AN: Minor changes made throughout 3/3/18

Berserk

Chapter Four

{i'll ask of the Berserks, you tasters of blood}

The walls are bone white, shadows flickering across them from the torch lights burning low. Water drips from the ceiling, colliding with the stone path with wet tinkling sounds—like ice shattering against the rocks. They keep the halls nearly as cold as the cells down below, the temperatures just low enough to cause a light frost to settle over the stone walls, but not enough to freeze the drips entirely.

Castle Einyar has been called many things: an ice fortress, a labyrinth, a castle build from blood and bones. And it's all of these things, the palace rebuild after the Pergrande Civil War. When the Centari family stole the throne, they had it torn down, piece by piece. A new era, they called it. A new beginning, and a bloody one.

They tell ghost stories about this place, people swearing that they can still hear the voices of the previous royal family and the screams of the slaughtered Fae under the Centari regime. At times Natsu thinks he can hear them too, the faintest of cries from the dungeons, so soft he can hardly tell if they're real or not. The soldiers tell the stories often, passing them back and forth in the dead of the night, alone beneath the castle with no one but the Berserks to hear them.

Natsu keeps his head down as the guards lead him down the hall, one on either side of him, hands already twitching for their knives as their nerves spike. He can practically smell their fear in the air—something acidic and foul, like vomit. His green eyes squint shut and Natsu sucks in an angry breath between his teeth, gulping heavily for air as the stench becomes too much. He can taste the decay on his tongue, rotten flesh and spoiled lemons, and it makes him gag. Swallowing down a grimace, Natsu locks his jaw, lips curving back in a barely there snarl.

The guards don't appear to notice his discomfort. Or rather, they simply don't care, not that he would expect them to. Natsu knows that they don't give a damn what happens to him or any of his brethren. They would probably relish the loss of one Berserk. One less monster in their midst. The soldiers of Pergrande have made several great rebellions in answer to the Berserks being added to their ranks, though none have ended well. Not for Pergrande's soldiers and not for the Berserks they fought.

The day Natsu was brought to Pergrande there was an armed protest at the city gates. Armed guards refused to let them through, calling them vile names, jeering and screaming. They murdered a Berserk that day. Natsu remembers his name was Kale. He was fourteen at the time and had made it his job to protect the younger ones stolen by the King.

The guards ripped him into six pieces and left him to the crows.

His Majesty granted them the same punishment as soon as he found them.

There was so much blood that day. So much blood and death and war. Even now, he can still smell it when he walks passed—can taste the metal on his tongue and hear their screams echoing through his head every time he closes his eyes. Natsu can't imagine it, having his limbs torn from his body and strewn so carelessly across the earth. To have his head severed and placed on a pike to rot and be eaten by the birds. What they did to Kale was a monstrous thing—to rip a fourteen year old boy to pieces is only something a monster could do.

It always makes him wonder who the real monsters are.

Yet the soldiers still blamed the Berserks for the deaths, as if the half-starved and weary children were the cause of the fight. If anything, they brought that on themselves, though what their king dealt them was in no way justice.

The soldiers can call the Berserks monsters all they wish, but that doesn't change the fact that they serve a beast far worse than anything Natsu could ever become.

Natsu glances sideways at the soldiers, their backs stiff and rod straight. They're on edge, ready for anything, though their form is weak. Natsu is faster than both of them, he could have both of their necks snapped before they could think to cry out, let alone draw their weapons. It would be easy to overpower them—kill them, but he won't.

He won't become the monster they want him to be, not while he's still in control of himself. He promised himself a long time ago that he would never kill unless it was to protect someone else. Igneel taught him that. It was the rune his adopted father once used in battle and it is the rune Natsu now uses himself.

ᛉ

Algiz. Protection from enemies. Defense of that which one loves. That is what Natsu holds most dear to his heart. Every Berserk chooses a rune to honor for battle, paints it across their chest in blues and golds. Some choose success, others strength or wealth, some destruction and chaos. Obliteration. Igneel chose to honor those he loved, vowing to protect them until his last breath—and he did. He always did. At least Natsu can say Igneel died doing what he thought was right.

Now, Natsu will do the same. Protect. For as long as his heart is still beating he'll protect those he cares about. Though, everyone he's ever cared about is already dead or imprisoned in this frozen hell. He doesn't even know if most of them are still alive. They were so young when they were brought here, he can hardly remember any of the boys he was brought here with. Only Kale, and that's because the name was branded into his mind—the last words of a dead boy.

They asked Kale for his name before they killed him. After that it was only screams and shrieks. Kale didn't plead when they murdered him. He didn't cry or beg for his mother. Natsu thinks he would have. Not for his mother, but maybe for Igneel. He would have begged for help. Kale just accepted it, looked death in the eyes and accepted it.

Natsu remembers his rune being Uruz. Strength of will. Fitting, if nothing else. Kale lived up to it. There is no true Berserk code, no rules or restrictions to what they do or don't do. None but the ones they set for themselves.

To live and die by the runes, that's what Igneel called it. To honor them until the last breath, to follow it into death and what comes after.

It's poetic, in a way, though Natsu never has put much stock in poetry or flowery words. He always has preferred violence, loving the way the Berserk rage floods through his veins, his heart beating out of control until it's the only thing he can hear or feel. And maybe there's something poetic in that, but he digresses.

As they leave the Berserk hall the guards' fear begins to ebb away, disappearing like smoke. Natsu releases a shaky breath as the putrid stench clears, his shoulders going lax as he continues to walk between the two men. The snarls of several younger Berserks echo behind him, even after the iron doors are swung shut, but Natsu pays them no heed, knowing better than to run to their defense or try to break them out.

He wouldn't make it far. Not with the chains on his wrists.

But maybe when he heads back…

"So what do you think he wants?" Natsu's head snaps to the left, towards the younger of the two guards at his sides. Bright blue eyes, half hidden behind unruly russet hair, lock with his, wide and curious, a hint of a smile on the man's lips. The younger one, Natsu notes with mild curiosity, who had joined the first in the hallway after Natsu had reluctantly risen to his feet. Quirking a brow, Natsu gives the soldier a once over, brow furring when he takes in the boyish grin tugging at his lips. He's no older than Natsu is, perhaps even younger, judging by the impish twinkle in his eyes and the honest kindness on his face.

Natsu stares back, lips parted ever so slightly, wonder coursing through his veins.

The older guard isn't nearly as amused. "Shut up, Liam," he grunts, something like exasperation in his eyes. He shoots the younger soldier a tired, disapproving look, as if they've played this game many times before.

Judging by the way Liam's smile widens into something toothy, Natsu suspects that they have.

Liam clucks his tongue, leaning towards Natsu and peering around him to send the other man a wicked grin. Natsu flinches as the boy's armor brushes against his bare arm, but otherwise doesn't react to the close proximity. "Oh, come on, Seliz!" Liam snorts, eyes rolling dramatically as he mock frowns at the other guard. "You can't tell me you aren't curious?" Liam grins again, eyes going bright.

Seliz only sighs, clearly familiar with Liam's curiosity, though not amused by it. "Of course I am," he admits, voice dipping into a whisper, as if someone else may be listening. Natsu thinks that there very well may be. His Majesty has eyes and ears everywhere inside this city. Always watching and waiting. "But I don't stick my nose where it doesn't belong!"

There's a beat of silence as Liam pulls a face at the stoic guard, a silly expression tugging at his lips as he crosses his eyes. Natsu drops his gaze back to the floor, hiding a small grin as Seliz snarls at the boy, growling something in a foreign tongue that Natsu doesn't understand, though he thinks it might be Joyan. Given the context, he doubts it was friendly, however, Liam merely laughs, clearly amused with his friend's reaction.

"So what do you think he wants?" Liam asks again, bumping Natsu's shoulder with his own this time. Natsu flinches, reeling backwards as the freezing metal of Liam's armor burns against his skin. Liam appears not to notice, going so far as to lean in closer, his face hovering mere inches from Natsu's, lips twisted into a frown and his brow pinched in frustration. To Natsu's other side, Seliz sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, a stream of panicked and garbled words spilling from his lips as he notices Liam's close proximity to Natsu's face. "Well? What do you think the King wants with you?"

Natsu blinks down at the boy in surprise, but says nothing as Seliz barks at Liam to get back, even going to far as to reach around the Berserk to shove the other guard a step back. The pair bicker for a moment, but Natsu doesn't pay them any mind.

What do you think he wants?

Nothing good. The King only summons a Berserk when he wants someone dead—or worse. Nothing good ever comes of the Berserks being summoned. Perhaps that's why the soldiers fear them so much. The King's wrath is enacted through them, after all.

"Blood."

Seliz and Liam both pause in their argument, the former going rigid as Natsu speaks up once more. Liam, however, only peers up at him curiously, blue eyes going wide as he hears Natsu's voice for the first time. He blinks, owlish and appearing much younger than Natsu had originally taken him for. Looking at him now, he thinks the boy may only be sixteen, perhaps a year or two older.

A child soldier of Pergrande.

"What?" Liam murmurs, voice crackling as he speaks. His steps falter just the slightest, though he catches himself before he can fall. Eyes narrowing just the slightest, Liam looks him right in the eyes, no fear gleaming in his eyes as he meets Natsu's gaze almost challengingly, demanding that he repeat himself.

Natsu just snorts, lips curving back as he glares down at the younger male. "Blood," he repeats, slower this time, gaze calculating as he surveys the young guard. Too cocky. Too green in battle. Too friendly with beasts.

"Blood?"

Natsu nods stiffly, little more than a sharp jerk of his head. He tears his gaze from Liam's, staring forward at the large doors just ahead, the king waiting just inside. Natsu's teeth grind together harshly, his jaw locking as he sees the intricate golden pattern scrawled across the doors, tracing it with his eyes. "Isn't that what he always wants?"

Liam shifts in place, shoulders drooping as his gaze drops to the floor. For a moment, he says nothing, merely stares down at his feet in silence, choosing his words carefully. "I wouldn't know," he admits softly, russet hair falling into his face and shielding his eyes.

Natsu peers down at Liam for half a beat, then glances to his other side to blink at Seliz, who seems preoccupied with the doors ahead of them. Natsu sighs, shaking his head slowly before coming to a stop in front of the doors.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't."

He doesn't look back at either soldier as the doors are wrenched open, metal gears grinding together harshly as they're forced to move. At his sides, Seliz and Liam shift uncomfortably, the stench of their fear coming back two-fold. Natsu snorts, contempt creeping through his veins.

The King's own men fear him more than they feared the monsters locked away in their cages.

That certainly says much about His Majesty. The Centari Kings rule by fear, and one day that will come back to bite them.

Natsu allows himself to be lead forward, his gaze never once leaving the King. The previous king had grown frail in his old age and sitting hunched upon his golden throne. Looking weak and weary the last time Natsu saw him, before his death. The new king, his son, looks no better now, though less gray at the root and with no wrinkles around his eyes. Younger, but not nearly as put together.

Kazamir Centari's crown is crooked, Natsu notes with interest, offset by just an inch, looking ready to topple from his head and clatter to the floor. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his expression pinched and enraged. He looks murderous, but something like shame rolls from him in waves, his heartbeat loud in the silent hall.

The jewel that typically rests against his throat is missing; the Centari crest curiously absent. Natsu has never known either of the Kings to take it off, wearing the crest proudly, greedily. The red gem is rumored to be magicked, instilled with a blessing from the faeborne, though the King has never been able to summon the magic himself, at least, not to Natsu's knowledge. Only those descendent of the Fae can wield their power in such ways. Though, that hasn't stopped the Centari line from garnering their power in other ways.

They hunted the Fae nearly to extinction, but not before forcing them to bless certain objects. One last insult to them.

Natsu's gaze snaps from the absent gem to the golden eyes of Kazamir Centari, which grow stormy once they connect with Natsu's. The King's lips twist into a savage smile when he sees Natsu, and his own mouth curves into a snarl, teeth bared at the false king. All Natsu can see in that smile is the glint of iron as a blade slashed against his throat— marring his flesh and branding him as a dog of war for Pergrande—and the horrible, dead look in Igneel's eyes as he hit the ground. No last words. No goodbyes. Igneel died trying to protect him, though Natsu was in no real danger in that moment.

Igneel died for nothing that night.

A lot of Berserks died for nothing that night. Even still, they die for nothing. Kale was murdered for nothing. Annari, died to protect a crown that would never protect him. Countless Berserks have been slaughtered in the name of a tyrant king that sees them as nothing more than weapons to use in his war.

Kazamir Centari is a murderer and a monster, much like the rest of his family. Nothing will ever change that.

Natsu is forced to stand before the throne, the chains around his wrists and ankles clanking loudly as he shuffles forward. The armor around his hips grows hot, burning at his skin once more, though for entirely different reasons. Seliz and Liam both kneel in respect for their King, their heads dipped so low Natsu wonders if they might scrape the floor. There's a beat of silence as they wait for him to do the same, but Natsu stands defiantly, chin raised to meet the King's gaze directly, expression lazy.

Kazamir's lips twist into a snarl at the insubordination, but he otherwise doesn't react. The two soldiers standing at either side of the King both shift in place, exchanging a nervous look above his head. A tense silence grows in the room, though no one dares to utter a word, recognizing the play for power between the Berserk and the King.

Kazamir Centari cocks his head to the right, a brow raising curiously as he glowers down at Natsu, waiting for him to make the first move, daring him to speak.

Natsu thinks he ought to keep his mouth shut, but he never has been one to follow the rules. "What do you want?" he asks the King, lips pressing into a thin line. He snarls up at Kazamir, the guards still kneeling on the floor scrambling back to their feet as his growl crackles through the air. The soldiers at the King's side both reach for their weapons, ready to defend their king should Natsu step out of line.

Kazamir merely smiles, a wide toothy grin that reminds Natsu of blood and iron and the smell of rotting flesh. "I have a job for you," he replies simply, gold eyes glinting dangerously. The rings upon his fingers catch the light, casting rays of color against the monarch's cheek and chin. Reds and yellows, like fire dancing against his skin.

Natsu scoffs. "No shit," he snarls, huffing a laugh. Seliz told him as much when he was retrieved from his cell. The King doesn't call upon his beasts for just any reason—only for missions or the occasional meeting with other royals. They're either errand boys or a scare tactic, meant to force the rulers of other countries to comply with Pergrande's demands or face the consequences.

Natsu has never been privy to one of these meetings, though he's heard many stories. The King prefers older Berserks for diplomacy meetings—ones with more scars from the rings. Those who are already weary from war and more likely to comply.

The King ignores him, acting as if he hadn't spoken at all. He waves a hand dismissively, and the doors behind Natsu slam shut, two soldiers coming to stand before the door. At Natsu's side, Liam flinches at the sound, rising to his feet slowly. The King follows the boy with his eyes, lips curling into a satisfied smirk as the boy avoids his gaze.

Natsu hears the guards at the door come closer, gliding across the floor until they're no more than a breath behind him. His head twists to the right just the slightest, just enough so that he can see the glint of their armor out of the corner of his eyes. His gaze snaps back to the throne a moment later, his jaw clenching as he waits for the monarch to speak.

"A retrieval mission," Kazamir continues, acting as if Natsu hadn't made a sound. A sneer pulls at the King's lips, his hand rising to his chest to finger the empty space when his necklace should be resting. Natsu raises a brow curiously, but says nothing. Kazamir's hand drops back to his side, fingers curling around the arms of his throne so tightly that his knuckles turn a stark white in color. "A thief broke into my room early in the morning," he snarls, "and stole my crest. I want it back from her." His gaze bores into Natsu's, golden eyes burning with hatred.

Her. Natsu's eyes widen just the slightest at the revelation. It is a very rare occurrence that any man would dare to steal from a Centari, much less a woman. Certainly not for lack of want, but Natsu wouldn't know any women in Pergrande with the means to steal from the King, least of all without being caught. Natsu has never known any of the Centari family to be caught unaware. Each member of the royal family typically has at least ten guards stationed around his room at all times, from what Natsu has heard. There should have been no way one girl could have managed to slip past them all.

Natsu cocks a brow, head tilting to one side curiously as he glances between King Kazamir and the armed guards on either side of him. "And how did one girl manage to sneak into your room in the early morning?" he wonders aloud, green eyes glinting menacingly. "Did you, perhaps, allow her in?" The reigning Centari colors at the implication, though he neither confirms nor denies the insinuation. The guards in the room shuffle nervously, and from the corner of his eye, Natsu sees Liam flush in embarrassment.

Natsu chuckles, shoulders shaking in amusement as he appears to guess correctly. He's not sure which faired poorer. The King and his wounded pride and loss of a family heirloom, or the woman and whatever she had to do to get it.

Kazamir is less amused, his gaze filling with hatred as he glares down at Natsu. "Ask her yourself once you find her," he replies coolly, something icy in his tone. His eyes burn against Natsu's, but the Berserk meets him head on, gaze still sparkling with delight at the King's misfortune.

This time when he laughs it comes from somewhere deep in his chest. "Get one of your other soldiers to do it," he snarls at the King, attempting to swallow down his laughter. He barely manages to do so, but can't be bothered to wipe the savage smile from his lips. "I'm not your dog," he reminds the King with a growl, the rumble tearing his chest—low and warning—daring the King to demand anything of him.

Natsu decided long ago that he was done following the Pergrande King's orders. The only reason he let the guards drag him to the throne room was so that he could the pleasure of watching Kazamir Centari's face twist in rage as he said the words.

And twist in rage it does. The King rises his chin high, eyes flashing dangerously as he peers down his nose at the Berserk. "You serve me," he reminds Natsu coldly, spitting the words at him with a nearly unhampered fury. His guards go rigid, hands going to their weapons in warning.

Natsu merely laughs. "I don't serve a false king!"

The room goes silent as the words drip from his tongue. Barbed and poison laced; low and challenging. Natsu gains some satisfaction in the surprise in Kazamir's eyes—the rage boiling just beneath the surface—as well as the taken-aback expression on the face of every guard in the room.

Natsu's words hang heavy in the air.

Suddenly, the King rises to his feet in a rush. "Enough!" he snarls, his voice echoing throughout the room. Liam flinches once more, as does Seliz, both men taking a step back as the king storms down the steps leading up to his throne of gold. He stops mere feet from Natsu, who dares him to come closer with a threatening smile. "You will do as I say," he orders. The guards in the room draw their weapons, sharp iron aimed for Natsu's chest. "You know what will happen if you don't."

"Why should I care if you beat me?" Natsu asks him sarcastically, forcing himself a step closer even as the tip of a spear is forced against his chest, leaving a shallow, bloody cut across his ribs. "Or cut off my hand? You've taken everything else from me already," Natsu reminds the King darkly, a snarl rumbling deep in his chest.

The King gives him a once over, head cocking to one side in thought. "Not everything," he notes casually.

This time, Natsu throws his head back and laughs. "You want my life?" he growls, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "Take it! I don't need it anymore," he snaps, spitting at the king's feet, "least of all if it's going to be spent serving you. Your Majesty," he tacks on mockingly, green eyes glinting with a mix of humor and uncontrollable rage.

"Perhaps, I should take your tongue," Kaamir muses, eyeing Natsu's mouth with interest.

Natsu snarls back, lips curving over his teeth as he bares them at the crown. His lips twist up in a smile, revealing sharp teeth that glint in the light. "Put your hand by my mouth," Natsu challenges, chuckling lowly, "see what happens." Kazamir takes a step back as the threat, and Natsu snickers, uncaring of the knife now pressed against his throat.

The King clenches his jaw, fists trembling with fury. "Your mission—"

"I'm not taking it," Natsu snarls back, voice booming through the empty room. The guards nearest to him recoil in shock, even Liam with his curious eyes and wild hair and Seliz, who appeared so unafraid earlier. For a moment, shame tugs at Natsu's gut—he doesn't want these men to fear him—but is dissipates just as suddenly as it appeared. These are also the men who imprisoned him for nearly fifteen years. A decade of his life was spent locked away in a frozen cell, listening to the screams of those who shared his heritage as they were slaughtered and maimed. All in the name of Kazamir Centari.

Natsu owes these men nothing.

"You will," Kazamir tells him calmly, sending Natsu a small smile that practically drips with venom, "because if you don't, you know what will happen. Though, I'm sure you'd much prefer being sold back to the rings." It's a threat, and a very clear one at that, but Natsu knows that it's also a bluff.

He snickers. "You wouldn't give up one of your guard dogs," he scoffs. If Kazamir was so willing to just trade them away, he wouldn't have made such a fuss over Kale's murder, let alone promise a fate worse than death to any man that lays a hand upon his Berserks. No one would commit murder for something they would so readily give away.

Kazamir just smiles and leans in closer. "Try me," he whispers, gold eyes flashing in mirth as the challenge snakes from his lips. "You leave now," he demands, back straightening as he rises to his full height, shorter than Natsu by only a hair. "Don't come back until you've found her and retrieved what I asked of you." Natsu sneers at him, digging his heels into the floor as a pair of guards grasp him by either arm, jerking him roughly backwards and towards the doors. "Oh, and berserker?" Kazamir calls over his shoulder, heading back to his throne. "Kill the girl."

"No," Natsu growls, a rumble growing in his chest.

Kazamir merely laughs. "Disobedient thing, aren't you?" he muses, something like amusement flickering in his eyes. "I wasn't asking."

Natsu strains forward, jerking half-way out of the guards' grasp. When he smiles it's all teeth and venom. "Why don't you get closer and find out?" he threatens.

Kazamir smiles. "Collar him."

Natsu's eyes go wide, but before he can do more than take a half-step backwards, he's already being forced to his knees, his joints still too stiff for him to move as quickly as he usually could. The guards hold him in place by the arms, another pressing a knife against his throat to keep him from thrashing. A forth steps in front of him, brandishing a golden collar with a ruby the size of a small fist glinting in the center. Natsu jerks away from the gem, flinching in terror even as the knife nicks his skin.

He doesn't plead or beg, not even as the gold is forced around his throat, the metal burning against his skin. A sudden force probes at his consciousness, at first little more than a sting at his temple. The pain beneath his skull turns to a burning throb that threatens to tear his mind apart completely. Tears burn at the corner of his eyes, but he doesn't let them spill over. He bites his tongue harshly, attempting to ignore the intense feeling.

When Natsu screams, it echoes through the room.

Kazamir watches the display in amusement, smiling when his Berserker is dragged back to his feet, eyes dark and expression blank, a trail of blood dripping from his nose.

AN: I'm rewriting this because 1) I want to and 2) because I've changed plot points and thus needed to fix things that came early in the story. I don't care that I was over forty chapters into this, I wanted to rewrite it. That is all.