A/N: This chapter contains discussions of suicide. ~CS

Fairytale of Doom

By CrimsonStarbird

Chapter Twenty-Seven – Never Bleed Again

Natsu's surroundings returned uncertainly. Sound crept back in first, although the distant blur of noise was muted and dull. Then there was light, slow to resolve, colours not as sharp as he was used to, but clear enough for him to notice that they weren't in the basement with Mavis's coffin any more. They were still in a castle of some sort – nowhere else would delight in such stony grandeur, trimmed with so much gold that even a dragon like Igneel would have thought it unnecessary – but this room was clean and bright.

All thoughts of his environment faded, however, at the sight before him.

In his hand was a dagger. The tip of it was pressed over his heart.

So, Zeref had managed to use the Book of END in time. He'd promised Natsu he could do worse than mere pain, and it seemed that was the one thing about which he had not lied. What did it matter that Zeref couldn't beat him in a real battle if he could just overwrite his free will with that book and force him to turn a knife upon himself?

But Zeref had miscalculated, Natsu thought savagely. He'd regained consciousness just in time to put an end to this madness. He'd throw the knife away and-

His hand did not move.

He had never realized just how cold steel could be before, separated from him by a thin layer of fabric and a thinner layer of skin.

Now the fear was rising. He could not move his hand, could not turn his head, could not take a step, could not force that deadly point away from his vulnerable flesh.

Maybe he hadn't broken free from Zeref's control at the opportune moment. Maybe- maybe Zeref wanted this, for him to watch himself break apart, for him to see what it meant to belong entirely to another.

Don't, he thought frantically, uselessly, desperately. Don't do it. Please.

Never before had he faced a foe he could not fight. Panic had unwired his senses. He was breathing too quickly but couldn't slow it down; every inhale was too shallow to reach his lungs, every exhale too short to let the trapped butterflies in his throat escape.

His hand was shaking so much that he didn't know how he hadn't dropped the blade – and yet its point remained perfectly still against his heart, magnetically bound, needing only the tiniest nudge of pressure to slide home.

He was so scared.

A loud slam burst through the tension. At last, his body moved in response to his instincts, albeit slower than he would have liked. The dagger pulled away from his chest and vanished beneath a cushion upon the throne behind him.

As he turned towards the disturbance, he had the strangest feeling that, rather than gearing up to fight, he was putting on a mask. His facial features settled into an expression that was entirely unfamiliar, and yet was so well-practiced it felt effortless. As if it had been plunged into an ice bath, his racing heart slowed, his blood cooled; the all-consuming fear was pushed aside and crumpled down and sealed in a way that he hadn't even imagined was possible.

A heartbeat later, the strangeness of it had ceased to be important.

Because the person who had burst through those palatial doors to interrupt him was himself.

His scarf was missing, and he appeared to have been half-shoved into a posh outfit before the culprits had given up in despair, but that was undoubtedly him, Natsu Dragneel.

So who the hell was he?

There was recognition on the other Natsu's face, but it wasn't the same shock he himself was feeling. It was pure and utter loathing.

He wanted to step back, to speak up, to try and explain to the other him that some strange magic was at work here, but his body was once again refusing to obey his commands. He could only stand and stare in horror – and fascination and sorrow and satisfaction, all leaking out of that box where the fear had gone, but too weak to budge the mask upon his features – as the other Natsu lunged towards him, fist raised.

He never made contact. Someone so well-clad in fancy armour that he could only have been a palace guard had followed the other Natsu through the open doors, tackling him from behind before he made it halfway across the hall. Another guard piled on top. The burst of fire he was expecting to see as that Natsu fought back never came, and the struggle quickly fizzled out, leaving a panting Dragon Slayer pinned beneath the weight of two guards even Happy should have been able to take in combat.

And then, with a jolt in his heart that felt as sharp as the tip of that blade, Natsu realized that he remembered this scene.

This was what had happened right after he had appeared in this world. He had fled from the servants trying to force him into princely clothes, encountered Zeref in his role as this world's king, tried to seize the opportunity to defeat him… and been stopped by the two inane guards who were currently pinning down his other self.

He was watching something that had already happened.

But, as the past Natsu raged against the unfairness of a world without magic, he knew that he was seeing it from the wrong angle for this to be his memory. It must have been Zeref's.

What the hell was going on…?

His heart was still quivering with the fear of the blade that had pressed against it, though Zeref's wasn't. It was his physical calmness Natsu could feel, his mental lockdown over those flighty emotions, he who was smirking at the other Natsu, the past Natsu, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

Just like there wasn't anything in Natsu's own recollection of that moment to hint at what had almost taken place before he had burst in.

Maybe it hadn't happened. Maybe it was a misunderstanding, a confusing side-effect of the magic or curse or supernatural phenomenon that had triggered this bizarre vision.

But then the other Natsu was dragged off to the dungeon by the guards. The doors closed behind them. And as soon as Zeref was alone in the throne room again, the dagger was back in his hand, almost of its own accord. He stared at it, contemplating, and, still trapped within his memory, Natsu was forced to contemplate it too.

He'd seen thousands of weapons in his time. Hell, Erza carried a literal armoury with her. He'd fought against blades that could nullify a dragon's fire; watched his warrior friend wield a sword so sharp it could cut through steel, stone, fate itself.

None of them looked as frightening as that little dagger.

His heartrate was speeding up again. Or maybe it was Zeref's heartrate, freed from those bars of iron will the moment there was no longer an audience to his show; Natsu couldn't tell any more than he could stop the tip from coming closer. His hand was shaking more, now. His eyes were jumping between the trembling steel and the closed door, dragging Natsu's gaze along with his own. Was he worried about being interrupted again? Why did he even care? Did it really matter if his guards in this world found out that he-

Natsu's thoughts stalled. That he what?

He had been horrified when he'd thought Zeref's magic was forcing him to turn the weapon upon himself. But no one was forcing Zeref. He was holding that blade because…

Because…

Natsu didn't have the faintest idea why he was doing it.

It made no sense to him at all. Sure, Zeref's evil plans had suffered a setback by being flung into this fairytale world, but as the king, he was still in a much better position than Natsu or his friends were. He hadn't even tried to find a way home yet. Not to mention, he had Natsu, his greatest enemy, who had already almost beaten him once with Igneel's power, completely at his mercy in the dungeons. Why was he being so quick to give up?

And it wasn't the first time, was it?

Not from how naturally the blade had fallen into his hand. Not from how easily he had acted as though nothing had happened when the other Natsu had burst into the room – he'd had practice, centuries of it, unable to let a hint of it show in front of his servants in Alvarez, lest he lose their respect.

It wasn't the first time he'd tried in front of Natsu, either.

He recalled – his own memory, this time – their clash on the western front of the war. As the last of Igneel's magic had raged rampant through Natsu's veins, Zeref had stopped fighting, accepting his death, welcoming it.

And then Happy had intervened, and Zeref had immediately gone back to trying to destroy Natsu and his friends with all his might. That moment had been buried beneath his horror at discovering that he was END and his revulsion at the fact that all of this had happened because he was supposedly the little brother that Zeref had brought back to life. If Zeref continued to threaten Fairy Tail, then Natsu would continue to fight him, and that was that.

The brief, anomalous moment passed him by without a second thought.

With the dagger hovering over his – their – chest, Natsu could think of nothing else.

"Why are you hesitating?"

Natsu would have jumped at the voice, if he had had any kind of control over someone else's body in a memory.

"You've done this enough times before," it continued, tremulous, like someone trying to force a smile through tears. "You don't even know for sure that you're not immortal in this world. It might do nothing at all."

The more Zeref tried to talk himself into it, the more the dagger shook.

"What do you have to lose? What are you even fighting for, if not this?"

Then his hand fell back to his side, dagger and all, and a long, rough breath escaped him and Natsu both.

"Well, if I really am mortal here, I can do it any time I like," he whispered, as though he had to justify doing something that any sane human being would have done automatically in that situation. "There is surely nothing to lose by trying to speak to him first…"

His gaze flicked towards the door. Seeming to find some message in the whorls of the wood, he stood a little straighter, shoulders squarer, uncertainly vanishing once more. Confidence came over him as he strode off to the dungeons to speak to the past Natsu, leaving the present Natsu as the only one shaken.

The worst part was, he didn't understand why he felt shaken.

He wanted Zeref to die, didn't he? Only a short time ago, he had been willing to sacrifice his own life to achieve it. What had changed since then? They'd spent a couple of days together. Had a tiny bit of banter. Gone on one very minor adventure to find a talking mirror.

All of it was so insignificant compared to the literal army attempting to slaughter his friends back in Fiore.

So, there had been a couple of rare moments when they'd actually been getting along. So what? Zeref had been lying to him the whole time. He'd claimed to be powerless and in need of Natsu's help, when he'd had the goddamn Book of END with him from the start. He'd acted like Natsu mattered to him, but he'd been prepared to erase his very identity as leverage to make his friends stop fighting. He'd claimed he wanted to be a good person really, and only the curse back in the real world prevented it – but there had been no curse causing him to imprison the half-drowned Gray, or lie to Natsu about it, or try and turn him against his friends…

If the cursed rose had pierced Zeref's heart with a laser beam, rather than doing whatever the hell this was with their memories, would he be feeling the way he was now?

No. Of course he wouldn't, just like he wouldn't have done if he'd succeeded in striking Zeref down with Igneel's magic. That was how it was supposed to be. Natsu versus Zeref. Fairy Tail versus Alvarez. Good versus evil. One epic final confrontation to save his guild, his friends, and his kingdom from their greatest ever enemy.

Not Zeref quietly removing himself from the cast list while off-stage.

Natsu didn't understand it. His friends were out there right now, fighting tooth and nail to survive against this man and his armies, and here Zeref was, fighting not to survive at all. Being in this world was a setback, sure, but less of a setback for Zeref than for the Fairy Tail team. And yet, if Natsu hadn't happened to burst into the throne room at that moment…

Natsu wasn't angry, or outraged, or burning with righteousness against Zeref's actions.

He… just didn't understand.

"Why?"

His ears pricked up at the question. That wasn't Zeref's voice – it was his own. So, he wasn't entirely helpless in this vision, after all. He could still communicate, somehow, with enough willpower.

"Why didn't you just do it?"

No. Wait. That wasn't what he'd wanted to ask. That made it sound like he wanted-

"It's what you've been after all this time, isn't it?" the voice cajoled, the voice that was Natsu's and yet so ardently wasn't.

And he wasn't the only one who could hear it.

The response didn't come from the fading, darkening memory, but somewhere outside of it, an observer, like Natsu himself was. "I… I just…" Zeref whimpered.

At the sound of his voice, a sudden feeling struck Natsu like a blow to the stomach. It was worse than any blow Zeref had landed on him in real life, and yet Natsu didn't know what it was that made him feel so hollowed out, like he was left with only the worthless parts of himself.

It reminded him of the day that Igneel hadn't returned from the hunt, and the trees looked different and he couldn't find his home and there was no sight or scent or trace to prove that Igneel had ever existed in this huge, unfriendly world.

With the same sense of unwantedness, he remembered Zeref standing in an unknown castle, dagger's hilt clutched awkwardly in his hand, some other king's ceiling curving too high overhead. Everything Zeref had built up to this point had ceased to hold any meaning overnight. All his coping mechanisms and trustworthy, understanding servants were gone. This was a whole new game with rules no one had cared to explain to him; there was no one he could trust, no one he even knew… except for Natsu.

The voice was laughing in a way Natsu knew he had never laughed before, because laughs were for joy and appreciation, not this.

"Did you really think I would help you, after everything?"

But Zeref really had thought that, Natsu realized. What had been the point of letting Natsu out of the castle dungeons in exchange for a promise not to get in his way, when Zeref could have guaranteed it by leaving him there to rot?

From a strategic perspective, there was nothing to be gained.

From an emotional perspective, there was the chance, faint though it might be, that the pressures of this hostile world might mean he and Natsu could be on the same side.

There was no curse here. There was a stability to his thoughts, a freedom to his emotions. For once, he could do what he wanted, rather than let the curse – or the need to control it – set the rules.

Maybe, just for a few days in this world, he could experience what he'd never had with Natsu.

That was why the knife had been put away a second time.

And, trapped in this vision with him, Natsu could feel Zeref's hope as the past version of his brother had ventured down to the cells. There was no sign of it in his words, his expression. The mental walls that had held back a divine curse for the best part of four hundred years were more than a match for a measly flicker of optimism.

Natsu had only agreed to Zeref's terms because the alternative was spending this entire adventure in a dungeon awaiting rescue, and Zeref knew it, but the wish that it might become something more burned bright in his memories. A friendship he didn't deserve, but maybe if events in this world lined up in the right way, he might get a chance to-

"No, you didn't deserve it," the other Natsu confirmed cruelly. "Not after everything you did to my friends."

Something scratched at Natsu's arm. The stem of the cursed rose was winding up his arm, thorns burying under his skin, draining his energy to feed the hunting shadows. He couldn't move, couldn't fight it, just like he couldn't stop those words from coming.

Zeref couldn't stop them either. "I didn't- I just-"

"It's one thing creating me to serve your twisted ends," commented the other Natsu's voice. "But declaring war against my friends? That's unforgivable."

Natsu couldn't contest the words. In another encounter, another version of the Alvarez War, he might even have spoken them himself.

But not like this. Not words that should have been his noble battlecry, turned to poison. That wasn't how he fought his battles.

The thorns gripped him tighter.

"I had to," Zeref whispered. "I needed you to fight me for real… for you to have any hope of ending my cursed life, you had to hate me… and you are always so much stronger when defending your friends…"

"Oh, is that the only reason?" Natsu's voice mocked. "Because I couldn't help but notice that, even in this world where you selfishly thought the two of us could be friends, you've still been treating my real friends like your playthings."

Their dark surroundings shifted and grew light. He – or maybe they would be more accurate, as he was once again seeing through Zeref's eyes – was standing on a beach strewn with wreckage. Guards ringed an unconscious figure who was sprawled out where the tides had dumped him, their spears pointed threateningly, even though the limp body was no more likely to get up and attack than the discarded shirt which had somehow, miraculously, washed up beside him.

Yet rather than the glee Natsu was expecting to feel from Zeref's memory, there was a cold, cold fear. If Natsu knew Gray was here too, he would surely choose him over his brother, abandon their tentative alliance, and run off to have adventures with his friends again. He was only working with Zeref because he had no other choice. Zeref had to stop them from meeting – and make sure Natsu didn't realize he was responsible. He'd get Lady Tremaine to deal with it; keep the ice mage somewhere where he wouldn't be able to interfere. Just for a while. Just long enough to spend some time uninterrupted with his brother… just long enough to have a chance at building that bond he'd thought he would only ever be able to get in the past…

"So selfish." The smirk was audible in those words, a smirk that would have been better suited to the unfeeling immortal emperor than this mockery of Natsu's own voice. "Don't you know that you're supposed to do things for the ones you love? Not rip them away from their friends?"

"I know… I know, I just… I couldn't watch you walk away hating me again…"

To Natsu, who hadn't felt it once since Makarov had brought him into the epitome of a loving home, the loneliness radiating from the memories was staggering.

How could the presence or absence of one person matter that much?

How could anyone be that desperate to spend time with someone who didn't care for them?

Why did Natsu matter so much to a man he had barely spoken to? Natsu had chosen his family, Fairy Tail, and he wouldn't give them up for anything – why would anyone choose someone who so plainly didn't love them?

Because-

Because Zeref still believed.

Because Natsu had agreed to the temporary truce (even though it was the only way to get out of the dungeon).

Because Natsu had bantered with him over practicing for the ball (even though it was genuine annoyance, most of it).

Because Natsu had grinned up at him after outsmarting Lady Tremaine (even though it was nothing more than satisfaction at having defeated his opponent).

Because Natsu had saved him when he had fallen from the tower (even though- even though- well, it had only been instinct, really; he was so used to running into trouble with his friends that his body had just reacted on its own, that was all).

Because of a handful of moments whirling through the void of memory, none of which had meant what Zeref thought they did, and yet still he clung to that fictitious hope.

He still believed he might be able to build a relationship with his brother here. Not just because he believed in Natsu, but because Natsu had made him believe in himself.

They had stood in a mysterious, crumbling tower, facing a mirror that showed whatever the observer believed to be the fairest. Natsu, defying all expectations except that of his legendary courage, had unhesitatingly asked the mirror its question and been shown not a princess, but a totally badass dragon with wicked fire magic.

And he, Zeref, started to fear what he might see in the mirror.

They needed to find Fairy Heart in order to escape – to find Mavis – but beauty was in the eye of the beholder and mirrors reflected the desires of the observer. If Natsu, not particularly drawn to women or men, and having no conventional use for the mirror's criterion of 'fairest', was shown someone he would think was awesome instead, then what would a villain who could not love at all be shown? What did he desire?

He tried to rationalize it away: the question was who is the fairest, and while 'fairest' may be open to interpretation, 'who' surely wasn't. A destroyed guildhall wasn't a 'who'; the dead body of one of Natsu's friends wasn't a 'who'; physical attraction wasn't the same thing as love; he could still think Mavis was pretty even though he had thrown his heart away long ago. It didn't mean he'd see something evil, something truly reflective of his twisted heart… surely…

But Natsu hadn't doubted. Not once. Hadn't stopped for a second to question if the villain who was trying to destroy his guild was capable of love.

He'd just believed, without hesitation, in spite of all the evidence before him, that his big brother would see Mavis in the mirror.

And he'd been right.

And if Natsu still believed in his humanity, then maybe he wasn't entirely lost. He could find another path. He could rebuild his relationship with Natsu. He could…

"Well, guess what? No one will ever love you!" Natsu had screamed at him, after his lies about Gray had come unravelled and Natsu had stormed off to find his real friends.

And Natsu had been right about that, too.

It was too late for him. What was a few days without the curse compared to four hundred years of learning to live within its shadow? He was the kind of person who wouldn't think twice about leaving Gray to suffer if it meant he got a few more hours alone with Natsu. He could attempt to kill all Natsu's friends in an unprovoked war and have it mean so little to him that he'd expect to be forgiven the moment he proposed that he and Natsu work together against a common threat. Natsu's hatred of him was entirely justified.

Besides, Natsu had already chosen his family. He didn't want another.

Watching him race away to join them, the blade was once again in Zeref's hand.

He could never get what he wanted. He had fallen too far to ever be loved again. He should just…

But.

But.

Natsu had loved him once. And after those few hours of remembering what it was like to have a brother… if there was even the slightest chance of winning that back, he was going to take it.

He wasn't going to die here.

No, he was going to get home with Fairy Heart and return to a time before he had lost everything, no matter what it took.

The sound of the fake Natsu's laugh ripped the real Natsu from the flood of memories. Disorientated in the dark, not sure where his own self ended and the nightmare vision began, he only had the thorns around his arm to ground him, and he was increasingly frightened about what they were tethering him to.

"You really do treat people like objects, don't you?" the other Natsu marvelled, while the real one fought uselessly against a curse far more insidious than he'd anticipated when he'd unleashed it. "Mavis, who loved you, just a prize to be won in battle. My friends, just trash to be trampled over on your way to victory – no different to your own soldiers, doomed by their own loyalty. And even me, your own precious brother! I'm just a prototype to be chucked away at the first indication that I might not fit the perfect happily ever after you imagined for yourself. You'd rather go back in time to get yourself a new brother – one who doesn't know who you really are."

It was only a single sob, but it lingered in the darkness.

"But why wait that long?" the voice pressed mercilessly. "I've never been more than a tool to you. That's why you'd so readily rewrite my very identity just to get your way."

Another heartrending sob.

And Natsu realized, without needing the memories to reveal themselves this time, that Zeref would never have gone through with his threats to rewrite Natsu's existence.

Zeref had faced down ten of Fairy Tail's strongest mages and he'd lied through his teeth, hoping they would be too worried about Natsu to call what was, to him, the most obvious bluff he had ever attempted – because he would never do that to Natsu, to the little brother he was finally allowed to love and admire and tease and cherish without the curse striking him down… to the brother he had finally met for real and seen just how incredible a person he was… to the brother who was so understandably loved by his friends…

Even though Zeref's heart was set on the only way he could salvage his relationship with his brother – going back four hundred years to before everything had gone wrong – a part of him hoped that by being trapped in this world, Natsu and his friends might avoid the reversal of time and be able to build a new life here, a happy life. And so he had not told them about Natsu's relationship to him, instead making it abundantly clear that Natsu was not helping him voluntarily, so their rare and wonderful bonds may yet flourish in this alien world…

And then it was gone.

The darkness, the memories, the blurring of someone else's thoughts with Natsu's own – all of it was whisked away through a dimensional plughole.