AN: Please note: this is a new chapter. During my rewrite of this story, I decided this chapter was necessary, so here it is!
Berserk
Chapter Two
{i'll ask of the Berserks, you tasters of blood}
The passages of Castle Einyar are a winding mess, with doors leading nowhere and halls that seem to have no ends in sight. The walls and floors are made of white marble so clean cut it nearly looks like ice, her own reflection peering back at her from the smooth surface. Busts line the walls on either side of the long corridor Cobra leads her down, and Lucy knows immediately that they've been carved using Fae magic, carefully crafted in the name of some king long forgotten, the lines too perfect to be made from the hands of men.
Her breath fogs in the air as she exhales, a frigidness in the air, a stillness like she's never felt before. It's colder inside than it was outside, and she isn't sure why that is, though she doesn't like it. Her arms curl around herself protectively, Lucy fighting back a shiver as the cold air seems to follow the pair of them, right on their heels.
When she asked Cobra for help, she wasn't expecting much. He's always had resources, but he isn't a miracle worker. She figured she'd have to do the hard part on her own, though he always has had a way of surprising her.
Her eyes sweep around the hall, the castle seeming empty, though she knows that can't be the case. Einyar isn't a stronghold by any means, though the castle is fortified in more ways than one. The Berserkers are somewhere below her feet, locked away in the dungeons of Ðüskell, waiting for the King to call upon them.
And they aren't the only beasts in Ðüskell.
Lucy quickens her pace, on Cobra's heels as he takes a sudden, sharp turn. She doesn't miss a beat, turning with him, careful not to stumble. Neither of them make a sound as they turn the corner, minding their steps. The castle seems to echo with every move they make, even the slightest of sounds seeming thunderous in the vacant halls of Einyar.
It's unnerving, how quiet it is, but she won't take it for granted.
"What exactly is your plan cobra?" she murmurs, trailing behind him by only a step. Lucy glances over her shoulder briefly, her magic flaring beneath her skin, her fingers tingling with the force of it.
He hadn't explained anything when he slipped her inside the castle, a hastily thrown together bundle tucked under his arm and a sharp look in his eyes that demanded she ask no questions. He should know better than to ask that of her.
He doesn't look at her as he speaks, gaze locked on the passage before them. "Just trust me," he mumbles back, barely loud enough to hear over the nothingness surrounding them. His fingers twitch, flexing, and she catches the smallest glimpse of a knife tucked into his belt as his coat shifts.
She releases a soft snort, her eyes rolling as she locks her jaw. "Makarov told me not to trust people who say 'trust me' all of the time," she tells him, sarcasm creeping into her words. A conversation isn't the best at the moment, but they're alone and Lucy needs something to distract her from her own nerves.
"Do you always do what Makarov tells you to?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder at her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. His good eye fixes on her, a familiar spark in them, and the twitching of her fingers ceases.
She holds his gaze for a long moment, pursing her lips as she mulls over the question. Finally, she wets her lips. "If I did, I wouldn't be here." Makarov was very clear about his concerns. They all were, but Lucy is nothing if not stubborn like the rest of them.
The Dreyars are all bullheaded.
Cobra turns away, though his pace slows a step until she's walking beside him, rather than behind him. "He told you not to come." It isn't a question and they both know it.
Lucy purses her lips, slipping her hands into her pockets as she avoids his eyes, staring directly ahead. "Not in so many words," she says, shrugging slightly. It was in his eyes more than anything else. He didn't say much to her before she left, only sent her a look that was more disapproving than anything, but he didn't try to stop her.
Not that he could have. He needed supplies and she was the only one willing to get them, Laxus busy training and Romeo too young and too inexperienced to travel to Pergrande alone.
"But it was implied." He looks down at her, quirking a brow as a small smile pulls at his lips. His voice barely rises above a whisper, both of them mindful of where they are, but she hears him clearly enough, the teasing lilt of his voice familiar.
She shrugs, the pair of them turning another corner, all of the twists and turns looking the same to Lucy, though Cobra appears to know exactly where he's going. She trusts him not to lead her astray. "You know how things have been here," she mumbles absently, frowning at a portrait on the wall, its eyes seeming to follow them as they pass. "Pergrande's practically on the brink of another civil war." Her lip curls back, gaze snapping back around.
"That's one way of putting it," he replies, huffing a laugh that isn't half as amused as it would normally be.
Pergrande has been in a bad state for years, practically since the first Civil War over a century ago. After the Centari line usurped the throne and murdered the previous royal family Pergrande has been in a violent state, small wars brewing on the country's borders.
"Are you going to tell me what the plan is or just keep stalling?" she asks Cobra lightly, knowing she won't get an answer from him, but needing to keep the conversation going. She doesn't like the silence in this place. It's too heavy, malicious in ways she doesn't understand.
She knows the rumors about this place. They all do. It isn't something she likes to think about, the violence of Pergrande spun into ghost stories she and her friends would tell around fires late into the night. Laxus and Cobra would take turns scaring them all, and Lisanna would scream every time, her voice shrill in the darkness, rattling them all down to the bones.
Cobra wets his lips. "Believe me, Kelfie," he starts, voice thick with something almost like guilt, "you don't want to know what my plan is." His throat bobs with a harsh swallow, Cobra gritting his teeth and making a muscle in his jaw jump.
"Erik," she murmurs, brows knitting together in confusion.
He glances down at her, only for a moment before his gaze jumps away. "Everything will be fine." It sounds like a lie, but she pretends not to notice. He knows better than to tell her a blatant lie without a good excuse, and at this point she can only hope he's right. They can't afford for him to be wrong, not when both of their necks are on the line.
"You'll forgive me if I don't believe you," she breathes back and he doesn't respond. He doesn't even look at her. Lucy lets it lie. She keeps pace with him as his steps quicken, his gaze darting around the hall twice before he suddenly reaches out and grabs her around the waist, making a hasty turn that throws them both of balance.
Her head snaps around, Lucy glaring up at him as he yanks her into a short hallway, a door cracked open at the end. Cobra wets his lips, chancing a look behind them as he hurries them along towards the door. He doesn't say a word as he shoves the door open wider, the pair of them slipping inside easily. The door shuts behind them, a lock clicking into place as Cobra releases her.
"Here we are," Cobra mumbles, sending her a wry smile when she looks at him over her shoulder. He gestures to the small room with a flourish, quirking a brow at her frown. Lucy looks around at "here", which isn't much at all. The room is hardly larger than a closet, nothing inside but a table pressed to the far wall gathering dust. Her nose wrinkles, brows narrowing as she looks around at the nothingness, unsure what he means.
Lucy wets her lips. "This is your plan?" she asks as he skirts around her, fumbling with the bundle under his arm slightly as he glances at her, trying to avoid her eyes. She still doesn't know what's happening or what exactly he plans to do, and her frustration is only growing by the minute.
Cobra dumps the bundle on he dusty table, sending a flurry of particles into the air and making them both cough. He unfurls the bundle, Lucy watching in silence as it reveals something pale and gauzy, a fabric she can't quite make out. A dress maybe, though she doesn't know what he would have her do with that. It's of no use to her at the immediate moment, given the situation.
"This is me helping you, yes," Cobra snaps at her after a long moment, stepping away from the table and gesturing her forward hurriedly. She clenches her teeth as she stares at him, not appreciating his tone, but she steps forward anyway, eyes flickering to what he's laid out on the table.
It is a dress. Pale lilac and nearly see-through in places, long enough to brush the floor as she walks. The style is vaguely familiar, a silver ring meant to loop around someone's neck, holding up the dress in the front. A golden belt is tossed on top, meant to cinch the fabric at her waist.
Lucy lifts the dress from the table, the fabric silky beneath her fingers, and looks back at Cobra, who still won't meet her eyes, his gaze on the floor. "How is this-" She means to ask how this is him helping, but she realizes what he means to do before the words can leave her mouth, recognizing the style of dress. "You want me to masquerade as a prostitute."
The metal band reminiscent of a collar should have been enough to realize that. The style came from Minstrel, the dress common in the sandy cities, light and airy to ward off the sun and the heat. In Pergrande it's a slaves' dress, meant for handmaids and prostitutes, but she knows which one she'll be pretending to be.
There's an air of warning to the words, rage creeping through her at the implication, though she tampers it down quickly, knowing he's only trying to help.
Her words hang heavy in the space between them for several long seconds, Cobra not knowing what to say and Lucy waiting for a dry response. And that's exactly what she gets. "You want an audience with the King," Cobra begins, shrugging slightly, though he doesn't appear as nonchalant as he usually does, "and I'm not a miracle worker."
Lucy snorts. That much is apparent. "Is this really the best you could do?"
"On short notice?" he asks her, leaning back against the door and raising a brow. "Yes." His fingers drum against his arm in an absentminded beat, the rhythm erratic but calming regardless. Cobra isn't usually so fidgety, though neither is she.
Lucy wets her lips, rubbing her thumb over the cloth in her hands once more before turning on her heel to meet his eyes. "What's the plan?" Lucy sets her bag on the table, dropping the dress down beside it as she shrugs out of her jacket, the familiar warmth leaving her in a rush. The chill of Einyar bleeds into her skin, seeping under skin and curling around her bones.
She tries not to shiver, from the cold or their haphazard plan, she isn't sure. If they aren't careful things could go very badly for the both of them, and she would never forgive herself for dragging him into something like this. Not when his wife Kinana is waiting for him at home.
Cobra sighs through his nose, fingers beating against his arm faster. "Get in. Seduce him. Get the necklace. Get out," he tells her simply, shrugging. "I'll watch the door for you, but after that you're on your own." He looks almost apologetic when he says it. Almost.
"Why do I bother," she murmurs, more to herself than him as she rolls her eyes. He makes it sound easy, but it's anything but that. They were lucky to get as far as they are now, a servant in the castle owing Cobra a favor the only reason they made it inside at all.
He watches her kick off her boots, expression impassive. "You said you wanted an in. I didn't promise anything else," he reminds her, an annoying little smirk pulling at the edges of his mouth.
"And what exactly do you expect me to do in there?" she snaps back at him, nerves prickling at her skin. "I'll be alone." Alone with a king known to slaughter her kind in the most horrid of ways. She'd be a liar if she said she wasn't terrified of facing that man alone, but she doesn't have many options at the moment.
He scoffs, rolling his eyes at her. "And we both know you can take care of yourself," he tells her, words almost fond. His gaze softens slightly as he stares at her, though the look disappears in an instant. "Besides, I'm sure you have something in that bag you can use." He gestures to the magic bag resting on the table, and Lucy doesn't have to tell him that he's right. Cobra's expression hardens suddenly. "Now hurry up and change. I believe his majesty will be returning to his room soon." His expression slips into one of disgust, and Lucy's nose wrinkles as well.
"Wonderful," she murmurs, clucking her tongue. Cobra keeps staring, waiting for her to make a move, and she levels him with a pointed look, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Now turn around."
He does so quickly, cracking a joke that she chooses to ignore, though she snorts loudly to let him know he isn't nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Cobra makes a show of covering his one eye with his hand, promising not to watch. And though his tone is mocking as he says it, exaggerated, she knows he means it.
They're both quiet as she undresses, Lucy chewing on her lower lips as she pulls her top off over her head, increasingly aware of the rustling of her clothes as the cloth scrapes along her skin. Her gloves follow, landing on top of the growing pile of her clothes on the table. Lucy undoes her belt slowly, the metal clanking together, and she bites at her lip harder, the sound echoing through the small space. As she unclips her knife holsters from her thighs and rolls her long socks down her legs Lucy wonders exactly what she's going to do when she meets the King.
A large part of her wants to kill him for everything he's done, for the horrors he and his family have put her kind through over the last century, but there are too many risks. She doesn't know what sort of charms he might have tied to him, or who else might be in that room with them.
She'll have to find something else, one of her potions or a poison from Cobra. Something besides a knife.
"You don't have to do this," Cobra says suddenly, still facing away from her. His foot taps against the ground in a steady rhythm, fast paced and matching her pounding pulse.
Lucy glances at him over her shoulder, fingers pausing as she unwinds a small braid from her hair. She purses her lips, shaking out the rest of her hair in silence, letting his words hang heavy between them for a moment. "No," she agrees, glancing back at the collared dress, "but I'm going to."
He sighs. "I was afraid you'd say that," he grumbles, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.
"Did you really expect me to turn back now?" She lets out a little laugh, unfurling the dress and slipping the pale fabric on over her head. The fabric tickles at her bare skin, and she slips the metal collar around her throat slowly, magic pulsing in her fingertips as she gets it to open, bending it just enough to put it on. The skirt of the dress scraps along the ground, her back left bare and cold.
Cobra snorts. "No, you're too much of a pain in my ass for that."
It's almost pretty, the dress. The color isn't as violent as the bloody reds of Pergrande, and the Minstren cute of the dress is lovely, complementing to most figures. Lucy reaches behind herself, brushing her hair away from the collar at her throat, her fingers finding the long fabric of the dress's skirt where it's attached to the back of the collar, cutting a line down the center of her back.
Lucy smiles slightly. Grabbing the belt from the table, she loops it around her waist careful, cinching it as tightly as she can manage. "You're one to talk," she grumbles back, wetting her lips as she gathers her clothes and shoves them into her bag haphazardly.
Her hands hover over the bag for a moment, her fingers twitching slightly as she stares down at it, something beckoning her to reach into the bag once more. Lucy hesitates briefly, unsure, but allows her fingers to slip back inside, her hand finding something immediately.
She pulls back, a small pouch resting against her palm, and her lips press together, her eyes narrowing slightly. Lucy doesn't question it, trusting the bag to give her what she needs, even if she doesn't understand it. Her finger traces the silver seal sewn into the deep purple fabric for only a moment before she reaches behind herself, tucking the pouch beneath the gold belt at her waist, hiding it.
Lucy turns on her heels, the floor cool against her bare feet. She stares at Cobra's back for a moment, hands smoothing out the creases in the dress as she ignores the heat of the small cloth bag hidden at the base of her spine, tucked away for a reason she doesn't yet understand. "You can turn around," she tells him.
His head turns to the side, his good eye looking at her, though he doesn't turn around. For a long time he just stares, observing her without saying a word, and she waits for him to speak, knowing there's something on his mind. Cobra wets his lips, his hands curling into fists. "If you need me in there, you yell, understand?" he says, so low she almost doesn't hear him.
Slowly, she nods, shifting her weight onto her right hip. "I will." He nods at her sharply, turning back to the door, his fingers curling around the knob as she lifts her bag from the table, holding it loosely between her fingers. "And Cobra?" He stops mid-turn, glancing at her again. "Thank you," she whispers.
He holds her gaze for a long moment, his lips twisted into a small frown. Lucy stares back, trying to force a small smile onto her face, though it falls flat, neither of them reassured by the situation. Slowly, he swallows, his gaze ripping away from hers as he gives her a brief nod.
XXXX
Cobra leads her down the hall with a hand latched around her wrist, making a show of tugging her along behind him, Lucy keeping her eyes to the floor as they pass several soldiers and servants on their way to the King's chamber. It's much busier in this wing than it was in the servants' quarters, eyes following them as Cobra drags her along, Lucy playing her part as best she can.
She isn't entirely sure how to act as a prostitute of Pergrande, and they didn't have the time for him to teach her, assuming he would know anything himself. It's the hard now, getting into the room without being stopped. Guards are posted on every corner, sentries mostly, thin and young, fresh-faced. Newer and hopefully easier to fool.
Cobra squeezes her wrist slightly, gaining her attention, and she peeks up at him through her lashes, careful to keep her expression from shifting. He stares back for a moment, expression stony, his intent clear, a warning for her to keep her mouth shut unless he speaks to her himself.
It's safer that way. Proper, given the circumstances. And Cobra knows Pergrande better than her. He knows what he's doing.
At least she hopes he does.
His grip on her slacks slightly as she quickens her pace, still lagging behind him, though wanting to get things over with faster. They're on a tight schedule. Cobra's source gave them a time and a place, and Lucy knows she won't get another chance to do this, not for some time.
She has to do this now.
Cobra slows as they take a turn, his fingers tightening around her wrist as she glances up slightly, peering through her lashes at the white walls and the bloody red carpet leading towards an ornate door. Lucy squints at the pale door, gold filigree curling around the outer edges, shinning as it catches the light.
Her magic flairs suddenly, and she sucks in an angry breath as she stares at the wood, old magic emanating from the door, Fae magic. It's an Ellyra, a Godstree. Something sacred.
A low hiss escapes from between her teeth, but she catches herself quickly, steeling her expression before anyone around them can notice. Cobra glances down at her, a warning in his eyes as he ducks his chin, speaking directly into her ear. "Don't say a word unless I tell you to," he demands, eyeing the Guards watching them from either side of the door.
Lucy doesn't react, save for a slow nod, not daring to speak as they come within range of the men.
Cobra tugs her forward again, and Lucy keeps her head down, aware of the eyes on her, but not foolish enough to return the looks with one of her own.
The Guards straighten as they come closer, one even reaching for the knife at his belt. She tries not to snort at that, realizing how young both boys are, no older than her, perhaps even younger, and jumpy at that. "Halt," one of them calls out, and Cobra jerks her to a stop, his hand leaving her wrist to curl around her upper arm.
He smiles at the men, tilting his chin so that his hair falls away from his scarred, milky colored eye. The guards sill slightly as he stares at them, the discolored eye unnerving to most. "Excuse me, Gentlemen," he says, sending them a tense smile as he gestures to the door between them. "I have business in this room."
When neither of them move, Cobra sighs heavily, sending them an irritated look as he tugs Lucy forward gently. This time she does look at the guards, meeting the eyes of the one closest to her and batting her lashes at him. He swallows thickly, turning red around the collar as she continues to stare at him.
"What business?" the man croaks out, Lucy fighting back a smile at the breathy sound that leaves him. Faeborne have always been stunning to look at, no matter how diluted the blood, and that's something Lucy's always used to her advantage. Men are far more likely to trust a pretty face.
Cobra wets his lips, shifting her so that she's partially in front of him, her hair curling around her face and the thin, gauzy fabric of her dress clinging to her curves. The men watch her and they don't look closely at the rumbled piece of paper he pulls from his coat, emblazoned with a golden seal in the shape of a rose. "My orders were to bring this lovely little dove to the King," he informs them. "A gift from Angel and the White Rose."
One of the guard's eyes flickers towards the paper at the mention of the brothel, but only briefly. "She yours?" he asks instead, watching Lucy curiously. She blinks back slowly, lips curving into a coy smile.
"She's new," Cobra says, "only been here three days. All the way from the western coast of Sin." He chuckles, sending the men a knowing look. "You know how those girls are."
The older of the pair makes a soft sound of agreement, but the younger one, the one still staring at Lucy, frowns slightly. "You should have thought twice before bringing her here," he tells Cobra, his eyes leaving hers briefly before coming back.
Cobra shrugs, still smiling, though it's growing more brittle by the moment. "We needed the money," he tells them simply, the lie slipping through his teeth with ease. Everyone knows the White Rose is more profitable than other brothels in Ðüskell, the owner Angel taking far better care of her girls than most.
The older guard snorts, shaking his head slowly as his eyes creep over to Lucy, glancing her up and down appraisingly. "I hope it's worth her life," he says, almost earnest, and Cobra stiffens at her side from a second, hardly enough for them to notice, but Lucy feels something in her chest grow tight.
"We can always get more girls," is all he says.
The guards nod, and the three men exchange brief words before the doors are suddenly pushed open, Cobra leading her inside quickly and allowing them to shut tightly behind them.
He walks her into the center of the room and hands her her bag, his lips pressed together tightly as he glances over his shoulder at the door. Outside, the clock tower chimes loudly, visible from the large window looking over the kingdom. Lucy doesn't have a moment to breathe before he yanks her in for a quick hug, squeezing her tightly around the middle before pulling back before she has the sense to hug him back.
Cobra stares down at her, worry clear in his eye, and she opens her mouth, needing to say something, but not knowing what.
He shakes his head, cutting her off before she can begin. "Don't," he snaps at her, gaze hard. "Don't say anything. Just get home, okay? Laxus will have my head if you don't." She lets out a little laugh, but it's hollow and they both know it. Cobra continues without prompting. "You have thirty minutes before they get suspicious, and that's being generous," he warns her. "You better be long gone by then."
He walks away without another word, heading back towards the door, and as he reaches for the knob, Lucy speaks without realizing it. "Thank you," she breathes after him. Cobra stills, but doesn't look at her as he shoves the door open and slips outside, letting the door click shut behind him.
The sound echoes through the room.
And she waits, but not for long.
Lucy places her bag on the nearest table, taking a moment to glance around the room, her eyes lingering on the window, knowing that will be her escape. It's still early, dawn barely breaking over the horizon. She should be able to get down without anyone seeing her, though it might take time that she doesn't have.
Thirty minutes.
Lucy walks over to the window to keep from pacing and presses a hand to the ornate glass, tracing a swirling pattern along the surface before her fingers slide lower, searching for a latch at the bottom. She grins wolfishly when she finds it, relaxing when she allows the window to click and unlock, the window swinging open a hair.
She isn't locked in and that's all she needs to know.
Time passes quickly as she waits, staying near the window, both for a quick escape and also because of the morning light filtering in, shimmering around her and casting shadows on her face. Lucy worries her lip as she waits, lowering herself onto the seat below the window. One hand reaches behind her, feeling for the pouch tucked beneath her belt, a slow breath leaving her when she feels it pressing to her spine.
It takes mere minutes for her to hear a brief exchanging of words from outside the door, low voices unintelligible as they speak in Pern, Lucy too far away to translate. It doesn't take long for her to understand.
The door creaks as it's forced open, a tall figure slipping into the dark room, a figure she doesn't recognize. Lucy straightens immediately, rising from her position on the window seat as the King of Pergrande steps into the room before her, looking nothing like she imagined he would.
He's perhaps forty, no older, young but not a new ruler by any means. She's heard tales of the things he's done and been witness to just as many, though this is the first time she's ever seen his face. It's unremarkable, his hair dark and his eyes gold, seeming to glimmer in the light as he looks at her.
There's something strange about those eyes, but she doesn't dwell on them, her gaze flicking to the gem at his throat, the amulet exactly where she knew it would be. For his part, the King seems enthralled, staring at her unabashedly and tracing the curves of her figure with his eyes. Lucy straightens further, tilting her chin up as his eyes rake over her, unassuming. She takes sick satisfaction in the interest on his face.
"And who are you, Little Dove?" he asks lowly, voice even as he walks into the room, taking slow, calculated steps towards her. Her gaze flicks back to his eyes, ripping away from the amulet around his neck and meeting his eyes. She tenses as she looks at him, The Centari King staring at her like he's some kind of wolf, his gaze peeling back the layers of her skin to see inside. Her skin crawls as he continues to drink her in, stopping halfway across the room.
He has no power over her. Not when he's without his dogs. That's what she needs to believe.
Lucy takes a slow breath, willing her hands not to shake as she takes a step towards him, swinging her hips and looking at his through half-lidded eyes. "No one of consequence," she murmurs back, voice lower than usual, as sensual as she's ever sounded. He continues to stare, frowning slightly, and she takes another step. "Would you like me to leave?" she asks, moving forward until she's only a few steps away from him. He follows her with his eyes, hypnotized by the flow of her magic creeping into the room and taking hold of him.
"No," he mumbles, eyes on her lips before traveling lower, Lucy shivering as he drinks her in. She flashes a smile, her lips curving back over her teeth as she reaches a hand behind her back, tugging the pouch from her belt and lifting it into the light.
His eyes are still on her as she traces the silver symbol with a finger, still smiling as she holds out one hand and pouring the contents of the pouch into her awaiting palm. A pile of, deep purple flower petals gather in her hand, Lucy grinning as she realizes what it is, her bag giving her exactly what she needed.
"What are you doing?" the King asks her, frowning as she crosses the little space between them, a breath away, close enough for him to touch.
Lucy looks up at him, her eyes flashing gold in the morning light, flaring with the power of her magic. "Lio Nanta Shee," she whispers, the Night Jasmine petals in her palm stirring at the spell, before crumbling into dust, a sleeping spell thick coating the powder in silver.
She exhales and the dust blows into his face.
AN: Next chapter will be the beginning of the revised chapters!