Synopsis: AU. And to you, I give my all.
Author's Notes: Random. Dark. Cliche. OOC. Slavery. Weak Juvia because I want one and I missed damsels in distress.
Cover Art from DeviantArt by ZenithOmocha.
I got into Greek Mythology during the typhoon chaos. Have it all thought through but idk when I'll finish it. Again, not expecting anything from this one; just needed to get it out of my system.
Proceed with caution.
Standard disclaimers are applied.
Piece 1: Galatea
"You are my life."
"No… Please… Stop."
"Sayonara, ****"
"*****!"
"NO!" cold sweat bathed his body that one summer night. Ragged breathing that he grew accustomed to ever since he came in this world; an endless sigh escaped his lips.
One would think that after two and a half decades, he would be used to the constant torment that visited him in his sleep.
But he wasn't.
Deep in his thoughts, he wasn't able to notice where his feet had dragged him: in a room, his closest friend had gifted him.
With a soft creak after fighting against all his mental strength to open the doors, he was bathed with the sight of his work – magical glaciers of various sizes seeming to shine beneath the moonlit night.
His sister's ramblings suddenly rang through his mind; "You'd be able to fund your own kingdom if you auctioned all this."
But the thought disgusted him.
Serving under the empire was enough. Being the righthand man of the king was enough. Knowing full well that his family was living comfortably and safe was enough.
Or so he thought.
He found himself lost once more as he turned to his current masterpiece. But just like any and all of the work within the cold, cold room, this sculpture – an intricate masterpiece of the finest ice he could ever create – was not of face.
But it wasn't the fact that all his sculptures were one of the same; a human yet not; elaborate, but featureless, that hindered him from selling them off. But the strong urge hidden within him that told him this was his and his alone:
She was his.
His further reminiscing of whether when he started bringing life to his creation came to a halt as the only other person that could ever enter this place at this hour without being questioned had barged in.
He would know who he is; as he needed to strengthen the barrier of ice that kept all of the nameless, faceless woman's figures keep their sophisticated shape.
"Gray." The commanding presence worded, knowing full well what his presence does to his friend's…treasure.
"My Lord."
A brutal force landed on the soft ivory carpet of the studio as the artisan's face collided with it. "Fuck off, Iceprick. I told you not to call me that."
"And I told you it won't ever be the same."
"Dufus."
"…"
"Come with me."
"I wish not to sully Milady's hon–"
And there comes the encore of the previous loud thud. "Her name's Lucy, she's your friend's lover which makes her your friend too so stop this hierarchy shit because you're making me puke."
"…"
"You'd want to go. I've rounded the Fairies for you." He added as he tossed his friend's battle gears to its owner.
"Where to?" he asked uninterestedly yet ironically already adjusting his frost gloves.
"We've found another den."
Previously lifeless black orbs somehow glowed as he turned towards his friends – kings or emperor be damned; he was fisting his superior's shirt. "Where."
In a matter of minutes, the troop found themselves in a secluded area within the Sinclair Manor. Natsu had already briefed him.
It was no wonder the slavery that they've long abolished still had its remains: no one would ever dare perform a search and operation within the depths of a powerful dukedom.
With charity as a façade, the duchy continued its human trafficking even when Natsu, his friend, had descended into the throne.
That was half a decade ago.
The mere thought of such a remnant slipping through his grasp made his blood boil.
He couldn't quite put a finger on his severe loathing for the immoral ways of them humans. If one were to argue that it was of natural instinct to fight when oppressed, Gray believed his loathing was to the extreme.
He couldn't quite understand why he'd blindingly go red at the thought of being controlled.
Thus, without even his friend's decree five years ago, he took it upon himself to eradicate every oppression establishment in their Kingdom.
Slavery didn't sit well with him – no, rather he detested it.
A rough hand stopped him from his fidgeting. "Keep that up and you'll end up getting that last one killed." A grumbling voice beneath the metallic mask warned.
Gray eyed back the glinting red that cautioned him. "You mean to say the others were already sold? That there were those that had their lives taken?" he couldn't hide his rising anger.
"Jellal's been buying them nonstop with Bacchus and the others. This time, it's Loke's turn. With this, we'll be able to round this up on the double. So, stop acting like a wuss and calm the fuck down."
Gray knew Gajeel hated explaining; which meant that his agitation had clearly got to his troop and the others.
But the knight's pacification of his captain went in vain as they heard the next words from the center stage.
"Your patronage is much, much, much loved! In hopes for more dealings in the future, we come you to our final lady of the night!"
Gray could feel the disgust mixing in with his fury as he curled his fists; turning his pale knuckles even a shade lighter if it were any more possible.
"Listen. Loke's good at this so we might be able to deal with it faster than expected." Natsu commented beneath his golden mask in hopes of pacifying his righthand.
"Feast your eyes on the finest lady toy of them all~! Our ****~!" The host's roughness was too obvious to pass as he ripped the cloak off of the unmoving figure.
A mass of blue like the flowing seas
Pale white that glistened amidst fresh, bloody, scars
Dull eyes – proof of their forceful torments
And for Gray, everything went black.
"SHIT."
No promises. Reviews are much appreciated still. Keep safe.
-nakneknik