Author's Notes:

TW: Rape

Dead dove, do not eat? This one is graphic, so if you're not into it, I suggest you skip. There is a break towards the end where we switch back to present day, and you can read from that point on. I'll give a synopsis at the end of the chapter of what happens.

Also, unrelated, but I was looking at my traffic stats for this fic. I know this isn't a popular ship and an old fandom, but I usually have a little bit of traction? It's currently showing I have no traffic for October so... if you're reading this, do you mind letting me know?

Chapter 118:

There was so much that Laxus didn't know, and he was so achingly aware of it.

"How can you not understand? If you hadn't left things would have been different, Laxus, but not in any way good. It wouldn't have just been me. It would have been you, or both of us. She probably would have made me watch..."

It was his nature. He had never met an obstacle that he couldn't face. There were mages who would surrender upon hearing his name, knowing they couldn't fight him, couldn't even withstand him. He was terrifyingly powerful, holding in his body the sort of magical energy that made weaker men weep in fear. He was an unstoppable force; not a train out of control, not like an avalanche or a mudslide. He was a storm, a hurricane, a tempest. He broke the sky open and let the heavens fall. Even strong mages were reduced to trembling stalks of wheat, ripped up at the root, and whisked away like straw in the wind.

"...Do you think that would make you feel better, Laxus?"

"Do you think you could stomach it?"

Laxus squeezed his eyes shut, but he wasn't in his own body anymore.

Gajeel had been running up the stairs when he felt a harsh, sweltering wind flash up the tunnel around him. There was the glimmer of light in his periphery, and then suddenly all the reliefs lining the walls came to life. He felt like something was being dragged out of him, something he had kept guarded in an iron grasp. He knew it immediately, staggered into the curtain and fell to his knees. His whole body started shaking. He clutched at his chest because panic was rising from the bottom of his stomach. His mouth tasted like bile.

He saw Laxus on the altar, Orotrushit above him, a hand circled around his throat and a hand forcing his head back. Gajeel's heart was racing. Red fogged his vision. He pulled out his knife and suddenly... he was falling...

...and spinning.

There were two different shots. One paralyzed, one put him under.

Spinning and falling; it was what he felt when the paralyzing agent wore off. When he hit the ground, he was strapped to the table. The heat was ebbing at the fringes of his mind, a blooming crimson vignette, a second skin that writhed on the edge of his understanding.

There was so much that Laxus didn't know, but now he knew what bloodlust was... and very soon he would learn hate.

"Ask me nicely, and I'll fuck you, and then, maybe, I'll consider letting you go."

"Fuck you." Gajeel had spat up at her.

She sighed hopelessly, her chest swelling with the action. His mouth tasted like copper when she dug her hand into his wound.

"You will ask me. It is only a matter of time."

But Gajeel was trained. He'd been tortured before. It took... concentration. He remembered how to bite down on a scream. Every muscle in his body was taut as he swallowed it down with the venom in his mouth. The pain grew, his body screaming at him that something was wrong, he needed to do something, but his mind remembering he needed to find a way to stay calm. He had to... he had to separate himself from the pain. He'd done this before, and he was so good at remembering these hard lessons.

His father used to fly him to the top of a mountain after they'd had their fill. The massive beast curled around him, keeping him sheltered from the wind and the cold. During the winter, you could see stars for miles. Sometimes he wondered if he could fall into a sky like that, laying in the thinning atmosphere, surely he could.

In the hollow paths of the moor,

The black goblins, the werewolves,

In the night, in a saraband,

Chase one another like mad,

I hear a noise near the door,

Close your eyes, my little boy

The nasty werewolf takes away

The children who don't sleep

The pain ebbed. When his eyes rolled back down, he saw the confusion on her face that blossomed into rage. He gritted his teeth and glared up at her, clenched his fists when she lashed out. Hands turned into claws that dug back into his wound. The burning pain spread. His mind decided not to interpret why for him, and he didn't really care.

Sleep, my little man

For near the cradle your mommy

Watches over your light sleep

Till tomorrow, till tomorrow

Sleep

"What is this?" she hissed, "What are you doing?"

He laughed. Pain made him delirious, and he knew he sounded like a madman. The truth of it was revealed in the widening of her eyes and how she recoiled. His voice dropped into a growl.

"Ye don't know what the fuck yer doin', hm? Ye only torture boys?" he challenged.

His rage was turning his blood hot and toxic, with as much strength as he could muster, he lunged up from the table, though he didn't get far. His leg throbbed insistently at him, reminding him that he was wounded deeply. She stepped back from him, lips twisted. He heard the metal groan as it held him down, begging for relief before he fell back again.

"Did ye know I can smell yer fear?" he huffed, catching his breath as he tried to stop his head from swimming, "I'm gonna get outta here, ya know that, don't you? And when I do, I'm covering every fucking wall-."

"Is that what you think?" she simpered down at him, though she didn't come any closer. "I've had men like you on this table before, and it goes the same. You all have your breaking point. Inside, you're just a little boy."

"Ya think you can break me?" he snarled. "Ye ain't got the patience, stupid bitch."

Her eyes sparked and she listed back over to his side. She eased down slowly, so her hair puddled down onto his chest. He shivered and he hated it. He hated her so fucking much.

"I bet I do." she breathed, the ghost of it sending gooseflesh across his skin. "You're a good man, aren't you?"

"Not even close." he hissed through clenched teeth as she blinked up at him.

"Then you don't care if I get what I need from... someone else?" she purred up at him. Her eyes were shifting colors, blue into green into blue, a fogged-up kaleidoscope. She leaned down onto his chest, her coat shifting open as she did. Her skin was cool against his and he shut his eyes at the rush that warmed him to feel it. The smell of her fell over him in waves. He felt the itching need becoming inflamed again. Her hand encircled him and he closed his throat. She sighed by his ear, "They're coming to find you soon."

His flesh writhed and his stomach knotted over itself, again and again. He could hardly understand what she was saying.

"Your friends." she said, and he felt a pain in his chest from how his heart stopped, a numbing cold that made his limbs ache like he'd just had a heart attack, "And one man you really wanted to see..."

His chest heaved and he wanted to get sick. She worked his shaft and his sense fled him. His spine arched, the muscles in his legs stiffened. He just needed... a little... relief...

"What was his name...?" she hummed, "Laxus?"

"Stop it..." his breath slipped through the cage of his teeth. He hadn't figured this out yet... he hadn't been able to turn this into white noise. "Stop."

"He was such a handsome man. Desperate, too, to right the wrong he did to you," she cooed. Her lips were tantalizingly close to his ear. He wanted to lean... no, he didn't. "I bet when I let him know you're here, he'll do anything to get you free... maybe even trade himself for your freedom?"

"No..." he whispered, eyes screwed shut as heat spread up his spine. "...f-fuck... no."

Her voice dropped, "I told you, didn't I? You're disposable just like everyone else."

"Fucking do it! I dare you." his voice twisted into something guttural, fighting through the venom that ran like blood down his throat. "Maybe I can't do shit tied down, but he can. He'll light you the fuck up..."

"I don't think he will," she sighed sweetly. He forced himself to look at her, to gaze into her changing irises. She was smiling, and her voice dripped like poisoned wine, "I'll bet he's a good boy, a man of his word. If he made a promise to me to give me what I want... he'd follow through. Is this what you want for him? To be used like this in your place?"

Something inside of him was cracking. Red leaked through his veins and swelled until he nearly couldn't stand it. He was on the edge and he felt like he was going to tumble. He loathed every second of it.

"It's alright if I use you, though, isn't it? Because... you're not a good man...? It would be better, don't you think, if it were you instead?"

"Shut up..." he huffed, despising the whine that couldn't help but force it's way free. He couldn't... he couldn't think past the need to crumble... but he felt the regret already, the repulsion. His throat was beginning to knot, "...no..."

She stopped and it was almost worse, because now he craved more. He felt mad. For a moment, his mind and his eyesight clouded. He thrashed again. He could have sworn he heard the metal scream where it was being rent. It didn't relent. In the end, the pain in his leg grew until he could no longer ignore it and he collapsed once again. He couldn't catch his breath. Beneath the buzzing of his skin, he was starting to feel chilled. Maybe... if he were lucky... he'd bleed out again...

"Is that what you want? For him to live through this? I would draw it out, there's no need to rush..." her whisper had morphed into a hiss and all Gajeel could see was red. She grabbed him by the throat. The sharp pinpricks of her nails dug into his skin, "...and I won't let you go until I get what I want. I'll keep you here... I could even keep you in the room. I can make you listen; I can make you watch while I turn him into a whimpering little boy-"

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" the haze of red was spreading through his limbs, making his chest livid. He wanted to rage, he wanted to rip her apart.

The silence after his outburst rang like the sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard. Her eyes were brimming with smug knowing. She was pleased; her lips pursed as she made him wait for her to speak.

"I told you..." Gajeel breathed, the words shaking even more than he was, "You let me close enough to bite you and I'm ripping out your fucking throat."

"Just this once, I don't need your venom. All I need is your body... to cast a spell." she hummed, the corner of her lip pulling upwards, "You have to ask me to fuck you. And you have to mean it."

"Ask you...?" he growled, "...like I fucking would-"

"I need your consent." she simpered down at him, haughty and spiteful, "I'll finally give you some release. I know how badly you want it... how badly you want me."

To emphasize her point, she ran her free hand up his thigh. He screwed his eyes shut in a grimace, but a whine threaded out of his throat anyway. The sour taste of venom made him nauseous. His stomach bunched when her touch glided tantalizingly close to his dick, dancing around it, teasing him with prospect. He hated her. He hated her. He hated her. His whole body shivered and he fucking hated her. He hated himself, his body, for responding this way, to burning for more, for desiring that blissful end. When he had it, the heat would finally fade, he'd finally be able to think straight, to do more than just lie there and writhe in desperate need.

He clenched his teeth. His body's borders burned. He was ensnared, his thoughts muddled by lust. Simmering up in vague pockets of lucidity was the knowledge that Laxus was coming... and walking into a trap, a trap where he was the bait. And she'd said friends, so who else did that mean? Who else was going to get swept up in this if he didn't relent? Lily? Juvia? Natsu?

So, that was it, then? Didn't that just steal any choice he had left? If he couldn't get free on his own, then he was just going to wait until someone he cared about waltzed into this hell to the same fate? He'd be there, knowing the horror they were going through, knowing how dreadful it felt to have their skin slither under this unwanted touch; invaded, corrupted, used, and he'd do nothing? And she'd make him watch?

That was his only choice, he realized, the cold reality of it making his stomach pitch. Lay there and watch Laxus be raped by this monster, this fucking bitch who still had her claws in him, or let it happen to himself. Not just let it happen, invite it. Enjoy it. A dim, pathetic thought simmered up from the back of his mind. Coherent? Probably not. Sane? Not at all. After all she's done to you already... what's crossing one more line?

He wanted to throw up. If he'd had anything in his stomach, if he thought he wouldn't choke on it, maybe he would.

Defeat made the raging red fog break across his body, effervesce up his throat, drive its claws through him like a beast to its prey. It tore him apart slowly, raking its talons through every piece of him as in one last, great effort he put the weight of his body into snapping his restraints. Arms and legs thrashed once, stopped only inches away from the table. He threw his shoulder into the action, his hips, ignored the searing pain in his thigh from his reopened wound. His heart began to race, the heat of his fury pushed him past his previous limits. The metal was bending, squealing as it tried to hold firm. Maybe, if he hadn't been starved for so long, he'd be able to break free. Maybe, if he wasn't bleeding and exhausted from being in heat for so long, he'd be able to finally snap the things that bound him... but he couldn't. He fell back hard onto the table, his breath in tatters, and then he screamed. He screamed in outrage at it all, in pain, agony, despair. He let it all out of him in a meltdown that made his skin crawl and his throat raw. When he was done, Bianca was laying against his chest, her eyes melting with how blissful she was.

He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of tears, not that it mattered much at this point. He glared up at the ceiling and a strange dark resolve fell into him.

This world was so, so ugly, wasn't it?

Gajeel wasn't one to ask the universe for answers but at this point he wondered what he'd done that put him in this place. Hadn't he been through enough? Hadn't he sacrificed enough to this world that was so goddamn ugly? He'd thought he'd lost it all already, but it appeared there was still more he had to lose, once again taken from the iron grip he held so closely. Had he done something to deserve this? Was it the blood on his hands? The bodies he'd left behind him at Phantom Lord? Was that what this all was? Justice, divine or karmic or poetic? Was there a reasonfor it all? He didn't know... he didn't want to know. As much as he feared the answer yes, he also feared the cold toll of the word no. Because if it was all for no reason at all, that might be even worse.

That meant it was just the world being what it was… ugly. He just happened to be caught up in the worst parts of it. Not maliciously, not on purpose… he was just so much carbon and bad timing. His bones felt like lead.

"Why?" he spat, glaring at the ceiling. He couldn't even look at her anymore, he hated her so much, "What do you need it for?"

"Nothing you would understand," she sighed against his skin, the ghost of it whispering up his jaw. Frisson threatened to break across his throat. He clenched his jaw.

"Try me."

She mulled it over for a bit, but she was excited… and impatient. Whatever would get her way, he thought, she'd probably do it. She'd think she was so fucking clever the whole time, and all this time he was just assessing the incoming blow, bracing for impact.

"It's a fertility ritual," she said. "Simple. Easy."

The term rang with familiarity, bouncing off memories that were buried in his time at Phantom Lord. He knew what that was.

His stomach twisted at the thought. No, no, he tried to tell himself, though his insides wound up inside him as if his chest was a spinning wheel, it was just sex. That was it. That was it. And he was in heat... his body was already doing half the work. He just needed to let go, that was all. That was all. Let it happen.

Fire burned up into his chest. Let it happen...

His vision edged in red. As if he could stop her.

"I can make it easier on you... if you ask me nicely," she sneered, her lip curling as something malicious darkened her countenance.

He knew immediately what she was doing. She knew she had already won, now she was just trying to see how deep she could wound him. She pulled herself astride him, the movement itself making him sick. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned over him, nearly brushing his skin. Her eyes flashed and reality around her warped, her form changed, growing larger, broader, the weight of her changing. When the light faded, Gajeel's blood iced over.

He tried to keep his face from shifting, to hide the craven dread that threaded through his body and soul. The fire that ignited, every shameful thought he'd had when he thought he'd been alone just days earlier was boiling to the surface like bodies hidden in a lake. This trick she had played when she'd first caught him, that he'd only been able to detect because the shape she had taken hadn't moved right, hadn't spoken right, wasn't right. But it looked like him in a way that made him ache, that made him throb, that made him crave, that made him burn. He couldn't have been more despicable, could he?

"Easier..." he snarled, "He's not..."

She laughed in his voice. The cadence of it was so wrong it was a threat.

"You could have fooled me, the way you chased after him when he came for you," she smiled wickedly, gold eyes he longed for swimming and arrogant, "Maybe he didn't want a broken little thing like you, but you can pretend he did."

Gajeel's heart thrummed up into his throat. She shifted her hips and he felt vile, loathsome, dirty. The heat in him responded eagerly, a desperate and needy monster that clawed through his chest for him. The blonde hair that fell free from where it lay, curling against his forehead, slightly mussed. Strong hands that could hold him down, that he wanted to make clench, nails Gajeel wanted raking into him when he lost control. Eyes he'd wanted to see melt. His mind's eye had never let go of what he'd looked like in the few minutes before he'd released him, how his eyes had rolled back, his breath had hitched. He'd had him open, despite the words that left him, his body had been taut with the want for him, for the desire to be ruined. Gajeel knew by the way he'd curled against his silken touch when he'd drawn it up his thigh, his stomach, his chest, slipping up his throat. Ruin him, for fucks sakes, he wanted him so badly it was painful-

He was just a fucking beast, wasn't he? Truly, he was just a sniveling bitch in heat. He would have sobbed if his throat hadn't closed. It wasn't enough to take his body from him, she needed this too? Throw it in his face? He'd already felt sick for making Laxus beg to be let go, and now she was going to fuck him like this? He'd never be able to look at him again... all he'd see from here on out would be her-

He forced himself to unclench his hands. He kept himself deceptively still, as much of him as he could.

"You want me to come... then you need to be a woman." he had to push the words through his teeth, bully them through, otherwise he never would have been able to speak.

She raised a brow at him, not believing it, rolling her hips back against his aching erection. He wanted to curl up and die. He wanted to fucking kill her.

"I know that's a lie," she grinned, elated in her cruelty. She stared down at him, depravity in golden eyes that didn't belong to her. He wanted to gauge them out of her for the offense. How fucking dare she?!

He wasn't going to convince her. The knowledge set something black in him rumbling, frothing up from the depths of him. Never in his life had he enjoyed the idea of tearing someone apart, but he did now. As vividly as possible, he thought of taking his iron-plated claws into her, of how it would feel to spill the heat of her into the air, blood everywhere, he wanted her blood everywhere. Weren't you supposed to cling to hope in times like this? Hope for a better tomorrow? Hope for a tomorrow where he stabbed her through the chest, not like a job, not calm and calculated, but over and over and over until the red on the ground matched the red in his eyes. He'd card through her skin like it was deliciously warm butter. He wanted to hold her insides in his hands and hear her scream. He wanted to see what her fear looked like when she realized she was dead.

His mouth tasted like blood and his own bitter pride chewed between his teeth, the pieces of it slicing into his gums.

"If yer gonna fuck me, I'd prefer you..." he spoke through liquid poison in his mouth, turned it into a purr that hid a deep growl. He had to be careful not to choke on it, "...I like 'em soft."

She stared at him a moment, and he wondered if maybe she didn't believe him or if maybe she just didn't care, until that light warped around her again.

"I am far from soft, dragon slayer." she hissed at him, eyes yellow and inhuman, "But fine, have what you want. Now say it."

He tried to relax, tried to release his death grip on his mouth. It was like peeling back his nails one at a time. He didn't want to make her angry. He didn't want this to be any worse than it already was. He knew better than to ask mercy from something like her. But that didn't make it any easier.

"Fuck me... please..." he gritted out. She huffed a laugh and he had to concentrate on not snarling at her. He swallowed down the knot in his throat, relaxed the tightness of his jaw. His voice dropped low, twisting into something that barely hid his vehemence, "Bianca... please...? I... I want it."

For a disgusting, unbearable second, she said nothing. Then she smiled, a grotesque thing that made him want to slide his claws across her face and rip it off her. He had the strength in him to cut deep and to the bone.

"If only you'd been this cooperative from the start..." she grinned and angled her hips back into him. The hot clutch of her core slipped over him and every muscle in his body snapped to aching attention. Pleasure and disgust razed up his hips, his stomach. She seated onto him like she'd been craving him, needing no assistance, taking him fully in one fluid motion. He couldn't think. Against his mind's screaming, his back arched and his hips snapped up into her deeper. She gasped and shuddered around him, her walls clenching down on him in a way that made him want to sob with relief and revulsion. His instincts screamed finally, but his mind raged against it. He was trapped in a cage he couldn't be free of, the cage of his body. A crack was forming somewhere deep inside him, spreading jagged fingers through his being.

Let it happen. Let it happen. That's it. J-Just... Just let it happen. That's all he had to do. Let. It. Happen. Quickly... please... let it... just let it happen... get it over with... please...

...the cracks in him spread deeper, shattering through bone...

It will-It will be over soon... Just grit your teeth, just relax. H-How many times did you get blackout drunk and wake up like this? What's one more atrocity on this body? It's fine... just... let it...

...he was going to shatter soon. The fissure was too deep, this time. He couldn't stand it...

It's like the first time you stabbed someone, you got over that too, and the first time you'd been tortured. You're not a kid anymore, Gajeel. It's nothing. It's nothing. This is nothing. N-nothing... everything you've done... and this is it? This is the thing that finally does it? It's... it's nothing...

...so why does it feel like everything?

When he broke, he shattered so loudly he wondered how the world didn't hear it. Surely, people were stopping in the street somewhere, halted in their mundane tasks, blissfully unaware of his suffering, because they'd just heard the crushing sound of a world ending. He'd be nothing after this, would he? Nothing but burning rage and hate. He wanted to scream. He couldn't control his body, no matter how much he hated it, no matter how much he hated her, he couldn't stop his blood from singing.

She'd done it, the thing she said she'd do all along, she broke him.

Finding comfort in a body, he'd always had that... even at his lowest points. How many times had he slithered half-drunk or high into the arms of someone he'd taken home from a bar? How many times had he sought out ecstatic relief when the weight of his life got too much? Physical touch, human warmth, a body pressed against his own... he'd never realized the atrocity that could exist in these things too. No, that wasn't true, was it? It was worse than that. He'd forced Juvia down and taken her on a cold floor when he was out of his mind with lust, hadn't he? He had known it existed. He just never thought he'd be the one to suffer it.

She splayed her hand across his chest in a way that was known to him, coaxed something both foreign and not from inside him, something that was different now, livid, hideous, base. The sweet, oscillating scent of pine and lemon made him nauseous. Candles steeped the room in a feverish, frantic, pitching light. His skin was too tight, buzzing with heat and something else, something that made his borders sizzle like oil in a hot pan. Sex Magic... he knew what that was; he'd done this before.

He'd been dotted in charcoal eons ago, in what felt like a past life, leaning on his knees and smoking a joint as a woman with scarlet spirals curtaining down her back dressed herself again, hiding the marks he'd left on her hips. There was an ethereal glow to her when they were done, and it had always left him with a migraine, feeling drained and empty of something. Her eyes were still cloudy and white when he asked her why she never told him what they were doing, why she always just called him out in the middle of nowhere, and why she only explained if he asked. Usually, he didn't.

"It's best you don't know," she said, her voice breathy as she turned to him, "You're too strong."

He'd blinked, "Eh?"

"You have an annihilating will in you," she confessed in a way that would have had another man on their knees, but he was too tired to rise to. She'd walked over to him and leaned down, the stark white of her skin gleamed in the light of a full moon, "The more you know, the more influence you have. It's best you just enjoy yourself. I'll do the work of concentrating it."

"Can't help ye anymore, then." he mumbled. The edge was gone from him. He was already bleary-eyed from what they'd done, the weed didn't help the exhaustion. Ah damn, it was going to be a long walk back to Phantom Lord, "Don't like not knowin' what I'm bein' used fer."

She'd looked away from him, staring at the moon. The white of it filled her irises and made her look like a wraith standing there in the night. He wasn't scared, just tired. With a sigh that laid on the edge of a moan, she lowered herself down next to him, smoothed her hand across his bare chest. She liked using him, so she'd explain if just to keep him around.

"You must have a clear goal, set an intention, you can't doubt it for even a moment. It works best when it involves sex, love, confidence, power... strength... You have strong intuition, instinct, listen to it closely, it'll lead you in the right direction," she said, smiling at him serenely, "If we come together, the spell is infinitely more powerful."

"Why?" he huffed, drawing back from her slightly. Everything she did was so overtly sexual, he wondered if she was trying to distract him, "Don't make sense, does it?"

"Your magic is the product of your spirit connecting with the flow of nature. What is more natural than this?" she'd asked, her smile seductive as she slipped a hand around his waist, beckoning for more from him he didn't have to give, "The goddess is inside you as much as she is in me, in everything. The life that is in you gives you power. When you're in ecstasy, you can use it to channel the divine."

It sounded like a bunch of nonsense, more of the insanity she was so keen on spouting when they were in the heat of things. He knew she wasn't a mage. There was nothing magical about her. It didn't change the fact that when her hand was on his chest, something in him grew.

"When your body is at its limit," she breathed against him, her bare chest swelling, "when you're on the edge of oblivion, hold it in your mind's eye. If the goddess hears you, she'll answer your call. When you orgasm, you empower her."

He curled his lip with disbelief, "You want me to believe me getting my rocks off makes a goddess grant my wish?"

"Oh, Kurogane…" she'd laughed, "Do you have faith in me? In what we've accomplished together?"

He shrugged. It was hard to argue with her. There were results, he guessed, but in his eyes it could have meant anything.

"Don't worry too much on it," she smiled like a siren, like something that knew it was constantly craved and loved the chaos it caused, "Let me use you, and I'll make sure you enjoy every minute you're near me."

He was young and stupid. It had been enough. Not that he was really all that less young and stupid now. He'd never really learned how to not just be used. Time hadn't changed anything other than the scenery.

Bianca took what she wanted. At first, closing his eyes had been a blessing until he was picturing Laxus. He wasn't trying, he wasn't! But she'd changed into him, and Gajeel hadn't been able to shake it. So he opened them, and felt disgusting, and abominable, and cursed. He watched her and he hated himself and the body that didn't obey him anymore. He loathed every fractured, broken noise that struggled out of him. The more she took from him, the more his body enjoyed it, and the stronger that black hatred in him grew. Feeding it was bliss. It started with just hate, fiery and fetid, and then it morphed into fantasizing about what it would feel like to kill her, the violence he kept locked away slipping through the cracks of him like cigarette smoke and then roiling out of his internal bonfire, growing stronger, darker, toxic. What was the worst way to die?

A knife… sliding from one ear to the other, a gushing necklace to fit her gasping throat.

A voice slipped up through the black haze. Is that enough? She wasn't the only one that hurt him, was she? It was every bastard in this place. Every person who sidled into these catacombs and took something that didn't belong to them. Why stop with her when he could rid the world of them all?

He didn't think there was a goddess of the moon, and certainly if there was, she didn't give a shit about him. Even still, this was the second woman who'd smashed into his life to use him for strange sex rituals and that was an odd thing, wasn't it? Maybe he didn't believe in it, not truly, but he remembered how it worked. And there was something that he wanted, that he could picture vividly, that he could taste. There was something he hungered for and it involved power and it involved strength.

His body reeled against its borders and the bitch above him was getting frantic, her rhythm erratic in her taking, her breath starting to frenzy. Let it happen. His chest burned and the flickering of the candles seemed muted. The feeling in his chest was black as night and fled to every fiber of his being, making his flesh skitter with something too painful to be euphoria. The noise that clawed its way out of him was animalistic and made him lightheaded. Was he delirious? Was it the blood loss? He felt like the room had gone dark and something was stalking in there with them, something hungry and craving the same things he did. His body was shaking, her movements quickening above him.

Maybe there was a god out there responding to his call, empowered by his bloodlust. Or maybe he was finally, after long last, losing his fucking mind. At this point, it didn't matter either way. He felt her come undone, and his vision and every other part of him bled with that despicable black. Black hate and red rage, their swirling hazes fighting each other for which would win. The air tasted like iron… and blood. He was spinning and falling… heavy… his limbs were suddenly so, so heavy… and a migraine split his skull.

He was shivering and weak and empty. Cold, he felt so cold. Was it a blessing? The heat had finally ebbed now that he'd met his dreadful ending. It would be back, but for now there was a little clarity mixed in with the dipping and churning of the world around him. He didn't pass out… really. He slipped into a dream, or what he thought was a dream. It was a dream where he was lying in suffocating darkness so deep he couldn't penetrate it. The swell and ebb of the haze around him felt like the expansion of a giant ribcage as if something were there with him, immensely large, and its breath was falling on him in sweltering huffs that spilled the sweet stench of rotting meat. Ah, but that must have just been the incense... stale and tarnished with decay. There was still the dim flickering of candles or… they weren't flickering. It was more just a miasma of light coming from somewhere below him. Dimly, he heard the pattering of something that he assumed was his blood dripping onto the floor, finally spilling over the edge of the table he was chained to. That wasn't good... he'd need a healer.

A voice sifted up from the darkness, there and not, his mind filling in the gaps of it like a hallucination. He didn't think it was really there. It was a voice that Gajeel had never heard before, but now that he was forced to relive it, it was unmistakable to him.

"This is the covenant, bound in blood. A life is required; a life has been promised."

The image of Bianca, her throat slit and lying on the ground dying was so real he thought he could reach out and touch it. It played behind his eyelids. He didn't even have the strength to stir.

"This power will be granted to you to take your vengeance well. When the last of your enemies falls, the covenant shall be made."

There was one last breath over him and then Gajeel's world fell into black. He'd been drugged again, he couldn't even remember how or when. But he remembered waking up... to Unaven trying to assault him in the dark.

It was the beginning of the bloodletting.

Laxus gasped when the vision shattered. He lay there, shaking, his stomach writhing. Gold eyes were wide and staring down at him, consumed by light. He was holding the hand circled around his neck but was incredibly aware of how weak it was, and then suddenly he was being dragged up. The world was spinning beneath him, and he felt like he couldn't get enough air. Something cold was pressed to his throat, the digging in of something sharp, but his mind stopped registering the danger when his gaze focused on the figure before him.

"G-Gajeel…"

He was on his knees, his bloody eyes blown wide and whatever had been in his stomach on the ground.

"Do not come a step nearer." Orotrushit commanded, his voice riving up Laxus's spine harshly, making him grit his teeth to not cry out. He felt Orotrushit lean closer to his neck, the next words addressed him and were less than a whisper, "You still have a debt to be paid."

Gajeel sniffed, and Laxus's stomach plunged into his toes when he saw him take the back of his hand to wipe his nose and mouth. Tears flowed freely down his face, silent aside from his ragged breaths. Orotrushit was cruel; Laxus shouldn't have been surprised. He should have known better. A sickening darkness threaded through Laxus's chest as he gripped the arm that held him. Shame and grief fought through his being. Regret didn't just needle him but knifed him in the stomach. What had he done?

A furious edge of iron began to tinge the air, magic snapping to the call of something steeped in violence. Green sparks slithered up from the ground, riffling Gajeel's hair as the emotion he couldn't keep trapped frothed up and out of him painfully.

"Stay your hand, unless you think you're faster than my knife can cut," Orotrushit hissed.

"Fine… hurt me…" Gajeel growled, his eyes focusing into scarlet bullets pointed straight into the chameleon that held Laxus fast with a blade. His chest heaved with a ruined breath, and Laxus could have choked on the rage that turned the atmosphere thick with its strict tension, a bowstring ready to snap back, "Make me bleed, I don't fucking care. I can take it. I can live through just about anything-"

His hands curled into fists, and Laxus's eyes fell on the knife he was holding by its sharpened edge. His heart stopped; his blood turned cold with dread. Hadn't Orotrushit said he'd be killed… with a knife?

There was a flash of motion. Laxus braced as the blade pressed into his flesh, but then the creature behind him screeched. The golden knife clattered to the ground, but another one was staring Laxus in the face, stuck halfway through Orotrushit's hand from where Gajeel had thrown it. Then, Gajeel was there, having moved faster than Laxus's eyes could track him. He grabbed the handle of the hunting knife, and with the other he grabbed Orotrushit by the throat.

"-but I will make you regret hurting someone I love." he growled, a noise that reverberated up every rib in his chest before spilling out just as deadly as the blade he held. There was a terrible calm in his eyes that Laxus recognized as soon as he saw it, unnerving and quiet, the look of a creature barely held on a leash.

He put his boot against the altar and with one massive pull he dragged Orotrushit from behind him and threw him into the throne. He smashed into it, knocking the incense across the floor and sending smoke slithering across the ground. Gajeel was before Laxus, arms wide in his protective stance, brandishing his talons like a lumberjack squaring up to a tree with muscles tensed as he readied to do his sordid task. Panic snapped through Laxus like a broken bone when Orotrushit pulled the knife from his hand.

The next moment, chaos broke loose as that tightening snap of violence was unleashed in the worst way possible. Gajeel lunged at the same time that Orotrushit presented his uninjured palm, but it wasn't pointed at the attacking mage. Laxus, too, reached, desperate to stop Gajeel from fulfilling a prophecy he knew nothing about, but stuttered to a halt when pain seared through what had once been a stab wound. He cried out in surprise, his vision blurring with color as he stumbled and clutched at it. Gajeel's concern broke his single-minded rage and he stopped, whipping his head to him, question in his eyes before he was thrown backwards into the altar. He didn't cry out, even though Orotrushit plunged his own knife deep into his chest, golden eyes burning down into him.

"A taste of your future, dragon slayer." he snarled, and Laxus suddenly saw every nightmare laid out before him where he'd seen a body bleeding on an altar. Another vicious flare of pain, hot and sharp and evil, spread through his chest to the point he could concentrate on nothing else. Orotrushit fled back from them both, scooping up his ritual blade and grabbing the patch for his eye. He disappeared from reality, and the pain that stopped Laxus's breathing disappeared with him.

He immediately fell to Gajeel's side.

"Don't, don't, don't-" he hissed when Laxus's hands got close, "I gotta… I gotta concentrate…"

He pulled it out slowly, and Laxus held his breath the entire time, as inch by inch the hunting knife came from his flesh. When he pulled it out, it rolled free from his hand. The metal rang against stone and he sagged against the altar, breathing heavily.

"Are you… fuck… Gajeel…" Laxus couldn't even speak, he was so caught up in emotion. Gajeel was clutching at his chest where the knife had been, clearly hurting, but Laxus didn't know if it was physical or emotion or... or both. He wanted to pull his hand away and make sure he wasn't wounded even though the rational part of his mind nagged at him that if he didn't smell blood, he was fine, that it was Gajeel's hunting knife, a knife of low-carbon steel made and wielded specifically for this reason. But it didn't stop his relentless anxiety.

What was he even doing here? Hadn't he been heading home? He should be in Magnolia right now, not here of all places. Why would he...?

It struck him that Gajeel had called while he was at the train station, that he'd seemed like he was looking for something when he'd seen Laxus's face in the receiver, that he'd been worried. It dawned on him that Gajeel must have been there, he must have watched him leave. He'd followed Laxus all the way here! His stomach twisted, something like guilt and something like outrage coiling there. He knew that Laxus had lied? He'd just let him think he believed him? Why the fuck hadn't he said he was there?! What the fuck was with this sneaky shit? Did he not trust him? Did he not think he could handle himself? He hadn't been well, sure, but this was far from the most dangerous circumstance he'd been in. He was an S-Class Mage, for fucks sakes. More than that, he could be a Wizard Saint if he just fucking got his act together. If there was anyone who shouldn't be here, who should be where it was safe back in Magnolia, it would be the man shaking in distress at his side right now.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, but Gajeel turned on him, his eyes blazing. He clutched at his collar and pushed him against the altar, his knuckles bleaching white and hands shaking. "Gajeel! What the hell?"

"Why would you want to see that?" he seethed, teeth flashing where he gritted them. Laxus's heart stammered, "Why would you-…" a sob slipped from his throat and shame tore at Laxus's insides to hear it, "Fucking why...?"

Any reason he had, any excuse, died before it could start when he saw a tear break free from his bloodshot eye and run swiftly down his face. Laxus wanted to reach out, to comfort him, apologize dammit! But he couldn't. He froze in the horror of what he'd done, not wanting to believe it. The world was spinning under him and he'd hurt Gajeel again... and he had absolutely nothing to fucking say for it.

"I didn't... I didn't... know." he breathed, "I just needed to know-"

"Yeah, Laxus?" Gajeel's voice was wrecked from where he was desperately trying to lock in his emotion, sounding more and more like something clawing its way out of its own grave, "D'ya feel better?"

Of course not. He wanted to say, no Gajeel but I was trying to help. I fucked up but please believe I was just trying to help. But of course, he didn't say any of that. Shock and shame both were smothered beneath the heel of his indignation. What else was he supposed to do when Gajeel couldn't even talk about that day without having a breakdown? What else was he supposed to do when Gajeel kept hiding things? If he could simply ask they wouldn't be here right now! If he'd been upfront from the beginning, all those months ago, maybe things would have played out differently! But here they were, arguing against an altar in a temple that craved beating hearts like a demon shrouded in stone. What the fuck else was he supposed to do?!

"I was trying to help," he growled through his teeth, knowing full and well what it truly sounded like. I'm trying to clean up your mess.

Scarlet eyes flashed with hurt and rage. Gajeel sucked in a breath, poison ready to be spewed at Laxus who braced for it, when suddenly they both stilled. An unnatural darkness fell as the light of the sun was finally swallowed by dark shadow. As it did, something... happened. Laxus didn't understand it, he could hardly believe it. The green sparks that flitted from Gajeel in his ire one by one died, fading from existence. They both stared in dismay as the scales that covered his arms to his elbows began to fade, slipping away until at last, his talons retracted. Maybe, for a millisecond, Laxus thought he'd done it on purpose, if not for the way he released him and stared, eyes wide and coloring with muted terror as clarity pushed its way to the forefront. They looked at each other, neither of them speaking but both simultaneously knowing what it meant as all the iron in the air vanished like it had never existed in the first place.

They couldn't use magic.

Author's Notes:

Synopsis:

Gajeel is forced to relive what happened.

Bianca attempts to torture Gajeel, but being that he's been trained to deal with this sort of thing, it's not effective. She then threatens him with the fact that Laxus is coming to find him soon, and that she knows the kind of man he is. When he finds out Gajeel is there, she will be able to convince him to trade an act for his freedom, and then threatens to keep him there and make him watch while it happens. This is what makes Gajeel finally cave.

She says it's a fertility ritual, but doesn't explain why. When she realizes she's won, just to be extra cruel, she turns into Laxus and taunts him with the idea of having sex as him. He feels ashamed for how he feels about Laxus, and lies, saying he'd prefer to just have sex with her. She changes back.

He realizes that he's done this type of thing before with Celeste, the priestess Laxus met a couple days prior, and maybe he doesn't believe in gods or think it's real, but he wants revenge, so he pictures it in his head when they perform the ritual. What he doesn't realize is that his will is so much stronger, so he does hijack the ritual and inadvertently summons Father to extract his revenge. Orotrushit binds the pact, as he is the embodiment of Father's will, stating: "This is the covenant, bound in blood. A life is required; a life has been promised. This power will be granted to you to take your vengeance well. When the last of your enemies falls, the covenant shall be made."

The next time Gajeel wakes up, it's when Unaven is trying to assault him. He inexplicably has the strength to break free. This is the beginning of the covenant being bound.