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Chapter 5

Lessons II

Gray studied Vidaldus's beat-up appearance. His left eye was black and swollen shut. The left side of his face was torn as if his face was dragged across a rough wall. His jaw and cheeks had distinct fingertip bruises as if someone grabbed his face with enormous force. His lips were split and crusted with dried blood. His abdomen and part of his chest were bandaged in linen. Two of his fingers were splinted against a wooden board. His movements were stiff and he walked with a limp.

Gray raised his chin up. Natsu did a good job. The man deserved it.

The king grunted in acknowledgement. "I don't have all day."

Gray ignored the comment. "Vidaldus, are you done with your shift?"

The man's stare flitted between the king and him. "Yes, Your Royal Highness, Your Majesty."

"Are you on your way home?" Gray asked.

He looked uneasy. "Yes, Your Royal Highness… Is there something special Your Majesties want for dinner?"

Gray faced his father. "I request this man searched."

Vidaldus's eyes widened. The king smirked.

"And why would I search a trusted cook?" The king stuck out his chest and crossed his arms.

Gray chose his words carefully. "This man that you trust, that you appointed to oversee our meals and supplies, has become a greedy thief. I only found out recently, but I believe his thievery has been going on for some time – behind your back."

The king's lips curled and his eyes narrowed. "Search him."

Gray suppressed a smile. Step 2 – check.

Lyon grabbed the cook. "No, Your Majesty, please!"

Lyon patted the man's clothes, pausing on the light blue sash that kept the man's pants up. He ripped a hole in the sash, and three granata fruits fell into his hand.

Vidaldus's face turned white.

The prince didn't say anything, as the evidence spoke for itself. He knew the man was stealing the granata fruit for over a year. He tolerated it because it was the lesser of all possible evils. It was a shame that the cook developed a taste for hitting slaves. He was a good chef, and he'd miss his meals. However, he'd rather eat trash than let his friends live in fear.

"Vadaldus, you have ten seconds to explain."

The cook fell to his knees, his head touching the floor. "Have mercy, Your Majesty! I loathe to lose your trust. The fruit is not for me – it's for my sickly wife. The doctor said she must eat three granata fruits a week or she and our unborn child will die in labour. I spend all my pay on the fruit, but it's not enough. Had your majesty approved of my pay raise, this would never had happened. I hate myself for what I did, but I had no choice! Imagine if Queen Ur could fall pregnant again and deliver with the help of a mere fruit—"

"Enough!" The king stomped his foot loudly. "Your dishonesty disgusts me. No one steals from me and gets away with it! Let this be a lesson to you all." The king motioned to the slaves who gathered in the corridor and peered from the door. "You, slave girl, how long has this been going on?"

Mirajane paled and looked down, silent.

"Speak up, girl! He won't be in the kitchen to punish you."

Gray let a sigh of relief. Step 3 – check. No more violence in the kitchen. Plan complete.

"Over six months," Mirajane whispered.

The king snarled, baring his canine teeth. He reminded Gray of a vicious dog.

Vidaldus staggered backwards, terror plain on his face. Lyon held the man from escaping. "Have mercy! I'll never do it again. Please!" He looked from the king to Gray. "Please!"

"I'm disappointed in you, Vidaldus." The king tsk-ed. "Lyon, hold out his right arm."

The king walked towards the cook.

"What are you doing?" Gray said, alarmed.

Vidaldus violently struggled to break free. Lyon took the man down and stepped on his back to keep him still, holding out the man's arm against the floor.

"Your Majesty! Please! Have mercy! I beg you! I'll do anything! I'll never touch anything ever again! Please spare me!" Vidaldus yelled in hysterics, buckling against the floor.

Lyon's face took a green tinge and he looked away.

With horror, Gray realised his father's plan. "Father, wait!" He grabbed the king's shoulder.

"Ice Make, sword!" The king said mid-swing.

Blood splashed on Lyon's clothes.

The cook's arm rolled on the floor.

Vidaldus screamed, eyes bulging out of his sockets. He stared at his severed limb. Blood pooled on the white tiles.

The slaves screamed, running back into the kitchen or hiding behind columns in the corridor. Only years of battle school kept Gray from doing the same. Vidaldus grabbed his bloody stump, blood seeping through his fingers. Lyon got up, the hand holding his spear smudged red.

"What the hell?" Gray yelled, tightening his grip on the king's shoulder. "You were supposed to punish him, not cut off his arm! He'll never cook again!"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, boy." The king flicked the blood off the sword. Gray swallowed and released his hold. "Be grateful I didn't cut off your head, Vidaldus. You have two hours to pack your things and get the hell out of my city. Take him out of my sight."

Two guards that had come at the screams picked up the shaking man and dragged him and his missing arm away.

"Fukuro, you're the new head cook. Do not fail me."

The owl-headed chef's assistant bowed from within the kitchen door. "H-hoot!" He stuttered.

"You, clean up the mess." The king pointed to one of the hiding slaves. "Is this all you wanted to show me?" The king said irritably, dissolving the sword.

The prince folded his hands into fists. "What do you mean, is that all? You chopped off a man's hand like it was nothing! For stealing some damn fruit!" The said fruit lay on the floor against a wall.

Gray wanted to stomp on it.

"I spared his life. He should be grateful." The king turned to leave.

"You're sick!" Gray yelled after him.

The king suddenly turned around and grabbed Gray's chin, making the prince wince. "Listen to me, boy. He got off easy. He should thank you for that." Gray tried to jerk away but the man's grip was too strong. He was forced to stare into the king's icy blue eyes. "If I had found out about it myself, he'd have to be carried out in a bucket. I hope you learned something today." He turned to the crowd. "Let this be a lesson to all of you." He jerked Gray's chin to the side and walked past. The teen rubbed his stinging jaw and glared holes into the king's back.

Lyon glanced at him as he and the king turned a corner. For the first time in a long time, Gray couldn't read his expression.

The raven grabbed the wall for support and rested his head on it. He smashed his fist against it six times, drawing blood, but it didn't make him feel better. He slid down to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. The cook's screams echoed in his mind.

Mirajane sat next to him.

"Don't look at me like that," Gray said before she said anything. "I messed up."

"His wife's name is Rydia and she lives in the potter's district." Mirajane said. "I just wanted to tell you that."

Gray buried his face in his knees and wished that today had never happened.

Mirajane sat with him for a while, meanwhile dark thoughts churned in Gray's mind. Eventually she got up, and he watched her bruised wrists swing back and forth as she left. Was it worth it? All he had wanted was to help them. "Why did it have to turn out like this?" He punched the floor, watching his knuckles bleed.

Two slaves looked up at him from moping the floor. Their eyes showed no compassion or sadness, only fear.

"Damn him," Gray whispered. Alastair's message clearly reached through. The slaves efficiently cleaned up the blood, their postures submissive. The area became spotless. However, for Gray, the red puddle would always be there, reminding him of his mistake.

Gray's eyes lingered on the now empty spot, and suddenly it felt like pieces of a puzzle had clicked together in his head. He got a sharp understanding of his father's nature. First, Alastair was cruel beyond reason. Second, his punishment always grossly exceeded the crime. And third, the king was more irrational than he thought.

He shall never underestimate his father again.

The last revelation made him rise off the floor. He couldn't sit there while someone was still in danger. He sprinted through the corridor towards his rooms. He couldn't learn Tribal overnight, but he could make a good start on it - he had heard it his whole life! He was certain there would be hell to pay if Alastair found out he skipped. Yet it wasn't himself that he worried about. No, Alastair, in his own twisted logic, cared about Fairy Tail enough to not maim his only heir.

Erza, on the other hand, wasn't so immune.

But what did he care about Erza?

Gray slowed his running to a walk. Come to think of it, he hardly knew her. She was stoic, quick to threaten and had the subtlety of a war drum. The only things she's done was impose her back-breaking study schedules on him and boss him around. Admittedly he learned more in the last two years she's been his head teacher than he had in the seven years previous, but that was just her job. He realised he knew remarkably little about her. He had never seen her without armour. What did she do in her off-duty hours other than the two times he saw her polish her armour? He made a mental note to ask Lyon later today. His brother, sharing a near identical job, probably knew more about her than he did. Her biggest fault by far was that she blindly followed whatever Alastair said...

Lyon also follows what the king says, Gray's mind countered.

The image of Vidaldus, screaming and grasping at his bleeding stump, paralysed Gray into a standstill. Then, unbidden, Erza was the one screaming and crying at the king's feet. Gray's breath hitched and his chest tightened. He didn't like Erza much but she didn't deserve that because of his negligence! She was a part of Fairy Tail now, and it was his duty to protect everyone in it. Even if it meant going against his own father.

He sprinted with renewed energy.

"I won't make the same mistake twice!"

xxxxx

Natsu was still sleeping on the princess's bed when Gray reached his quarters. "Hey, wake up..." The prince said quietly. It was unhealthy to sleep so much in the day. However, seeing the slave's relaxed and peaceful face, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and his injuries, changed Gray's mind. The dragon slayer would be very sore when he woke up - he'd hate to cut his blissful unawareness short. In a way, Gray was a little jealous - he didn't have a restful sleep in... he couldn't remember the last time.

Gray realised he was staring. He looked away, and for some reason looking away felt like he was missing something vital. All his senses screamed at him to look back at the slave. Not one to ignore his instincts in the presence of potential danger, Gray complied. Salamander was still sleeping... and his face was very nice to look at. His facial features were striking; his skin tanned brown and smooth. His frame was strong and battle hardened - Gray wanted to see how he looked when fully healed. His reflexes were still very sharp despite the damage. Just how dexterous would he be when in top shape? That would be one amazing battle when we fight.

The thought filled Gray with cheer. The palace knights always let him win when they fought, afraid to actually hurt him. He felt like he hadn't improved in ages. Lyon's moves became predictable after so many fights. Juvia was a great fighter but she always passed out just as it was starting to get good! He dreamed of fighting Ur again - she had totally obliterated him and Lyon when they were kids - but that's what she was: a dream. Thanks to Alastair, he hadn't seen her in what felt like years.

But Natsu... Natsu was here, strong, unpredictable, and with no desire to hold back. He was very proud, that much was clear. A leader. Alastair was proud and a leader as well, yet Natsu seemed so much more. He had stuck out his neck for Mirajane, a stranger he's met who wasn't part of his tribe. It didn't make sense. A lot about Natsu didn't make sense, like his fearlessness. He attacked Phantom Lord despite not having magic power. That was very stupid... and very brave.

And then he had another kind of strength that wasn't visible. He didn't break after what Phantom Lord did to his tribe and to him. How could he look so boldly into Alastair's eyes and not flinch? How didn't he succumb to the fear like the others?

How could he be so strong despite the limitations? An intense desire to touch Natsu ran through Gray's veins, a desire he couldn't resist. He needed to confirm that Natsu was real.

Salamander's skin was scorching hot to touch. Or maybe it felt like that because Gray's hands were icy. He ran his fingers along the length of Natsu's arm. A hum of appreciation escaped his throat. It felt so good...

The prince withdrew like he was burned when he realised what he was doing.

This is wrong! Gray thought, backing away from the bed. He's injured and he hates me! I'm lucky he didn't wake up! His gaze stayed on the slave. I shouldn't even be having these thoughts. He doesn't have free will! Just thinking about him in that way is inhumane and wrong! He's only been here a day, for heaven's sake!

That's it, his mind continued, He's just interesting because he's new. Soon the novelty will wear off and he'd be just another slave.

He felt more confident with that reasoning. Phew. He'd almost worked himself into a frenzy over nothing. Cautiously, so he wouldn't wake up the slave, he tiptoed out of the room, blood still hammering in his ears.

Erza's fate was more important right now.

xxxxxx

The Tribal helped to distract him from the cruelty he witnessed earlier. Eager to forget everything, he made good progress. The language was coming back to him, or at least his intuition for it - he could 'guess' the correct meaning of most words he didn't know. It was a weird feeling, like he could sense what the author wanted to say without understanding each individual word. However when he looked at any one word for too long, the unwanted images of what his father had done flooded his mind.

It was one such time. "Damn it," Gray whispered. He went to the bathroom splashed some water into his face. His own tired expression stared back at him from the mirror. "Come on, this is nothing new."

It's just not usually so in your face, his mind supplied. He wiped his face and turned back to the low table he set up as his study area.

And promptly stopped. Natsu was in the doorway, watching him with those mysterious green eyes.

Gray quickly masked any signs of surprise. How long had he been standing there? The slave's stare was a bit too intense.

"How are you feeling?" Gray asked in Tribal, indicating the injured area.

"How do you think I'm feeling?" Natsu said.

Gray didn't like his tone. Or that he was standing in the doorway in a wide stance with his fists clenched. He didn't look stiff from the watermill just yet, probably due to the massage Gray gave him earlier. Of course, the proud leader wouldn't say thanks. Come tomorrow, he'd be in a world of pain. The prince almost wished the pinkette was in pain right then; he'd have one less problem to deal with. Like how to tame the rebellious Dragon leader, whose face had the most hostile expression.

"Step away," Gray said in Tribal, meeting the slave's piercing gaze.

Natsu didn't move. The staring contest seemed to go on for years; Natsu's green versus Gray's black. The prince didn't blink, enduring this battle of wills. The atmosphere was so heavy he could almost grab and twist it. His hands slowly crept into the Ice Make position.

Natsu looked away first.

Gray didn't relax, and supressed his relief at the victory, just in case Salamander might see it as a weakness. The Dragon stepped aside, posture less aggressive, seeming to submit this time. The prince passed cautiously, expecting him to snap again.

The pinkette didn't attack.

But he didn't stop watching him either. It was starting to drive Gray crazy. He never had to be on guard in his own rooms before! Damn it, he should just send him back to the slave quarters. But the rational part of him knew that he couldn't do that. Natsu was his personal slave now and Gray had responsibility over him. Whether he and Natsu wanted to or not.

Vidaldus wasn't the only threat to the slaves. Natsu couldn't fight them all. Not to mention he'd get hurt. Again.

Gray noticed the sundial's shadow from the corner of his eyes. It was nine at night - dinner time. The prince wrote instructions on a piece of paper and handed it out to the slave. "Give this to Mirajane." He hoped his voice didn't betray how happy he was to get rid of him, even for a moment.

Natsu's eyes narrowed. He reached for the note, his fingers brushing the paper, and punched Gray in the stomach.

"Gah!" The prince sagged, all air driven out of his lungs. How the hell did he manage to- Gray raised his guard but Natsu sidestepped into his unprotected side. The Dragon leader leaned in, their faces nearly touching. The smell of ash assaulted Gray's nose. The prince had a split second in which the image of the Natsu's blazing eyes and triumphant smirk burned into his memory before the Tribal leader punched him in the kisser.

The force spun Gray completely around. Disoriented, dizzy and unable to breathe, he crashed to the floor. His heart hammered wildly in his chest, thoughts a mess. He tasted blood in his mouth, and one of his teeth felt loose. But above all-

"That's for earlier," Natsu said. His voice was strangely devoid of emotion. "Touch me in my sleep again and I'll kill you." He picked up the fallen note and left.

Natsu strikes back! What will Gray do next? Please review and favorite!

Check out Peanut61654's story The Slave. It has the same basic idea as this story, but much faster paced and awesome in its own way!

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