AN: Here we are! Back with Arc Two! Hurray! Be sure leave a review and tell me your thoughts on the chapters! I love to know what you all think! Enjoy!

EDITED 5/29/18. Edited dialogue to mention Cobra.

Berserk

Arc Two: Chapter Three

{those intrepid heroes; those who wade out into battle}

Three days.

That's how long Natsu's been gone.

Sighing to herself, Lucy reaches through the open window, a cool breeze tickling at her skin as she runs a finger along the edge of one of the old plant boxes decorating their home. Deft fingers avoid a splintered section of wood, tracing a swirled pattern engraved in the white wood. Lucy bites her lower lip, staring out the window absentmindedly, the glow of the moon shining throughout the open room. The silence disturbs her for the first time in years, the house too quiet. She's used to Natsu being beside her, his presence louder than anything she's ever known, but now the quiet seems to slink into the places he occupied for so many weeks.

It should be familiar to her, the quiet, the moment of piece as she finds herself the last one awake in the night. Laxus is an early riser, spending his days working at Makarov's forge outside, crafting weapons for their grandfather to enchant. And Romeo, young as he is, enjoys his hours of sleep, his energy burning out with the sunlight. Makarov is up late into the night, but she rarely sees him, the old man tinkering away at some project of his, hidden away in his workshop or practicing spells in his room.

The darkest part of the night is when she finds herself alone.

It was strange, walking back into the house alone after Natsu ran off. Laxus was the first one to see her when she stepped inside. He didn't say a word as their gazes locked, appearing unconcerned, save for the slight narrowing of his eyes, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he glared at her. His eyes flickered behind her for a moment, watching for Natsu.

The Berserk didn't come in after her, however.

Lucy tried to ignore the cold feeling creeping through her chest and avoided Laxus' heavy gaze, focusing instead on Romeo and Makarov. While her grandfather merely watched as she stepped further into the room, Romeo slipped away from his seat at the table across from Laxus, hurrying over to her and tossing his arms around her in a suffocating hug. The embrace pulled at her stiff shoulder and Romeo's hands prodded a sore spot on her side, but she clung to him regardless, burying her face against his shoulder.

Quivering, Lucy tucked herself into the crook of his neck, Romeo's shaggy hair tickling at her cheek. She stretched up on her toes to loop her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly, and Romeo gripped her back twice as hard. They stood that way for a long moment, Lucy feeling the weight of her family's eyes on her, trying to figure out how much she'd changed since she left, wondering if she was the same Lucy as they remembered.

She couldn't be sure that she was anymore, and that scared her in ways she didn't quite understand. She wanted to be the same as she was, but so much had changed in so many months.

"I missed you," Romeo whispered against her hair, the jewelry hanging from his ear cool against her skin. He didn't have it the last time she saw him, the iron and sapphire new. A traveling market must have come through Magnolia while she was away, traders from Minstrel always come in the fall. She wished she had been here to see it. Lucy could only imagine the look on Romeo's face when he got that. It must have been better than the expression Laxus made when he got his. Romeo had always worn his emotions plain on his face.

Lucy sighed and allowed her eyes to slip shut, sinking into her brother's familiar embrace with ease, content for the first time in weeks. She was home now. After everything that happened, she was finally home. "I missed you, too," she murmured back, voice muffled by his jacket, the fabric soft against her cheek.

Eventually, she pulled back, just enough to really look at him. Her lips parted, a joke on her tongue, but she choked up when she saw him. Her hands shook when she moved them to his cheeks, cupping his face. A watery laugh tore from her chest, tears brimming in her eyes as she looked Romeo over, seeing someone strange yet painfully familiar. "You're taller," she forced out, voice cracking slightly.

Something wet slid down her cheek.

Romeo grinned, blue eyes bright with something fond. He leaned into her touch, raising one hand to the side of her face to brush away her tear, the pad of his thumb rough against her skin. "Your hair is longer," he quipped in response, fingers sliding from her cheekbone to a lock of her hair. He tugged the strands lightly, laughing when she huffed at him.

A moment later, Lucy merely laughed. "So is yours." She reached up to pull at a long strand much like he did to her, Romeo's hair shaggy after the several months she'd been gone. He never had been good at cutting his own hair, and Lucy wouldn't have trusted Laxus or Makarov to do it, the latter half-blind and absent minded and Laxus too rough. He cut her hair once when she was younger, and it had been a mistake she wouldn't make a second time.

She clucked her tongue as she continued looking him over, Romeo the same, yet entirely different from what she remembered. He'd grown up since she left, not nearly as spindly as he used to be. It was subtle, a few inches grown and his shoulders a bit broader, but it was like staring at someone new.

Slowly, she reached out to flick his earring, the sapphire flashing in the light as the gem dangled from his lobe. He yelped at her action, startled, and sent her a mock angry look, lips twitching in amusement. Lucy grinned back at him. "This is new," she noted, poking it again, watching it sway in fascination.

"It reminded me of yours," Romeo told her. She wasn't sure whether it was a joke or not, his expression unreadable. Romeo smiled at her, but there was something cloudy in his gaze, his eyes dark, like the sky before a storm.

Lucy's finger curl around the stem of a silvery flower outside the window, snapping it easily and drawing it inside, away from the wind and the autumn chill creeping through the air. Cradling the delicate flower in her hand, Lucy frowns, tracing a silvery petal with the tip of her finger as she hums to herself, anything to drown out the silence.

She twists the stem between her thumb and forefinger, watching as the soft petals glint in the moonlight. Her eyes follow the flower's movement as she settles back into the bench beneath her, cushions soft against her sore muscles. Lucy never realizes how tired she was until she came home, body aching. It's strange not to be walking several miles every day.

In a way, she's growing restless.

"Moonlace," a voice speaks up from behind her. Lucy head snaps up in surprise, and she turns quickly. Makarov smiles back at her from the doorway, a hand resting on the wall and a familiar twinkle in his eyes. "You bought a single plant at the markets nearly a decade ago," he reminds her gently, stepping further into the room. Lucy grins, turning back to the open window as her grandfather settles onto the opposite end of the bench seat. "Now I can never seem to get rid of the stuff."

It pulls a slight laugh from her, Lucy again tracing the delicate petals. The Moonlace isn't yet in full bloom, not for a few more days until the moon is at its peak. It's a silly little plant, the blossoms only opening near midnight, reflecting the light of the moon on their glossy petals. They only grow naturally in Enca, where the Fae hail from. It's finicky, needing the right touch to grow, but spreads quickly once it adapts.

Lucy was only ten or eleven when she bought a flower from the markets with what little she managed to save, a few copper pieces enough to buy the plant, though Lucy's sure the shopkeeper was selling it for far less than its worth. It nearly died within the first cycle of the moon, Lucy was never particularly good with plants as a child, but her mother nurtured the stalk, teaching Lucy how to care for it. That was one of the last things her mother ever taught her.

They've been growing wild around their home ever since. Magnolia is the only place in all of Fiore to grow Moonlace, the plants abundant, growing in vines up the stone walls of their home and overgrown in the window boxes where they were first planted. They sell them, sometimes, during festivals, Makarov eager to get rid of some of them, always bemoaning the large blossoms swallowing his home.

"Please," she scoffs, twirling the stem between her fingers, watching as it flickers in the moonlight, "you love them." Lucy glances at his out of the corner of her eye, Makarov's expression fond as he looks between her and the flower.

His business in sleep tonics wouldn't be half of what they are without Moonlace. While the plants have no magical properties themselves, the petals are sweet, with Makarov grinding them into dust to mix into his potions, making them easier to go down. Lucy's been taking his tonics since she was young, and as a child the bitter taste was hard to swallow and upsetting to her stomach.

It wasn't until he started adding Moonlace petals that she could take the tonics without becoming sick.

"I do," Makarov agrees, chuckling. He reaches out the window to pluck his own flower, wrinkled fingers stroking the petals lovingly. He brings the bud to his nose, inhaling deeply and allowing the scent to overwhelm him, the scent calming. "They are one of my favorites, but they choke the life from the other plants." His nose wrinkles, eyes narrowing down at the flower. "Vicious little things," he mumbles.

Lucy smiles. "You could cut them back."

He sends her an unimpressed look, raising a brow. "Cutting back Moonlace is bad luck," he chides, waving a finger in her direction. Lucy rolls her eyes, shaking her head at the claim, knowing a fib when she hears one.

"You're making that up," she argues, grinning at her grandfather, who chuckles in response, winking. He always has been quite the storyteller, able to weave extravagant tales from nothing. The stories he told her, both true and of his own creation, are the kind that stay with people.

He doesn't respond to the claim, expression mischievous as he plays with the stem between his fingers. They lapse into silence once again, and Lucy's thoughts begin to drift back to Natsu. She has no idea where he went, disappearing into the trees without a word to her, gone before she could call him back.

Makarov sighs, a long, low rumble that seems all too loud in the quiet of the night. "He will come back, Lucy," Makarov promises gently, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. His fingers curl around her upper arm, giving a gentle squeeze and Lucy peels her gaze away from the tree line, leaning into his touch after a moment.

Her gaze meets his, her own exhaustion reflected in his eyes. "You don't know that." He didn't see the look in Natsu's eyes, the hurt. He looked at her like he didn't trust her, and it felt more like a blow than anything he could have thrown at her. She'll never be able to forget that look.

Natsu stared at her for a long moment after she spoke, eyes wide. He went so still Lucy wasn't sure if he was breathing or not, his gaze locked on hers, searching for a lie. And then he was simply gone, turning his back on her and running off into the trees. He didn't answer her calls, and she didn't bother chasing after him, knowing he didn't want to be found.

And it's been three days and he's still not back. Lucy doesn't know if he will come back.

"I know everything," Makarov jokes, grip tightening on her reassuringly, but his words fall flat. Lucy isn't in the mood for humor, though she appreciates him trying.

She didn't expect coming home to be easy, but she didn't know it would be like this. Laxus hasn't said more than a handful of words to her since she came back, the pair in something of a standoff after their last argument. He greets her in the morning and at night, but does little else. It hurts more than she thought, Lucy so eager to get back to them, but now things have changed. She was expecting the argument from Laxus, but not the cool anger that would linger for days.

Makarov sighs, hand slipping from her shoulder to her back, giving her a gentle pat. He doesn't say another word on the subject, knowing her well enough not to press. "How is Cobra?" he asks instead, making her frown.

They hadn't had time to discuss him in the last few days, Lucy adjusting and dealing with Laxus. When she gave Makarov the snake venom she hadn't asked what it was for, simply handed it over without a word. "He's been having trouble in the capital," she tells him, sighing slightly. "People have been watching him. He said he was handling it."

Makarov snorts. "He's always said that," he huffs back, shaking his head slowly.

"You don't believe him?" Lucy asks, raising a brow. Makarov doesn't respond. Cobra has never been a liar, but he's a snake. He's always been one to bend the truth if he needs to. Lucy fingers the amulet hanging from her throat, allowing the gem to catch against the moonlight, casting a red glare against her skin and drawing Makarov's attention. "He helped me get it back. The amulet. I don't know what happened to him after." She glances over at him. "Gramps, what if..." she can't finish, trailing off.

He meets her eyes for a brief moment before looking away again. "Cobra is a slippery one, Lucy. Don't worry so much about him. He makes his own choices. And that stone isn't something that should be in Centari hands." She frowns in response, but doesn't question him, knowing he's right.

Slowly, his hand drifts back to her arm, a finger tapping against the top of her left shoulder. "The scars are healing nicely," he muses, sounding more curious than accusing, and Lucy goes still, her gaze snapping to him as he regards the four small, silver scars on her arm.

He's right, they have healed nicely, and not just physically.

She won't ever be able to forget what happened that day, but she's long since forgiven it.

Lucy's hand comes up to cover his, linking their hands and pulling his fingers from her arm. She surprised it took him so long to bring them up, Laxus' accusations from days earlier still fresh in her mind. "It wasn't his fault," she tells Makarov, lowering their clasped hands into her lap. She plays with the stalk of Moonlace in the other, a petal floating down to rest on the bench between them, pale as the full moon.

"And whose fault was it?" he asks, barely a whisper in the room. There's something sharp in his words that makes her wince. She knows Makarov's distrust for the Berserks, forged from loss and grief. They've lost many Faeborne to the fangs of the Northmen: her grandmother, her mother, Laxus' mother, Romeo's father, and so many others, some Lucy's long forgotten. Pergrande's reach extends far, Domus Centari sending his dogs thousands of miles to savage Faeborne, ripping them apart, but not before stealing their magic.

They thought they would be safe so far from Pergrande, but the great empire of the east is not so easily deterred. The Faeborne can run all they want, but eventually they'll be found. Murdered in their beds or left strewn across the ground.

For a moment she pictures her mother, and her throat grows tight as she realizes that's what almost became of her.

Whose fault was it? Lucy would never blame Natsu, not for her scars and not for the magic that poisoned her blood. He was never in control of himself, a slave to the twisted magic of Fae long since gone. But some Berserks serve the King on their own volition, relishing in the slaughter. Though can't help but wonder if they were meant for that chaos from the beginning or if they simply became what the world wanted them to be: beasts, monsters.

Perhaps they have no one to blame but themselves and the Rings and the Centari line.

She opens her mouth to reply, pausing when she feels a familiar dark pulsing come from near her feet, one Lucy recognizes all too well. For a moment, she frowns, expecting a shock of pain to come from her arm, but it never does. It's with a sharp breath that Lucy looks down at the bag near her feet, remembering what's hidden inside. She drops the flower in her hand, jerking away from Makarov as she grabs at the magicked sack on the floor.

Ripping it open, Lucy buries her hand inside the bag, feeling around and hoping she'll find what she's looking for. She can't believe she forgot about it, but with everything that's happened since coming home it's been the last thing on her mind, Lucy hardly wanting to remember it.

Her fingers come in contact with something cold and heavy, gold burning beneath her touch. It thrums, pulsing with energy, and she nearly pulls her hand back, aware of what it can do. She hasn't touched it since that first day, loath to come in contact with the wicked thing. Bracing herself, Lucy yanks the hunk of metal from her bag, pulling it into the light for the first time in months.

The golden collar she pulled from Natsu's throat glints in the moonlight, the garnet gem in the center flashing. Makarov inhales sharply, reeling back as he recognizes it, his gaze snapping to hers. His lips part, but he can't seem to find his voice, eyes flicking between her face and the magicked collar held loosely in her hand. She doesn't have to ask if he knows what it is. The collars are known throughout the countries, all of Ishgar knowing that Domus Centari collars his dogs.

"I meant to give this to you before," she tells him, carefully holding it out for him to take. He stares, eyes tracing the heavy shape, gaze lingering on the jewel. "Your theory was right. They are being controlled." Makarov hesitates for a moment, feeling the dark energy surrounding the metal just as well as Lucy can, though the magic feels faint almost dormant. Slowly, he takes the collar from her, tracing the bulky shape with a finger.

"It's laced with a compulsion charm, a very powerful one," she explains. "There's a large amount of magic in it. I—" she cuts off, wincing, but forces herself to continue. "When Natsu attacked me I broke it off him. I could feel the energy coming from it, and I just knew. You taught me well, after all." She tries to smile at her grandfather, but it comes out forced, Lucy shifting in her seat. "Natsu said it sends them into a frenzy. Some uncontrollable bloodlust. It isn't like their normal rage."

Makarov doesn't look away from the stone, entranced. "Twisted magic," he mumbles, sighing as he shakes his head. "It controls them completely?" He glances at her and Lucy nods.

"Natsu told me he doesn't remember anything he does while wearing it," she responds.

Wincing, Makarov sends her a grim nod, expression tired as he grasps the collar tightly in his fist. "We'll talk more about this in the morning." Makarov stands slowly, placing a wrinkled hand on her shoulder and squeezing softly.

She watches him stalk towards the door he came through, pausing at the threshold. "Lucy dear," he says suddenly, turning back to look at her, the gold collar clenched tightly in his fist. The red gem flashes in the moonlight, glinting in a way that feels menacing, and she shivers, blaming it on the night's chill. "Don't worry about Laxus," Makarov tells her, voice soft but carrying through the room easily. "Or your Berserk." Her eyes meet his and Makarov smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges. "They'll come around."

Instead of speaking, Lucy merely nods, a small smile pulling at her lips. Makarov gives her a final nod before turning towards the doorway, but pauses again, glancing at her over his shoulder. Lucy stares curiously wondering what else there could possibly be for him to say.

"Romeo wanted to know if we should up the guest room for your friend," he tells her, raising a sly brow at the word friend that makes Lucy color in embarrassment, "but I told him not to bother." She frowns for a moment, wondering if it's nothing more than a jab, but it hits her a moment later.

"Gramps!" she sputters, aghast, and he slips out of the room, cackling as he leaves her alone, calling back for her to "get some sleep!" before she hears the door to his workshop creek open and close with a click.

She stays by the window for several more minutes, listening to the faint sounds of Makarov tinkering away in his shop before standing with a sigh and stretching, her spine cracking loudly as she moves. She plucks another Moonlace flower from the vine, cradling it in her hand, her free hand rising to finger the gold chain at her throat.

The gem she stole from the King pulses beneath her touch, swirling with magic. She'll have to ask Makarov about that as well, unsure what it does. It holds some magic, not nearly as strong or dark as that in Natsu's old collar, but powerful in it's own right. Blessed with something, if she had to guess, though she doesn't recognize the raw energy the way she did the compulsion charm lacing the collar. This is softer, gentle and warm.

Vaguely, she wonders if it might be a summons, something locked away inside, but she shoves the thought aside, exhaustion weighing heavy on her.

Lucy walks through the house slowly, familiarizing herself with the hallways and rooms, seeing how much has changed since she's been gone. Everything looks the same, nothing out of place, the shelves dusted and polished until the dark wood shines, Romeo's doing, no doubt. She was gone for over four months, but it's like nothing's changed. Lucy isn't sure how to feel about that.

A floorboard squeals as she trudges up the stairs, Lucy forgetting to avoid the creaky step towards the bottom for the third night in a row. The sound is sharp as it echoes through the room, long and loud and she fears she might have woken someone. Lucy shakes her head. The boys both sleep like the dead, nothing able to wake them, especially not this late into the night.

Her bare feet pad down the hall as she slips into her room, already knowing everything is in place, having observed everything the day before. The door shuts behind her with a soft click, and Lucy takes her time crawling into bed. The Moonlace is placed on her side table, left to wilt in the night, but she doesn't care. Lucy slips beneath the blankets, the wool comforting, smelling like home.

She lies there for some time, drifting through a haze but unable to sleep, her thoughts whirring. Eyes closed, Lucy curls into a ball, burrowing into the blankets tossed over her. Her breathing begins to even, Lucy relaxing. She's home, no longer running through forests or staying in unfamiliar rooms in dangerous towns.

Lucy stirs as she hears a soft sound from outside her window, only a few feet from the bed. She doesn't turn to look over her shoulder, eyes remaining closed even as she hears the window slide open. A cool breeze wafts into the room, a muffled bang reaching her as someone hops onto the floor, padding over to the bed quietly.

She knows who it is without having to look.

Natsu shuffles beside the bed, murmuring something under his breath as he fiddles with something. There's a scrapping sound, and then a thud of metal hitting the floor as he removes his armor, placing it against a wall. His clothing is ruffled, louder than normal in the quiet, but Lucy doesn't stir, used to the sounds of him changing at night. During the darkest hours is the only time she's ever seen him without his armor, the burnished gold protecting him in ways she doesn't understand.

He hovers beside the bed, standing stalk still and casting a shadow over her. Her eyes slip open, gaze on the far wall of the room as she waits for him to settle beside her, Natsu hesitating. She wishes she knew what he was thinking, why he's back now after being gone for days.

The bed dips on one side suddenly, a heavy weight dropping beside her. Lucy keeps herself still, not wanting to startle him, and relaxes as the sheets shift around her, Natsu slipping under the blankets behind her. The familiar presence of him soothes Lucy, the tension in her shoulders from the last few days finally dissipating. Natsu's strong arm loops around her, caging her against him as he tugs her flush against his chest, burying his nose against her hair as his legs tangle with hers easily.

His lips press against her shoulder in a sweet kiss, lingering apologetically, and Lucy's hand finds his in the dark, her fingers slipping between his and holding him tightly, an irrational part of her afraid he might disappear again. Breath ghosting across the scars on her arm, Natsu winds around her, wordlessly saying he won't leave.

"I didn't think you'd come back," she murmurs, voice even but not scathing, Lucy having to fight a quiver on her tongue. The body behind her goes still, Natsu flinching, and she lifts their connected hands until her lips graze his knuckles, needing to be sure it's him but also telling him she isn't mad. Natsu's grip tightens on her in return, arm slipping below her, pillowing Lucy's head.

Natsu presses another kiss to her shoulder as Lucy holds his knuckles to her mouth, letting them rest there as his fingers play with hers.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against her ear, nosing at her skin and tugging her closer. "I just needed time."

She nods in understanding. It was hard for her, coming back, and she knows it must have been worse for him, Natsu in an unfamiliar place and Laxus accusing him of things. It couldn't have been easy, and she doesn't blame him for handling it poorly, even if she wishes he hadn't run from her.

Lucy doesn't answer him for some time, her lip caught between her teeth as she's lulled by the rhythmic movement of his breath against the back of her neck. After a moment, she wiggles from his grasp, keeping his hand locked firmly in hers as she shifts, rising into a sitting position. She needs to see his eyes for the conversation to come, something heavy in the air between them.

Natsu's chest heaves with a sigh, but he rises with her, careful to keep their hands entwined.

Their eyes lock as she looks at him over her shoulder, her mouth going dry as she looks at him, tongue thick and sticky. He looks the same as he did when she last saw him, only more tired, dark circles under his eyes making him look older than he is. She wants to ask him here he went and what this all means, but she can't seem to find the right words. Instead, Lucy clears her throat, wetting her lips as she looks back at him. "How did you know this was my room?"

It comes out teasing, playful, and Natsu relaxes behind her, his shoulders not as rigid, and leans forward until his bare chest brushes against her back, warming her through her thin top.

"The window was unlocked," he whispers back to her, shrugging as if it's obvious. Lucy snorts, barely able to smother her laughter, and Natsu's eyes flicker with amusement when she grins. His fingers tug at hers, coaxing a smile from her.

She leans back against his chest. "And if it was Laxus in here?" she asks him, amusement creeping into her tone as she stares up at him, Natsu watching her with fond eyes. None of their windows are kept locked, given the enchantments places around the house. And the inhabitants of Magnolia know better than to break into the homes of Faeborne.

"I suppose I'd be in trouble," he tells her, laughing lightly. He squeezes her hand, playing with her fingers as he glances at the open window, a breeze sweeping through the room and making her shiver, the autumn air cold this late at night. Noticing her sudden chill, Natsu guides her to rest against him, shifting so that his legs are on either side of her as his arm loops around her waist. "How'd you know it was me?" he breathes against her ear.

Lucy sighs, curling into him. Berserks are more physical them most, she's noticed after her time spent with Natsu. Contact seems to be convey more than his words at times, and she isn't entirely sure what to make of that. Lucy will have to ask him about it sometime, because she wants to understand.

"You seem to have a habit of climbing in through windows," she jokes, glancing up at his with a grin. He narrows his eyes at her, but can't hide the quirk of his lips.

"Once" he argues, nose wrinkling. Natsu's expression sobers suddenly. "I didn't think they'd let me in," he mumbles, the words almost lost to her.

Lucy can't help but wonder if he means Peg, the innkeeper in Jorah, or her family, but she doesn't have the heart to ask, unsure if she'd like the answer.

They sit there for a long moment, Lucy cradled to his chest and Natsu wound around her tight with no intentions of letting go. Eventually, Lucy sighs, a question on the tip of her tongue as she gently removes his arms from her waist. Natsu goes still behind her, tensing, but she doesn't go far, leaving him just enough to turn around, facing him directly. Slowly, she reaches out for him, fingertips brushing against his cheek before he takes her hand in his. "Where did you go?" she asks him, barely a whisper.

Natsu hears her, eyes squeezing shut as he sighs. "I had to think." His throat bobs with a harsh swallow, Natsu looking away from her. His green eyes flash catlike in the dark as they meet hers again. Lucy doesn't breath a word, waiting for him to continue on his own. "About this." He glances around the room, jaw clenching tight and Lucy understands. It's all too much sometimes. "You" he continues, fingers squeezing around hers. "Pergrande." He spits the name, sneering, and the hand not laced with hers so tightly his knuckles turn white from the pressure. "I won't be used like that again." Natsu's voice is firm as he says it, gaze sharp, and in the darkness he suddenly looks dangerous, ruthless.

Her stomach twists at the implication, Lucy only knowing bits and pieces of what he went through. It could be far worse than she ever imagined. "Natsu…" she murmurs, trailing off when she can't find the right words.

She would never do that to him.

Natsu sends her a soft look that tells her it's okay, that he knows.

"You wouldn't have to," he tells her suddenly, expression serious as he tugs her forward, beckoning her closer. Lucy comes willingly, confusion sweeping through her as she's brought close to his chest, kneeling between his splayed legs. There breathes mingle, Natsu's hand coming up to rest on her hip. "Before," he continues, noting her bewilderment, "you said you wouldn't ask me to fight," Natsu reminds her. Lucy nods in response, recalling what she said in the forest. "You wouldn't have to." He wets his lips, brushing the hair from her eyes with a gentle hand. "If it meant keeping you safe, I'd…"

Natsu doesn't finish, but, she understands. "I know," Lucy whispers, catching his hand and keeping it pressed to her cheek. "You've told me." She coaxes a smile from him, the hardness leaving his features as he looks at her. "And you know I would do the same for you."

His gaze drifts down to her arm, and his fingers slip down to the faded rune painted on her sin, the mark nearly gone, only a thin skeleton of blue remaining. "Only the Berserks wear these marks, Lucy," he tells her, swallowing, something fierce in his gaze. And Lucy understands this time, to bear the mark—his mark—is something special, something that makes a warmth flood through her.

"I know," she breathes back to him.

AN: Almost caught up. I'm not making edits on Arc Two unless noted at the top of the chapter. There's really not much I feel the need to change, aside from a few lines and character mentions. A completely new chapter will either be out this Saturday (June 2) or the next Saturday, as I'm restructuring the arc and trying to remember exactly what I was trying to do with it.