Fairytale of Doom

By CrimsonStarbird

Chapter Seven – The Beast and his Tower

Natsu blinked back the brightness of day as he and Zeref emerged from the dungeons.

The castle was so much lighter than he had been expecting. Thick stone walls were peppered by windows as numerous as the scales of a dragon. Carpets, paintings and tapestries sang back the sunlight as a symphony of colour. Servants flitted through the corridors, lively and fearless. If not for the handful of Alvarez Empire banners around the place, mixed in amongst emblems he didn't recognize at all, he would even have said it looked nice.

Perhaps his stint in the windowless dungeon had poorly prepared him for the castle of a fantasy world… or perhaps it was simply the incongruity of a castle where the Black Mage was supposedly king not being filled with shadows and spikes and the screams of the damned.

When they'd gone to rescue Gramps before the war started, Natsu hadn't had the chance to enter the palace at Vistarion. It disturbed him now to think it might have been more like this light and airy residence than the pit of despair he had been imagining. Then again, Zeref hadn't needed chains to hold Fairy Tail's Master – the lie that he had been willing to negotiate a peaceful solution had ensnared Gramps and kept the guild scattered for a year all on its own.

That was the reason for the snap in his tone as he demanded, "So, what now?"

Zeref's expression was calm and infuriatingly even. "You may do whatever you wish," he asserted, as though it were somehow generous of him to offer it – as if Natsu needed his permission to act! – when Natsu was the one who was really being generous, by implying that he would take any plans Zeref had into consideration. Natsu was already bristling when Zeref continued, "I would suggest that you abide by the servants' wishes and get yourself an outfit sorted out for the ball."

"I'll do what I like, thanks," Natsu retorted.

Zeref eyed him coolly. "Then I do not know why you bothered asking me." As Natsu ground his teeth, Zeref continued, "I myself will be attending a meeting of what appears to be my privy council."

At this, Natsu let out a bark of laughter. "You're actually playing at politics in this pretend world?"

"Yes, Natsu, I am. In case you haven't noticed, we are trapped in a world where we have no magic, no allies, and no knowledge of the events into which we have been thrown. Me happening to be in charge of this kingdom is the greatest asset we have."

Natsu's only response was a loud noise of disbelief.

Shaking his head, Zeref warned, "Well, when it turns out the only way home is hidden in an enemy kingdom guarded by an evil army, you'll be thanking me."

Natsu snorted. "Zeref, if you're in charge here, we're the evil army!"

"Don't be an idiot, Natsu," Zeref sighed. Then he seemed to consider what he'd said, drumming his fingers on his other arm in a surprisingly human gesture. "Then again, you being an idiot might be exactly what we need."

"Hey!"

But Zeref just shook his head impatiently. "Do you recall what happened earlier, when you attacked me and that Lady Tremaine tried to make the guards let you go?"

A vein pulsed in Natsu's temple. He had no idea where Zeref was going with this, only that it was the right way for a fist in the face.

"You demanded to know who she was and what right she had to order the guards around, and she told you," Zeref explained, still with that same infuriating calm. "In other words, told us. I had no more idea of who she was than you did."

"...So?"

"As far as these people, these fictitious constructs of magic, these characters are aware, we've been in these roles since we are born. I'm the king; I can't admit to not knowing the names of my advisors! It will weaken my position, and give any political opponents ammunition to use against me before I even know who they are. But you can. You heard Lady Tremaine; in this world, you have about as much care for politics as you do back in your own. No one will think it odd if you ask blunt and ignorant questions, and by doing so, we can both learn a little more about the people around us and the roles we must play."

There was a pause as Natsu considered this, sifting through the unnecessary detail to reach the one salient point. "So, basically, you want me to be stupid so it makes you look better."

"Exactly. We lose very little by having them believe you are a fool, but will gain a great deal if they believe me competent-"

"You really do think I'm stupid, don't you?" Natsu spat. "You just want to gloat about it in front of your little politician friends."

"It's simple game theory, Natsu."

"What part of I'm not going to be your friend did you not understand? I said that I'd not make things worse for you, not that I'd go out of my way to help you! If you wanted me to embarrass myself for you, you should've started by not trying to destroy my guild!"

Zeref rubbed tiredly at his forehead. "Look, Natsu-"

"You want to pretend to be a king, you do it by yourself!"

Natsu turned on his heel and stormed down the corridor, not caring where it was going to take him, only wanting to make it clear that Zeref did not control him.

Even over the sound of his own stomping rejection, his sensitive ears picked up the sound of the other's voice. "Fine," Zeref was saying quietly. "Fine. I will do this on my own. I do not know why I ever thought it might be otherwise."

Natsu couldn't resist glancing over his shoulder. Zeref was facing away from him, towards a grand set of doors which was flanked by two fully armoured guards. It struck Natsu, then, how small Zeref looked. The magic that had thrown them into other people's lives must also be preventing the inhabitants of this world from registering that the supposed older brother looked the youngest of the two, his growth having been stymied by his curse. The castle was far too big for him.

If those guards realized he wasn't really their king, and drew their swords and struck, he wouldn't be able to do a thing. Natsu would probably have been able to defend himself, since he had combat experience and physical strength on his side even without magic. Zeref, however, had openly admitted he would be no match for Natsu in their current situation, not even enough so to bother pretending otherwise.

No wonder he looked so scared.

Then, from the far end of the corridor, Natsu's sharp eyes picked up the slight motion as Zeref straightened his shoulders, raised his chin. Self-control seemed to drape over him like a cloak – the impeccable, terrifying control that, when Natsu thought about it, had been absent from their conversation just a minute earlier.

The man about to enter the chamber was the one who had stood at the head of a million-man army, cool and composed and merciless and perhaps not entirely genuine.

Natsu shook his head, tearing his gaze away. So, what? Zeref was the one who had decided to play at politics. If he wasn't up to the task, that was on him.

Besides, Natsu thought, he had helped Zeref plenty, by not strangling him when he had the chance. Actually doing something for him would be overkill.

And so he turned his back on the council chamber and strode away.

When she first set eyes upon the Beast's Castle, Levy thought it looked a little bit off.

Not that she considered that to be a problem. She'd always paid more attention to the words on the page than the illustrations that accompanied them; to the deep themes and life-changing symbolism rather than the colourful but ultimately unnecessary embellishments.

So what if the castle looming up out of the forest was thinner than she remembered, or taller, or almost arcane in its twisted construction? So what if the familiar gargoyles, windows, and ledges seemed a bit jumbled up behind those grand outer gates? She herself made a very short Belle, and she knew she wasn't nearly as beautiful or confident as her idol. The important thing was that she was in the right place, and the monstrous building before her could be nothing other than the cursed home of a former prince.

Erza would have recognized it, though.

Would have known straight away that this wasn't just a relic from Belle's story, but had pieces of her own mixed in.

But Levy was preoccupied with trying to work out how she was going to explain all this to Gajeel – would he believe her; would it be enough to get them home; what would it do to their story? – and this world's slightly strange take on the Beast's Castle seemed far less important than her reasons for entering it.

The grand front doors swung open at her touch. "Hello…?" she called. She hadn't been nervous on the way here, but the vast, empty hall seemed to swallow her small voice. "Is anyone home?"

There was no response. She hadn't really been expecting one, although her heart sank a little when a quick glance around failed to yield Lumière or Cogsworth trying to stay out of sight. Maybe the timing was wrong – Belle, she remembered, had arrived under cover of darkness, whereas it was only mid-afternoon for her. With sunlight drifting in through the windows, she didn't need a talking candelabra to light the way.

The company would have been nice, though.

Forcing back her doubts, she headed further down the hall, feeling her surety fade with every step. The castle felt twisted; the corridor seemed slanted in a way she couldn't quite explain. Sometimes, her foot hit the ground sooner than expected, almost tripping her, and sometimes the ground was inexplicably further away, jolting her with the fear of falling – and yet, no matter how hard she stared at it, the corridor appeared perfectly flat, perfectly level, to her eyes.

Something, she thought, didn't want her here.

She couldn't quite bring herself to call out again. Her footsteps automatically became even quieter, edging down a dark corridor embedded with what might have been bones. They didn't look like they belonged in a book of children's stories. She thought the chill running up her spine was justified.

A door was ajar at the far end. It was the first door she had come across in this place that wasn't deliberately misaligned, their right-angles of more than ninety degrees challenging her sense of perception. Crackling amber firelight spilled out of it into the corridor. Where the light touched, the shadows seemed a little better-defined, a little less alive. Through the gap, she could hear voices.

Levy stole a little closer. If she could identify the speakers – or better yet, if she could recognize the words she knew by heart, as she had done in Belle's big number earlier – she might be able to find her place in the story…

Her foot hit something solid. Something that had absolutely not been there a moment ago. There was a flicker of tassels and velvet, and then she was falling face-first into the room beyond.

The floor knocked the wind right out of her. Groaning, she tried to raise her head, only to find herself face to face – in a manner of speaking – with a quivering footstool.

She stared. The footstool snuffled at her cheek. Then, letting out a bark, it scurried off into the distance.

"Right," she mumbled to herself. "Cursed castle… all the members of the household staff were turned into furniture when the prince was transformed into a beast…"

At least it meant she was in the right place.

Or not.

Because it wasn't Gajeel who had hurried over to investigate the disturbance. It wasn't even the hulking form of the real Beast.

She'd seen that face a hundred times in wanted posters, but not one of them had managed to capture the genuine concern in Jellal's eyes as he asked, "Are you alright?"

Levy stared up at him in shock.

But Erza had to be Mulan.

The sword-fighting. The badass warrior-woman. The princess who didn't come from royalty and didn't marry a prince, but had earned her place on the pantheon through her courage and hard work.

Levy had been so certain Erza was Mulan, and that she, the famous bookworm of Fairy Tail, was Belle.

And yet here she was, gazing into the eyes of someone else's prince.

"I think I'm in the wrong story," she said weakly.

She'd made no attempt to get back to her feet, so he offered her a worried hand, which she took numbly. She could feel the easy strength in it as he pulled her up. Acutely aware of the dirt on her palm from where she'd fallen, she let go as soon as she could, embarrassed.

He asked, "It's Levy, right?"

Levy nodded. "Are you my Jellal?" she blurted out, and then immediately flushed at her own choice of words. As if it wasn't bad enough that she'd introduced herself by tripping and falling at his feet! She was intruding in someone else's story, and every single mistake she made here seemed magnified tenfold.

Hastily, she explained, "I mean- the Jellal from my world? We were in the middle of the war against Alvarez, and then suddenly turned up here-?"

"That matches what I remember," Jellal confirmed. "So, this is another world, then. We were right."

"We?" Levy echoed.

"Ah." He turned almost artfully, gesturing towards the rest of the room with a practised confidence. Along one wall blazed an enormous fireplace. It dispelled the eeriness that had held sway over the place that she was now coming to understand wasn't merely the Beast's Castle, but something as much from his history as her imagination.

In front of the fireplace stood a long dining table – though the table itself was barely visible beneath the veritable explosion of foodstuffs that covered it. From the pudding en flambe to the delicious grey stuff, the exotic smells and scintillating array of colours put the guildhall's feasts to shame. The battalion of cutlery would have outshone a dragon's hoard. There was an energy to the whole table, a sheer buzzing delight, and Levy's heart sank at the realization that she must have just missed the best musical interlude of them all.

At the head of the table, a portly old man with a bushy moustache and eyes as bright as a child's was sipping tea from a giggling chipped teacup.

"Maurice!" Levy exclaimed, recognizing him from the story at once.

This earnt her a puzzled look from Jellal. "You know each other?"

"No," Levy answered quickly. "No, nothing like that."

"Then my reputation must precede me," Maurice said jovially. "Are you a fellow inventor? Or a fan, perhaps? Maybe the stories of my automated wood-chopper have spread far and wide…" He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "Well, an old man can dream. But I think you have the advantage of me, Miss…?"

"Levy, Levy McGarden." Her heart was suddenly pounding again. Maybe her hopes of meeting her childhood hero, Belle, had been dashed, but Maurice – crazy old Maurice, the earnest inventor who had always tried to do the best thing for his daughter – was right in front of her.

"Excellent to meet you. And you two are…?" he added, glancing between her and Jellal almost cheekily.

Indeed, what were they? They had only met once in person, right before the Grand Magic Games, and only through the sheer fluke of Team Shadow Gear tagging along to the beach training camp with Erza and friends. Even on that night, she didn't think she and Jellal had actually exchanged more than token pleasantries.

Sure, she knew he kind of had a thing with Erza, everyone in the guild knew that, but Erza didn't talk about it and they all knew better than to ask – especially after she'd made mincemeat out of Happy for even insinuating such a thing. Back when Erza had so readily suggested that Gajeel would be waiting as Levy's prince, Levy wouldn't have made the reciprocal comment if her life had depended on it. Fairy Tail and Crime Sorcière were allies in the war against Alvarez, in flagrant defiance of the Council's idiotic decree that Jellal and his guild were evil, but everything she knew about him was second- or third- or fourth-hand. She did not belong in his story.

Yet, in the corner of her eye, Levy saw Jellal glance deferentially towards her. She knew, in that instant, that he would go along with whatever she said; that she could set the terms of their relationship however she wanted, friends or allies in war or enemy of my enemy or complete strangers, and he would accept it, as if he had no right to any kind of familiarity beyond what she was willing to grant.

That was why she said, firmly, "We're friends."

Maurice nodded sagely, far less surprised by this assertion than Jellal apparently was. "Ah, from the other world, I bet. We were just talking about it. To think there's such a thing as magic! How wonderful it would be if the enchanting performance the good people of this castle put on at the start of dinner could be commonplace!"

Levy privately thought he'd be quite appalled if he saw what was on display during a normal Fairy Tail feast, but decided not to burst his bubble.

"I wonder how you ended up here!" he continued enthusiastically. "If we could harness it somehow, we could create an interdimensional travelling machine! I bet that would win first prize at the fair!"

"And far more besides," Levy told him, smiling, although it faded as she turned back to Jellal. "Look, uh… can I talk to you in private?"

"Of course," he said, though it was not quite smooth enough to hide his surprise completely. "Although, if it is privacy you want, we may have to stand. The furniture here appears to be sentient."

Levy laughed. "Yes, it is."

They made their apologies to Maurice, who waved them off with an entirely unoffended smile, more than happy to be left in the company of the talking furniture. Jellal led the way, sure-footed along corridors that tilted without tilting and left Levy's head spinning.

So distracted was she by the betrayal of Euclidian space that it took her a moment after they'd stopped to realize that Jellal had brought her to a place she recognized. These were the dungeons where, in a timeline with a Beast not yet redeemed, Maurice had had a far less pleasant stay in the castle. Even in this echo of Jellal's reality, elements of the fairytale behind it were bleeding through. Or perhaps it was the other way round – his cruel past forcing its way into this fairytale world.

"I do not think we will be overheard here," he offered.

Levy took a deep breath. "Okay. Are you familiar with Beauty and the Beast?"

"Is that… a public house?"

She'd have laughed if he hadn't looked so serious. "No, no, it's a fairytale."

"Ah. I am afraid that fairytales are not my area of expertise. My childhood was rather overshadowed by other matters."

"Oh!" How could she have been so stupid? She knew he'd been brought up as a slave in the real-world version of this tower, just like Erza. "I'm sorry- I didn't mean-"

An easy shake of his head dissuaded her fears. "Perhaps you could tell the story to me now."

So she did. She told him the story she had always loved so much: Belle and Gaston and a prince cursed to live as a hideous beast until he could learn to love another, and earn their love in return.

She explained how, in the story, the Beast had thrown Maurice into a cell rather than inviting him for dinner, as Jellal had apparently done – and Belle had volunteered to take her father's place as the Beast's captive. She'd got to know the Beast, and fallen in love with him, and he with her, only for a jealous Gaston to incite a mob from the village to attack the Beast's Castle. The Beast and the enchanted furniture defended the castle and Gaston fell to his death, while Belle and the Beast's true love broke the curse, saved his life, and returned the castle to normal… and, of course, they all lived happily ever after.

The story was so deeply embedded in her heart that it was difficult to separate it, to tell it. However, Jellal was a patient listener. He did not interrupt even when she backtracked to highlight the importance of a detail she'd missed or told the events out of order; he considered the story with the same sincerity with which he had considered everything in the short time they'd spent together.

"So, you believe we are inside this story?" he inquired.

"Yes. And not just that fairytale. I have already seen one other entwined with this one; there could be many more."

"Certainly, it is a better explanation than any I have been able to come up with," Jellal mused. "And it fits with what I myself have observed so far. Though I am sure there could be many reasons why you knew Maurice's name before he introduced himself, it is also true that there would be countless other ways of testing your knowledge of this fairytale against our surroundings, so it would be illogical for you to lie, even if I did think you would be inclined to do so. However, putting aside how this could have come to be, how does knowing this help us get home?"

"I don't know," Levy admitted. "Well, I assumed we would have to play our stories through to the end, as it seemed the most logical thing, but I've already gone and ruined that."

"How so?"

"Because I was so certain that Erza was Mulan!" she cried in despair. "But it turns out I've gone and sent Belle off to the front lines! Meanwhile, I'm in completely the wrong story – there's no way Gaston is going to fight the Beast over me, when he doesn't even know who I am!"

Jellal gave a faint smile. "And I daresay I haven't helped matters, by offering the old man who came seeking shelter dinner rather than a prison sentence."

"Maybe not – but it's hardly your fault that you didn't know the story! I was the one who realized Erza and I were in intersecting fairytales straight away. I should have known… but it just seemed so obvious. I don't understand why Erza of all people has been cast as Belle!"

There was a thoughtful pause. "Perhaps she wasn't," Jellal suggested. "Perhaps it is I who was cast as the Beast, rendering Erza as Belle by default."

"That…" Levy began, before tailing off. That hadn't even occurred to her – and it was nice to be listened to, but it was nicer still for someone to listen and understand and respond to her in a way that built on her ideas and encouraged her to think further. "I hadn't considered that. It's possible, but… well, you're not much of a Beast, are you? The Beast's whole thing is that he's hideous on the outside, and you're really not."

Then, suddenly realizing how that must have sounded, she added, "Well- I don't mean- uh-"

She knew that her frantically waving hands were only drawing attention to her burning face, and it was so difficult trying to string words together in front of someone who paid each one such heed – but on the other hand, it wasn't awkward at all, for he did not laugh at her embarrassment.

"Thank you, I suppose," said he, smiling faintly. "But whether or not that is true is irrelevant. The Beast you described hid away in his castle out of shame, and must I not do the same? I dare not show my face in society for fear that a passer-by will recognize me and call the Rune Knights. Even amongst those who support me, such as Erza and your guild, I must hide my face or meet up only under cover of darkness. And my crimes are far, far worse than denying an old woman shelter from the storm."

It was how calmly he said it that threw Levy. It wasn't a plea for sympathy, or a passive-aggressive remark against the Magic Council that continued to persecute him after eight years of trying to make up for what he'd done – it was a cold, simple, unarguable fact; drawing a parallel between the worst parts of the Beast's story and his own, and finding no contest. How was she supposed to respond to that?

Not for the first time, she found herself wishing that she and Erza had never split up. Erza would know how to bring him the comfort he denied wanting, wouldn't she?

Jellal was not yet finished. A casual gesture indicated the hybrid of fairytale dungeon and nightmarish maze. "I do not think there can be any doubt that I was meant to end up here."

"This is… the Tower of Heaven?" Levy ventured.

His gaze jumped at once to hers, scythes of golden starlight cutting through the gloom. A pang of guilt settled into her stomach as she wondered if she had overstepped her boundaries. Everything she knew about him was second-hand, but she would wager that she still knew more than he'd like her to; more than she should have said out loud.

But all he said was, "Parts of it, yes. They appear to have been blended together with a more traditional-looking castle in a way that defies logic… although the Tower of Heaven was always a construction that defied logic. It seemed to be built more out of ill will and resentment than brick and mortar."

He left the thought to hang there, though he did not return immediately to the present. He stepped forward, away from the ordinary stones and mundane steel bars that had made up the Beast's prison, and towards the twisted reflection of what had once been his own soul. Uncertain, Levy watched as he trailed his fingertips along the walls, following the path of a spiral burn too neat to have been the sort of accidental scorch mark Natsu left in his wake.

"It is odd," he murmured, and Levy didn't think he was talking to her. "Had I been brought here shortly after regaining my memories in prison, it would have shaken me deeply… yet since then, I have reconciled with Ultear and with Erza. Barely a few hours ago, back in the real world, even Kagura offered me her hand in friendship. This place no longer holds any power over me. It has returned to my life far too late."

Now he turned, seeking out Levy from the doorway shrouded by darkness. "Likewise, if the Beast's story is one of redemption, it comes at the wrong time. My path was set on the day I broke out of prison; I have not faltered since, and will not permit myself to do so going forward. If you were right earlier, and we will find a way home only by seeing the fairytale versions of our stories through, I struggle to see how it could hold meaning for me as I am now. Certainly, it would never have occurred to me to throw Maurice into the dungeons when he showed up at my door – and he, not being from our world, was the first person I have met in a long time who was not afraid of my face. If there is a purpose to the role I have been given, I am afraid it escapes me."

Levy frowned. "It's possible that I am misinterpreting the Beast's story," she reminded him. "Or oversimplifying it. To me, Beauty and the Beast has always been Belle's story of adventure and romance. I've never considered it that much from the Beast's point of view…"

"I hope there is an explanation for our roles, and that we can find it," Jellal reflected. "If the stories into which we have been thrown have no meaning for us, how else are we to return home, in a world without magic?"

"Of course there's magic here," Levy said without thinking.

This earned her a look so sharp she almost flinched from it. She realized, suddenly, that although he had been careful not to comment on it, this man didn't like being without magic at all. For so long, he'd had nothing else to rely on.

Hastily, she elaborated, "No, I don't have magic either. But there's always magic in a fairytale – good as well as evil. For example, a key plot device in the original story was the Beast's silver hand-mirror. It was a magical device that could show him whatever he wished to see from the outside world."

"Oh? I think I may have seen such a mirror. Come with me. But stay close – I cannot speak for the Beast's original castle, but there are many dangerous rooms in the Tower of Heaven whose true purpose not even I ever discovered. In this world as much as our own, I cannot shake the feeling that the parts of the castle I brought with me are every bit as alive as those inhabited by talking furniture. How it retains its twisted magic here when you and I do not, I do not know, and I am not sure I want to find out. Fortunately, an artefact that always belonged to the fairytale should be safe."

He swept out of the room and Levy hurried along in his wake. He was right: the further they travelled from the safe rooms where Beauty and the Beast was set, the hungrier the maze became. She feared that if she lost sight of him, it would swallow her whole. There may not have been power here, not in a way they could use, but there was purpose. It brought the shadows to life, wrenched the dimensions out of alignment. She dreaded to think what dark secrets could be found within.

They emerged into a room that looked thankfully normal. Pride of place was held by a bed whose princely hangings had been torn to shreds by a beast, a familiar juxtaposition that dragged her mind back to more pressing concerns.

Jellal retrieved a glinting silver object from a dresser and offered it to her handle-first. "Is this it?"

It was a hefty thing. It must have been, to have withstood the Beast in his rage, but that had somehow never occurred to her when she'd watched him tenderly offer it to Belle. Levy felt a tingle run down her arm – not of magic, but of an equally powerful thrill. Holding the Beast's enchanted mirror in her hand seemed even more real than meeting Maurice.

"Show me Erza," she instructed the mirror.

Green lightning shot around the hand-mirror's frame. When it faded, the mirror no longer showed her own face, but one framed by inimitable scarlet hair.

A smile tugged at Levy's lips as she watched Erza leading a platoon of soldiers through a training montage: twirling a quarterstaff with grace and precision, deflecting missiles with a pail of water balanced perfectly on her head, and marching up a mountain while carrying weights that had the men behind her on their knees.

"See? The perfect Mulan," she sighed, shaking her head.

"She certainly seems to be taking this world in her stride," Jellal concurred, with an undeniably fond smile.

"Do you want…?" she asked, pushing the mirror into his hands.

To her surprise, he seemed to misunderstand. Rather than taking it to see the vision of Erza better, he grasped the hilt in both hands and commanded clearly, "Show me Meredy."

Lightning circled the mirror once more, but this time, when it faded, the mirror's surface remained dark. Levy's heart lurched, feeling the fear that must surely have been racing through him in that moment, before the obvious explanation hit her. "She must be-"

"-still in the real world," Jellal said at the same time. "That is a weight off my mind, although I will admit I would be happier if we had a means of seeing what is going on back there…"

Levy nodded, but he had already passed the mirror back to her. Taking a deep breath, she uttered the words she'd known she would have to since she had remembered the mirror's existence: "Show me Gajeel."

After one anxious moment, it did.

If Levy had struggled to picture herself as Mulan, then trying to imagine Gajeel as the dutiful, honourable Li Shang was nigh on impossible. Hell, she could barely even imagine him as a Rune Knight, and she'd been his partner-in-stopping-crime for a whole year.

So the sight of Gajeel being thrown bodily into a prison-wagon labelled 'Asylum for Loons', while the Emperor's blue-robed administrator Chi-Fu looked on in satisfaction, actually didn't come as that much of a surprise.

"Ah," Jellal said neutrally.

"He's a troublemaker no matter which world he's in," Levy sighed. "It's safe to say that between the two of us, we have thoroughly butchered the story of Mulan…"

"Do you think we should go and help him?"

The way he said it made it sound like she would be deciding for both of them. "You'd come with me?"

"I do not think I am of much use to anyone hiding away in my Tower," he affirmed. "Not least because the heroine I should be waiting for appears rather preoccupied with whipping her second army of the day into shape."

"That's true," Levy laughed. Erza seemed way too into preparing to defeat the Huns to be worried about meeting her prince.

"And to tell you the truth," Jellal continued, "I would feel more comfortable by your side than I would alone. Lacking any knowledge of the stories that make up this world, I would have been entirely adrift, had I not had the good fortune to run into you."

So sudden, so sincere. She'd never met someone who could say such things so openly, nor did she know quite why his lack of embarrassment only seemed to heighten hers. "I'd rather not be alone either," she mumbled. Then, hurriedly, she added, "Don't you want to go after Erza, though?"

"She seems to be doing fine on her own," Jellal said evenly.

"Well, I'm sure Gajeel will be fine too," she deflected. "He always pulls through. And I'd bet anything that it's entirely his fault he's being carted off."

The pause was weighty. Despite resolutely avoiding his gaze, she could feel the scrutiny like a physical pressure on her shoulders. Not a prince nor a beast, no, but he had been on the Magic Council once, and though it had been many lifetimes ago, there was something of that authority about him still, a reminder that her body language and her word choice could betray thoughts she would never voice out loud.

Nervously, she forced a laugh. "I mean, Gajeel may have a propensity for getting into trouble, but it's nothing on Lucy's. If there's anyone I would be worried about in a world like this, it'd be… her…"

She tailed off.

For the mirror had rippled electric green at the sound of Lucy's name, and faded to reveal a vision both entirely unexpected and yet somehow fitting: Lucy banging her fists futilely against the claw of the huge dragon who was kidnapping her.

"Ah," said Jellal.

"Ah," agreed Levy.

There was a moment's silence.

"Think we should…?" Jellal wondered.

"Yeah, I'd think we'd best go rescue her," Levy sighed.

A/N: I always feel like it must be so strange for Jellal to meet other people from Fairy Tail. They must know so much about him - from Team Natsu and their Tower of Heaven adventures, if not from Erza herself - and really personal things at that, and yet he'd know next to nothing about them. I can't blame him for being wary, trying not to become too defensive or hostile around friends of Erza's but also feeling slightly vulnerable about it. Honestly, Jellal being able to demolish everyone around him with words or magic, and trying really hard *not* to do so because he doesn't want Erza's guild to dislike him despite the fact that he feels threatened, is one of my favourite ways of writing him.

(...she says, as though there would be any circumstances under which she *wouldn't* like writing Jellal...) ~CS