They knew him best by the jangle of the bangles that hung from both his ankles. His steps, always light like a dancer, were always marked by a the light clink of thin bands of gold clicking together as he moved about his home. Even now the sound is most present in their mind. It was like a music, the music of the Dreyer den, bar feet pattering on tile floors, or softly caressing rich carpets. The swoosh of fabric that hung around a lean frame as it whisked in the breeze he made, snapping or floating or quietly falling. Sometimes his hair made a sound, always nearly silent, as it to swirled in his wake. Occasionally he hummed the songs of his people, or spoke in languages few alive knew anymore. All of these sounds were accompanied by the light jingle of delicate metal on metal. This was how they remembered Freed.
There were, of course, other memories, more definite in nature, for to count Laxus as a friend was to know and be approved of by his husband. The lightening dragon was a constant contrast to his mate, large and brawny where Freed was slim and airy. They could see them now, in their minds, standing side by side. The massive dragon, even in human form, towering a good head over his love, who always looked up at him as if looking at the sun. Freed, hair long and green like the leaves in spring about his waist, wings of creamy white and flecked with the brown and green of the forest huge against his back, would walk to his husband with soft smiles and elegant fingers, reaching up to caress his face as if one of the strongest dragons in existence was the fragile one. It was the first time any of them had seen Laxus look like that at another person. They knew, in that moment, that this aves demon was the only one the lightning dragon would ever love. At the time it had seemed like a blessing.
Freed and Laxus had been together for a long time - longer than the other young dragons had known Laxus. When he was a youngling like they, his grandfather had been the guardian of Freed's people. Laxus had spent much of his youth patrolling the peaceful clans boarders, learning to protect and aid important civilizations as most dragons were won't to do. Eventually Laxus would inherit the duty of protecting the aves from his grandfather, but that was neither here nor there. He met Freed by chance at that age, both unknowing of their duties and significance, and became fast friends. They continued to meet, eventually in secret, as the years passed, and neither were unaware of the new developments in their relationship. Eventually they discovered a truth they had been avoiding, perhaps consciously, for years. Laxus, who was to be guardian of the aves, more like a deity than a person, was expected to mate with a dragoness of his own caliber. Freed, who in his own gender fluid culture held the highest know position of high priestess, would be expected to lead his people spiritually and intellectually, and be bonded to a strong ave alpha and provided future leaders for their people. It was unlikely that either of their cultures would accept a relationship such as theirs. But, as was normal for most dragons, Laxus was far to stubborn to give up what he wanted.
They can remember the night he told them of how he claimed Freed for himself. They had all been tired and full, sitting before a crackling fire in the cozy living space of the lighting dragons' home. Natsu had been directly in front of the flames on the rug, Rouge sitting with his head against Sting's chair, Wendy sitting curled up in a chair next to them, Gajeel flayed out across the couch, and Cobra leaning in the shadows beside it. Freed had been snuggled against Laxus' side, his head against the dragons broad chest, eyes drooping with sleep, as they both sat in a large armchair before the younger dragons. It was Natsu, ever curious, who had dared ask such a personal question of the lighting dragon.
The others had tensed, waiting for the usual rebuttal from the man who was for all intents and purposes their teacher and friend, when he gave a thoughtful hum from the back of his throat and began to answer. He told them, smiling, of the aves tradition of finding pairs. How those who other cultures would consider in a "female" role, or hens, would be painted and dressed with flowers and fabric and then released into the forest. Those with a "male" roll, or tercels, would gather in the ancient square and wait for the sun to begin it's decent, before taking off after them. The hens would be chased until dawn broke, and if caught by a tercel before then, would be bonded to that tercel. The idea was that hens, faster and more agile than the tercels, would only allow themselves to be caught by a tercel they though worthy or truly loved, or if the gods decided they were fated to be together. Laxus explained that Freed was by far the fastest, and had never been caught, not in the twenty years since he came of age and began taking part in the matching ceremony. Laxus had entered, without the priestesses knowledge and with the help of a strong tercel names Amaoug, who was expected to be the one to bond with Freed and become the chieftain. Amaoug was in love with another, and agreed to enter the dragon into the ceremony in order to be with the hen he desired. It was also easy to slip in because most did not know of his relationship with their priestess, and believed the elusive man to be completely uncatchable, especially by the hulking man before them.
At this point in the retelling Freed's half hooded eyes looked up at his blond mate, almost laughing in their depths, as if he found the blond's simplified explanation of his culture amusing. Laxus in turn rolled his eyes and continued, giving the greenette a gentle squeeze. He spoke of how is searches the vast forest for hours, wondering where his lovely bird had hidden himself. Laxus explained how it struck him, Freed's hiding place, and how stupid he felt for not realizing it sooner, despite the warmth curling in his stomach at the thought. His lovely bird had for years been going to the clearing where they first met, deep in the wilds of the forest.
The dragon spoke of the lightness in the sky as he raced there, faster than he thought he had ever moved before. How the adrenaline was spiking through his veins as if he was about to go into battle, the electricity in his body as if a storm was brewing at his back. How in the lingering light of the moon he caught site of Freed, in full form with wings outstretched, decked in more beads and paint and makeup than Laxus had ever seen him, absolutely radiant in and of himself. The dragon then barks out a laugh, and says that the bookworm had been reading, fully expecting no one to find him before the sun rose. How shocked his face was when Laxus burst from the tree line, stoping perhaps a hundred yards away to gaze at his prey. After a moment of silence so tense they could taste it, the priestess sprang up to his full height and bolted for the opposite edge of the clearing at a speed unlike anything the lightning dragon had ever seen.
Tipping his head to the side Natsu again was the one to ask why Freed fled. The blond furrowed his brow, irritated at having been interrupted from what was obviously a good memory, and opened his mouth to tell the fire dragon off, when Freed spoke in explanation.
I ran because I wanted him to catch me.
It was then that Laxus' face went truly soft and warm, his eyes distant as he gazed into the flames, his arm curling tighter around his love. He thought of the instinct that propelled him forward after this love, despite knowing the aves advantage, how he time seemed to slow, and how Freed looked back at him for a moment - a split second - and in that second he slowed just enough for Laxus to snare his thin wrist. The lightning dragon, not an overly spiritual individual and not from and overly spiritual race, didn't know how to explain what it felt like in that moment to have caught Freed. It was as if everything the priestess had ever told him of the gods and fate suddenly existed all around him, as if for a moment the entire world had held it's breath for this single moment. As one who had never been especially talented in expressing such things, Laxus spoke to them the only words he could think of that quantified what had happened.
And then I caught him.
After that there was silence once more. Not even Natsu had a question to ask. And the night slipped away.
There were many nights such as that one in their memories, although Laxus never spoke so openly about his past with Freed again. But the younger dragons were often in the Dreyer couples cavernous homes. Carved into the mountain the ceilings were high and the rooms many, all decorated lovingly by the green haired man who lived there, and the six dragons knew it well over time. Freed was always hospitable and loving, and because Laxus often seemed to be overseeing one or more of them at a time, they often came home with him for food and rest when out hunting or on missions with the older dragon. It was common knowledge that he didn't have to be, however.
Among the dragons there was a council of ten made up of the most powerful of the dragon clans, with the most powerful member of those ten considered the King. The Dreyer family for generations had procured strong offspring and Makarov, Laxus' grandfather, had been a member of the council for many long years. It was almost expected that Laxus would become such a councilman, if not the King. But the lighting dragon showed little interest in such ruling. If asked he would explain that the dragons were a dwindling race. With the expansion of other civilizations they had become scattered and few. Protecting the older cultures and training the young, he claimed, was far more important that politics and power struggles. And so he worked often with the younger generation.
They had no idea what kind of darkness would rise to the thrown in his absence.
In those warm days they could fondly remember irritated scoldings from the grumpy blond, the warm smiles and eyes of his mate, who always seemed to know when a hoard of hungry, tired dragons were approaching his home. They would troop inside his nice halls, load and growing, Laxus snapping at their heels, following the smell of cooking meat and vegetables and the sound of jingling bangles and humming. Freed was always there, like soft moonlight, filling up the entire room with a brightness you didn't realize was there until it was gone.
He would turn to them, as if completely unsurprised by the sometimes six extra mouths he had to feed, and calmly told them to wash up before supper.
Later they would realize what Freed really meant in their lives, what he meant in Laxus' life. How the ring of his traditional bangles and the low tone of his voice was not just the his own melody, but the song of his home, and all the happiness in it.
When the music stopped, everything else stopped with it. When Freed was lost to them, it wasn't only he that disappeared. All the warmth, the crackling fire and the soft carpets, the pat of feet on tile floors and warm banter, hearty meals after long missions and stories by firelight, all of it gone like a candle snuffed by a cold wind. The light in the Dreyer home was gone.
When Freed was lost to them, Laxus was lost to them as well.