, asshole! You're so quick to judge, but the hell have you got to show for anything?!" Gajeel glares at me from the other wall, where he landed. The buffet table has been toppled by his weight, the bar behind me cracked from mine. "I've been here, waiting for my shit brother to give a freaking damn!"
"About what, Ryos?!"
"That's not my name—"
Gajeel snatches my collar and lifts me high against the wall. I let him. Oxygen cuts from my lungs before rushing back in. I stifle a breathless gasp to level my glare on him. "What is it you want me to give a damn about?! You've shown me nothin'! Just cowardice! I've seen nothing but you tryin' to please everyone when it's pointless!"
"Don't act like you know me!" I shoot back, even as my feet hover inches off the ground.
"So, tell me!" Gajeel insists. The crowd around us shift around, sneaking glances at us, at each other. Others, though, stare boldly at us. "What use are you if you're too busy dwelling on things that can't be fixed?!"
Rufus comes over and places a hand on his shoulder, casting him a warning glare. Orga stands with his arms crossed from the other side. Gajeel lets me go, then. When I land, dull pain combs through my ankles. I catch my breath and lean against the wall, not bothering to fix my wrinkled clothes. His words are… I can't even fathom a reaction, can't even think to. All the same, just like when I was a kid, his glare is enough to mangle me, render me silent.
Gajeel leans in close to my face, a threatening shadow hovering over his brow piercings. "Name one thing you have here that you alone earned. You, not Sting, not the Twin Dragons. You." Every part of my anatomy tenses. My mind races to find that one object, that one person, at his request. Sting? Yukino or Frosch? My title as a mage of Sabertooth and one of the Twin Dragons? My ex-girlfriend, who's not even here when I've needed her? My various second chances? "Not one thing, huh?"
The only thing I hear ringing back and forth is my own damnation at the hands of my shadow. Pure hell. The earnings of the blood staining my name, the name I've evaded for decades. I'm not ready, but I have to be when the bell tolls. But if I deserve it, why am I trembling?
Gajeel's voice rises a startle from my chest. "That's what I thought." He leaves with Levy following right behind him, demanding an apology or something. As if that'd change anything.
Bystanders sneak glances at me, at him, waiting for me to explode. I stand up straight and slowly fix my clothes. "Rogue," Yukino says, a careful hand on my arm. My automatic response is to jerk away and send a maiming glare her way. But I drop it when she draws back. She probably remembers what happened last time she startled me back at Fairy Tail, when I almost hurt her. And succeeded in attacking Lucy. I mutter an apology, expecting her to leave. She doesn't. "Want to get some air with me?" I wait until she goes to follow. Like exiting a tunnel, cool air blasts full force at us. It races up my shoulders, snatching, but my heart begins to calm as I watch the back of her head. Her hair glows with the evening dim. "Isn't the sky pretty?"
"Mm-hm." There are more stars out than usual.
Chestnut eyes sparkle when I look at her. I can tell she wants me to talk about what just happened. What's been happening. But I can't. I can barely stomach the thought of telling everything—every ugly, goddamn thing—to Sting. I wish I could. I know I should. But I can't. Yukino rubs her elbow, playing with the lace jewelry near her shoulder, eyes sliding to the side. "Any news on that man who's chasing you? Or Kroff?"
Suddenly the burn on my hand stings intensely. I rub over the circular imprint with my thumb and focus on the pinks and purples of the sky. "Nothing yet. I can't figure out his entire motive other than a few kicks and jabs at me." She crosses her arms and leans on the ledge with me, engrossed. "He captured you to lure me in, I know. But for what?" I frown—the experiments. Maybe he's trying to create more of me. More third-generation beasts.
"Why is he after you, Rogue?" Yukino pushes.
"I'm a dragon-slayer, and a rare third-gen at that. Who isn't after me?"
"Why is he after you?"
"He doesn't know about Sting…or at least that's my conclusion."
I turn my head away to get even further from her meticulous eyes. Arian is my problem, but he's bombed Magnolia and kidnapped my Yuki and Finn. He's tortured and killed innocent people to figure out my magic's power. Maybe he's after me because of that—because we're so alike. Like no other. Just the two of us. What drives him is power, magic and influence. Me: my own survival. I sigh. "His name is Arian. I used to work for him—way, way before Sabertooth."
I hear Yukino's breath hitch. I wash over my heart with a sleeve of frigid numbness.
"Let's just say he's tracking down an old slave." She says nothing. "That is why he took you. That's why he targeted Wendy. To obtain information on me. I was his first dragon-slayer sighting. He saw my magic when I escaped. He wants my power."
"So then…"
"He's a master at breaking people down." My throat catches, as if a warning. But I force it down and brace for whatever reaction may follow. "He targeted Finn, too."
"Did he…?" Yukino's eyes are wide and glossed over, but her expression is focused, set on me. Her scent tweaks in horror. "Finni was killed by his hand, then?"
"I need to stop him before more people suffer. Remember what I said to you in the hospital wing? It's true." I shake my head, scowling at the mountains around and below the guild. "He's a damn psychopath, and he won't stop until I'm—"
Yukino snatches my hand. I look at her. Her expression has changed from concentration to a slight frown. A stare of sheer disapproval. In silence, we watch each other, as if soul-searching. As expected, hers is serene and honest. Strong.
Mine is tarnished and concealing. I sigh and close my eyes, right then she embraces me tightly, propped up on her toes, a hand running up and down my back. A calm surrender overtakes me and I wrap my arms around her. Permitting my guarded mind to submit to her warmth. I rest my chin on her head and take in her scent. "Listen, Yuki…"
"You're not allowed to," she says through a quivering voice. "You can't." But it might be the only way. It's my duty as a mage of Sabertooth and of Fiore to protect the land. It's my duty, too, to do as much to reconcile for the lives I've snatched. Duty calls. But I say nothing. She pulls away after a while, wiping her eyes.
"I didn't mean to make you cry," I say. An olive branch. Or white flag. With her scrubbing at her face, and me standing here balling and un-balling my fists, an occupant quiet looms over the yard. Should I do something else? If I go up and hug her again, would it be too much? She and I are guildmates, and good friends now. But hugging her again might be over the top. But does me standing here, staring at her, suffice as anything any less awkward?
"I should go back inside," Yukino says, finally. "Milady and I have to bring out dessert soon."
"Sure," I say.
"Why don't you come in for some more champagne?"
I laugh a little. I've already had a glass of that and a half bottle of vodka. "Think the air out here's enough."
"See you inside, Spirit." I smile at that, and so does she. She disappears back inside, where jumping bodies and roaring waves of alcohol crowd our living-, dining-, and sitting rooms. Music blares between my ears until she shuts the door again. As heavily as the sliding door's mass slams into the threshold, though, the sizzling stench of lethal magic invades my nose. Arian's magic. It's ponderous, like platinum; chilling with foreign, yet familiar power; and inescapable, like his heinous voice. My blood surges with magic energy, like venom branching through the veins.
~Rogue…~
I stifle a gasp.
~I can make this all stop. I can put an end to your guilt…your pain…your rage. Your deepest desires can be a reality. You've been so patient.~
Frigid hands creep up my back, gripping my waist, my shoulders, my wrists. "Stop it." I shiver to get it off. "Don't."
It cackles. ~Such a good boy.~
I squeeze my eyes shut. "I said, stop it…!"
~You can show them all who you really are. You can be free. Lend me your body.~
To my right is my body in Dragon Force, skin tarnished with onyx, shadows rising like steam through my hair. A bloodthirsty sneer cast across my face. My eyes glow a hellish red through the blackness. Possessed. It… I reach my arm out, palm open.
I tear away in a violent jerk, heart protesting against my ribs.
I can't breathe.
I can't breathe.
I have to get out of here…!
I
can't
breathe…!
I spin on my heel—
"Yo, Cheney." I stop. "A word?"
I lash around— No! I turn back. Keep yourself away. Face the other way. Don't look at him. With a heavy breath, I hiss, "What do you want?" Don't show it. Don't panic. Don't let him see. Don't let anyone see.
You're fine.
You're okay.
"Look, I just wanted to say…" Grigia's figure on the pavement fumbles with its hands. A move no one recognizes from him. "What your brother said to you in there was really jacked up." I blink twice, scowling, and wait for him to continue. Wait for him to turn around and slam my head with a Satanic bible again, like all those years ago. Instead, he sighs. "You don't deserve that, or any of the things I've done to you in the past."
"The past as in last week?" I stammer.
"—So, I'm sorry."
"Are…you serious?" I hug my arms to my body. Blackness rises from my fingertips, staining into my palms. The sight of it hitches my breath, but I recover fast. Habit, I suppose. "You've been drinking. Don't toy with me." Especially right now.
"No." Grigia shoves his hands in his pockets. "Well…yeah. I had a few. But I just felt we should patch things up."
Uncaring for my sanity, or his safety, I give him a disgusted expression, turning. He blinks. I scoff in disbelief. "Do you honestly think I'm that stupid?" The more I hear my own voice, the old me returning in the bitterness of my syllables, the angrier I become. "After all the shit you've done to me, you really expect me to believe you?"
"Well," Grigia pauses, "I never expected it to be easy. But I saw how rough Daryk got it from you in the dining area."
"What, you're scared, then?"
"I'd rather not have another pound of beef with that version of the Shadow Dragon. Save my own ass before things get too tense."
Smart. I frown harder. "If you're looking for forgiveness, you're out of luck because I've been running very low recently." Either my words or my tone, or both, are surprising because he steps back for a moment before regaining his composure. Bastard must have some nerve to come up on me like this after nearly launching me off the dam. So, I could not care less how stubborn I'm being. He deserves far less respect than this. I'm half-expecting him to toss his hands in the air and stalk off to plan something against me.
Instead, though, he smiles. If I were a complete idiot, I would have said the smile was kind, genuine, harmless. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. What you did for that Fairy Tail girl, and Yukino… That takes balls, man." He holds out a hand to me.
I stare ahead at the fishes in the pond, glancing at his hand for only a second. "Anyone would do that for a good friend. If he had the means."
"Can't say I would have. But I want to change that. Right here and now." He straightens his arm more, reintroducing his gesture. "I should show more respect to one of the Twin Dragons, anyway. You guys give your all for the guild."
I raise a brow.
"So," Grigia continues, "I just want to say that I'm sorry, Lord Rogue." I meet his eyes, then look at his offered hand. "And for the future, I'm with you."
As much as I hate this man, he must have some sense of morality to be able to apologize to someone he is detested by. So, though everything inside me screams in bloody protest…I'll take a risk. Everyone deserves another chance. Right? "Well…" I turn to him, eyes on his hand. Maybe I was too hard on him, on Daryk. Maybe—since Red Room, since Jiemma, since Gajeel—I've let myself become too unpredictable, too unforgiving and selfish without realizing it, calling it self-defense, or self-preservation. Every person deserves a chance at redemption. I have to remember that. "Okay." I reach for his hand.
By the very second I smell it, our palms come into contact. There is a metallic aroma, different than that of Gajeel's, that sneaks up my nose, tearing up my sinuses. It's accompanied by a persistent itching sensation on my skin, stemming from my targeted hand. I force my arm from him, inspecting my palm. The lines are broadened with a sickly gray hue. The pad turns the color of a bruise, and, at once, the energy from my body is drained. A tranquilizer. A transmitted toxin.
Grigia's smile turns to a sneer as he withdraws his hand, tainted with sky blue poison in the crook of his palm. My entire arm falls numb and the muscles in my legs can no longer hold my weight. I fall on my side, losing consciousness slowly, grasping my collar as air evades me. His voice comes in as a slur reverberating inside my head. A sound so elusive that I can barely make out the words. But even through slit eyes, I can read his lips:
Monster.
A disturbance in the ground. The stench of gunpowder. Blood.
He disappears just as I catch two musty scents. But their origins escape me. I'm unsure how long it's been since I…
My wavering thoughts are of Skiadrum; I peel open my drooping eyes. Yukino; I force my lethargic muscles to stand. Milady; one foot before the other. Frosch and Lector; I force my eyes to scan the area. T-bear; I need to find everyone.
My mind is drifting bottle in a raging sea, gravid with a tiny scroll, sealed tightly with a cork. Thoughts unreachable, nearly forgotten. I'm merely stumbling through the guild, through the smoke, passed the debris.
~Stay.~
All earthly sounds are drained from my ears as my magic energy depletes. My head swings around, but never up, with each struggling step. My vision doubles and tilts to either side. But still I just walk…and walk… I have to find them. My family.
In this disorientation, my feet kick up under and over each other, and I end up hanging off the guildmaster's throne. Sting's chair. I can smell him. But it's not safe yet. We're not safe yet. I grip the polished armrest, despite the debris surrounding. "T?" Where…? No matter how I heave, my breath is never caught. It, along with my slow, hard heartbeat, is the only thing I can hear. My eyelids shut and open, and shut and open. Without warning, I vomit on the marble floor. I would have fallen into it if I wasn't clinging to the throne—the only trace of my true brother. I cough through the ash and dust that withholds my voice.
"~Close your eyes.~"
"Who's…" I cough again. I let go of the throne and venture to the dining hall, the kitchen, at a wandering pace, stumbling. Where's T-Bear? Where's Yuki and Myshka? Lector, fur matted with browns and grays, scurries to me, arms flailing, tear-filled eyes wide. He covers his eyes and shakes his head, rambling on about something. But I can't hear him. I force my eyes to where a white, burning sensation rises—my hand, where I got burned at the party—to where I see it again:
послушный.
The writing rises from my skin, but no blood is spilled. There is no correctional line striking through it this time. I pat Lector's head and step around him. He tugs on my sleeve, but I have to keep going. Something's pulling me. I have to keep going.
"~Rest, child.~"
Gray rushes to me, screaming in ringing silence. But I can read lips well enough. What am I doing? Where else am I supposed to go? We all need help.
No scents come to me, yet there are people everywhere. There has to be—this was a party.
He scowls at before shouting something else, ice sparkling in his fists, and takes off outside, disappearing behind a cloud of smoke. And I fall.
"~You're safe now.~"
As black masses cloud my vision, I stare at the writing…
Послушный
Obedient
Obedience suits youMadam V saidthatonce Conformity equals acceptance What I am is harmless Ready to obeyWhat I am is not going to hurt anyone but…
"~Rest~"
A/N: Thanks for reading so far! Please R&R!
