Makarov never thought he would get to this point.
His hand had flown straight to his son Ivan's cheek.
He had never laid a finger on his son since he was born nine years before, but that time he had crossed the line.
"Today Javier's mother came to talk to me. She told me that you hit her son's eye with a stone." the blond man told him, stern as he had never been.
It was true. Ivan went to play with his friends, but those meetings were always interrupted by something: an argument, a dispute, a kick, Ivan's Illusory Magic creating nightmares and horrifying images before the eyes of his terrified friends…
"So? Javier is a liability, always ready to complain about everything..." the raven-haired boy muttered.
Makarov ran a hand over his face, as if forcing himself to return to calm.
"Ivan, in a group everyone's opinion counts, not just yours. It's like our Guild. No one should feel insignificant."
Ivan rolled his dark eyes; in almost a decade of life he had heard his father extol values such as the strength of the group, of the connections that are created, of Fairy Tail meant as a family... All things that did not interest and bored him.
Ivan was an ambitious child, he went out every day to play with the others solely to increase his ability with illusions, he didn't care about building friendships with them, also because those crybabies weren't Mages and couldn't really understand him.
The slap on his tanned cheek stung, but more because of irritation than pain. Ivan couldn't stand the sugary world that his father had created, his motto that invited everyone to love each other, a concept that eliminated the desire for challenge and rivalries. Without competition Magic couldn't grow.
"What should I do?" Ivan then murmured darkly.
Makarov stared at him, hoping to finally get the lesson into that stubborn head.
"We will go to Javier's house and you will apologize to him. Sincerely."
"Ugh… Fine!"
So it had been, however Makarov didn't perceive that punishment as a victory. Ivan wasn't sorry, he had apologized to Javier only to close that matter and not risk further reproaches.
The golden-haired man wondered over and over again if Porlyusica, his ex-wife, was right about their son.
Porlyusica never imagined falling in love, much less having a child.
Perhaps because she was afraid of finding herself a husband like her father Shichiro had been, a man with an oppressive and despotic personality, or of becoming like her mother Annelise, a wife completely submissive to her husband's whims.
Ironically, she had gotten a son who was a miniature copy of her father, if not for the amber complexion inherited from her mother and Makarov's black eyes.
He had her father's hair and the same way of being arrogant, even with his parents.
Porlyusica scolded him harshly, intending to immediately remove from the child the bad habits he was already showing, such as bullying his friends by raising his hands.
She didn't get many results, also because Makarov was an absurdly indulgent father, a heart of cream.
Thus, the pink-haired woman always ended up looking like a witch-mother, while Makarov earned the title of model father, who spent hours and hours explaining to his son that he couldn't stick his fingers in his friends' eyes, otherwise he would hurt them and make them feel sad.
"You finally did it!" she had told him one evening, on Ivan's ninth birthday.
His party was abruptly interrupted when one of the guests had made a face at the moment of the photo with the cake, immediately punished by the birthday boy, who had smeared the slice of his cake directly on his face.
That episode had nearly resulted in a fight, so Makarov had quickly ended the celebrations and averted the danger.
After that, he locked himself in the room with Ivan and gave him a loud lecture, which became more and more subdued.
Porlyusica had listened outside the door, a growing feeling of frustration in her heart: would they go on like this forever? Ivan doing damage, fighting, making the other children cry with his illusions and them apologizing to their angry parents? And in a few years, when he would be a teenager, what would he be up to? Would he become a cheap punk?
What was worse was that there wasn't an agreement between her and her husband on educational methods. She would have liked more rigor, because at the dawn of his first decade of life Ivan still needed to be berated like a four-year-old; Makarov, however, was convinced that with patience and love he would change, without feeling forced.
"Feeling forced?! I hope you're joking, Makarov! Here we're not talking about eating ice cream before dinner, we're talking about teaching our child certain rules of life! If we don't teach him, he will never learn and he will be isolated from everyone!"
"I want to trust him, Porlyusica."
They couldn't get out of it, and at a certain point, the Sorceress of Edolas had raised a white flag and asked for separation.
Ivan had remained to live in the guild with his father, and growing up he had attracted very little sympathy from the members of Fairy Tail, he was insolent and rude, despite Makarov's efforts.
On weekends Porlyusica came to pick him up, more and more disappointed in her rebellious son. This wasn't how she would have imagined her parenting, and she was happy to have five days a week of complete tranquility, without having to put up with the whining and irreverence of her pre-adolescent son.
At seventeen, Ivan fell in love (or rather, took a fancy) with a beautiful Mage his own age, Vanessa Shannis.
Vanessa had fluffy, shoulder-length, coral-colored hair, while her long black eyelashes surrounded two sweet eyes, tinged with silver.
She was truly talented, capable of modifying the shape of objects and their consistency, but unfortunately her poor health did not allow her to live like any other girl her age, and in addition the healing spells had only temporary effects on her.
Makarov welcomed his son's interest with renewed spirit; perhaps cultivating a positive feeling within himself would have helped him heal from his innate selfishness.
He then encouraged him to show up at the girl's house and take care of her, bringing her fresh flowers every day and doing some errands, such as bringing her medicines prepared by his mother or delivering freshly baked bread. Small, but nice things.
Ivan did all of this for his own schemes. Furthermore, he used his illusions to give a much better view of himself than the original one.
Ivan wasn't in love, he was just struck by Vanessa's great beauty.
Ivan wasn't in love, he simply wanted to produce an heir with Vanessa's great magical potential, a potential far greater than his.
And, despite his feigned gallantry, Vanessa's friends sensed that something was suspicious and put her on the alert, even though they weren't Mages:
"Be careful, Vane! He has bad intentions..."
"Precisely! Are we sure that he's really the son of Master Makarov?"
Vanessa, for whom Ivan had reserved the strongest and most convincing illusions, tried to reassure her friends that Ivan was hard on the outside but soft on the inside and other similar nonsense.
When the two youths turned eighteen, they got married in Kardia Cathedral.
Ivan was in an excellent mood, so much so that he allowed the bride to have two of her "brainless" friends, as he defined them in his mind, to act as wedding witnesses.
The ceremony took place intimate and festive, and a great banquet was set up in the airy internal courtyard of the Shannis family's stately palace.
Vanessa's parents had long since passed away, so it was her faithful servants who organized everything, fond of that sweet girl as if she were one of their family.
The Shannis' servants did not look favorably on Ivan, but they tried to put on a good face, considering that it was thanks to him that their beloved Duchess had regained her energy and smile.
Two years after the wedding, Vanessa, despite the long and risky pregnancy, gave birth to her only child, to whom she gave a name derived from the Latin word lux, meaning light.
Laxus Dreyar.
The baby had a tuft of blond hair, the trademark of the Dreyars excluding Ivan, and deep gray eyes, halfway between his father's black and his mother's light ones.
Ivan couldn't be happier.
Anyone from the outside would have seen a satisfied father in that proud man.
And he was.
Decidedly.
The problem lay in the fact that he hadn't tenderly imagined his son's future, he had purposely PLANNED it, almost as if he were a machine to be assembled.
He would study magic, he would become a feared and respected Wizard.
He would pave the way for him.
They would reign together, father and son.
Ivan Dreyar wasn't a loving father, but a ferocious schemer.
He wasn't an attentive husband, but a man who had made a controlled selection, also thanks to the power of make-believe he was gloating about.
However, there was one detail of no small importance.
The constitution of little Laxus.
Once the baby's first year was over, it didn't take long for Ivan to realize that the rather remarkable latent magical power of his son was mortified by the constitutional weakness of his mother Vanessa.
Laxus often fell ill.
He had no resistance.
He cried desperately at night.
Not exactly what Ivan had foretold, but he immediately set in motion.
What could he do to fix that flawed son?