Summary: The middle of a battlefield is not the most convenient place for destiny to finally catch up with you.

A/N: A small oneshot that I may or may not continue. Hope you guys enjoy!

Lucy struggled to her feet as the smoke burnt her lungs. She leaned heavily on her sword as she clutched at her side, wishing her leather armour wasn't as tight and cursing it for its bare minimum protection against the slice of a blade. Her fallen enemy reached for her in his last heartbeats of life, his eyes wide and full of sorrow.

She couldn't bear to look so she turned away, bile rising in her throat. She hadn't wanted to kill him. She hadn't wanted to kill anyone. They were all just pawns fighting in a war that wasn't their own. Lucy felt a burst of hatred ignite in her stomach for not just her own kingdom but for all of them as she took in the sight of the battlefield. Hundreds had fallen. The once lush fields were nothing more than dirt and blood, corpses pilling high as far as the eye could see. The battle was not yet over, but she knew already that there would be no winner. Both sides had lost too much.

The sky itself had turned red, the clouds black with smoke. None of her nightmares had ever compared to this. Even as she surged on, straightening her back and gripping her sword tightly, her limbs still shook with terror. No enemies approached her as she wandered aimlessly over the new-born wasteland, but she still kept her sword at the ready. Even as her eyes scanned the faces of the dead, desperately hoping she wouldn't see one she recognised.

Her mind flashed back to the faces of her regiment. Her friends. All of them so young, so full of courage and yet so afraid. All of them forced to fight. To ignore the call to arms was to disgrace yourself, your family. The punishment itself seeming much worse than death. She remembered their nervous chatter around the fire the night before, how their faces looked in the fire light. She'd drank in every detail of them. The nervous twitch the Gajeel's smirk even as he boasted about his fighting prowess. The methodical way in which Erza counted her weapons. How Juvia moved closer to Gray when she thought no one was looking, and how he silently took her hand when he thought the same. Levy's fidgeting as she instead they would all see each other on the other side. Lucy had not been sure what the small girl had meant. The other side of the battle or the other side of life. She had been too afraid to ask.

Lucy called out to them. All of them. Not caring if she attracted enemy attention. She needed to find someone, anyone. She couldn't be the only one to make it out alive. She'd rather die herself than lose everyone.

Her head snapped up to the sky as a crash echoed through the heavens. A flash of red-tinged lightning flashed through the smoke, the fires of the battle field blazing anew.

"The Hunt." Lucy whispered to herself, heart seizing in terror.

Gathering all her strength she broke into a sprint, calling out desperately for her friends. If there was any chance- any chance at all- that her friends were still alive, she would lose it soon. If misery was strong enough, if pain and despair and terror were felt in the hearts of hundreds, The Hunt readied their horses. It was time for souls to be collected, and the demons that raced across the sky and down to earth in that one flash of red lighting did not care if a soul was still in use. Anything was theirs for the taking.

Her heart jolted at every shock of blue hair or shattered sword she glimpsed on the fallen but she couldn't stop to check. Soon the battlefield would be plagued by demons and it wouldn't matter or not if her friends were dead, because they soon would be. She needed to get away. She needed to run.

Voice hoarse from calling out to her friends, she couldn't even yelp in surprise as an injured enemy clutched at her feet. She tumbled to the ground, grip remaining tight on her sword so as not to lose it. Pushing herself up on her elbows she turned to look at her assailant. She yanked her foot away easily, the girl who had caught her ankle looking at her with eyes filled with fear and regret. Lucy felt her lip begin to tremble and her eyes fill with tears. Yes, the girl wore the colours of her supposed enemies, but she looked no older than Lucy herself. Lucy's heart went out to her as she noticed one of the girl's legs was missing below the knee. She wanted to help her so desperately but what could she possibly do?

Chocking back a sob, Lucy moved to kneel over the girl. Even if she hadn't been missing a leg, her wounds were grave. It would take more than mere regimental medics to keep her alive. Help that Lucy would not be able to get her to in time. The girl's eyes were pleading as she reached feebly for Lucy's hand, the one that held her sword.

Begging. The girl was begging Lucy to kill her. Nothing came out her mouth but blood, but Lucy knew. She could read the words on the dying girl's lips.

Lucy's limbs felt heavy as she wrapped both hands around the hilt of her sword, raising it so that the tip of the blade rested over the girl's heart. The girl nodded at her. It was with a pained cry that Lucy drove the blade downwards.

Lucy let her tears fall at the reality of the war. That girl had once had a home. Perhaps a family. And now she was dead. Died for a cause she didn't believe in. Perhaps letting The Hunt take you is easier than living, Lucy thought. After all, she was already in Hell.

"How rude," A voice quipped behind her, "That one was mine."

Lucy stood and turned, pushing the sound of the blade as it withdrew from the girl's chest to the back of her mind as she levelled her sword at the person who had spoken. Her stance began to waver when she realised who stood before her.

He looked just as he had on all the times she had seen him before, his likeness painted on temple walls. But paintings were not the same as seeing him in the flesh. Paintings could not capture the eerie glow of the lamp he carried that hung from the end of an iron staff. The light of collected souls. Paintings did not capture the way the flames of battle shone against the red scales that speckled his cheeks and shoulders. They did not catch the sharpness of his horns, of the bone that protruded from his wings. And of course, she could look at his eyes in the paintings and walk away with a still beating heart.

If legends were to be believed, in the flesh she would not be so lucky. Nobody looked END in the eye and lived. And now Lucy knew that all the paintings she had seen had got one thing wrong. His eyes were not black, but green.

"You." She breathed, fighting to force her trembling hands to still, "I know who you are."

"Oh really?" He drawled.

He seemed amused, his voice lilting with humour. But Lucy wasn't laughing. Perhaps if he was anyone else, she would have. She would have chuckled at the pink of his messy hair. But he wasn't anyone else. He was one of The Wild Hunt, and the next in line to the throne of hell.

"I've seen your face. It is plastered across every temple in the City of the Dead. I know your name."

"Say it." He snapped.

She caught sight of his pointed teeth as he grinned savagely at her. He was looking at her in a strange way. Like there was madness inside him that was fighting to get out. He seemed tense. Ready to spring at her at any moment. She flinched at his sharp command, but answered him anyway.

"Etherious." She replied. Saying it aloud made it seem more real. Made him seem more real. If it was real, she could fight it. Her voice was stronger when she continued. "Etherious Natsu Dragneel."

END chuckled.

"I prefer just Natsu."

He took a step towards her, that lazy smirk still on his lips. Lucy took a step back, improving her stance and levelling her sword at him with a confidence she didn't really possess. No part of her expected to fight END and live, but she would be damned if she didn't go down without a fight.

He raised an eyebrow at her dull steal sword as he continued to pace forward. Lucy fought every ounce in her body not to move, not to tremble. She gripped her sword so tightly her knuckles were white. She was terrified, but Natsu just seemed bored.

"You think you can kill me?" He asked as though he was trying very hard not to laugh as he stepped closer to her, "No mortal blade can pierce a demons heart."

Even as he said it, he pushed himself onto her blade. He should have bled, should have cried out as the blade pierced his heart, but instead he just looked down at her smugly as her blood went cold with horror. It was as if the blade wasn't even touching him. She stared at it as he moved so that her sword sunk further into him. It seemed to just pass through him. As though he were nothing but shadows.

The closer he got, the more her body shook. Just one touch. That's what all the legends said it took for him to tear the very soul from your body. Just one single touch. The real horror of the legends were worse. She could almost see the truth of them in his eyes. END could kill you with just one touch, but where was the fun in that?

His chest was almost to the hilt of her sword when an instinct clicked inside of her. It was his words, no mortal blade, which had sparked it into action. Still holding her sword with her left hand, her right reached to the dagger at her belt, the silver hilt tarnished by blood.

She pulled back her sword, slicing her dagger upwards and catching the demon on his right cheek as he stepped back a moment too late. He hissed at the pain, touching his fingers to his cheek as he glared at her. Black blood poured from the wound and stained his fingertips. His grip on the iron staff tightened. He glared at her and snarled.

"Death has put a high price on your head, Lucy Heartfilia."

Lucy sucked in a startled breath. How did he know her name? The dagger in her hand seemed to hum in fury. She had resisted using it for so long. She had known the truth for so long. Since the moment her mother had given it to her. But she had been childish and stupid. She had wanted to believe that her destiny was her own. That her life was more than what had been drawn out in some ancient prophecy.

It seemed Fate was finally catching up with her.

"My whole world is war. My fight is futile." Lucy glared back at him, "Death can take me whenever they choose."

Natsu shook his head with a grin, blood still dripping down his cheek. He stepped forward again, not fearing the dagger in her hand that had cut him so easily.

"Your fight is futile," He repeated, "And yet, you still fight it."

He moved so fast she had no time to react. One second he was standing in from of her, almost mimicking the position he was so often painted in, and the next his staff was sunk into the earth, lantern swaying precariously as he shot forward and clasped her hand. His fingers overlapped hers around the dagger. She tried to run him through with her sword but of course it was useless. His grip on her hand was bruising. The tip of her dagger glowed as though she was holding it over a fire the closer he brought it to his skin.

"Make no mistake Lucy, it is not just Death that searches for you." His breath fanned against her face as he spoke, he was so close, "The Hunt ride with you in their sights, the furies call your name into the night, the fates search for a blade sharp enough to cut short the thread of your life. But only one shall reap the rewards of killing you. Of collecting your soul."

"And you think you're the one that'll cash in that reward?" Lucy scowled as she struggled in vain against his grip.

"Oh, I know that I could," He grinned, "But who ever said I wanted your soul?"

He let go of her hand. The dagger hovered inches away from his face, the tip still glowing and his cheek still dripping with blood. But he didn't move away. He stared at her. His green eyes deep and piercing.

"We all have destiny's Lucy," His voice was quiet and rough. He inched forward slowly. Lucy dared not move as their noses brushed, and he shifted his head so that he whispered in her ear, "If you think yours is as simple as following that blade in your hands, you are sorely mistaken."

"What do you know of destiny?" Lucy's voice was low and full of anger, but her body was still frozen, "You've been stuck in the same circle of hell for eternity. Crawling out of your pit just to cause misery and steal souls."

"Misery humans make for themselves. And as for the souls, I never take ones that are still in use. Besides," He turned his head so that his lips brushed her cheek when he whispered to her, "I much prefer to steal a heart."

Lucy snapped into action. She swung her dagger but this time Natsu was ready for it. He dodged easily, moving out of her range with a laugh and retrieving his staff.

She stood staring at him, her whole body shaking. She should be dead. He had touched her. Undoubtedly. She could still feel the ghost of his lips on her cheek. He'd touched her and yet she was still alive.

As if sensing her thoughts, Natsu smiled at her.

"Not all the legends are true. Perhaps maybe you will save us all," He seemed to ponder as he took a few easy steps backwards, his form fading with every inch he drew further away from her, "But if I were you, I would start by saving your friends."

As if summoned by his cryptic words, a shout sounded behind her. She turned instinctively, shoulders sagging slightly in relief as a pale boy with jet black hair and a bare blood splattered chest came limping towards her. She remembered too late the threat that lay behind her, but when she turned again to face him, the demon was gone.

She let herself linger on the strange occurrence for only a moment. She had looked END in the eye and lived. Touched him and lived. Or rather, he had touched her. Talked to her. What could a demon want from her? A scared little girl who was apparently running from more than just her destiny.

They were questions she would have to ponder on later. Gray called out to her again and she ran towards him. Thankful to find one of her friends alive.

"Juvia," He was panting when she finally reached him, "I can't find Juvia."

"Don't worry," She urged him as she looped one of his arms over her shoulders, "We'll find her. She'll be alright."

"Our whole regiment got split up Lucy. How could you possibly know that?"

She thought again of her friends the night before as they had sat around the camp fire. They had been thrown together under unfortunate circumstances, but they were all loyal. Fierce. Determined. If there was any troop that could survive this stupid war, any troop that were meant for more than just cannon fodder, it was theirs. They had said it in the way they looked at each other. In their reassuring touches. Silent promises to come back alive.

Her mother's dagger at her belt still radiated heat from its reaction to the demon. To Natsu. Its steady hum of power was reassuring.

"Trust me." Lucy grinned at Gray as they made their way to safety, "I just know."