Mace's Penance:

AN: Not the punishment you were probably expecting but, hey, I got this idea randomly and I wanted to write it out. (Also, tiny spoilers, but probably nothing you wouldn't expect.) Kinda a dark chapter but, screw it, I'm pissed at the state of the world right now and I needed to vent.

Mace heaved a heavy sigh as he stared at the wall of his cell. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten back here. One moment he was fighting his son and that electric brat, the next he was back in his jail cell.

He sighed again, rocking back and forth and running his fingers through his hair. How long had he been here? It must have been days, but he'd lost track. No one had come in here, no one had talked to him, he had seen and heard nothing since he'd returned.

He hissed another sigh then stood to his feet and began banging on the door.

"Oi!" he shouted. "Oi! Let me out of here!"

There was no answer.

"Oi!" Mace punched the door again.

This time it opened.

Slow.

Creaking.

Mace gasped as he took a step towards it.

The outside was dark. Night.

There was no sound. No guards. No nothing.

Mace smiled. Those idiots. This was too good to be true! Someone had actually left his door unlocked for the night. He began to plot his escape when a clap of thunder and a blast of lightning shot from outside.

The jail hall illuminated for a brief second.

And Mace saw it.

A lone figure standing just feet from him, staring at him.

He jumped and took a step back into his cell.

Who was that? He closed his door back and turned around, only to let out a large shriek when he saw a young woman behind him.

"Hello," she said coldly.

"Wha…" Mace began as he looked about. How had she gotten in here?

"My, my, my," the woman continued. "How the mighty have fallen."

"Oh, what do you know?" Mace hissed. "And who are you?"

"You don't know me?" the woman asked, voice still icy, as she cocked her head ever so slightly. "You don't recognize me when I'm not screaming? Waving my fists about, fighting for air?"

"Oh, tch," Mace waved his hand, bouts of acid bubbling before him, heading towards the young woman.

She calmly held out her hand. The acid froze midair.

The woman beckoned with her hand and the bubbling, green liquid floated into her palm as she absorbed it, stealing his attack away. She then turned back to him, eyes narrow.

"Is that honestly the best you can do?"

A cold shiver went down Mace's spine as he took a step back. This couldn't be…

But those lime green eyes, that creamy white hair, that golden brown skin, the petite willowy build.

And those dimples.

Those dimples that appeared as she smirked at him, subtly tossing her bob-cut hair out of her face, showing she held no fear for him at all.

"Who are you?" Mace asked again.

"Still don't know?" the woman asked, arching an eyebrow. "I guess I can't be that surprised. After all, I was only a tiny baby last you saw me."

"No, no," Mace shook his head, pointing to her. "You're not Vera. You can't be. She's just a little girl."

"Yes, you're right," the woman nodded. "She's just a little girl. A little girl who deserved none of the pain you have and will cause her. But she'll live. She'll grow. And soon," the woman smirked. "She'll be me."

"Bah!" Mace scoffed, sending another attack her way.

She calmly held her hand up and stopped it midair, her smirk never leaving her face.

"A strong wizard…" the woman snapped her fingers and Mace's acid disappeared.

He gasped and took a step back.

"...a wizard far more powerful than you yourself could ever be."

Mace just snarled in her direction. "Nah. You ain't her."

"Oh, but I am."

"This is some sick game."

"Yes," the woman laughed. "But a true game, nonetheless."

"Oh, go to hell!" Mace snarled.

"Oh," the woman's eyebrows raised. "You haven't figured it out yet?"

"Figured what out?" Mace asked, eyes narrow.

The woman laughed, throwing back her head, letting the sound fill the room.

"What are you guffawing about?" Mace asked, highly agitated.

"You're already here!" the woman announced, holding her hands above her head.

Mace's eyes widened slightly as he took a step back.

"You're in hell, Mace Orlando," the woman continued in a taunting voice.

Mace's eyes widened all the more. His sudden appearance back in this wretched cell. The hours upon days of no human contact. This phantom's sudden appearance.

"No…" Mace took another step back.

"You're in hell!" the grown Vera declared again. "And me, my mother, my sister, and my brother? We're still alive! We're thriving! We're on the road to success, baby! But you? Heh, heh," she sauntered to him and leaned forward on her knees as if taunting a child. "You're time's up."

"No," Mace shook his head again. "It can't be. It-" his eyes suddenly narrowed. "If you're still alive, and I'm really in hell, then how come you're here with me."

"Oh, but I'm not," Vera answered. "Not really anyway. No, see, I'm a vision, a prediction of the future. No, you're real Vera, she's still a little girl right now. But me? What you're seeing. I'm what she's going to grow into. And you?" Vera chuckled. "You don't get to watch it happen. You don't get to take part in making this!" She twirled before him, cackling the whole time.

"You see? This is your torment! You get to see everything you missed! You get to see what we will become without you! See, when you were alive, you thought we'd be nothing without you. You thought we'd rot! But you couldn't be more wrong. We're doing just fine without you. In fact, we're going to do better!"

"No, that can't be right," Mace shook his head, hands beginning to shake.

"But it is!" Vera singsonged. "So all that controlling, all those scare tactics, everything you squandered to keep us under your thumb, it was all for nothing. Because guess what? Your little Vera? She doesn't know you. She doesn't remember you. And history won't either. You'll just be a footnote in her biography. She's going to be a legend, and you?"

Vera held her hands up, spreading her fingers as if throwing a handful of dust into the air.

"Poof! Gone. Forgotten."

"No, I won't be forgotten!" Mace declared. "I was a guild master of Pho-"

"Oh, that old guild? Yeah, it's long gone," Vera shook her head.

Mace gasped, stumbling back against the wall of his cell.

"It was disbanded just minutes after your death. Most of the wizards that were in it have moved on now. All that's left is an empty building. Don't worry, thought. Some rich guy will buy it in a few years and turn it into a hotel, so it won't go to complete waste."

"No," Mace shook his head. "No, no, no, NO! You're lying!"

"Oh, but I'm not," Vera grinned. "This is your fate Daddy-Oh. Everything you loved is gone. All you have left are your two brothers, and they'll be joining you soon. Theoretically anyways. Yeah, see, Myers is gonna piss off the wrong person behind bars soon and, well…"

Vera made a knife motion across her neck.

"Micah will last a little bit longer, but he'll eventually suffer the same fate. But you won't ever see them. They'll go to their own version of this and...well...that's the end of that. All three of you are trapped in the same place, but never able to find each other. Only the ghosts of everything that could have been yours, but never will be."

"Stop it!" Mace screamed, tugging at his hair.

"Oh, but I can't," Vera grinned. "That's not how this hell thing works."

Mace growled as he threw open his cell door and ran out. He stumbled through the dark, empty halls, only illuminated every now and then by a flash of lightning.

There was no one in the hall. Just rows, upon rows, upon rows of open doors leading to empty cells. Mace finally reached a corner and turned it, all but screaming when he found a lone figure standing there, seeming to be waiting on him.

It was another young woman, with long, white hair, brown skin, and two different green shaded eyes. One was a brilliant emerald, the other a metallic green-gray. She stared at, hands clasped in front of her, a sad but firm look on her face.

Mace stumbled back as he stared at her.

"Portia?" he asked, breathily.

"Did it feel good?" Portia asked. "When you blinded me?"

"Portia-" Mace began to walk towards her, but she continued.

"Did it feel good when you broke a broom over my head? Did it feel good when you tore my clothes, trying to rip Vera from my arms?"

"Portia-"

"No one ever hurt me quite like you did, Mace," Portia continued. "And no one ever will again."

The walls around Mace suddenly began to crumble. Large slabs of stone falling all around him.

And then charging straight towards him. Mace jumped, doged, tried to flee from the slabs of stone his daughter sent flying towards him.

All without blinking an eye.

She just stood there, watching him.

Finally one managed to land it's mark, pinning him to the ground under its massive weight.

"Portia!" Mace called, wheezing her air. "Portia, please!"

"Do you recognize this feeling?" Portia asked. "Because I do. It's what you did to me night after night, pinning me under your boot until I couldn't breathe."

"Portia!" he begged. "Portia!"

"You were supposed to protect me!" Portia's voice was growing louder, angrier. "You were supposed to show me how it feels to be loved! And you did the exact opposite!"

"Portia!"

"I was a little girl. You're a little girl. I was supposed to look up to you and instead I was terrified of you."

"Portia, please."

"But no matter now," Portia's voice calmed again. "Because I'll learn to love without you. And I'll find someone who can give me everything you couldn't."

"What?" Mace coughed, turning to look at Portia.

There was now a man standing behind her. A tall man with broad shoulders, shining black eyes, bright orange hair. The man glared at Mace as he set his hands on Portia's shoulders, a red Fairy Tail mark on the back of one of his hands.

"You…" Mace gasped. "Married...one of them…"

"Not yet," Portia said softly. "I'm only a child now. But I will. And while you write in torment here alone, I'll be sleeping peacefully in my husband's bed."

Echoes of children's laughter began ringing all throughout the hall Mace was trapped in. Shadows passed all around him. He glanced about, trying to see what or who was running past him, but could not pinpoint the source of the echoes or shadows.

"Dreaming pleasant dreams, able to rest knowing that my daughters will never know the pain you inflicted upon me," Portia continued. "And that my sons will never have to behold the monster that you are."

A bright light blinded Mace as someone lifted the stone slab off him. Mace gasped for air, only to have a crushing force choke him and lifted him off his feet. He looked down to see the same, orange-haired man holding him above his head, his hair and entire body covered in what looked like a million tiny, golden stars. His skin turned to scales as he glared up at Mace.

"You'll have no influence on any of your grandchildren," Portia continued. "Because your children will forget you. And then, for me at least, what little remnants of you are left behind, my husband will erase."

The man punched Mace in the face, sending him flying. He crashed through an already damaged wall, and landed upon something cold, and hard.

As he coughed and huffed in pain, he sat up and found himself sitting on a metal cafeteria table. He looked about.

He was in the jail cafeteria, but it was empty. And broken. And dark. And dusty. It looked as though it had been abandoned.

"Having a child is supposed to change a man," a voice echoed through the cafeteria. Mace jumped and looked about, trying to find the source of the voice.

"Especially a son," the voice continued. "A man's supposed to see himself in his son. And a son is supposed to want to be like his father. But it was never like that between us."

The voice just kept echoing all around him, making it impossible for Mace to pinpoint where it was coming from.

"You know, I used to think that maybe, just maybe, if I could make you proud then things would change. But that was never going to happen."

Even though Mace couldn't figure out where the voice was coming from, he recognized it, and scoffed at the words.

"You're right. I never saw me in you. Only your mother."

"Thank heavens for that!"

"But you were still my boy! You were still better than any of the others."

"Why?" the voice asked. "Because I was a boy."

"Because you fought!" Mace said as he wandered through the cafeteria, trying to find his son. "You had a fight with you. You were going to be the next guild master. And you were going to carry on the family name."

"I had no choice," the voice continued. "I had to fight, to protect my mother and sisters from you. I was a child, but I had to be the man of the house because you were never a man. Only a monster."

"Tch!" Mace sniffed. "You say that now. But just wait until you have a nagging wife and a bunch of brats-"

"Oh, but I do. I will. And yet I still won't be like you. You were half right, though."

"Was I?" Mace asked, finally finding out where the voice was coming from, from the kitchen.

He pushed the kitchen door open, and saw a figure wearing a long cape standing in front of a counter, his back facing towards Mace as a long shadow casted behind him.

Mace began to walk towards it, eyes narrow. "How am I only half right?"

"I am a fighter," the figure answered, never turning around. "Always have been. Always will be. But I won't be a guild master."

"No, 'cuz you got the guild disbanded!" Mace sniffed as he reached the figure. "And now-"

"I won't be a guild master," the figure repeated, finally turning to face Mace. A grown Benedict looked down at him, now taller than he was, a dignified and cold look on his face as he removed his hood with one hand, his other hand still pointing behind him.

"But he will," Benedict said.

Mace looked to see what was on the counter behind Benedict.

A young boy sat on top of the counter, his face illuminated by the moon streaming in from a window behind him. He had brown skin, brown eyes, and honey-red hair. The same color hair as that girl who helped Benedict…

"He'll be guild master after his mother," Benedict continued, walking to the counter and lifting the boy into his arms, setting him on his hip. "But his last name won't be Orlando. And neither will mine."

Mace's eyes narrowed as he looked back up at his son. Benedict just smirked down at him, his son still held snugly against his chest as Benedict stroked his hair.

"He'll be the next in a long, long line of Dreyar Guild Masters of Fairy Tail. Because I, his father, will soon become a Dreyar. Portia will become a Dragneel. Vera will become a Renaissance."

"No…" Mace hissed.

"Your family name is going to die," Benedict declared smuggly. "Sacrificed on the altar of your children's happiness. Just like your reputation. Just like your guild. Just like you."

"No!" Mace charged towards Benedict, but he side stepped him. Mace crashed over the counter and out the window, landing in the jail yard.

Mace didn't stand up right away. He just lay there, panting.

This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't!

"I almost have pity on you," a seething voice said from above him.

Mace recognized it instantly.

"Reina," he grumbled as he sat up. His ex-wife stood next to him, looking down on him with utter disgust.

"Almost pity you. But not quite. It's a sad downgrade from the love I once had for you." She sniffed and shook her head. "What an idiot I was."

"Reina, please," Mace said, shuffling on his knees towards her.

"Begging, are you?" Reina scoffed. "It's a nice thought, but I can't get you out of this even if I wanted to. It's nice to know you still have some of your wits about you."

"Wha-what?" Mace stuttered.

"Or did you forget who it was that helped you win S-Class? " Reina asked.

"Reina-"

"Or that nominated you for guild master in the first place?"

"Reina-"

"Or that helped you form every alliance? That smoothed over every controversy? That managed every job request and answered every magic council summons?"

"Reina-"

"Do you remember what you told me that night when I and our children fled?" Reina asked.

Mace didn't answer.

"You said we'd never make it without you. But the exact opposite was true. My children and I are thriving without you. But you? You're nothing without me."

"Reina, please."

"And now, you're going to disappear," Reina nodded. "Our children will become legends, and I'll be remembered as the single mother who fought and worked so hard to raise them. But not you. Your guild, your memory, your very name, will be forgotten."

"Reina, please!" Mace reached for her skirt, begging for mercy.

Reina simply waved her hand. The rocky ground beneath him opened up and swallowed him whole.

Then spat him back out.

Back into his cell.

Where Vera was waiting.

"Oh, good, you're back!" Vera smiled.

"Vera!" Mace gasped as he crawled towards her. "Vera! Please! Help me!"

"Too late for that," Vera shrugged. "You're already dead. Nothing more I can do for you. Except tell you about how wonderful my life has been now that you're gone. And my husband's. He's another one you tortured. Well, not just you. To be fair, you had help. Maybe you remember him? Tate, that name rings a bell?"

Mace groaned as he collapsed to the ground and covered his ears in his hands, crying out in sheer desperation.

"Get used to it, pal," Vera smirked. "Because you've got a whole eternity of this."