Hello everyone! Here's chapter 4. Thank you to Peanut61654 for your help and enthusiasm :)
I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 4
Noon
After discussing the plan, Gray and Natsu returned to the prince's quarters for the hottest part of the day. The sun was directly overhead, and every object in direct sunlight radiated heat. Everyone in Fairy Tail had the four hours from noon to four o'clock free to nap or do whatever they wished. The streets were deserted, and every living creature seeked shelter from the scorching sun indoors.
Gray groaned, sweat running down the sides of his face. He was doing absolutely nothing, just laying naked in his bed, and all he felt was heat. It felt like his skin was literally melting. The hot air burned his lungs. His heavy breathing was drowned out by the rattling of cicadas.
It was absolutely unbearable.
Natsu had retreated to that window again, which Gray now determined was Natsu's favourite spot. Just before he'd left for his room, he checked how the Dragon leader was coping with the heat. It didn't seem to affect him as bad as it did Gray, however he noticed that the heat did seem to aggravate the pain in his wounds. He didn't hide the winces off his face, his back hunched and his arms wrapped around his middle.
Gray could have made some ice to ease the pain, but he was still seething over Natsu's show of defiance earlier. He left the Dragon to bear the pain.
He tried to sleep, his body feeling heavy and drained of energy. But it was too hot to do even that.
I don't know how I survive this every day, Gray thought.
He rolled off the bed and onto the mosaic floor.
"Ice Make, floor!"
Cool, crystalline structure covered the floor of his bedroom. Gray collapsed onto it with relief. He had no idea how anyone survived this weather without ice magic.
There was a knock on his door.
Gray groaned, searching for his pants. "Who is it?"
"It's Macao."
Gray crawled over and put on the nearest pair of pants. "Come in."
Macao, an old palace slave and the assistant to the housemaster, peeked into the doorway. "I wish I could do that," he said, tapping the icy floor.
Gray collapsed to the floor, too tired to move. "What's the matter?" He whispered.
"Actually I came for Natsu. It's time for his watermill shift."
Gray leaned on his elbows. "Now?"
"The king said so."
Gray frowned, thinking of pinkette's injuries. His father must be crazy sending untrained slaves to the watermill in this heat. If Natsu goes to the watermill now…with injuries like that…
"Don't worry, I changed my shift to match his. I'll carry him back if he passes out."
Gray pursed his lips. "In this weather, he'd do more than pass out."
Macao smiled. "The Dragon Tribe is tough. He'll be all right."
Gray doubted that very much. Still, he couldn't stop the slaves from going unless they were so ill they couldn't move. "Follow me."
The Dragon leader was sitting in the window, arms around his middle, head on his knees and looking outside. From this vintage point, the icy dome of the watermill was clearly visible in the distance. That was where every male slave, palace, arena or otherwise, served a compulsory two hour shift each day, pumping water for the citizens of the city. Natsu was less lucky than others, getting the worst possible shift – at noon.
"Natsu, I'm Macao iz Red Hare Tribe. You navernoe videl me vokrug palace. Nam pora idti to nash watermill dva chasa. I will ob'yasnyu po doroge."
The Tribal went right over Gray's head. There was still so much he didn't know.
Natsu reluctantly turned over to look at them. His skin was flushed and he looked sick.
"Mozno ostatsya?" Gray never heard his voice so quiet.
Macao looked sympathetic. "K sozaleniuy, no. Gray ne mozet otmenit your rabotu."
"What was that?" Gray asked, recognising his name.
Macao looked at him surprised. "I thought you knew Tribal."
Gray resisted punching a wall. "What's wrong with not knowing? I never needed it before!"
"Easy easy, Your Highness." He teased, a twinkle in his eye.
First Mirajane, now Macao! He was the prince, damn it! Not to be laughed at!
"I said that you can't cancel his shift. He asked if he could go later."
"Oh."
"Dovai, dovai, we pora." Macao motioned for Natsu to come. "Inache we will be otsyakut."
Natsu climbed down the window, less energetic and less graceful than he had before. His green eyes looked dull. "What's watermill?"
Macao led him out the door, where two knights waited in the corridor. Gray watched the two slaves leave until they were out of sight and the last bit of their conversation faded into the roar of the insects of outside.
Gray came back inside and lay on the ice floor again. For some reason, he didn't find it as comforting as before. He got up, stripped of the pesky trousers, and cracked open his book on Tribal. Yet nothing seemed to register. What was the point of studying if Macao carried back a dead slave?
This was stupid. Macao was right. Dragon Tribe wouldn't have earned such a reputation if they couldn't withstand the heat and hard work. Even if they were injured.
Right?
Gray realised he was thinking in circles and snapped the book closed with more force than necessary. Tribal couldn't distract him from the slave, in fact it only reminded him more of Natsu. He shattered his ice floor and went to the door. Perhaps the palace soldiers were up for a sparring match.
xxxxx
Gray saw them coming from his perch up in Natsu's window. Twenty knights marched down the central road to the palace, surrounding about fifteen slaves. Gray hopped from the window, ran down the corridor, down four flights of stairs and flung out the palace doors, not caring about what the stationed knights there thought of him. His thoughts were only about one pink-haired slave.
Flanked by the knights, Macao led the procession, supporting the pinkette who had one arm around the older slave's shoulders. The Dragon barely moved his feet, Macao dragging most of his weight. The rest of the newcomers fared worse, their torsos slung over the shoulders of more experienced slaves. Macao shot Gray a wide grin. 'I told you he'd be all right,' his eyes seemed to say.
Gray let out what was probably the longest sigh in his life.
The procession came indoors, the palace gates shutting with a resounding thud of wood on steel. "Help me get him to my rooms," Gray said, slinging Natsu's other arm over his shoulders. The pinkette looked too exhausted to protest, barely being able to hold his head from slumping into his chest.
They got to Gray's quarters and put Natsu into an armchair in the front room. Natsu didn't resist, slumping his head to the side and closing his eyes, breathing heavily. He looked totally devoid of energy, breathing with his mouth open. "Gray, please let him have some water," Macao pleaded.
The prince was about to say yes, when an odd idea struck him.
"Thanks for looking out for him," Gray said sincerely, then hardened his voice. "You may go."
"But the boy's parched—"
"You have my leave."
Macao swallowed, wiping some sweat off his forehead. "Gray, don't be unreasonable. He just did more work than the three rookies combined!"
"Don't make me repeat myself," Gray warned.
Macao's brows drew together. He made to say something, a hand raised in the air, but stopped. He gave a curt bow. "As you wish, Your Royal Highness." He slammed the door.
Gray swallowed. Maybe pissing off Macao wasn't such a good idea. But he had to show his authority once in a while! His eyes ran over his slave again, who was flushed an unnatural red colour. The prince clamped his hand over the Dragon's forehead, and indeed, he was burning up.
Gray walked to the bathroom and filled a pitcher with water from a tall clay pot. He grabbed a clay cup from the low table and filled it with water. He was about to hold it out, but something about the unresponsive Dragon stopped him. The raven realised that he may not get another opportunity like this again.
He held the cup to the pinkette's lips, tilting his head up so he could drink. The Dragon stirred a little, noticing the cup with cloudy eyes. He reached for the water, but Gray swatted his hands away. He'd either drink from his hand or not at all.
The Dragon leader shot him a hazy look, but whatever defiance he had was gone as soon as it appeared. He lowered his arms and proceeded to drown the water from Gray's cup. There was something magnetic about watching the Dragon drink from his hand. Gray poured a second cup, which the pinkette drowned too. He made for a third cup but the Dragon turned his head away. Hmm…
Salamander closed his eyes again, slumping against the backrest of the armchair. His breathing had calmed down, and he looked a lot less red. When Gray felt his forehead, he felt less hot too. He should let the Dragon sleep, but where?
He hadn't thought about where Natsu would sleep. He could place him in the servant room that branched off the bathroom, which was the actual room that a personal slave was supposed to occupy. But it was a small windowless room, and the raven knew that many slaves felt claustrophobic in small dark places. He didn't want Natsu to tear the place down when he woke up.
He seemed to like that window overlooking the city, which was in the princess's room. No one had slept there in months. Gray supposed why not, it wasn't like he was getting married anytime soon. Sure, it was a little fancy for just a slave, but it was that or the pleasure quarters...
Definitely the princess room!
He was about to drag the pinkette to the bed, but something about him being so… open and defenceless, without that usual rebelliousness, stopped Gray in his tracks. He could exploit this, somehow show Natsu that he wasn't the cruel man his father was. But really, he just wanted to show him that he could do other things than fight and order him around. That he could help.
Gray walked behind Natsu's chair. Natsu opened his unfocused eyes halfway to check what he was doing as he approached, then closed them again without shifting. He didn't jump up, ready to battle. In fact, the slightly pained expression on his face could have been dread – his way of bracing himself for whatever was coming. His hands were draped loosely over his stomach, but not limp. Gray took a couple of moments to figure out what he wanted to do, and noticed that the Dragon was strangely still. He couldn't place what was wrong until he saw Natsu's chest move – the Tribal leader was holding his breath. He expected Gray to do something. Well, Gray decided to spare him the torment and get on with it.
He leaned forward, so that his chest touched the back of the armchair, and placed his hands firmly over Natsu's shoulders. The slave gasped, and Gray's heart leaped in his chest at the sound. The slave raised his arms, trying to grab Gray's hands. The prince swatted the clumsy attempts away. The slave tried to get off the chair, but Gray's gentle pressure over Natsu's shoulders kept him in place.
The slave slumped back into the chair with exhausted and resigned air. "Otpusti me." It sounded suspiciously like a plea.
"I don't do pain," Gray said calmly. He slid his hands along Natsu's shoulders, careful to avoid any wounds, and pressed his palms into the muscles at the base of Natsu's neck. The slave instantly tensed, but Gray didn't pay that any mind, until Natsu twisted, angling his body so he was half-facing Gray.
"What are you doing?" Natsu asked, frowning. His breathing began to pick up again.
Gray struggled to hide his disappointment at the sudden lack of contact. He didn't even understand why the pinkette twisting away affected him so. All he knew was that he wanted to continue what he started.
"Watermill give pain. You become very pain next day." He grabbed Natsu's shoulder again and squeezed gently. "I help."
Natsu tried to jerk away but his actions lacked force – all Gray had to do was stay still. The pinkette soon stopped struggling and slumped back in the chair. He turned his head away and muttered, "Tol'ko do it bistro."
Gray frowned at the almost pained look that accompanied the words. That last word was familiar – he heard it many times around the palace, usually directed at the slaves and the soldiers. Fast, Gray remembered. With speed.
No, he was going to do this slowly!
The prince ran his hands over the Dragon's shoulders. The pinkette was tense, his overworked muscles clenched hard. Unhurriedly, Gray pressed the palms of his hands over the pinkette's skin, kneading the hard muscle beneath. At first nothing happened, but as Gray worked, Natsu closed his eyes and his body began to relax. His breathing became more regular.
Gray ran his palms further south, along Salamander's toned back and sides. The pinkette gasped at a particularly tough spot, and Gray bit his lip. It was becoming hard to stay concentrated when his slave was making such delicious noises while looking so vulnerable. Gray's hands – his hands burned where they traced the Dragon's skin. His skin was the colour of the desert sand – baked brown, while Gray's was nearly white. His tanned skin looked so much more kissable. And with how the Dragon's head was rolled to the side, all Gray had to do was lean forward a little and his lips were in line with Natsu's neck…
A soft rumbling sound interrupted Gray's intense stare at Natsu's neck. He realised he had actually leaned forward. His lips ghosted Natsu's collarbone. The pinkette smelled of the desert sand, heat and ash. The prince pulled back, his face hot like it was on fire.
He wasn't sure where that sound came from, until he realised it came from Natsu himself.
"Hey, Natsu?" Gray asked, pausing his ministrations. The dragon slayer didn't respond. Gray shook his head, smiling. Natsu showed all that resistance and defiance whenever Gray was around, only to fall asleep in his hands. He showed a completely different face, one that wasn't scowling or watching him like a hawk. His face was smooth and relaxed, with no signs of conflict. Gray wished there would come a day when his face would be like that while he was fully awake, or even better, that he might smile. He wondered what Natsu's smile would be like. It was a little hard to imagine because of the bruises. He ran his hands along Natsu's shoulders one last time, savouring the feel.
"Natsu, wake up." Gray shook him gently. "You'll have a cramped neck if you sleep in the chair."
Natsu moved a little and even half-opened his brilliant green eyes, but it was clear that his consciousness wasn't there.
Gray tugged Natsu, trying to get him to stand. "Come on, help me a little."
Natsu groaned and buried his face into the crook of the armchair. "Ostav' me in pokoe, Gajeel. I hochu spat'."
Gray sighed. Now his slave acted like a little kid. He hauled the pinkette up and slung his arm over his shoulder. Natsu winced and clutched at his mid-section. Gray slowly stepped forward. The Dragon leader staggered and would have face planted into the floor if Gray hadn't supported most of his weight.
It seemed that Natsu had just enough energy to reach the bed in the princess's room. The Dragon's body gave out when his knees brushed the bed, and he collapsed chest first into it, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Gray huffed and brushed stray hair out of his face while looking at the fallen figure. Carefully he turned pinkette's head to the side so he could breathe, then rolled him onto his back. A few wounds had opened during Natsu's nosedive, which Gray wiped away with a wet cloth. Finally, he dragged the man's feet onto the bed as well.
I'm glad he's all right, Gray thought.
Then, the prince decided it was weird to keep watching his slave sleep, so he walked to his bedroom and checked the sundial – one hour until the audience with Fleetfoot Tribe. He wouldn't have minded taking a nap of his own – he hardly slept last night, and his arms felt tired from sparring. Instead he pulled out a chair and cracked open the Tribal book.
He couldn't afford to sleep now, not while Mirajane and the girls depended on him. One wrong move, and he could inadvertently make their lives a living hell.
The real battle lay after the audience.
xxxxx
Gray leaned against his father's throne, standing as far away from him as he could get away with. The king lounged on the throne-bed, one arm hooked around scad-dressed concubine Angel. The white-haired concubine wore a shimmering blue veil over her breasts and shoulders, leaving nothing to the imagination. At least her lower parts were covered by a pair of low rise pants. She plastered herself over the king like a wet towel, muttering things into his ear that made the king chuckle once in a while.
The prince fought hard to keep the anger and disgust off his face. His mother, Queen Ur, was supposed to sit next to the king, not Angel! The concubine looked at him, her black eyes sparkling with superiority, a malicious little smile on her lips. She was the only concubine that sought his father's attentions, and was the king's favourite as the result. Any other concubine would have been easier to tolerate, but Angel ensured she wasn't forgotten. Angel whispered something into the king's ear again, who glanced at Gray and chuckled. Gray ground his teeth, and focused his attention back at the bickering merchants that demanded the king's audience over a chicken dispute.
The Fleetfoot tribe was the first on the agenda, which was over four hours ago. The tribe gifted the king a blue-furred rabbit. Such oddities occurred in the desert from time to time, and were extremely valuable. The king was so pleased that he forgave them for missing the audience the previous day, and had assigned the tribe's human tribute – a thirteen year old boy – to the kennels to look specifically after the rabbit. It appeared to be the greatest arrangement, as the king spared no expense to ensure the rabbit lived, and the boy and his supervisor would get a lot of freedom. However, the king's favour was a fickle thing. If the rabbit died – boy's fault or not – the punishment would make seasoned soldiers scream.
"Where is your pretty slave, Gray?" The king said. Angel watched him from her perch above the king's ear, eyes narrowed and a smile that dripped poison.
"Recovering in my quarters after he was sent to a noon watermill shift." Gray couldn't keep the disdain from his voice.
Angel whispered something again. The king waved a hand at him in dismissal. "Hardly matters. Bring him here next time." The king leaned back into Angel's arms.
Gray folded his hands into fists. He couldn't fathom why the king wanted to see Natsu. He didn't like it. "That would be easier if he was assigned to a morning or evening shift."
The king's tone hardened. "You will bring him here regardless of his shift."
The raven folded his arms over his chest.
"Understood?"
Gray looked away.
"Understood?" The king's voice turned threatening.
"Yes, father," Gray said through gritted teeth.
"And thus, Your Majesty, I demand this man build a higher wall so that his chickens don't fly over into my peacock garden and ruin another important deal!" The taller of the two merchants yelled.
The king sighed, a vein throbbing on his forehead. Alastair personally oversaw all property disputes, which sometimes included petty disputes like this one. The disputees paid a price for the counsel, of course. Gray would have left the audience long ago after Fleetfoot tribe's turn, but he needed to catch the king after the audience to carry out his plan.
"Erect a fence to keep the chickens and the peacocks in their respective gardens. Split evenly the expense."
"But, Your Majesty—" The shorter merchant began.
"You enjoyed the view of his peacocks long enough. Now pay up for the privilege like the others."
"Thank you, Your Majesty!" The other merchant beamed.
"Pay four chickens and one peacock to the crown treasurer in the next three days. Dismissed." The king waved the merchants off.
The merchants bowed, thanking the king, one bitterly while the other sung praises.
Alastair rose from the throne. "The audience is over." The assembled nobles bowed and began to disperse.
It's time.
Gray sprung from his spot, heart hammering furiously in his chest.
"Your Majesty, may I—" he stopped when he noticed a couple of nobles came over. Damn!
"What is it?" the king asked.
The prince bit the inside of his cheek. "You first." He motioned to the nobles. The two bowed and launched into their sorry tale. The raven-haired teen shifted from foot to foot as they kept talking. He glanced at the clock. Hurry up! Stop talking, damn it! Mirajane's girls could only distract for so long.
Gray noticed Lyon, who stood immobile by the king's left all this time. He'd forgotten about him until he rolled his shoulder slightly as if in a stretch. 'What are you doing?' the gesture meant. Lyon's expression never betrayed that he looked anywhere but at the possible dangers. This was the silent system they developed to communicate behind their father's back.
The raven gave a slight nod. 'I have a plan.'
Lyon raised his spear slightly then rested it on the floor again. 'Will there be a fight?'
Gray hadn't thought about that, and unconsciously touched his chin in the 'I don't know' position. He turned his head to the side a little. 'I don't think so.'
Finally the nobles bowed and the king stepped out to follow. "Your Majesty, may I please have a moment of your time?" Gray blocked the king's path. Alastair gave him a look like one might regard a pesky fly.
The king grunted. "What is it, Gray? It better be important."
The prince schooled his face into a neutral expression. Part of him wanted to abandon the plan right then. What if the king took the wrong side? What if he punished the innocent people instead? Gray put his hands behind his back, so he wouldn't fiddle with them. He tried to squash the nervousness out of his voice.
"Words are inadequate to describe what I have discovered." Somehow his voice sounded stronger than he felt. "Your Majesty must see it for yourself. It won't take more than ten minutes." Gray turned to leave. "Follow me."
The king didn't immediately follow, and Gray's heart clenched tight. Yet he didn't stop his strides or looked back. He was gambling here – his plan was to give Alastair no time to think and hence no time to say no, because Gray knew the king would say no to such request.
"Take her to the pleasure quarters," the king said.
Gray reached the door and chanced a look behind him. He caught Angel looking at the king with disappointment. Then her stare shifted to him and her eyes hardened, and she plastered a smile so fake it was unsettling. The prince dwelled on it for a whole two seconds until the king walked his way. Gray wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts – which he thankfully still wore. Get the king's attention – check.
"This way." Gray set a fast pace, which the king matched easily, being slightly taller than the prince. Ever the king's shadow, Lyon followed. His face was carefully blank, but Gray knew his brother was worried.
Gray wiped the sweat off his forehead. He was extremely aware of who walked at his side. It felt like his father took the space of two men rather than one. His presence made it hard to breathe.
They heard shouting as they neared the kitchens. "You incompetent wench!" The voice of Vidaldus Taka filled the corridor. "You did it again!" The sound of a harsh slap resonated in the air, followed by a pained shriek and the clutter of metal. "That should teach you! If you still blotch them when I come back tomorrow, I'll beat that habit out of you! Idiots, the whole lot of you!" The head cook limped into the corridor. "Mirajane, any mistakes are on your head! And if I catch you talking— Oh! Your Majesties!" The man staggered back and fell on his ass. He winced, clutching at his injuries. Then he quickly scrambled into a bow. "I didn't see you! F-forgive me."
What will happen to Vidaldus? How will the king react? Find out next chapter! :D Please review and favourite!
As usual, I invite you to read Peanut61654's story titled "The Slave". It has a similar premise as this story, but much faster paced and very awesome in its own way.
www. fanfiction s/9853377/1/The-Slave (remove spaces as you type it in)
Also, Peanut61654 drew fanart of King Alastair and Angel lounging on the throne! Thank you Peanut! The link is on my profile :D
Your reviews motivate me to write quicker *hint hint* Thanks for reading and reviewing! :D