Hello. Back to the warnings. This one has a panic attack in it, so be cautious when reading if this can effect you.

As always, thank you so much for any comments and kudos you leave. They mean so much. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading. ^.^

Chapter Eight – Spiralling

Laxus felt unlike himself.

Not as if he were acting differently or feeling unlike he normally did. He physically felt as though he was separated from himself. From his body. It was like he was witnessing everything that was happening as a memory, from someone else's perspective. But he wasn't – this was happening right now, happening to him – and his mind was swirling with confusion and fear and a hell of a lot of questions.

Why didn't Makarov warn him? Surely he should have.

Why was everyone cheering? They were losing one of the best kings in history.

What if he turned out to be an awful king?

What if he failed?

He could see and hear everything that was going on but couldn't exactly process it. He knew that there was a crowd of faces, cheering and hollering in some cases, all looking towards him. He knew that his grandfather was talking, perhaps trying to calm the crowd, but the words were just a mess of sounds. He could feel hands on his shoulders, one from Evergreen and one from Bickslow, but he hadn't even noticed them coming into the platform.

Somehow, he managed to focus on one thing. He looked over the blur of people and his eyes settled on Freed, who didn't merge with everyone else. He was looking right back at Laxus, and after a moment, he mouthed 'are you okay?' Laxus felt himself shaking his head no.

His body was taking over, it seemed.

Makarov continued to talk – something about keeping up levels of enthusiasm – and began to walk backwards from the middle of the fighting arena. Laxus was still looking directly at Freed, hoping that somehow he had an answer for all the questions going on inside his head. In less than a five-minute period, his world had literally been transformed three times. He realised he had been selfish for months. He and Freed had kissed each other. He was going to be king.

He wasn't ready for this. Nowhere near.

Apparently Makarov was out of the fighting grounds, leaning against the wall. He was staying there by the looks of it. That was good, Laxus couldn't talk to him like this. The crowd were chanting something, too. Words in unison, and it took Freed looking away form Laxus to realise what exactly they were chanting.

A countdown. Freed needed to fight. This wouldn't be a distraction for him, would it. He couldn't get hurt. Gildarts was a strong target but Laxus couldn't deal with something else right now.

"Two. One. Fight!"

The loud exclamation of 'fight' seemed to snap Laxus back into reality. Sound no longer was muffled by his thoughts, and the edges of his sight were no longer hazy. Perhaps it was because the need to support Freed was overpowering his panic, or perhaps it was because the fight was something that he expected to happen, and he could cling to for a sense of normality. Laxus couldn't be sure, and he wasn't sure he cared that much. He needed a distraction, and this was the only one presented to him.

Freed didn't seem distracted, thankfully. He shot forward the moment the fight began. He had his sword unsheathed in a smooth movement, running towards Gildarts as quickly as possible. The other retainer was standing with his arms crossed; cocky fuck.

Laxus knew Freed could win this. The old man should show him some damn respect.

When Freed was closer, Gildarts raised an arm and shot it towards one of the brick piles that had been laid out across the arena. They broke into multiple small squares, as if knives had cut through them and cubed them. The small cubes of brick started to float in the air, rotating slowly and orbiting Gildarts. He still looked cocky, and Laxus felt himself wanting Freed to win more at the expression.

Suddenly, a barrage of the small rocks shot forward, flying towards Freed. Laxus may have taken an intake of breath, he wasn't sure, but if they hit Freed then it would hurt. The prince glared at Gildarts as if it would help Freed. The older man still hadn't taken a step.

But Freed didn't seem distracted at all. He seemed in his element.

His sword moved with fluidity, swinging through the air with such speed that it almost merged into a single trail of silver in the shape of a figure eight. It took Laxus a moment to realise what exactly Freed was doing; he was moving his sword so fast that it was acting as a shield, batting away each cube of brick and sending it flying to the side. He hadn't even slowed his running pace while doing this, and Laxus couldn't help but feel a weird sense of pride at the mans skills.

Hard to believe that they were fighting viciously when they first met. But he was being immature when that had happened.

Would he be immature like that when he was king? That couldn't happen, people's lives could be fucked up.

No; he couldn't think about that. Not now.

Apparently Gildarts had been underestimating Freed, because he took a few steps back. Freed was still running towards him, and Gildarts was forced to send the remaining barrelling towards him. The retainer continued to swing his sword in a blocking formation, forcing Gildarts to take further steps back. Laxus felt a grin form slightly. He could latch onto this. This was something good to focus on. Something without repercussions. Something he couldn't fuck up.

Freed was in close quarters with Gildarts now, definitely close enough to hit him with the sword. Gildarts hadn't expected it either, as he was spending forces of his magic directly towards Freed. It wouldn't hurt him – it read Gildarts' intentions and split that apart – and Laxus realised that he was trying to shatter Freed's sword.

But Freed must have figured that out to, as his movements with his sword were fast and unusual. If he avoided the blasts of magic then Gildarts couldn't do anything to his weapon. The retainer must have researched into how Gildarts' magic worked. Of course he had.

Laxus shouldn't have expected anything less.

Seemingly aware that Freed wasn't allowing his sword to break, Gildarts shot his arm forward and aimed it towards a wooden crate. It split apart a moment later, and large spikes of sharp wood started to float in the same was the bricks had. Freed glanced towards them but didn't give them much attention, instead striking forward.

His sword clearly cut into Gildarts' outstretched arm, and a cut slipped through his bicep. It wasn't deep, barely bleeping really, and not enough for any real pain. Gildarts winces, but shot his wooden spikes towards Freed.

The retainer couldn't block them like he had before, and Laxus growled as Freed was cut in multiple places.

"This is bullshit," He growled. He was angry; he hadn't realised. "Freed's only got a sword, how's that fair."

"He can handle himself," Evergreen assured him.

"Course he can, but it still ain't fair," Laxus gritted his teeth. "Gildarts can do a fuck tonne with his magic. Freed can either cut him or stab him. He ain't gonna stab him, not in front of people, so all he can do it cut Gildarts to pieces. That ain't fair."

There was a moment of silence. Bickslow spoke eventually. "He can deal with it."

Laxus knew that Freed could deal with it. Of course he could deal with it, that was never in fucking doubt. But just because Freed could figure out a way to deal with his disadvantage, it didn't mean it was fair. How was Freed meant to show off – which apparently this was all about – if he was limited to using the least destructive of his tactics. Gildarts wasn't even wearing armour, so Freed had to be even more careful.

The prince leant forward, hands clutching around the wooden bannister that was before him. Freed and Gildarts had moved back form each other, and the onslaught of projectiles had ended. It seemed like they were taking a second to catch their breath.

"Tired, kid?" Gildarts taunted, loudly to the crowd.

Laxus had half a mind to vault the platform and fight alongside Freed.

But Freed was calmer than Laxus. He didn't respond to the clear taunt, instead clutching his sword in his hand and running towards Gildarts again. Laxus watched as his clothes bellowed behind him, his expression collected and serious. He was so fucking elegant and, as he focused on the man who he had just kissed, he felt his emotions swirl again, this time for the better.

Freed was attainable. He had kissed Laxus, and not in anger or spurred on by adrenaline; he had simply done it. That meant that Freed felt for him, at least to a degree. It meant they could get together.

Could they, though?

Laxus didn't know how it worked. Could a prince – or a king – date a man? Could they date at all? Freed was a member of the castle's staff, would that be seen as inappropriate? Would everything about their relationship be seen as inappropriate?

They wouldn't exactly be the most conventional couple if they got together. And as much as Makarov preached for acceptance of all, there would be people who didn't want a gay king. They'd see it as weakness or immoral. Would that effect his potion in the kingdom? It could be used against him. He didn't know if he could deal with people having issued about it – the only people who knew were his family and friends, who were supportive. He'd never had someone make a big thing about it.

But what if he didn't get together with Freed at all?

It was possible. For god's sake, the amount of responsibilities he would have to deal with would be countless. He wouldn't have time for anything, least of all dating. And maybe Freed wouldn't want to be with a king – if Laxus was having all these mad rushes of fear then Freed might be too.

Could he deal with that? Living with Freed being so close – with a romance being so close – but just out of reach.

Laxus' grip on the banister got tighter. His knuckled were white now.

There was so many things happening that he didn't know. His relationship, his position, it was all in flux. He felt as though he was both on fire and freezing at once, overloading again. He couldn't look at the fight to distract himself, partly because Freed was there, and he was no longer safe to think about. And partly because it was too loud. Too bright. Just too fucking much.

Shivers ran over his skin, his ears roared with the chanting of the crowds and it was all just too much. He needed to leave; what people thought be damned. This was too much, he couldn't cope.

"Laxus!" The yell broke over everything, and Laxus snapped his head to Bickslow.

"What?" He intended to growl the word out, but it came out weak.

"I know you've got a fucking storm going on in your head, but you need to get through it," Evergreen spoke, looking serious, and Laxus opened his mouth to fight. "Laxus, you need to get down there and end this fight. Like, right now."

"What the fuck does the fight matter?"

"Freed has magic, Laxus," Bickslow hissed. "He always has. Its dark magic, he can't properly control it and right now it's seconds away from breaking down. If he keeps fighting, he might snap and end up using it."

No.

NO.

Laxus could not deal with something else. Freed did not have fucking magic! He did not have fucking dark magic. He couldn't. That kind of practice was outlawed. It would get him in trouble. And it wasn't possible. He would have told him; if Bickslow and Evergreen knew then why wouldn't he tell Laxus as well? It didn't make sense.

"Laxus look at him," Bickslow hissed again. "He can barely contain it already. Just look at him!"

The blonde looked towards his retainer, and his breath hitched slightly. It was just for a split second, but he saw wings spark from Freed's back. Purple, translucent and shimmering. Nobody seemed to react – maybe the dust covered it up from where everyone else was watching from – but it was undeniable.

Freed had magic. He had magic and hadn't told Laxus. He had magic that could get him fucking put back in the tower dungeons.

"For gods sake, stop gawking and stop it," Evergreen hissed. "Makarov knows already, he always did, so just fucking tell him what's happening. If you don't, people will see and want him punished."

That wasn't happening. This was too much already, losing Freed entirely would break it.

He stood up fast, storming past his retainers and to the door of the viewing platform. His mind was swirling, and again his body was taking over. He was walking fast, trying to get to his grandfather as quickly as he possibly could. All the people were focused on the fight though, so they weren't moving to let him through.

Eventually, he had to start pushing through the people. His head throbbed, there was shouting everywhere. It surrounded him and he couldn't focus on anything. Not the kiss, not the fact he was going to be king, not the fact Freed had magic. Not any of it.

But it was all there. It felt like everything was attacking him.

He could head his own pulse beating in his head, and every movement sent a shock through his body. He put his hands to his ears but that only made it worse. His eyes hazed again, now a mess of colours as he tried to force his way through the crowd.

This was too much.

His breathing was getting manic and his limbs were burning. Why was that happening? He shouldn't be exhausted, but he was. He felt as though he was drained, it was wrong. All of it was wrong. Why was it all wrong?

That thought festered in his mind as his limbs buckled under him, and his eyes fell closed.

When Laxus woke up again, he was in his bed. He was warm, sweating badly despite the fact he seemed to be stripped to his boxers, and his head was aching. He sat up slowly, letting the covers fall down him as he rested his back against the headrest; it was made of leather and mercifully cold on his burning skin.

He opened his eyes and scanned the room a moment later. It was his bedroom; the curtains were drawn shut, but a small amount of light flickered through them, so he knew it was day; and Freed was sitting at the table. Watching him.

Not in the dungeons at least.

That thought brought everything back, piling onto him. It didn't fill him with fear this time, more so with dread. A nausea filled his stomach and he was forced to swallow a bile that raised in his throat. Freed seemed to notice that and stood up and walked to him.

"What-" Laxus began; his throat hurt. "What happened?"

"We believe you had a panic attack," Freed said, his voice like velvet in Laxus' ears. "That, and a sensory overload led you to collapsing. That was about four hours ago, I'd hazard."

A panic attack. That made sense.

"I should mention that your grandfather wishes to speak to you as soon as he can. I was told to inform him when you woke up, but you'd probably prefer some time to wake up," Freed continued, and Laxus felt his stomach churn at the idea of talking to Makarov. Freed must have noticed. "He wishes to apologies, I think. For not warning you of his announcement."

Laxus nodded a little, taking a glass of water that Freed was handing him. He drunk it in its entirety, placing it on his bedside table. His mind was starting to slow down now, giving him real time to think. Calmly this time.

He needed to prioritise things.

"What happened after I fainted?" He asked, voice a little less croaky now.

"Well, someone as large as you collapsing on them is hard to ignore. The poor man realised who you were, managed to get Makarov's attention, as well as mine. The fight ended, you were taken here, a doctor checked you up and explained what happened, and I've been sitting here since."

"So," Laxus spoke up again, looking to Freed. "The fight stopped before…"

Laxus didn't know how to continue that, so Freed cut in.

"Nobody saw that I have magic," He assured Laxus, who looked at him with a frown. "Bickslow and Evergreen explained they told you. Hearing someone shouting about the prince collapsing made me lose interest in the fight quite quickly."

Okay, that was good. Freed hadn't been seen, they could now discuss the fact he had magic, and nobody was going to be slung into the dungeons. That was at least one thing that he could strike off his list of things driving him to madness.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, and Freed sighed.

"Honestly, it's because I'm ashamed of it," The retainer was looking down, but speaking pragmatically. He always did. "Not only was I born with something that many people consider to be evil, but I haven't even gotten control of it. For the most part I can block it out and just act like it isn't there, but when my emotions become too enflamed then it seems to overthrow my good sense and I start casting without meaning to."

Laxus couldn't imagine Freed being ashamed of himself. He didn't like it.

"If I'm honest, I've used it a few times in front of you," Freed admitted. "When we fought for the first time, I was close. That's why Bickslow sent me away. A few times after that, as well. The worst day was when we were attacked on the road, after our night together."

Laxus watched Freed's face, and his gaze was lower down. There was a small darkness across his features and Laxus didn't want to look at it. There was a true look of shame and it was just so unfamiliar that it almost didn't look like Freed.

"What did you do?"

"When I killed the magician, I didn't just stab him. There was a lot going on – I'm sure you remember – and I lost sense of things. I essentially drained him. There's a spell that causes death and I used it on him," Freed sighed. "I should also admit I used a spell on you that day."

"You did?" Laxus asked. His voice didn't show if he was angry, confused or scared.

"Part of my magic is made up of runes, I have most control over them. I put a distraction rune around the carriage," Freed looked back to Laxus. "I didn't want you to watch me kill a man, so I forced you to be uninterested in it. I apologise for that."

It was odd, because now it had been explained it felt obvious.

He knew what Freed had been doing, and he probably should have watched. Morbid curiosity dictated that to happen. And yet, looking back, he just had ignored what happened. And, although his instinct was to be angry at Freed for messing with his head, he honestly couldn't be. Because even the thought of watching Freed kill someone – to drain them – was something horrible. The reality would have also been horrible, and Freed had sparred him that.

Looking up at the retainer, Laxus wanted to kiss him again. He shouldn't, that should be the last thing he wanted in this situation, but he did. Because, even when he lost control of his emotions, he had been thoughtful.

"You don't need to," Laxus spoke softly. "I don't – just don't worry about it. You're fine."

Was this twisted, perhaps. But so was everyone.

That was the next priority. Their kiss.

"Since we're talking, I have to ask," Laxus continued, and Freed nodded slightly. "I know I should be thinking about other things, probably, but what happened earlier. The fact that we kissed. Is that… what was that?"

"I. Well. From since we started to get to know one another, I've grown to admire you. You're a good man and I have a lot of respect for you. As time elapsed, I realised that what I felt wasn't simply respect, it was more akin to something… some sort of attraction."

So this was what Freed was like when he was rambling. Interesting.

But, if he was being honest, Laxus was done with talking. There had been too much talking, too much thinking. Besides, Freed had said all he needed to say.

So he cut the man off by kissing him.

Freed was shocked for a moment, it seemed. But as Laxus slowly started to move his lips, Freed joined in. Laxus pushed forward so they were closer, and Freed did the same. Laxus could feel a cold hand resting on his bare chest and smiled a little at the contact. He tilted his head, slightly butting his chin forward to add a little more into the kiss. Freed retorted by doing the same thing, and Laxus felt a small amount of stress leaving him.

For a moment, he could tell everything else to fuck off.

The fact he could be king. The fact his life was in limbo. The pointless embarrassment of people seeing him faint. The fear that Freed and him couldn't be together. It was all nothing.

Placing a hand on the nape of Freed's neck and pulled him a little closer, and smiled when Freed's mouth split open slightly. Laxus did the same, and their tongues butted against each other. It was just as good as their kiss earlier in the day, better even. This felt warm and private and without repercussions. It felt safe.

Eventually it ended, with their foreheads still touching and faces inches away from each other. Laxus was smiling and Freed returned it, looking a little flushed.

"More of a man of action," Laxus grinned. "Sorry, you were saying something."

"It seems like you guessed what I was going to say," Freed chuckled. "And apparently you seem to have similar opinions on the matter."

"So in non-pretentious speak we're both hot for each other," Laxus grinned again.

"I suppose you could say that," Freed agreed with a small laugh.

"Thought so," Laxus leant up and pressed a chaste kiss onto Freed's lips. When he pulled back, he had a slightly serious look on his face. "So, if we both agree on that, I suppose we should talk about what that means."

"No," Freed said softly, and Laxus frowned. Freed moved his hand from Laxus' chest to his cheek, and it was so damn comforting. "You've got enough to deal with, on all accounts, and I don't think we should add to that when we done need to. So, until things calm down for you, I propose we take our relationship as it comes. From what I know, that's what most normal people do."

"Yeah, 'cause nothing says 'normal' like a prince who just had a panic attack and the retainer with secret magic," Laxus laughed, before looking softly into Freed's eyes. "You sure you're okay with that. Might take a while."

"I'm patient," Freed smiled, leaning forward and kissing Laxus again. "Although if you think we won't be kissing frequently, then I'm afraid you're in for a nasty surprise."

Laxus smirked and pressed his lips against Freed's. "Yeah, feels pretty damn nasty to me."

"Likewise," Freed taunted, and Laxus grinned.

They kissed again, and Laxus felt warmth filling him as it had each time they kissed. Laxus now had his arm wrapped around Freed's waist – he was still wearing the uniform that had some damn effect on Laxus – and was pulling him close. He was smiling through the kiss and felt Freed doing the same. It was great.

And, while embracing Freed, he felt comfort. He felt as though the growing list of problems and responsibilities and issued were something he could deal with. Freed could help him, perhaps. And with the things he couldn't, at least he would have a man to kiss at the end of a bad day.

He could do this.

He could be a good king. With Freed by his side at least.