A/N: Thank-you all for the comments/favorites/alerts~!

A/N [continue]: Sorry for being absent—Family was in last week, so that is where most of my time went to.

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Three

The Time has Arrived

[What now?]


"Seems like a waste—" The gruff voice came from the other side of the wagon, arching over the dully painted roof—so different than the usual precedent of vibrant hues that such usually presented, that would serve as Levy's home during the foreseeable future.

Knuckle striking the intricately carved—if not painted—wood of the wagon's side, Levy bit back a curse as she finally obtained freedom from the constricting garment. "There is limited space in the wagon, right?"

"Yeah but—I don't know—don't women like to keep their dresses—"

"This isn't a real marriage, remember?"

A soft thunk—heel of a boot hitting a wheel?—proceeded a grated response, "How could I forget?"

There had probably been more miserable brides in the history of forced matrimony:

War Tithes...

Child Brides to the Elderly...

Replacement Brides for Deceased Sisters...

Tragic Self-Sacrificing Beauties—Forsaking True Love to Marry the Hideous Beast…

Levy had constructed numerous tales for such, along with several other scenarios, throughout the days leading to her 'marriage.' While not real—something only known to those directly involved…all six of them, nearly as much effort had to be placed into the farce's preparation as if the ceremony would legitimately be happening.

No one would be inside to see that nothing actually occurred but, appearance had to be maintained. Which meant that flowers ha to be gathered, food prepared—something Levy would have felt guilty about except that her kingly brother had solved that particular waste problem by having a city-wide feast in honor of the festivities…

This also included constructing the damnable dress, a corseted monstrosity of fluffed skirts, which threatened to swallow Levy whole, and a bodice that constricted the lungs in exchange for the semblance of cleavage that breaking a few ribs managed to obtain.

Her head ached from the pins and pulls her hair endured to host the gauzy veil attached to an ornate tiara that, she was told, had been worn by her grandmother. A sentiment that would have been touching, except that it was a prop to best sell the sham's illusion. The heirloom was forever tarnished in her mind, causing her to scowl more so at the twinkling diamonds nestled above her head than anything else her reflection had to offer.

"You look lovely," Erza—her only assistance in preparation—had assured, a gentleness to her voice that wasn't commonly found in the redhead's demeanor. Yet another thing Levy would find touching if not entwined directly to the empty events that were about to transpire.

And if she didn't know that such came from a direct place of pity. Where Erza had been a radiant bride—not only from her raw beauty but from the inner-glow that only came from marrying one's one true love, Levy knew that—even if she wasn't being forced into the position—she would never be nothing more than appearing to be a child playing at a bride.

Rather than face her lawful sister, Levy's frown deepened at the mirror's reflection before gathering up her skirts and throwing back her head in as much defiance as she could muster, fortification against the tears that were burning behind her eyes. "Let's just get this over with."

Leaving her room—her haven for the past two decades of life—should have merited a second glance, some trepidation about leaving the familiar for the unknown, but she honestly had no room in her for further possible melancholy. If she allowed her mind to rest for a moment on the fact that this would be the last time she would be in a space—the only space—that was entirely hers—not mentioning the precious friends she was leaving behind, Levy wouldn't have the strength to walk out the door and down to the grand entrance hall where her 'groom' was waiting.

Like her, Gajeel was dressed to fulfill the illusion. Just in a more comfortable manner. After all, he could simply wear his uniform of status and be deemed ready for such an occasion. There being only a few additives to the same outfit worn during his failed proposal:

A sash of her country's colors draped across his chest and knotted at the opposing hip.

The iron of his numerous piercings had been replaced with precious metals, some adorned with jewels.

There might have been a haircut within the last few days…

During years past, she would have greeted the sight with laughter and teasing suggestions about how he made a living off the gifts and favors of saucy noblewomen—both the bored and married along with the hungry and widowed. Now, all his appearance brought was the desire to be anywhere else.

To not even look at him.

Her eyes remained straight ahead on entrance specifically to avoid catching sight of his expression, which was undoubtedly bored and impatient to have this over and done with.

And he wasn't the only one. "Well, let's get this joyous moment over and done with." Laxus drawled, pushing Levy to stand beside Gajeel and—when she didn't do it on her own accord—physically tucked her arm into his offered elbow.

"Laxus—"

"Remember, you have to sell this Redfox." Laxus hissed, obviously intending that the words be heard by Gajeel alone. Being as close as she was, Levy couldn't help but overhear as well. "Make it believable or don't even step out the door."

It was an unmistakable threat, which begged what was being held over Gajeel that would force him into this unwanted union…

Before she could contemplate further, the doors were thrown up and they were greeted by the celebratory screams and riotous cries of those who had been waiting outside. All attempting to be the first to catch sight of the newly united couple, making Levy wonder why there wasn't anything better for them to do.

Yes, the day was marked as a holiday but, rather than dwell on the fake-romance of others, she wished those presented would have instead used this time to enjoy their lives rather than revel in what murmurs ploy she was participating.

The lie was turning her stomach sour.

Amongst the cheers of those ignorant to the truth—both native citizen and foreign, came a common, persistent demand: "Kiss!"

Arm dropping, Gajeel's hand went to rest on Levy's hip, turning her about to face him and pulling her in close enough that her chest brushed the chiseled muscles of his torso. Buttons of his jacket digging into the boning of her corset as a gloved hand—full-fingered rather than his usual ratty finger-less preference—tilting her chin up so, for the first time since arrival, her gaze met his.

Don't you even think about it…

Ignoring the warning her eyes were screaming, Gajeel ducked his head, angling it so his lips could brush along hers. The crowd went wild while Levy tried to convince herself that the tremble that traveled along her spine was from rage as he slowly eased her lips open to deepen the kiss.

For him, nothing more than a show to sell the story.

For her, a stolen kiss—her first—that deserved to be a part of something better…more meaningful that…

If she had known that this would be how such would occur, she would have long given in to some of the town boys' and younger guards' persistent requests for stolen moments in corridors and alleys. She had always declined because—though she had never admitted such, and would now be taking to her grave—she had always hoped her first kiss would be with Gajeel.

Did this count as irony?

If it did, irony was a bitch.

Angered fueled, she brought the kiss to an abrupt end by biting Gajeel's lower lip. They were too far away from anyone to notice the assault, so there was no pause or diminishment of the rambunctious calls. Nope, the only ones effected by the dampening of the mood were the two directly involved.

Arm dropping once more, Gajeel took a measured step back before turning back to the crowd with what appeared to be a pain smile—either from the bite or from the situation itself, he had never been one for public appearances—and gave a brief wave before ushering Levy to the wagon waiting at the base of the stairs leading up to the castle.

"We had to sell it—" Stopping several miles outside the city's limits—safe from the risk of being spotted by a celebrator—amongst the dense woodlands that stretched towards the foothills of the Imperial mountain range fortifying the empire's southern border, they had taken advantage f the first possible opportunity to change.

Gajeel's voice got closer, moving to the wagon's back where the door was located to enter the living space within. Soft clinks and chimes spoke of his continued attempt to change out the more decorative piercings for the tarnished ones of his every day.

Teeth gritted, Levy focused on pulling on drape pants, comfortable but hanging dangerous low on her hips, that left a scandalous strip of skin visible beneath where the hem of her sleeveless-cropped vest laced to her clavicle. It was promising to turn into a hot day and there wasn't much of a risk of encountering many while on the road, so why endure more discomfort than was required?

"As you have mentioned."

"I'm just saying, you don't have to be so pissy about a little kiss."

"Pissy?" Voice lifting, she glared around the wagon's back corner.

Gajeel met her fury with a shrug, unaware to how her heart squeezed painfully at the sight of him.

Hair unbound, wild locks already attempting to form into knots, he had exchanged his finery for well-worn trousers and a fraying tunic—once black but now a charcoal-shade of grey—accepted with metal about the sleeveless cuffs and about the collar. This was the Gajeel she loved, or—at least—he was now resembling the person she had fallen for long before she knew to fortify herself against such.

"Seemed nicer than saying that you don't have to be such a fucking bitch." Arms crossing, he leaned a shoulder against the wagon's door. "You didn't want to marry me. I get it, alright? It happened and all this is accomplishing is making our lives miserable."

"Only until I find someone else."

Crimson eyes narrowed, pulling at the studs in his brows. "What?"

"Didn't Laxus tell you?" Levy, needing something to do with her hands, fought with her short waves to pull it back into a stubbed tail. "Once we're in the capitol, I can marry some other Dragon."

Gajeel could only blink at her for several breaths. Jaw seemed to be chewing over the words before he was able to voice them. "You're just going to husband hop?"

Mirroring his shrug as hand dropped from her hair, Levy turned away towards the wagon's bench where the horses were taken advantage of time without their humans so leisurely graze, pulling the wagon partially off the road to accomplish such. "If the opportunity presents itself."

"Seriously?" Reaching out, he snagged her arm to turn her back to face him. Unlike before, there was no romantic pretense to his hard expression. "Just that easy?"

Refusing to be intimidated or overwhelmed with the ever-lingering desire to break down into sobs, Levy forced herself to not flinch. "Why not? We got married just that easy." Her eyes rolled down to where he still held onto her.

Noticing where her attention went, he slowly relented his hold. One finger at a time as he took a visible breath before speaking once more. "Yeah but…come on…"

"Don't tell me that your ego is really that delicate that you can't stand the idea of me leaving you for someone else?" Her mocking smile wanted to shake; she ordered it to remain firm. She may be acting like a bitch, unlike the Levy he was used to, but better that he grows to be irritated at the sight of her then to discover the truth and treat her with incumbent pity.

"No." Not sure if he was saying this in response to her statement or from the situation on the whole, Levy dumbly watched Gajeel walk past her to swing up onto the wagon's bench.

Desire to inquire further—that being what would be expected—being hindered by common-sense and self-preservation, Levy let the conversation die and clumsily climb onto the bench beside him.

Well…beside him beyond the canvas sack resting between them. Inside was her gown and veil, both destined to be donated to the first alms house or orphanage they encountered. As for the tiara and jewels that had been forced on her, those were locked away in the wagon until she found a secure way to transport such back into her brothers' care. If possible, she wanted to erase every possible memento of the day from her memory.

Mentioning mementos...

Her hand slid into her pocket, curling about the delicate circle of iron—tarnished with age and speckled with dried blood—that her foolish and treacherous heart would not permit her to cast aside. Despite—looking at Gajeel's profile from the corner of her eye, the harsh angles of his face seeming sharper than usual—how much she would want to.


A/N [continue/part 2]: Please continue to let me know what you think? For good or bad, your input is greatly appreciated.