Warnings: Mentions of blood, a relatively graphic murder, and mentions of child abuse. This is a bit of a dark one, but I hope it's satisfying.
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 Ten – Coronating
Standing at the foot of the cathedral, Laxus felt weird. He was filled with a contradictory mix of nervousness and confidence. Looking at the large wooden doors closed before him, the biggest sensation was pride. Pride in himself, who he had become, and who he was going to be.
A king.
It was the first day of the new year, and the day of his coronation. He was dressed in his most decedent clothing, a luxurious red robe resting against his shoulders. The suit he wore was emblazoned with golden trimmings, mixed with a black velvet lining. In that moment, he looked more regal than he ever had before. It was incredibly empowering in a way that Laxus couldn't put into words.
Standing nearly a foot beside him, was Freed. He too was dressed in his most lavish clothing; the same outfit he wore during his exhibition fight with Gildarts. Although the rush of the day meant he hadn't spent much time with Freed, Laxus knew he looked beautiful.
He always did look beautiful, actually.
Having Freed nearby did a lot to calm Laxus down. To have someone who was unequivocally on his side, ready to stand his corner, filled him with a sense of confidence nothing else could. To have that man not only be his guard and protector, but also his lover, meant the confidence gleamed increased tenfold. He even dared to smile a little; a year ago he wouldn't have dreamed he and Freed would have such a relationship. Funny how it turned out.
From the cathedral, Laxus could hear his grandfather's speech. He spoke of how honoured he was that he had served for them, and how he knew that Laxus would be an equally fair and strong king. Laxus had heard the speech before, and knew he was soon going to be introduced formally, and his nerves flared.
A hand pressed against his back, comforting and soft. It was Freed's, and Laxus pushed back against it. The action was small and the moment fleeting, but Laxus appreciated it.
"Please rise for your new king!"
Laxus readied himself, and Freed removed his hand. The large wooden doors were slowly opened, revealing Laxus to the congregation in the cathedral. People from all aspects of life had gathered, ranging from nobles to shopkeepers. The richest and the poorest. The people who Laxus would soon be serving as their king, all represented by the thousand people now standing and watching him. This was his moment, the beginning of his reign of king.
He began walking slowly down the aisle. The sound of his boots resonating against the marble echoed around the silent chamber, and Laxus kept his eyes trained forward. Everyone was watching him, perhaps assessing him. It was intimidating.
A moment later, as prepared, Freed began walking behind him. He too was being sworn in, as knight of the realm, and to hear his footsteps spurred Laxus on. Freed was there, so he could do this.
Even with that in mind, the walk seemed to last for an eternity.
When he reached the front of the cathedral, he stood before his grandfather. Makarov was sitting at his throne, crown resting beside him. He was also dressed in his finery and was wearing an expression that exuded pride. Laxus dropped to one knee before him, bowing his head and looking at the white marble before him. He took the moment of rest to calm his nerves and steady his breath, closing his eyes.
He heard a slight shifting to his left, and saw that Freed was now kneeling beside him. He glanced to his retainer, who sent him a split-second smile before keeping his eyes on the marble.
Although he couldn't see it, Laxus knew that his grandfather had stood up from the throne. He walked towards the two kneeling men and stood in front of Freed. His sword had been removed from his scabbard and Laxus, from the corner of his eye, could see the blade resting on Freed's right shoulder. It rested there a moment before Makarov started to talk again.
"Freed Justine," The king's voice resonated through the cathedral. "As knight of the realm, it will be your sworn vow to protect this land. You will fight to your last breath to keep this kingdom safe and will do so without hesitation nor fear. Do you swear to withhold this vow for as long as you live?"
"I swear," Freed promised without hesitation.
With a slow movement, the sword moved from his right shoulder to his left. Despite the expectations of the ritual, Laxus couldn't stop himself from looking towards his retainer and lover. He didn't seem even slightly nervous.
"As knight of the realm, you will be expected to put the life of your king before your own. You will vow to keep him safe and protected no matter what detriment comes to you. You serve him, and act as his guardian," Makarov continued, voice still loud enough for all to hear. "Do you swear to withhold this vow for as long as you live?"
"I swear," Freed promised again.
"Present your right hand," Makarov demanded.
Freed did as he was told, presenting his hand to the king. The blade of the sword was placed upon it, and with a slow movement Makarov cut the skin. It was deep enough to leave a scar, but Freed didn't so much as wince at the pain. A layer of blood covered the sword, of which Makarov raised into the air. He walked to a font made of glass, tall and thin with clear water filling it, and placed the blood-soaked sword inside of it. The blood washed off the weapon and merged with the water, giving it a thin red colouring.
Footsteps approached Freed, and his still raised hand was covered in a bandage. A small healing spell was chanted, and the bandage was removed, revealing a deep but clean scar. Freed lowered his hand, a small smile on his face.
"I now pronounce you Sir Freed Justine, knight of the realm and protector of the nation," Makarov declared.
Laxus couldn't imagine how that must have affected Freed. From being seen as a criminal in the castle's dungeon to being perhaps the most respected knight in the kingdom, it must have been euphoric to feel. If anyone deserved to feel that way, Laxus was damn sure that it was Freed.
There was silence for a moment. Laxus watched with a bowed head as Makarov removed the sword from the glass font and wiped it dry. He then approached the two men again, this time standing in front of Laxus. The blonde felt the weight of the heavy sword against his right shoulder, and his nerves flared up again. But he could do this, the crown was his damn birth right and this nervousness was nothing he couldn't deal with.
"Laxus Dreyar," Makarov began again. "As king of this land, you must vow to commit yourself fully to its fulfilment. You must be willing to sacrifice all aspects of yourself for the betterment of the people over whom you will rule. You must strive to bring greatness to all your subjects, to make sure they're safe in all aspects of their lives. Do you swear to keep this vow?"
"I swear," Laxus said, voice waving slightly.
The sword was moved from his right shoulder to his left.
"As king of this land, you must vow to show respect to this kingdom and its people. You must understand the issues faced by your subjects and treat them with care. You must also show ruthlessness and authority in times of strife and austerity. You must make decisions unthinkable for the greatness of this land, no matter the reflection it has on you and your character. Do you swear to keep this vow?"
"I swear," Laxus said again, voice strong now.
"Raise your right hand."
Laxus did so and felt the cool steel resting against the palm of his hand. A moment later the blade started to slice into him, creating an identical cut to the one Freed had been given. It was painful of course, but Laxus did his best not to react to it. He glanced at Freed again, who gave him a small smile to comfort him. It was enough to keep Laxus silent.
As he had with Freed, Makarov stood back from Laxus and walked to the glass and marble font. He placed the sword in the water again and allowed Laxus' blood to mix with Freed's. The water became redder, and Laxus felt himself smile. The combination of blood was meant to symbolise the souls of a knight and a king being bonded together.
With their relationship, it felt like more than that.
Someone walked towards Laxus and wrapped his hand in a thick bandage. They then chanted a quiet spell that sent tingles down Laxus' spine as the wound was sealed in a scar. When the bandage was removed, Makarov walked to the throne and picked up the crown.
"From one king to the next," Makarov stated, his voice cracking a little. "I present to you the crown of this land."
As rehearsed, Laxus looked up. The ornate golden crown was placed atop his head. It was a small sensation but thrilling. Makarov walked back to the throne and picked up a large wooden box. Laxus frowned a little, not knowing what this one. They had rehearsed this day multiple times, and this hadnt happened once.
"And as your grandfather, I present a gift to you," He said, opening the box. "A sword, imbued with the magic of our family."
From the wooden box, a weapon was shown. It was a long, silver sword with a jutting diagonal blade. In the centre of the blade was a thin lining of yellow gemstones. It was a beautiful weapon, one that Laxus had never seen before.
"With this sword, the element of lightning will be yours to control," Makarov stated.
Laxus raised both hands and allowed Makarov to place to weapon in them. Even as he touched it, he felt a slight ripple fizzle through him. His newly scarred right hand, which touched the hilt of the weapon, was momentarily overtaken by ripples of lightning. It should have been painful, or at least noticeable, but all Laxus could feel was comfort. As if he was naturally inclined to this weapon and the lightning it apparently contained.
Makarov stood back, a look of pride on his face.
"You may both rise."
As instructed, Freed and Laxus both rose to their feet.
"It is perhaps the greatest pleasure of my life to introduce your new king," Makarov continued, and his voice was wavering now. "King Laxus Dreyar."
He was the king.
As the two men turned to face the rest of the cathedral, everybody had knelt for them. It was surreal, to be the leader of these people; to have their respect in such a way. But, for reasons that Laxus couldn't fathom, he wasn't panicked by this. Maybe it was because he had his grandfather's help, maybe it was because he had Freed on his side, he didn't know. But he wasn't panicked, he wasn't scared. He was excited. Because he could do this.
And then there was darkness.
It was instant. All the light streaming from outside of the cathedral vanished within a second, as if the sun had disappeared. The many candles in the cathedral were the only source of light, and they flickered manically as if a wind was trying to extinguish them. Laxus looked around, trying to find a source of this, but found nothing. People were starting to panic.
"Dark magic," Freed said, and Laxus glanced to him. "I'm not sure what type. But there's a lot of it. I think it's an entrapment spell."
"Like your runes?"
"Similar. But rather than making a wall, it makes a haze," Freed removed his sword from his scabbard, and Laxus tightened his grip on the weapon he just received.
From the door where they had been standing, Bickslow and Evergreen ran towards the two men. Makarov also approached them from behind, looking as panicked as everyone felt. Laxus looked outside of the windows to see a thick black mist had started to form and thicken. It didn't seem to be getting into the building, however, which was good.
"How does it trap people?" Makarov asked, also looking at the fog.
"It depends on what the caster wanted. It can range from changing your direction, so you simply walk back on yourself, to ripping the flesh off anyone who goes inside it. I've no idea how bad this will be."
"Fuck," Laxus hissed. "Can it be broken?"
"Not in it's entirety, no," Freed frowned. "But magic can always be overwhelmed by other magic. If enough power hit a concentrated part of the fog, it should break through, enough to get people through it unharmed at least."
"Okay," Laxus nodded. He needed to take control. "Ever, get the doors open and blast the fog with everything you've got. Bix, get everyone you know who has even an ounce of magic in a group and have them join Ever. Gramps, you need to get everyone to calm down so nobody does anything stupid. Anyone who isn't a knight or working on the magic needs to be together, near the doors so they can get out if the fog clears."
They all nodded, going to their specific jobs. Evergreen was almost immediately blasting the fog with whatever Fairy Magic she had. Bickslow was rushing through the guards and royal staff he knew had magic, directing them to Evergreen, and Makarov had begun addressing the panicking crowds.
"I should help Evergreen," Freed stated, but Laxus put a hand on his shoulder before he could move.
"This ain't a coincidence, this is an attack. And if you're gonna attack a coronation, the obvious target would be me," Laxus explained quickly. "If they focus on me, they can't hurt anyone else. And if you're defending me, it'll take a lot longer to kill me. More time to get people out."
Freed nodded. "Of course."
As they readied themselves for attack, a loud clattering came from above. A moment later, the bricks making up the ceiling gave in, slamming to the floor and cracking the throne that they landed on. The debris barely missed the two men, and they spun around to see the cause of the destruction. When they looked up, they were met with a thin layer of fog streaming down, pooling in front of them.
The fog started to shift and change. It grew to a silhouette of a man, tall and broad shouldered. As the knight and king readied their weapons, the figure of shadows began to grow more details, magical energy pulsing around them. Then, a moment later, the shadow left and revealed its creator.
Ivan.
Laxus hadnt seen him since his exile. Since he walked into the man's laboratory that night. Since he saw him experimenting on the lacrima that was intended to be forced into his body. Since Makarov had mercifully ripped open the shackles Laxus had been bound by before his body was ripped apart for the damn crystal that Ivan claimed would make him powerful.
Of course it was him doing this. Of course the psychopath was so power hungry that he couldn't handle the fact that Laxus was becoming king and not him. Of course he was willing to break his exile to fuck over Laxus' life again.
"Aren't you a smart little boy," Ivan spoke, and Laxus felt rage fill him. "But so easy to predict. Your grandfather filled you with all his kindness bullshit, as expected. So of course you'd save your redundant fucking subjects over yourself."
Ivan took a step forward, and Laxus found himself frozen.
"The fog wasn't to trap them, son," He spat the word out. "It was to distract them and trap you."
"Why are you here, Ivan?" Laxus demanded, white knuckling his grip on the weapon.
"Because I refuse to let a weak child spawned from a slut take the position that is mine!" Ivan suddenly roared, darkness swirling around him. "You will not be king, son. That title was meant for me and me alone."
"So are you gonna kill me?" Laxus spat back. "I am so much fucking stronger than I used to be, so fucking try it."
"Are you now?" Ivan grinned, expression mad. "Or do you just have a new pet to look after you."
He turned to Freed, who had barely managed to stop himself from plunging his sword through the man's chest. The only thing that had stopped him was the fact Laxus had a sword of his own, and if he wanted his father dead then he would have done so himself or given the order for Freed to do it. But as Ivan looked at him with animalistic sadism, Freed felt more and more tempted to kill the man without the order.
Freed knew what Ivan had done to Laxus. The manipulations, the torture, the experiments done to him in the late hours of the night. The blonde still had nightmares from time to time, still struggled with the trauma of what he went through. What this bastard had done to him.
"Mr Justine, a pleasure to meet you at last."
Ivan took a step towards Freed. With a sudden lurch, he pushed his hand forward and wrapped it around Freed's neck. He lifted the man off the ground by his throat, shadows hazing around his hand as he did so. Laxus watched as Freed began to struggle for breath, grabbing for the hand wrapped around his neck.
"If I send a man to kill my son, that is my business and nobody else's!" Ivan roared again. "If you decide to stop him, then I am justified in seeking revenge."
Laxus acted without thinking. He raised the sword and tried to strike out at Ivan's arm. The smoke around it swarmed around the weapon, stopping it before it could make contact with the man. Ivan slowly looked towards Laxus with a maniacal smile plastered on his face. He maintained eye contact with him, tightening his grip around Freed's throat.
"I would kill him," Ivan said without emotion. "But I think it would be more fun to see him get swarmed, don't you?"
Ivan threw Freed to the side of the room like he weighed nothing. He clattered onto the floor, catching his breath. Laxus ran towards him, but a thick wall of smoke stopped him. He tried to push through it, but his movements slowed as if he were walking through water, until he eventually was forced to stop.
"Look up, dear child," Ivan demanded.
Laxus did, and through the hole in the ceiling came hundreds of small white specs. When they got closer Laxus could see they seemed to be paper figures of people. They spun around each other, merging into larger forms of the same paper figure. About twenty of the figures now stood in the cathedral. Laxus turned to Freed, who looked… terrified.
"Shikigami," Freed whispered, and Laxus' eyes widened.
Shikigami was a forbidden magic. It was one of the few forms of necromancy known to still work. It was one of the cruellest forms of necromancy as well; the person casting the spell needed to kill the person to bring them back. And even when they did, they weren't truly brought back. They were just puppets, projected on a paper doll with their bodies being used by the evil person who brought them back. And now Ivan was using it.
Using it on Freed.
Laxus tried to break free of the shadows, to use the sword in some way, but he couldn't move. His head was immobilised now, forcing him to watch as the paper dolls began to advance on Freed. He couldn't do anything.
The dolls were starting to flicker now, gaining the bodies of people Ivan had killed. Laxus saw the leading doll to be the same yellow haired madman who had attempted to kill him months prior; of course his father had been responsible for that. But Freed had been the one to kill him, so the only way that Ivan could be using his corpse would be if he brought him back to life, only to kill him again to add to his arsenal of zombies
It was sick. Twisted. Evil.
The madman's corpse raised an arm, and a stream of yellow and black energy shot from his hand. Freed barely managed to stand before he was hit by the attack, knocked into one of the cathedral's pews, his back cracking as it happened.
Advancing quicker now, the dolls got closer and closer to Freed. The knight managed to stand up again, holding his sword, and Laxus could hear Ivan tut. He made a gesture with his hand, and the dolls sped up further. Some stayed back, such as the madman's corpse, and started to cast spells. Some spells Freed managed to deflect with his sword, but others hit him and knocked him back further. He was clearly getting overwhelmed, and the attacks weren't stopping.
Laxus felt sick.
"You said you've gotten stronger, Laxus," Ivan taunted. "But you haven't. All you have is a new guard, and he's about to die. And then you'll die too."
Laxus couldn't speak. He couldn't even move his mouth.
He was forced to watch as another of the madman's attacks slammed into Freed's stomach, burning through some of his clothing and leaving burns on his stomach. Dread filled Laxus as he watched Freed struggle to get up.
The dolls were on him now, surrounding him. Shadows started to form around the mass of dolls, and Laxus felt sick. He knew what was happening; they were trying to turn Freed into one of them. They were going to make Freed a lifeless corpse that was at Ivan's control. Laxus couldn't do anything, and the shadow was so thick around him that nobody else in the cathedral could do anything. He was going to die, and Laxus couldn't do anything.
And then something in the darkness changed. It was no longer made of wispy shadows, but instead a thick viscous ink. A familiar looking darkness, one that gave Laxus a small amount of hope. Freed's magic had always looked like that.
An angered, mutated roar filled the room. It was Freed.
With an explosion of inky darkness, the dolls were thrown off the man and ripped apart. The blackness dissipated a moment later, revealing Freed. But he was different. Half of his body had been replaced by the demonic form, his entire face now grey and scaly with large purple horns coming from his head. The right of his chest was grey, with black feathers sprouting form him. His face was contorted in a snarl aimed at Ivan.
This was the most demonic he had ever been. If he could, Laxus would have smiled.
The dolls were quick to reform, and Laxus could see from the corner of his eye that Ivan was panicking a little; Freed's magic had been kept a secret even from him. And now he was backfooted, because he didn't know just how strong Freed could be.
Nobody knew. Freed was a juggernaut of magic energy with just his forearm replaced by his demonic self. With this much of himself demonic, he might very well be unstoppable.
But Laxus was still trapped.
He couldn't leave Freed to fight by himself; Ivan always had contingency plans and Laxus didn't want Freed to face that alone. But he couldn't move, he was stuck mid run with his hand gripping the sword. He thought through everything he knew about magic in hopes of a way of figuring how to get out. One such idea came when he heard the sound of Evergreen casting another spell on the fog around the cathedral.
Magic can always be overwhelmed by magic.
Ivan was a powerful magician, but he was doing this on his own, and his power wasn't limitless. Keeping Laxus in place must have been the least important of the spells he was using at that moment, and therefore the weakest. Logic dictated that it could be overwhelmed pretty easily with magic. And, as king, Laxus now had a sword imbued with magic.
He had never used magic, but knew it was focused around emotions. He needed to put his emotions into overdrive – just as Freed had when they were training – and then hopefully his sword would react.
So, everything he had been in denial about throughout his life, he let go.
How scared he had been of his father throughout his childhood. How much pain he had been in through all the experiments made upon him. How terrified he was of falling asleep when his father's presence was in the castle. How disgusted he was with himself as a child, when Ivan had convinced him that he was a weak boy with no hope of surviving. How hysterical he had been throughout his teenage years when he felt he needed to follow his father's instructions under fear of death. How relieved he had been when his father had been exiled.
How relieved he was when he saw Freed alive again.
That last through sent a roaring scream through Laxus' mouth, and Ivan turned to him instantly. Lightning crackled over the king's body, shooting down him into his arm and into the blade of the sword. An erratic stream of lightning shot out of the weapon, cutting through the shadows and releasing Laxus.
An exhilarating sensation of power coursed through Laxus' veins, as if he were alive for the first time. He looked to his father with a snarl on his face, who looked back at him with wide eyes. Laxus had the upper hand now.
Good. Ivan should be scared.
"You tried to kill me," Laxus said, voice calm. Deadly so.
He raised the sword to the air and shot off another beam of lightning. Ivan barely managed to protect himself by forming a shield of darkness which absorbed the attack. Laxus started to walk towards his father, who took a step back.
"You manipulated me and tortured me as a child," Laxus continued.
Another shot of lightning left the sword. Ivan protected himself again with a cloud of shadows. They were getting more desperate now.
"You tried to have my friends killed in front of me."
A third shot of lightning left the sword. Ivan tried to protect himself, but the crackling beam hit his shoulder and made him scream.
"You were my father, you were meant to make me feel safe. Meant to love me," Laxus growled.
Another shot of lightning hit Ivan in his chest, making him fall to the ground at the foot of the throne. Laxus ran towards him, leaning over him before he could get up.
"But you didn't. You hurt me, scared me, and made me feel weak," Laxus whispered. "But that's okay. Because I have people who do care for me. Who do love me. Who do make me feel safe."
Laxus placed the tip of the sword against Ivan's stomach.
"So there's no real fucking point to you, is there."
Before Ivan could speak, Laxus forced the sword deep inside of him. He took pleasure in feeling the mans insides burst around the metal, until he felt the gentle clink of his sword tapping the floor below Ivan, who was now fully impaled. Laxus leant forward, forcing eye contact with Ivan, who's face was a picture of fear.
He always had been a damn coward.
"Goodbye, father."
Lightning flooded the sword, frying the man from the inside out. He screamed out in pain as his life left him, smoke forming and raising from his body. Laxus watched as any light left in his eyes dies out, and his soul left his body for the final time. Suddenly Ivan slumped, body going limp around the sword.
He was dead.
Everything stopped at once. The smoky magic, the dolls, the darkness. It all went.
Laxus removed the sword from his father's corpse and tossed it to the ground. He breathed heavily, catching his breath as the lighting dancing across him died away. He placed his boot against his father's back, kicking it down the three steps that led up to the throne.
Freed ran towards him, and Laxus relaxed slightly when he saw him. The knight dropped his demon form, and the moment they were close enough to one another Laxus pressed his lips against Freed's. They kissed for a short moment before breaking apart, and Laxus cupped Freed's cheeks.
"Are you okay?" He whispered, voice tender and soft now. He placed their foreheads together.
"I'm fine," Freed panted. "Are you?"
"I'm okay. He didn't hit me," Laxus assured him.
"I meant," Freed's eyes shot to the corpse of Laxus' father. "Because it's okay to be affected by it. Even though you did what was right."
"I know," Laxus nodded. "He was evil, though. And I won't miss him. and perhaps I'll even come to terms with it one day."
"I love you, Laxus," Freed whispered. "Nearly didn't get to say it."
"I love you too," Laxus replied instantly. He pressed his lips against Freed's again.
Laxus felt his knees buckle under him, and Freed quickly guided him to the throne, where he sat.
It was a spectacle to see. The new king, sitting in his throne for the first time, his robes soaked with blood. His sword was slung to the side, covered in his father's blood, and his crown was hidden under debris somewhere. He looked exhausted, barely awake. But he was strong in that moment, perhaps stronger than he had ever been in his life.
Standing beside him was his guard, retainer and lover. His clothes were ripped, his body covered in newly gained wounds, and his eyes swelling with a demonic magic that many considered to be evil. He stood proud beside the throne, hand on his sword protectively as they both looked over the congregation, who looked back at them.
For a moment, there was silence.
"Long live the king!" Makarov declared. A moment later, a roar from the crowed followed him.
Long live the king.
Fin.