AN: Thanks to all those who favorited and followed!
ABT4Life - Yup, there's more about the mermaid's curse that'll be revealed in upcoming chapters.
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valerioux - Thank You! Yeah, and you guessed it - the black flames are related to his 'curse'... more details about all that below ;-)
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Hi Strange One,
It has been a long time since I have written, a fact that you have reminded me of multiple times in your last letter. Quite harshly, I may add. But then again, you are strange - even for a human - so I guess I should expect peculiar behavior like that from you. But honestly… I was happy to receive your last letter. The stories of all the awesome pranks you pulled on unsuspecting humans were hilarious! Happy and I laughed so long and hard that we had at least five beings check in on us (whilst we were in our tent) to see if we had lost our sanity.
That's part of the reason why I did not write back sooner. Your letters are warm and funny and uplifting. Mine are not. They can't be! I'm in the middle of a bloody war. And the letter I must write now will be the worst one to date. But… you are my friend. My best friend, apart from Happy, and I owe you the truth. So on that note - here goes.
Not too long ago, during a skirmish with our foes, I got worked up and unleashed a variation of my roar that I'd never done before. The flames were black, mixed with a little crimson. It was more powerful than my strongest dragon roar! And it incinerated the enemy. Which was good! Only… The demons I killed with that roar did not resurrect. At all. So my superiors ordered a test. They asked me to touch a special lumeniore crystal that had been charged with pure high fairy magic. This is a test that the magical alliance army uses to uncover demon spies. If any being other than a demon were to touch it, it would turn grey or some other color. If a demon were to touch it, it would turn pitch black and, depending on the magical prowess of the devil, it could shake or vibrate. Guess what happened when I touched it?
It turned pitch black. And it shattered, Luce.
So. I'm a demon. Well, half demon technically. And pretty powerful from the looks of it. That scar we kept thinking was a curse? It actually turns out it was the spot where demon blood was injected into my veins. It looks like my draconic magic fought hard to repress my new demonic side - it managed to prevent it from becoming the dominant magic within me, but it could not rid my system of it. I'm half demon, Luce. The race that my people despise the most - half my blood is theirs. I'd never felt so lost and alone as I did that moment they… confirmed what I am. No. Part of what I am. I cling to my dragon heritage even when I know so many dragons judge and condemn me. Or worse, see me as a salvation sent to win this blasted war.
I've been promoted. I am now a Major of the Magical Alliance Army, Dragon Division. There has been talk of finding a suitable subordinate for me. Apparently, my superiors do not fully trust me to remain 'stable' in the midst of battle. They fear my demonic part will take over and I may switch sides. Our side could not afford a loss that great. We need every damn hand we have. So far, the candidates suggested have been a couple of haughty northern dragons, but father is fighting the upper brass tooth and nail on the appointment. He says he has someone specific in mind, although he refuses to tell me who. He's been very supportive of me. All my friends and family here have been. Shocked, sad and even a little scared… but supportive. How could I expect anything more? I am a mutant. A freak. I wouldn't be surprised if you felt repulsed by me now. You are a human after all. Demonkind sees you as fodder. I wouldn't blame you if you wished to stop being my…
Lisanna, Mira and Elfman arrived yesterday. They are to join the battle tomorrow, as high ranking officers in the northern elven army. Mira, especially, is a strong addition. She has been training her demon take-over and has acquired a wide range of demonic presences to use in the upcoming skirmishes. That means she can wield demon magic and therefore kill demons. Elfman has been practicing his beast take over and Lisanna has been channeling the fastest animal spirits. They are not as appalled by me as some of the other magical beings.
A few human mages have come to our aid, some sent by King Silver, others just traveling mages eager to flex their fists. Not worth taking seriously, but we've welcomed them nonetheless - we beggars can't be choosers.
I miss you, Lucy. If I could turn back time to the days we spent together, idyllic and free, just two careless younglings lazing about in the enchanted forest - I would. This very damn instant. You're my best friend. My treasure. And you always will be.
Even if… I have become a monster in your eyes.
Yours truly,
Natsu
Natsu sat back, staring at the splotchy words on the parchment with wide, vacant eyes. Slowly, with trembling fingers, he dropped the quill back into the inkwell, ignoring the splatter of dark liquid it caused on his calloused fingertips.
He continued to stare at the letter laying on the table, almost missing the soft patter of feet behind him.
"Natsu?"
Happy's voice had a note of timidity that it never used to have before. Natsu sighed, tired and worn from the emotional exercise of putting his thoughts and feelings on paper.
"What is it, Happy?"
"Is that your letter to Lucy?"
Natsu's dull gaze drifted to his friend's face. His body seemed to make a decision for him. Happy winced as the parchment suddenly burst into flames, the black edges of the rosy heat making it obvious that it was no accident.
"No."
Without another word, Natsu rose from the writing desk, marching swiftly to the entrance of their tent. He paused before he drew aside the curtain, looking over his shoulder at the silent exceed.
"Write a letter to Lucy yourself, Happy. Send her my apologies. I have been promoted, and will make time to write to her later. And… please leave my 'condition' out of it."
Natsu stepped outside, disappearing into the multitude of magical beings gathered for the purpose of war. Happy stood in the dark tent, his heart heavy with grief, his gaze still locked on the slightly fluttering curtain covering the entrance to their temporary abode.
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Gajeel grit his teeth, willing his temper down.
He was doing that far too often these days. Only this time, it seemed more than justified.
After all, he could see his father and uncle with the exact same expressions on their faces, merely a few feet away. Their northern dragon superiors would do well to watch their backs least they suffer an 'accident' at the hands of their ferocious southern cousins. Gajeel smirked when he caught his father's eye. His parent merely rolled his eyes in response. They were all on the same page.
The elderly haughty northern dragon had finally wound down his droning speech, oblivious to the glares and disgruntled expressions of his southern cousins.
"Therefore, as the northern high war council has discussed, we are ready to implement this plan. We will attack the demon village in the dead of night - thereby reducing the chance they will be prepared for our attack - and take out as many of their soldiers stationed there before daybreak. That will increase our chances of winning the next few battles drastically…"
"What of civilian casualties, sir?" Igneel's voice boomed in the smallish tent, his tall, battle-hardened and muscular figure creating a stark contrast to the hunched and frail form of the northern dragon elder.
The elder frowned, unable or unwilling to reply. Instead, the slithery voice of General Kalisha, the Field Marshal's right hand dragon, responded.
"Why, they get what they deserve of course. The concept of 'civilian' amongst demons is a little redundant - for every single one of them is a fighter. They are far more obsessed with war than we dragons could ever hope to be. Whilst we love the honor and structure of battle, demons thirst for blood. The chaos, the destruction, the death of a fight is what excites them, and that is irrespective of whether they march with an army or stay at home cooking at their hearths. To offer them the chance to fight would be us doing them a favor, General Igneel."
Igneel grit his teeth, his eyes blazing with contained fury. "That does not mean we, as dragons, can condone the killing or harming of hatchlings and innocent females and males. Whether they be demon or not."
Kalisha raised a brow, a mocking smile upon his lips. "Perhaps… the concept of a demon hatchling hits a little too close to home, your majesty?" His sly gaze drifted to the far corner where Gajeel stood. Gajeel stiffened as the General's gaze drifted over him to land on his neighbor. The unusually sober and stoic Natsu.
"Pay heed to what you utter next, Kalisha. I will hold you to your words. We in the south have not turned our back on our heritage like you heathens of the north. And true to our ancient code, we are prepared to defend our young to the death..." Igneel growled, his eyes flashing with challenge as they locked on General Kalisha's.
"That is enough, Igneel." Field Marshal Herschel swept into the tent, fixing the fuming fire-dragon with a glare, "We have more important matters to decide - we can save your insubordination discussion for later."
Igneel glared at the ground, his fists clenching and unclenching in a futile attempt to assuage his rage. A firm grasp on his shoulder startled him for a moment. Igneel glanced sideways, only to see the look of solidarity his Lieutenant General gave him. With a deep breath, Igneel willed himself into a more calm state, looking at his superior once more with his head held high. Herschel remained oblivious to the entire exchange, busy rummaging through the sheaf of parchments in his hands.
"You have all been briefed about our next plan of action. The only detail we have not yet gone over is the contingent chosen to accomplish this noble and important mission - and who will have the honor of leading them."
Herschel paused, his eyes skimming over the gathered assembly. Gajeel's heart dropped to his stomach when the Field Marshal's gaze landed on him and did not move on.
"As per extensive and careful discussion within the high council for war, the dragon who has been awarded this honor is… Captain Gajeel."
"NO! YOU CHOOSE MY SON FOR YOUR BLASTED SUICIDE MISSION?! I WON'T ALLOW IT!"
Metalicana's bellow echoed in the pin drop silence that followed the Field Marshals announcement. Herschel turned slowly, his gaze piercing and deadly as it locked upon that of the despairing metal dragon's.
"One more outburst from you, Metalicana, and I will cast you out of the dragon army and strip you of what little dignity you have left. This is your final warning."
Metalicana gave an involuntary sob, his head drooping against his chest, whilst Igneel beside him shook with his own barely contained rage and grief. A look passed between the two brothers before they raised their heads to face their superior, ready to cast aside their honor for the sake of the youngling who had suffered enough.
A quiet voice interrupted them.
"Permission to speak, sir."
Herschel reluctantly turned away from the incensed southern dragons, frowning slightly at the speaker.
"Whatever you have to say can't be as important as what these two fools had just been planning on doing, can it?"
Natsu gazed back at his northern superior, his face impassive and his answering voice a careful monotone.
"I leave that to your esteemed judgment, sir. I only wish to offer an alternative that would change this from a 'suicide' mission, to an undoubtedly successful one."
Herschel raised a brow, intrigued despite his loathing for the demonic dragon youngling.
"Very well then. Speak."
"With all due respect to the high council, choosing the next drake of the ore dragons to lead the assault on the village of Draca only has a fifty percent chance of success." Natsu paused, letting his words sink in, as his blank gaze shifted from his superior to the wall of the tent. "Gajeel's high fairy magic kills them - but in a gentle, almost merciful manner. It does not inspire fear in them, and is the reason their offensive strikes have been weaker than they are capable of. They do not yet view us as a threat. To bring home the impact of this war, to earn their respect and thereby progress our battles, we must strike swift and hard. The entire demon village must be destroyed. In one shot."
The sudden babble of voices that rose in the tent could be heard well from afar, curious soldiers resting nearby craning their necks towards their leader's tent.
Inside, the Field Marshal quieted the ruckus with a curt and distinctive bark of Silence!. He turned back to the younger dragon, his own unease apparent in the stiff set of his shoulders and the tight grasp he held on the parchment still in his hand.
"Err… Your observations on the demon's view of us is reasonably close to the picture we have received from our spies… So… They need to be tortured before they are killed? Fine then. We will deploy a few of our fire dragon warriors to burn them to a crisp before Gajeel strikes…"
"No. That is not what I said. They must be decimated all at once. No survivors. It is the only message our… their kind understands."
Herschel gulped a tad nervously. The cold and distant tone of Natsu's voice sent a chill down the spines of even the most battle hardened soldiers in that tent, and the matter of fact way he spoke of the destruction of an entire demon village rattled even him. However, the young dragon had a point. Brushing aside his unease, Herschel addressed Igneel's son in a gruff voice.
"Then what do you suggest we do, dragon?"
"Send me."
Herschel raised a brow. "Ah. I see. Well, I must say, although it is rather refreshing to see a southern dragon take initiative in his own career advancement, you cannot expect us to swallow all your tall tales and send you at the head of our most valuable contingent…"
"No. Send me alone. Trust me when I say, you do not want any of our allies within five hundred yards of me when I begin that fight."
This time, the dragons gathered in the tent could not hide their shivers and gasps of horror. Natsu remained impervious to the horrified glances thrown his way, his own blank, lifeless stare still locked on a distant point.
"… W-we cannot allow that. There must be at least one dragon warrior by your side, otherwise how would we know the true outcome of the battle if there was only your word for it?" Herschel could feel sweat beading on his brow. As loathe as he was to admit it, the young fire dragon before him was unnerving him.
Natsu continued in his monotone.
"Send spies to observe the village from afar. When I'm done with it, they will know."
"… Still… W-we of the council cannot in good conscience send you alone into a battle…"
"Really?" The flash of fury in his eyes finally broke his empty gaze, Natsu's emerald eyes seeking out Herschel's immediately. "Most of my battles to date have been fought alone - as well as those fought by my southern brothers. But very well - if you insist on one other dragon warrior being there, then it has to be Gajeel."
Herschel finally relaxed, a triumphant leer replacing the uneasy look of moments before.
"Your father has requested that he be appointed your subordinate many times before - I see your plan now. Is this just an attempt to further your cousin's own military advancement?"
The glare Natsu fixed upon him caused even the battle-hardened and hard-hearted Field Marshal of the Dragons to quail momentarily.
"Gajeel is the only being capable of surviving the fallout of my demon magic when I go all out. You can either believe me, or… allow me to demonstrate on yourself. Your choice, oh esteemed leader."
Natsu's lips twisted into a cruel smirk at the end of his speech, the black markings on his upper right arm inconspicuously beginning to trickle further down his muscular appendage. Herschel held his gaze, his own turning solemn and contemplative. He raised a hand, silencing a few of his northern brothers before they even started to speak.
"Very well. Gajeel will be your Captain. You both march on Draca tonight."
Natsu bowed to his superiors, spinning on his heel and marching out of the tent without a backward glance. The northern dragons immediately began a loud discussion of the events that had just transpired, once again missing the worried and sorrowful glances exchanged between their southern brethren.