Hello my loyal minions!
This is an early update, as I may not update on Thursday.
You have all been so kind to me with such sweet reviews and encouraging words! While I appreciate your sentiments, It would mean a lot to me if you could pinpoint exactly what you like/don't like about this chapter (or other stories). The updates will come no matter what, so there is no need to request I update soon.
^.^
Please do not be afraid to point out a mistake or lapse in plot. I am doing my best to please you as a whole, but remember that as the author, I have read this a million times, whereas you are reading it for the first time.
Your opinion means everything to me.
So help a girl out, wouldja?!
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Enjoy!
Chapter 10
The smell of blood was tangible in the air. There was so much of it. Bright red spreading like spilled ink against crisp, white bed sheets. What didn't seep out of the body, still bled inside. There was no coming back from the injury, and he knew it. He didn't think it would happen, he had been assured and reassured they were safe. What bullshit.
"Boy, it is nothing to fear."
His father had never spoken so gently before, so he stopped his sobbing to listen.
"In the drawer, there is a message for you," his father gestured with one unsteady hand to his dresser, "It is not safe here, you have to run."
As a boy, Gajeel was timid, and often came to his father's bed in the night to wait out the dark. Nothing could get him when his father was so close. But this night was different. His fortress of safety within the heavy blankets was violated and now stained. He slid off the bed and fetched the message his father mentioned. He was afraid of the dark and of what was happening. He returned to his father's bedside with the paper in hand. He eyed the jagged and raw wounds on his father's exposed chest. The doctor promised he would recover. But someone didn't want that to happen. That someone had visited him in the night. What they didn't know, was the young prince had witnessed the crime.
"Visit the woman in the mountain. You will be safe there. Just come back," his words were diminishing, and the Iron King rested his head back on the cushions, making the young boy panic.
He dared not speak. He could only stare with horror-filled eyes as the life left his father's body.
The door to the room swung open, slamming against the wall. A tall figure stood silhouetted against the light in the hall and stomped towards the boy with a blood stained knife.
The Iron King's son awoke violently. He bolted upright in bed, choking on the sudden intake of air. He blinked slowly, coming back to the present. He allowed his eyes to adjust to muted light. He found himself beneath an itchy scrap of cloth passing as a bed covering. He rubbed his face to remove the gathering beads of sweat.
"Just a nightmare," he mumbled.
His waking movements caused a certain sleeping blunette to moan, shifting in her sleep. He started and slew of curses flew from his breath. He had forgotten she was there.
She was on her side facing him and had folded her hands against her chest. Her leg was bent between his and when she stirred again, she moved her knee up between his thighs, curling in on herself and into the vacant space he left behind him. She must have gotten cold in the night.
He watched her eyes and lips wiggle and twitch in her dreamscape. Her breathing quickened, then slowed, a content sigh escaping her lips. A hint of envy made him scowl at her peaceful expression. He wondered what she could be dreaming about. He noticed her mouth move as if to form words, an unconscious conversation. Another break in the clouds leaked a bright ray of sunshine in their window. With the amount of light in the room, his fascination was short lived and his watchman stirred awake with a deep inhalation. He deftly shifted her knee away from him in case she reacted adversely.
He slipped away from her warmth and out of bed towards the saddle bags. He glimpsed her pulling the flat pillow over her face, hiding her mop of azure curls. He watched her intently, noticing her breathing had slowed again into slumber. The blanket had bunched around her waist and left a pair of dainty bare feet exposed to the open environment. He tilted his head as an odd thought struck him. She probably had no need for shoes if she remained in her cloister home. He dug through the saddle bags until he located her red canvas bag. He flipped the top open and retrieved two books. Though water-stained, he flipped through the dry pages, uninterested in the contents. One appeared to be a story of some kind, and the other a journal. He retrieved her dried cloister robe and then peered into a dark emptiness. She had no ink or pen for her journal, nor did she have shoes of any kind. His conscience would not allow him to let her wander Magnolia with bare feet, and so after he dressed and latched his cloak around his shoulders, he stalked out the door.
As a compromise, he decided he just didn't want to carry her everywhere. Though, even by just thinking it, it sounded tremendously false.
Levy awoke well-rested. It was the best night sleep she had had since leaving home. She stretched her arms over her head, inhaling an increasingly familiar scent: a heavy musk lingering with notes of some sort of spice. She felt the empty space next to her and used the cold sheets to cool herself, arching her back and curling her toes against the strain she contorted her body into. The room was silent. Though she didn't open her eyes, she knew he must have left. It felt good to sleep in. She was still sore from riding, but it was a pleasant pain. One that meant she was getting stronger.
She pressed the lone cushion to her face and inhaled deeply, trying to prolong her happy thoughts. At the thought of Gajeel coming back, her pillow was plucked from her face, and she rubbed her eyes to bring the hulking figure into focus.
"Oi, get up," he grumbled.
She noticed his change in attire. Or rather, a change in his overall appearance. He wore a thick headband that covered the piercings in his brows and his mane of raven hair had been tamed into a single braid that fell over his shoulder. He wore dark clothing and a darker cloak with black fur lining the inside with the hood resting against his back. He was roguishly handsome, and she couldn't stop her erratic heart from making her cheeks pool with crimson heat.
"Did ya hear me, shrimp?" he narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.
She snatched the pillow away from him, clutching it to her chest, preparing to yell at him for scaring her. He jerked the blanket away from her, baring her naked legs to the elements.
"Hey!" she protested.
He threw a bundle of clothes to the bed and she sat up to examine the rumpled pile.
"2 minutes," he held up the according fingers and stomped out of the room. She noticed their packs were missing from the chair, save for her red bag.
She unraveled the tangle of clothes to find brown riding pants, a white top, shiny brown boots, and a light gray cloak lined with white fur. There was a pair of straps and a thin holster for a knife. She unsheathed the blade, admiring the elegant, yet simple detailing in the handle. It was small, and light. It suited her. She replaced the knife in its sheath and dressed herself in a rush. He only gave her two minutes, after all.
She was hopping around trying to cram her foot into her other boot. She backed into a wall to support her balance as she wiggled and flexed her foot in vain. It should fit. The other boot fit. So why wasn't it sliding on? The wall interjected a comment on her struggles.
"Wrong foot."
She whirled on the studded man.
"Sweet Mavis, you're built like a mountain! Warn a girl, would ya?!" she huffed.
He smirked at her comment and was pleased to see that the new clothes fit her perfectly. It seems his time spent staring at her hadn't gone to complete waste. He gestured for her to sit and she obeyed, taking a seat in the dilapidated chair. He pulled her boots off and motioned for the correct limb, sliding the polished leather over thin ankles and skin tight clothing. He noticed the knife strapped to her other calf as he slid the remaining boot over it. He bought it on impulse, remembering that hers had been left behind. He wondered if she liked it. If Juvia was anything to base women off of, they liked shiny things.
"Ready?" he asked, trying not to take notice of her clearly defined figure.
Though when she turned to reach for her bag, he openly ogled her rear-end.
"Yeah, but why a fur cloak? It's not that cold outside," she clipped the down fur around her throat regardless of her question.
"We're inland, shorty. Weather changes overnight here," he explained.
She accepted his explanation, though did not believe him. It was springtime at home. That shouldn't change too drastically just because they put some distance between them.
Levy was excited to explore the city and practically bounced out the door, until a force took hold of her hood and held her back.
"What?" she snapped.
In his fingers, he held a brown headband.
"Yer hair," he gestured with the band.
Suddenly self-conscious, she snatched the cloth from his fingers and tied the band over her unruly hair. The knot was fairly large and felt awkward at the base of her skull, so she slid the cloth around her hair to position it over her ear. The remaining ends of the band seemed to frame her face nicely, but she had no mirror to confirm this. She looked at the studded giant who was watching her with a strange expression scrawled across his face.
"What?" she asked, now worried she managed to make herself look like a rooster.
He seemed to struggle with himself, holding his hand mid-air between them. The dark tint of his cheeks grew darker with what she could only guess was a blush and she jumped to the conclusion that she looked worse than her predicted rooster hairdo. She quickly jerked the band out of her hair, trying her best to finger-brush the strands into obedience. She readjusted it atop her head like she had it before, with the ends hanging by her cheek.
When she finished, he pulled the fur-lined hood of her cloak over her head, hiding the alluring color. She attracted enough attention the night before; he didn't need her to start a following through the city streets.
"Go," he instructed, following close behind her as they walked out the door to Magnolia's biggest library.
It took a long while for Gajeel to steer the watchman towards the library. Seemingly every shop and every person distracted her and turned her off course to the point where he was about to haul her there over his shoulder.
Though, he had to admit that watching her take in so many new sights was entertaining. She practically radiated excitement as she bounced at his side, sometimes flitting away to a shop window to see its wares. Every now and then, she would grab his cloak to make him stop, pointing at things and asking him questions. She was insatiable with his answers and constantly badgered him for more information.
"Oi, this ain't a sight seein' trip. Y'have work to do, shrimp," he growled as he dragged her away from yet another vendor; this one selling wood carvings.
She puffed her cheeks at him and resumed walking. He shook his head, shaking off his growing irritation, and lead her deeper into the city, still some blocks away from Magnolia's library.
He looked at his side to check on her and found the girl to have disappeared.
He groaned internally and turned in the street, looking for her. He didn't deserve the amount of trouble she was causing.
She was not near any shops or vendors, and he wondered if perhaps she had wondered inside somewhere. He backtracked their route until a flash of blue and white caught his eye in a shaded alleyway. She was crouched over the ground with her hood down, speaking to someone much smaller than she. A child it looked like.
He stalked towards her and she ran to him with great urgency, pulling him by his shirt into the alley with her.
"Gajeel, he says he needs money."
The child appeared to be homeless. His hollow eyes and sagging skin were evidence of his condition.
"Most people do," he retorted, trying to pull her away.
"But he's sick," she pleaded. Her expression was pained and becoming desperate, "Can I borrow some money?"
The request did not roll off her tongue quite as well as she wanted, but he couldn't recall her ever asking him for anything before. Still, he did not waver.
"No."
He maneuvered her towards the street, keeping her ahead of him as they walked. She pushed his arm off of her and demanded his attention.
"Then how about a trade?" she asked.
At this point, Gajeel was tired of her distractions, "You have nothing I want."
She reached inside her shirt and retrieved a jagged, lavender stone attached to a long gold chain around her neck. He had never seen the trinket on her before and paused. With careful fingers, she took the necklace off and offered it to him.
"How much?" She asked.
He gave her a snarky grin, "What would I do with something like that?"
She shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about the exchange. Her hazel eyes were set with determination and he figured she would probably do anything to get her way right now. He delved into the pouch of coins tied at his belt and fished the more paltry currency out. If the stone was real, and he could see that it was, it would be worth more than what he had on him, never mind if the chain was pure gold. He didn't think the little girl owned anything so valuable for being sworn into a community known for giving away such baubles. But she insisted, and so he cheated her.
He took the stone and chain from her fingers, examining it up close for a moment before dropping it into his purse. He handed her the copper coins and she raced back to the alley, emptying her hands to the puzzled child. A few words were spoken between them and the boy embraced her before running off.
She gave him every single coin she had and didn't appear to be the least bit disappointed. He should have expected as much from a cloister member, but still. It was everything she had. She held such a kindness in her eyes that it made him uncomfortable to be near her. His conscience told him to give her necklace back as penance for cheating her, but he refused. It was not his fault she had no concept of money or value and he certainly wasn't just going to hand his entire purse over to her.
She pulled her hood back over her head like before and walked ahead of him like he had asked her to.
She was less energetic, as though she had received a burden that kept her on earth. She still looked at shops and people, but asked no questions.
They continued onward in silence: Levy, content with her decision of generosity, and Gajeel, disgusted by his greed.
Gajeel had given Levy the parchment his father had written his message on, passing it to her delicate fingers. He had left Lily in the stables at Sabertooth to give him ample time to rest. After their time here, they would need to leave quickly.
They entered what appeared to be a monolithic labyrinth, with cathedral-like spaces and white limestone. There were floors and floors and floors of books stretching upwards to the sky and as far as she could see to the horizon.
Were there walls? she thought to herself.
She felt Gajeel was now justified in his comment about her little archive den not being a true library. She meandered her way through shelves until she found a secluded area with an empty work station. She removed her cloak, smirking at the fact that her bodyguard had been correct regarding the chilly weather and was grateful for his foresight.
She examined the scrollwork of the little parchment slip. The characters were runes, very old ones. She recognized the last group of symbols as the one she had been struggling to decipher. She wondered if the library had the records she had been examining back home and leapt up to find the necessary materials. The giant man moved with her and she paused, confusingly looking over her shoulder at him.
"I'm going to get some texts," she explained and he nodded in acknowledgment.
Still not moving to sit, she continued, "I'll be right back. You can hold this."
She returned his parchment slip to him and scurried away.
He was unnerved by her wandering off alone, but resisted following. She would return. Right? He recalled the last time he sent her off by herself and her near-death experience. But this was a library, not a glacial river. Surely she could handle herself in such a place. Or not run off.
He cursed under his breath and jumped to his feet to follow her. He nearly collided with her tiny figure holding a stack of heavy books and documents. He took the burden from her and set them at the table.
She dusted her hands, "We're in luck! The section we need is just around the corner here," she gestured behind her.
She spread the texts before her in an order that suited her and set to work.
Gajeel felt a sense of pride as he watched his watchman. They had been there for hours and she had developed a knack for the translation, though it was only fifteen lines. He knew he had made the right decision in bringing her here.
He was patient for the first hour, but it seemed he had reached his daily quota for silent tolerance after the sixth hour.
"Oi. Ya done yet?" he complained.
She didn't look up from her book, but answered with a negatory head shake. He had long since abandoned his designated chair and paced around her, fiddling with nearby books and desperate for some kind of entertainment. At one point, she had suggested he read something, but he had grown bored with his choice. What he really wanted was food. He was amazed by the little woman's stamina for long stretches of silence and fasting, but he grew more concerned when she simply refused to eat.
"Quit yer readin'. I know yer hungry," he attempted to pull her book away from her, but she resisted and it suddenly turned into a contest of tug-o-war.
"Gajeel, I'm not hungry! Just go without me."
He relinquished her book with a menacing growl. That was what he was trying to avoid: leaving her there. He was being driven mad with the irritating scratches of pens against paper and the deadsilence that would come and go. How could she stand such conditions?
She had leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, straining to focus on him.
"If it makes you happy, bring something back, please."
She had requested he return under the assumption that she would still be there. He took her request another step farther for validity.
He braced his hands against the table and leaned towards her with a threatening glare.
"If you run, I will find you. I have been kind so far. Do not think I won't kill yer friends."
It was all he truly had over her, and she narrowed her eyes at him with restrained defiance.
Satisfied that she understood, he left to find food.