AN: Changes made throughout. Edited 3/15/18.

Berserk

Chapter Eight

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

"Where are you from?"

Lucy glances up at him, surprised by the sudden question. Her hands fall still in her lap, ceasing their endless cleaning of her knives. He's been watching her for several minutes now and her hands haven't stopped moving until just now. A nervous tick, he thinks, something to keep her hands busy to distract her. She's restless, ready to run should she need to, that much is clear.

Natsu can understand that. He's been doing the same thing, rolling a smooth stone between his fingers and picking clumps of dirt from the bottom of his boots, anything to keep his mind off the King and his men. Anything to stop himself from going back to the rings and the bloodshed. Those memories always creep back to him, worming into his thoughts without permission.

Natsu stretches suddenly, his spine making a satisfying cracking sound as he twists himself around from where he's lying on the ground. Lucy watches him, gaze following his movements, but she says nothing. He leaves her to her silence, staring up at the stars through the trees above them and wondering how long they'll be able to last without finding trouble.

He's finding it hard to believe nearly a week has passed since he met her. It's surreal, and Natsu's been waiting for himself to wake up. It hasn't happened yet.

If he is dreaming he doesn't want to wake up.

"What?" Lucy finally answers in a whisper, gaining his attention once more.

Natsu turns to her, registering the confusion in her eyes with a small smile. They haven't spoken much, not since that first day. They've been too busy stumbling along since, both too exhausted and tense to make decent conversation. She still doesn't trust him, her gaze sharp whenever she looks at him and she hesitates before answering his questions, never revealing much aside from that first day, when she told him of her Fae heritage.

He isn't foolish enough to think it's because she trusts him with the information, even if she has relaxed some. Everything she's told him is either vague or useless or something he could guess on his own. Hundred year old names mean little to him, and he would have known she was Fae without her telling him. She won't tell him why she was in Pergrande, and though he cares little for the country, it puts him on edge.

She's hiding things, but then so is he. He just doesn't know which of them is better at it.

He meets Lucy's eyes, watching as she sets her knives to the side and shifts to pull her legs close to her chest, arms winding around them slowly. For all purposes, she seems relaxed, calm, but he can see the slight tension in her shoulders, eyes watching for any sudden movements from him.

And he knows she's faster than him.

Her eyes shine gold in the firelight, reflecting a glint of the flames. Natsu watches them flicker for a moment too long before tearing his eyes away, choosing instead to look up at the sky. "Where are you from?" he repeats, tracing the shape of Alturez, the Horned Serpent, with his eyes.

It's nice to see the constellations again after so long.

The fire crackles between them, little wisps of flame dancing through the blackness surrounding them. She swallows loud enough for him to hear, and when he looks at her she has her lower lip trapped between her teeth. Her eyes don't leave his, calculating as she considers what to say.

He doesn't press for an answer, unwilling to make her more uncomfortable than he assumes she must be. The silence stretching between them isn't comfortable, but it's oddly familiar after such a short time.

Lucy sighs through her nose after several minutes. A flicker of pain crosses her eyes, but it's gone before Natsu can be sure it wasn't a trick of the light. Natsu finds his gaze suddenly drawn to the silver bandages coiled around her shoulder.

He didn't ask and he knows she won't tell.

His eyes meets hers again, and her lips twist up into a small, bitter smile. "All Faeborne hail from Enca," she murmurs, voice barely a hum between them. She traces a circle in the dirt beside her, gaze suddenly far away. Natsu doesn't have to tell her that he already knows this.

"Anna," she starts slowly, testing the words, "first came to Pergrande nearly one hundred years ago. She was searching for an adventure." A short bark of a laugh tears from her, her hand clenching into a fist. They both know what happened after that. The Civil War. The slaughter. Lucy continues after a long moment, pulling the gemstone from her jacket. It glints in the light, pulsing with magic, and Natsu shivers as the raw energy from the stone creeps through his bones. "She ran, but not far enough." Lucy shoves it back into her pocket, eyes locking with his. "I was born in Fiore."

Fiore is clear across the Ishgar peninsula from Pergrande, as far as anyone can go and stay on the continent. Yet, it still wasn't far enough. He doubts anywhere is far enough from Pergrande.

Natsu's eyes widen just the slightest at the information, his lips parting in shock. "You were born in Fiore?" he repeats, a sick feeling churning at his stomach. He's been wondering where they're headed, knowing it was far, but not how far. His teeth clench together tightly, a muscle jumping in his jaw as his entire body goes rigid.

After a moment, he squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to think of the years he spent in Fiore. Not wanting to think of the rings and Igneel, the night the Pergrande soldiers came and slaughtered them all.

Lucy notices the sudden stillness that washes over him, Natsu's gaze growing hard, but she says nothing, "In Crocus," she tells him quietly. He wonders why she's telling him this at all, and settles that they aren't going to Crocus at all. She wouldn't be telling him if they were.

Nothing good comes from Crocus. It's where the rich and powerful go to watch men slaughter each other for entertainment. Crocus is a black spot staining Fiore once the lights go out. He's only seen the city in the daylight once, very briefly, but it was magnificent: full of life. The city was the most amazing thing he's ever seen, and it would have continued to stay that way, had he not seen what happens when the shadows come.

Crocus is a breeding ground for monsters of men.

Natsu opens his eyes slowly, head lolling to the side in order to look at her. Lucy holds his gaze, something melancholy in her eyes. For a moment, her fingers twitch and he thinks she's about to reach out for him, but she stills just as suddenly as she had moved, curling in on herself where she sits. Natsu feels himself drawn back to the flickering light in her eyes, the warm amber and honey mixture appearing a brilliant gold in the darkness.

Gold, he thinks, must give him a loose tongue.

"I used to live there, in Crocus," he tells her just as softly. The words stick in his throat, coming out gruff and shaky. "I was born in Alvarez," Natsu explains, seeing her expression twist into one of confusion, "brought to Fiore by traders." Here, she flinches at the sharpness of his words, the growl ripping from his throat. Natsu quiets once more, sending her an apologetic expression. He hadn't meant to scare her.

Silence sweeps across them, Natsu turning back to the stars and Lucy appearing lost in thought a few feet away. He goes back to counting the stars, tracing the constellations with practiced ease. It's been years since he's been able to see them like this, the night so clear that none are masked by the city lights. He hasn't been able to lie like this for many years now, not since before Pergrande and Igneel, before he was sold off and handed to traffickers.

He hears Lucy shift beside him, a cool gust of air coming to ruffle his hair gently, almost a ghostly hand curling through the bright strands. The breeze curls across his jaw, soft and slow, and Natsu wonders just how much she's able to control the zephyrs. He smiles to himself, thin and broken, and the breeze suddenly disappears.

She's silent for a long moment after her magic creeps back to her. "What happened?" she asks him softly, almost nervously. He can't say that he blames her.

Sighing to himself, Natsu rolls onto his side to face her, preparing himself to tell her what little he remembers. It's only fair after what she's told him, even if it is just bits and pieces.

"I was taught to fight in the arenas when I was young," he starts, expression grim. "Maybe nine years old? I don't like to remember." Natsu's lips twist into something bitter, but he softens when he looks at Lucy. "I was only there for a few years, if that. Time was hard to tell in the arenas." He keeps Igneel to himself for the time being, his heart giving a sore ache as he thinks about his foster father. "Eventually the King came and took us away," he finishes simply, his hands beginning to tremble before him. He avoids Lucy's gaze.

She shifts, sliding in a bit closer. "You were sold to Pergrande," she murmurs, breathing the words so only he can hear.

He's shaking his head before she can finish. "Not sold," he corrects, "taken by." A snarl builds in his throat but he swallows it down, his hands beginning to shake wildly as he remembers that night. The scar on his throat throbs with phantom pains, and Natsu can almost feel the blade slicing through his skin once more. He can practically see the way Igneel's chest gave one last shudder before falling eerily still.

She doesn't ask when, and he reasons that she must already know. The night was the first of many bloody nights in Fiore over a short amount of time. Pergrande came for all of them then, hunting until no one was left. He wonders who she must have lost.

Natsu shifts onto his back, eyes immediately finding Djarta, the Silver Crown of the Northern Sky. "Are the rings—" he starts suddenly, cutting himself off just as quickly. Perhaps, it's best if he doesn't know. He's had hope all these years, praying that they may have been shut down after the Red Night, but he knows nothing for fact, only whispers and rumors, all conflicting.

Lucy hesitates only briefly. "Alive? Yes." He can her swallow from where she rests. "People have tried, but—" Lucy sighs, shaking her head. He understands. The rings have become so ingrained in society he doubts they could be so easily shut down.

The Red Night was practically nothing to them. There are always more Berserks to steal from their homes. Always more to watch bleed for their own amusement. Natsu doubts even the King could have them disbanded entirely. There would always be those still lurking in the shadows, hid in the underground. At least if they're legal they can be regulated, even if only a little.

Either way he thinks of it, it's cruelty all the same.

"Tell me about Alvarez," Lucy asks him suddenly, drawing his thoughts back to the present. He glances at her curiously, but she's looking up at the stars, tracing their shapes with her eyes. Stardust sweeps through him, tickling his senses, and he finds himself smiling.

There's a tinge of darkness in the air, nearly hidden beneath the scent of her and the stars above them, but there all the same. His stomach twists at the smell of decay, but he thinks nothing of it, sure that it's only the wound on his chest battling infection. It's been tickling his nose for days now, and he's sure that must be it.

Lucy tried her best with washing it, but there's only so much she could do.

"I don't remember much," he warns her, unsure he could spin the tale he thinks she might be looking for. Pergrande must be the farthest she's ever been from home, he thinks, judging by how nervous she's been, how her little ticks have lessoned some since they've been getting closer to the border. Or, he frowns, she may just be growing more relaxed around him.

Not an easy feat, he's been told. There are very few that he's meet that can grow comfortable in the presence of a Berserk, least of all in only a handful of days. Usually they keep their guard up around him, ready to drive a blade through his chest should he give them the chance. It amazes him that Lucy is comfortable enough to sleep in his presence, sure that he won't hurt her.

She twists back around to face him, a small smile on her lips, something amusement in her eyes. "But you do remember some things," she prods gently, more to keep him talking than to force him to speak. He watches as her eyes grow heavy with sleep, the gold in her eyes growing cloudy, hazy, as the goddess Djerda pulls at her.

Her breathing grows slow as she relaxes, her heartbeat slow but strong. Natsu smiles, deciding to humor her as she drifts off.

"I remember how cold it was," he starts, gazing up at the stars as his own eyes grow heavy, "how beautiful the ice and snow were." His lips twist into a grin as he thinks about the winter, how it would creep through the land like a familiar ghost, suddenly there over night. "My family and I, we lived on the coast, far north." Her breathing grows rhythmic, and Natsu thanks Djerda for letting her rest so soundly. "Everything smelled of salt and the air was so cold it burned in winter." Lucy laughs lightly, amused by the wonder in his words. "In the summer the ice would melt away. There was a valley full of wildflowers that my mother used to love." His smile turns sad, a coldness creeping into his chest. "I've never seen anything like it since."

Lucy hums lowly, and when Natsu glances at her, her eyes are shut, her expression soft. "Sounds nice," she murmurs, a slur to her words as sleep tugs at her mind.

He smiles, warmth curling through his chest as he remembers his homeland. "It was."

"What was your family like?" Lucy asks him, the words barely intelligible as she curls tighter around herself.

Natsu waits until she drifts off to answer her final question. "I don't remember."

They've been making good time. The days passing quickly, though they haven't made it anywhere near far enough from Ðüskell, not yet. They probably never will. It's been making him more anxious than he'd care to admit, a sensation tickling at the back of his thoughts. They aren't moving fast enough, and it's only a matter of time before someone catches up to them. Someone will be coming for them soon, Lucy a thief and Natsu branded as a traitor to the Throne.

At best they'll both be killed for it. Though he doubts either of them will be quite so lucky. Especially not Lucy. Everyone knows what happens to Fae found in Pergrande, and it isn't something Natsu would wish on anyone.

They've been making good time, but it isn't enough.

The swelling in her ankle has gone down considerably, the bruising dimming to a pale purple, green and yellow bleeding from the edges, but it's still slowing her down. And Natsu knows it hurts more than she's letting on. He just doesn't know if she's putting on a brave face to keep him from worrying or to keep him from thinking another fight with her will be easy.

Natsu glances at her as they walk, studying her with a careful eye, curious.

Her throat has gone from near black to something lighter, the bruises paling, though no where close to disappearing. The shape of his fingers have dulled to a sickly yellow, only noticeable if he's looking for them. The bruise still bleeds black in the center, where his palm gripped her throat with the intent to suffocate her. It was still terrible to look at, but at least it no longer looks like his hand.

It's been hours since they woke, the sun now high in the sky behind them. In only just over a week they've managed to make it a ways away from the capital, Duskell settled farther east. The western mountains are just barely visible in the distance now.

It's amazing, really. Despite being injured, she hasn't slowed down at all, only stopping to rest when he suggests it first. He isn't quite sure if that's a sign of a strong will or arrogance, but he admires her strength regardless. Natsu doesn't think he's ever met someone with quite so much fire in them.

If he didn't know better, he would have guessed her to be a fire elemental.

For a moment, he thinks about what little she's told him about the Fae—about her ancestor Anna. He's never heard much about Fae lore, Alvarez is clear across the world from Enca, and Igneel only knew tales from the northlands where he grew up. Natsu is relatively blind to the legends of Fae, only having heard snippets of conversations in Pergrande, mostly the same facts repeated among the guards.

Typically, those facts strayed more towards the otherworldly beauty of the Fae, how they could completely rapture a man with a single look and devour them with ease. Maneaters, he's been told they are, though, he can't be sure which way they devour men. He has no true interest in finding out. His lips press into a thin line as he recalls the few words he'd heard exchanged in front of his cell one morning, only a few months back. One of the guards had told another of his encounter with a Fae, a dark-skinned beauty with eyes so dark he was lost in them. Ethereal, he had called her, lamenting the way she disappeared soon after. Practically a goddess.

He glances sideways at Lucy, deciding that the legend must be true.

"Tell me about the Fae," he asks her, suddenly curious about what she comes from. She glances up at his from his left, her eyes a bit wide as she processes his words, suspicious, but his expression must be honest enough, because she softens slightly.

He bumps his hand against hers, oddly playful, as she manages to keep pace with him.

A pensive expression crossed Lucy's face as she processes his words. Her lips twist into a small, thoughtful frown, her brow pinching together tightly. "I don't really know much," she admits softly, kicking at a stray rock with her good leg. "There are a few things that my Grandfather told me, but nothing that's clear to me."

Natsu shrugs, it's more than he knows, surely. "That's better than nothing," he tells her, tilting his head down to meet her gaze. She rolls her eyes, but there's something almost fond in her expression. Her lips quirk up at the edges and she shakes her head slowly.

"I suppose," she muses a moment later. She says nothing after that, and Natsu begins to think she won't respond at all. "They have the power to grant gifts," she tells him suddenly, glancing up at him for a second. "Or, they did," she murmurs, something bitter in her words, "a hundred years ago. There are no pure Fae left anymore, and gifts are rare things."

Natsu considers this. "Blessed objects," he mumbles back, aware of their existence, though he's never seen one himself. They're rare, from what he's gathered, typically passed through family lines, unseen by outsiders. He can understand why. To his understanding, Fae are picky about those they bless, only choosing those they find truly deserving to grant an object to.

Lucy's head bobs. "And more than that," she tells him, casting a look around the forest surrounding them. The whispering trees have died down, the Fae forest growing all too silent around them. Natsu hopes that's a good thing. He hasn't heard them whisper since the collar was ripped from his throat. Lucy mentioned that they warned her about him, and he can only pray to the Old Gods that they might do so again, at least for her sake. Lucy continues suddenly. "When I was young, my mother told me that Fae can grant one gift to a human."

She says nothing else and Natsu frowns. Despite knowing little of the Fae, he's never heard anything like that before. People make up wild stories about her kind, both benevolent and malicious, but aside from blessed objects he's never heard of them giving gifts. At least, none that are good.

People used to say that the Fae would sneak into people's homes, take their souls, their children. The Fae would steal them away, exchange them for something that wasn't human, exchanging souls for tricks and games people could never win. It was all just some game.

He doesn't know what to believe anymore.

"What kind of gift?" he asks, wetting his lips and avoiding looking at her directly. There's something unnerving about her eyes whenever he asks questions, as if she's peeling back the layers of his skin to see what lies beneath, testing him. He doesn't know what she's looking for, but he doesn't like it.

She shrugs as she keeps pace with him, her eyes on the side of his face, gaze burning him. He ignores it. It was easier to ask questions in the dark, when her eyes were half clouded with the darkness.

The wound on his chest throbs angrily with every step, but doesn't bleed, to which he's grateful. Lucy walks alongside him, still not saying anything as they continue to walk through the woods, not a sound for miles aside from their breathing and the grass shifting beneath their feet. Her long hair tickles at his bicep as a breeze ghosts by them.

"I don't know," she finally tells him. "I never got the chance to ask."

Natsu freezes as her magic picks up around them, the air beginning to swirl almost violently. There's a dark tinge to the words, a sadness in her voice that he can understand all too well. He reaches out slowly, fingers reaching out towards hers.

She jerks away before he can touch her and he tries not to let disappointment swell inside him.

"I just know that it's different from blessed objects," she continues after a moment, watching in silence as Natsu twists around a tree in their path, deftly stepping over broken branches littering the ground. She follows a half step behind, not making a sound as she moves, as if her feet aren't even touching the ground.

Natsu wonders if that's something all Fae can do. They hail from the wilder woods of Enca. The rumors say they're one with the forest, with the trees, born from them. He believes it, too. She didn't manage to outrun him for nearly two days without the help of the forest. It wouldn't be possible.

"How are objects blessed, anyway?" he mumbles back, hand rubbing at his throat as he asks her, almost absentmindedly. He can still feel the phantom weight of the collar around his neck, the dark magic poisoning his veins as well as his mind. The King claims to detest magic, but it's the only way he can control them, the only way he can turn them into puppets.

He doesn't understand how it's possible, how the collars work. He's never known a blessing to work in ways like that.

Lucy blinks up at him slowly. "You're curious about the collars," she states simply, no hint of a question in her words.

Natsu snorts, untangling himself from her. "Aren't you?" he asks, cocking a brow at her.

Lucy hesitates a moment, gaze frosting over as she looks away from him, staring at nothing and everything that isn't him. "Fae can pour just a little of their magic into things they touch," she tells him, shrugging as if it's simple. To her it very well may be, but Natsu can hardly wrap his head around it. "Just enough to give them power. I'm not entirely sure how it's done. I was never taught how," she explains.

Natsu nods slowly, following along easily enough. "And the collars? That seems like more than a little magic," he mumbles bitterly, a growl rumbling in his throat as he glances at the bag slung across Lucy's back. even now, he can feel the dark twinges of magic reaching out for him, an icy hand curling around his heart and squeezing.

"It is." Lucy wets her lips, catching her lower lip between her teeth and biting down gently. "Those collars seem to hold a large quantity of energy," she continues softly, curling her arms around herself as if she too feels the dark magic pulsing behind her.

Lucy continues a moment later, her arms going slack at her sides. "Much more than a small vessel should, anyway." She glances back at him, pausing for a moment until he's beside her. "The Centari line has been stealing magic for years," she tells him, exchanging a glance with him and continuing before he can ask. "It can be siphoned from their hosts, drained, so to speak."

"How is that possible?" he growls, anger blooming in his chest. He swallows it down, taking a deep breath as he wills the beast in his chest to stay dormant, lest he scare her by going into a rage.

She hesitates, glancing up at him once more. "My grandfather told me an old legend." She kicks a rock out of her path, fingers drifting down to play with the hilt of one of her knives. "There was a blade called Moorgra," she tells him, "a sword from the northlands made of diamond and ice. Supposedly it can cleave magic from a living host." She lets out a shaky little breath and Natsu's lips press into a thin line.

"At what cost?"

The look Lucy gives him sends an unpleasant feeling swirling though his chest.

"Their life."

AN: All right, wow, this ended up longer than expected! I would offer another double update next week if this can hit 50 reviews, but Wednesdays seem like a bad day for posting things, and yeah. However! If this can hit 50 reviews, I'll send every reviewer a preview of the next chapter ;)

Also, thanks so much for over 300 follows! You're all amazing!

Glossary of World-building terms:

Djehl: Fire God from the northlands that granted the Berserks their strength/inner fire.

Djerda: Goddess of night and the mother of Djehl.

There were only a few questions asked last chapter. One was the number of chapters for this fic, which will likely be over 50, though I have no certain number in mind. The other was my inspiration for writing this, which I honestly can't remember other than wanting to write about Berserkers because I enjoy Norse mythology.

Have a lovely day and don't forget to review ;)