AN: Here we are! Back with Arc Two! Hurray! Be sure to leave a review and tell me your thoughts on the chapters! I love to know what you all think! Enjoy!
Berserk
Arc Two: Chapter Eight
{those intrepid heroes; those who wade out into battle}
The quite of the woods surrounds him slowly, the loud voices from the glade fading into nothingness the farther he slips into the forest. It's a welcome silence, for once in his life. Natsu has known too much silence in his life, the quiet so loud it leaves his ears ringing, a hollowness in his chest. That's how he always felt back in his cell in Pergrande, alone and afraid back when he was much younger. He hated the silence then, perhaps even more than he hated sound. All there was to hear back in those cages where the screams and snarls of his Brothers, the rattling of chains and fists bashing against iron doors. But it was the quiet that scared him. In those moments of silence he could feel the fighting spirit bleed from the veins of his kin, those not broken by the rings finally crumbling into pieces.
Being in Magnolia is something of a welcome change. While Laxus doesn't like him, Natsu would take his snide comments over silence, and Romeo has been more curious than anything else, asking questions and prodding at his past, albeit nervously. He doesn't seem to know what to do about the Berserk sharing his sister's room, confused, but not unkind. Makarov and Lucy have been good company, their chatter near constant, though not in an unpleasant way.
The party was too much though, too loud with too many faces staring at him: watching, waiting for him to do something. He kept to the shadows of the trees, but he could feel eyes on him constantly. Curious eyes. Unfriendly eyes. Too many eyes. It left his skin crawling, an uncomfortable feeling twisting in his stomach, and when Lucy left to speak with her brother he couldn't handle it anymore. He had to go, had to find someplace he simply breathe for a moment, relax and get away from the stares following him.
They were suffocating, like a heavy weight was pressing down on his chest. With Lucy gone he wasn't sure where to stay, and he could see in her eyes that she was worried for him, afraid he was overwhelmed. Natsu doesn't blame her for worrying. Truthfully, he could hardly breathe anymore when he walked away from her, his heart pounding beneath his ribs so loudly it began to drown out the sounds of laughter from the glade.
Natsu was afraid that if he didn't leave he could snap. The laughter and shouting reminded him too much of things he'd like to forget, wishing they would stay buried in the back of his mind, but he never has been able to forget them for long. His time in the Domus Flau Arena were too integral to his childhood, their impact on his life greater than most other things.
When he was younger, Natsu used to wonder what his life would have been if his mother never sold him to the slavers of Bosco. He would have lived in Alvarez, grown up in the Northlands with its great ice sheets and the roaring winters that never seemed to end, each night colder than the last. He would have had a family, names to match the vague faces in his memories. He never would have meet Igneel or Lucy, and for that he doubts he would change things even if he could.
Even if he hadn't been sold as a child, a part of him believes he would have ended up in Pergrande regardless. The King's Berserks came from everywhere, the north, the south, some scattered throughout the Ishgar Peninsula. If he couldn't find them in Pergrande, he would have come for them in the north. Natsu isn't so much a fool to believe he never would have ended up in Fiore or Pergrande.
He supposes he should be thankful he's still alive.
A branch snaps behind him, so quiet he almost doesn't hear it, nothing more than the slight splintering of a twig. Natsu stiffens regardless, hands clenching at his sides as he halts, head tilting towards the sound only the slightest. He sees movement out of the corner of his eyes, a flicker of shadows, and a low warning growl tears from his throat before he can stop it.
The shadow falls still, tall and lanky, and Natsu realizes who it is even before he turns around. Not many people can creep up behind him, but Jellal has done it twice now, and Natsu knows it's only because Jellal let him hear the branch snap. His hearing is better than most, and while he'd like to blame his surprise on the loud voices from the glade, he knows it was his own absent mind distracting him.
He guesses the ranger has been following him for a while now, perhaps since he left the clearing. Natsu hasn't seen the man all night, though he hasn't been looking either. It wouldn't have been hard for Jellal to follow him into the woods, the ranger likely slipped away without anyone else noticing.
Natsu turns around fully, gaze cool as it locks on the ranger, Jellal still and silent in the forest, blending into the trees near perfectly. He seems to become the shadows, moving with the flickering light so well that Natsu can hardly see him, the movement of his cowl near invisible in the night. It would be easy to miss, if he weren't looking for it.
Jellal stares back at him, face hidden by the shadow of his cowl, his expression unreadable. Natsu shifts under the silent man's gaze, uncomfortable with his staring, and Jellal slowly reaches upwards, pushing down his hood to meet Natsu's eyes, his dark hair messy and his eyes hidden by a shadow, revealing nothing. Slowly, he crosses his arms, the leather bracers on his arms present even now, as if he's anticipating a fight.
Natsu flexes his fingers, joints popping as he moves, tensing expectantly. Jellal only stares back at him, unmoving, though a lingering threat hangs in the air between them.
"Jellal," he greets lowly, clearing his throat when the other man blinks back at him, a slight frown pulling at his lips. Natsu swallows, looking him over for any weapons, relaxing slightly when he sees only a thin, silver knife strapped to his belt. It shouldn't comfort Natsu the way it does, but he figures he should be more afraid of what he doesn't see.
He's had few encounters with Rangers that he can remember, most hazy, but he knows better than to underestimate the man. Jellal likely has a dozen weapons on him, all tucked away neatly, hidden from sight. Rangers are tricky, but Natsu knows some of what to expect.
Jellal ducks his head in a silent greeting, a faint smile twitching at his lips, practically a ghost, as if he isn't sure how to make his mouth curve in such a way. It's almost sad to see it, the quirk of his mouth unnatural on Jellal's face. "Natsu," he replies a moment later, taking a step forward into the moonlight, revealing himself.
Natsu relaxes when he sees the friendly look in Jellal's eyes, his expression not as cold as it appeared in the shadows, though not entirely soft either. "What are you doin' out here?" Natsu finds himself asking, curious though he isn't sure why. He hasn't seen Jellal much since they reached Magnolia, and he even assumed the man went back to his outpost near the border.
Most rangers don't spend their time in towns, keeping to the woods and patrolling. Why he's still here, Natsu doesn't know.
Lucy only mentioned the man a few times, so Natsu knows little about him, but he's beginning to grow wary of the man's silence, unsure if he can trust the ranger. Natsu has little love for soldiers to any king. Though Fiore's rangers are separate from the crown, adhering to their own rules and avoiding war for politics as much as they can, according to Igneel, they still belong to a branch of the militia.
He blinks in response to Natsu's question, Jellal pursing his lips before glancing over his shoulder back the way they both came from, the lights barely visible, the sounds of singing muffled by the trees. "Same as you, I suppose," Jellal murmurs, removing his knife from his belt. Natsu tenses, but Jellal only twirls the blade between his fingers slowly, still frowning off into the distance, appearing not to notice what his hands are doing. "It's too loud in the glade," he continues, turning back to Natsu slowly, expression revealing nothing.
"Yeah," Natsu mumbles back in agreement, sucking on his teeth as he stares between two trees, barely able to make out the glowing lights in the distance, the hazy red winking back at him almost teasingly. He wets his lips and turns away, shuffling when Jellal suddenly stills, ceasing the twisting of his knife.
Jellal doesn't look at him, only continues to stare into the night, his head cocked to the side in thought. His expression slips into something pensive for only a moment before going blank. Natsu's eyes narrow, but he looks away. A trick of the light, he guesses.
"Not fond of crowds?" Jellal blinks at him, but Natsu isn't sure if it's a question or not, Jellal's expression blank, his lips curved into a small frown, but nothing more. He stares at Natsu, curious, but says nothing else, only waits and begins to twist his knife between his fingers once again. The blade glints in the moonlight, and Natsu wets his lips, mouth going dry.
He swallows, ripping his eyes away from Jellal and settling his gaze on the sky, peering up at the moon through the gnarled tree branches. His lips twitch at the corners, a sardonic grin stretching across his face, Natsu unable to contain the bitterness seeping through his skin. "Something like that," he spits back, a rumbling chuckle spilling from his mouth.
Jellal blinks at him slowly, frown deepening as something shadowy crosses his eyes. "Because of the rings?" he asks suddenly, shoving his knife back into its holster. Natsu flinches at the question, head snapping up as he whirls on Jellal, Natsu snarls at him, lips curling back over his teeth before he can stop himself. A low, warning sound rumbles in his throat, and Jellal takes a step back, raising his hands in a placating gesture.
Natsu's hands curl into tight fists at his sides, but he manages to still himself, his jaw clenching shut and his breaths coming in rapidly through his nose. "How do you—" Natsu cuts off, shaking his head as an itch makes its way down his back, his fingers twitching.
"Forgive me," Jellal says hurriedly, ducking his head apologetically, his gaze sliding to the ground. His shaggy hair falls into his eyes, hiding them from Natsu's sight, and when he glances up, there's something familiar there. The cool front Jellal put on slowly peels away, revealing something kinder. "I only assumed…" he trails off, shaking his head quickly, and sighs, back straightening as he rights himself. "You mentioned coming back to Fiore once, to Lucy." It's a weak explanation, and Natsu narrows his eyes, but deflates when he sees nothing but honestly in the other man's gaze.
Natsu regards him coldly for several moments, his lips pressed into a thin line, the edges curved downward. He stares at Jellal silently, practically daring him to say something else, but he never does. Jellal doesn't rise to the challenge, something unfamiliar to him. Natsu is used to the fighting, the barbed words that make others go ballistic.
But Jellal doesn't make a sound. He doesn't twitch or shift or reach for his knife, only stares back at Natsu, his dark eyes vacant in the night.
He softens slowly, Jellal's demeanor blank, but non-threatening. Natsu exhales slowly through his nose, shoulders relaxing as he glances up at the stars, eyes slipping from Jellal's easily. "I did," he mumbles. Lucy already knew, of course, but it was something he found himself repeating from time to time, the reality of the situation creeping up upon him slowly.
"It must be strange," Jellal muses, more to himself than to Natsu, "coming back." His gaze flicks from Natsu up to the stars, his dark eyes blinking slowly, and his eyes narrowed in thought. He says nothing else, leaving a thick blanket of silence to fall over them, stifling, though not unbearable.
Natsu snorts in response, a bitter smile pulling at his lips. He raises a brow, head lolling to the side so he can see Jellal, and his lips curve back over his teeth in something more reminiscent of a snarl. Jellal shifts uncomfortably beneath Natsu's gaze, lowering his eyes, and he takes some satisfaction from rattling the ranger. "Something like that," he says a moment later, all fangs and sharp eyes. "It's been years since…" Natsu trails off, shaking his head with a sigh.
"Since the Red Night?" Jellal finishes for him, so soft Natsu almost misses it. His smile slips when the words register, but Jellal is far more curious than he is accusing, and that dampens his temper only the slightest.
Something white hot courses through his veins, the irrational anger of his people, their fighting spirit, rising in his bones and calling him to battle. He shoves it back down, rolling his shoulders and slowly unclenching his fists. "What do you know of the Red Night," is all he says, less a question than a angered hiss, and when Natsu turns the full weight of his gaze on Jellal, the man takes a small step back.
Jellal shrugs a shoulder, lips pressing into a tight, thin line. He chews the inside of his cheek for a moment, wetting his lips as he raises a hand to the back of his head. His fingers drag through his messy hair, brushing his bangs away from his eyes as he considers Natsu's words. "Only what the stories told."
Natsu snorts, grin wry. "And what stories were those?" He's heard several about that night, that Fiore was forced to sell them, that raiders came from the north to free them, but they were captured by Pergrande instead. But he knows the truth. He'll never forget how Pergrande soldiers lined them up and Domus Centari stalked between them, like sheep led to the slaughter.
He knows the truth, but sometimes he wishes the stories held some truth to them. Anything would have been better than what truly happened that night.
Jellal chews his lip as he thinks, mulling over the right words to say. He tilts his head to the side, his face shadowed by the trees and his hair, blocking him from sight. Natsu turns away, glaring up at the moon and stars.
"Pergrande stole you all away," Jellal replies suddenly.
It startles him into a laugh, bitter and humorless. It thunders through the quiet night, Jellal jolting in shock at the gruff sound. Natsu doesn't mean to laugh. There's nothing funny about Jellal's words, but he can't keep the grin off his face. "Yeah." That's all they were to Fiore, to Pergrande: objects. Things to be stolen. They were never people.
The thought leaves something bitter on his tongue, but it isn't something Natsu never knew before. The Berserks mattered little to the people of Fiore and Pergrande. They were soldiers. Monsters. Sources of entertainment. But never people. Never human.
Natsu glances down at his fingers, wondering what made them so different from everyone else, what possessed the Ishgar peninsula to turn them into the monsters lurking in children's dreams. It isn't something he enjoys thinking about, unsure he'd ever have an answer.
"How old were you?" Jellal turns back to him, hesitant at first, until he sees the looseness in Natsu's shoulders, his eyes more tired than angry. His bravery comes back, curiosity flickering in his dark eyes, something stony there that Natsu doesn't recognize, resolute. He straightens his spine, looking less like a ranger and more like a proper soldier, a certain line to his shoulders deserving of respect.
Natsu turns away again. "Ten," he guesses, shrugging one shoulder. "Maybe. I don't remember much about living in Fiore." Those few months were a blur to him, his birthday a long forgotten date. He was too young when he left his family to remember much of anything besides his name.
Jellal nods, his lips twisting into a frown. "It was hard, when I first came here, as well," he tells Natsu, who glances at him absently. "It was very different from my home."
Natsu nods, understanding the feeling. "And where was that?" he asks Jellal, shifting to lean back against a tree trunk. The rough bark scrapes at his skin, but Natsu ignores the prickling feeling, more interested in staring up at the sky. The stars wink back at him, and he searches out one of the constellations Igneel used to show him around this time of year.
He traces the shape of Nhyl've, the sand serpent, with his eyes. It isn't a legend that comes from his own culture, rather, it hails from somewhere further south, in the small desert of Midian. He knows the legend vaguely, recalling only parts of what Igneel told him.
Nhyl've was a trickster spirit, a toxic serpent that hid beneath the sand and bit travelers, exchanging riddles for their lives and causing chaos in its wake. The serpent attacked a goddess, though he can't recall the name, and the God Fox Zaltain come for Nhyl've when she couldn't solve the riddle. Zaltain grabbed the serpent by his tail, immune to his venom, and flung him into the sky, where he became a part of the stars.
Igneel used to tell him stories about the stars every night to help him sleep, and sometimes the other Berserks would join him, taking over the tales whenever Igneel would forget pieces of the story. He was never the best with words and stories, always forgetting things, names, places, morals. Natsu loved him for that.
"Minstrel," Jellal tells him, a small smile on his lips, as if he's remembering something from a better time. He sighs, shaking his head slowly, and glances up at the sky much like Natsu, also watching the stars. "My mother brought me here when I was younger," he explains, a faint smile making the birthmark around his eye crinkle around the edges. "She was a dancer, part of the Minstrel troupe, and she was the best I've ever seen." He glances at Natsu briefly. "Left me in Makarov's care before returning home."
Natsu blinks at him in surprise, raising a brow at the new information. "She left you here?" Natsu's expression twists into one of understanding, knowing the feeling of being abandoned by his family. It's never an easy thing to recover from, knowing that your family didn't love you enough to keep you. It's a bitter feeling, one Natsu doesn't like to dwell upon.
Jellal hesitates, but shakes his head after a moment. "I chose to stay," he says simply, shrugging half-heartedly, unconcerned with the conversation. Natsu blinks at him, head cocking to one side slightly. Jellal doesn't look at him, fingers going back to the knife on his belt and spinning it slightly, playing with the hilt.
Natsu mulls over Jellal's words carefully, wondering why he stayed, but not daring to ask. He knows better than to pry into peoples' pasts. Some things are best left locked away. He doesn't know Jellal, and Jellal knows little about him in return.
"You also chose to become a ranger," Natsu mumbles suddenly, unable to stop the words from tumbling from his mouth.
It's a curious thing, becoming a ranger. Natsu thinks most men would choose to be soldiers, rather than rangers. He's heard filthy things about them, mostly lies, but he knows most have little love for the rangers. They're too secretive, too closed off from the rest of the kingdoms, hidden away in the shadows and spying. They protect the borders, of course, but there's something off about them.
Natsu has known very few rangers in his life, Pergrande having few of them. The Centari line used them mostly as assassins back in the early years, according to some of the older Berserks in the capital, but after the king began contracting the Berserks, he had no reason for assassins.
Besides, the old king was more paranoid than most. He kept his Berserks in chains because he was afraid they'd turn on him, and he thought the same of his royal assassins, fearing his own death by their hands, thinking they were conspiring against him. He ordered his Berserks to slaughter them, long before Natsu was taken to Pergrande. He's only heard stories about it, no one able to remember much.
The assassins were torn to pieces and left to rot on the hottest day of summer, the smell carrying for miles and miles, decaying flesh cooking in the hot sun.
Domus Centari is a man with an iron fist. He always gets what he wants.
"Is there something wrong with that?" Jellal tears his gaze from the sky to peer at Natsu, something cold and challenging in his eyes, far different from the fiery anger of the Berserks. Natsu is taken aback by the frostiness of Jellal's gaze, his expression more calculating than angry.
"No," Natsu responds quickly, jerking his head back and forth. He sucks on his teeth, rolling his shoulders, and meets Jellal's stony gaze with his own. "Most men chose glory over the shadows," is his reasoning, his shoulder bouncing with a shrug. It's sound reasonable, to him at least. Rangers are typically petty thieves and men who never want to be remembered.
Jellal sighs, head bobbing in agreement. "Most," he echoes, breath foggy in the night air, "not all." They lapse into a heavy silence, less uncomfortable than the one before, but Natsu shifts restlessly, displeased with staying in one place for so long. He doesn't like being cooped up like this, feeling trapped. He's been kept in cages and boxes nearly his entire life. He hates standing still.
"Why didn't you?" Natsu asks carelessly. Jellal stiffens in the corner of his eyes, his breath catching before he can hide it, and Natsu turns to face him directly, confused by the sharpness of his gaze, like ice. Jellal's lips press into a tight line, his gloved hands clench, and the birthmark around his eye seems to flicker silver in the darkness.
Silence sweeps around them, a dark cloud.
He's quiet for a long moment, and Jellal turns back to the moon quietly, shifting his weight from side to side and taking a slow, heavy breath, his eyes squeezing shut. He wets his lips, not looking at Natsu when he responds.
"Glory," Jellal murmurs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Power." He clears his throat, turning to Natsu with a blank gaze, eyes hard and cold. His lips curve back in a sneer, but it's gone when Natsu blinks. "They shouldn't be given to those who seek them. Not for the wrong reasons."
Natsu stares at him for a long moment, mulling over Jellal's words, before nodding and turning away once more. His fingers find the worn red fabric at his hips, the garnet a stark reminder of where he came from, and he twists it between his digits, playing with a loose thread. They stand in silence for a long moment, Natsu considering Jellal's words, the other man as quiet as ever.
He senses Jellal leave rather hears him, the ranger slinking back into the shadows without a word. The air around him suddenly feels colder with the man's departure, his words lingering in the air.
Igneel used to tell him glory is a two-headed viper with one head staring back at its master. Those who seek glory always find themselves bitten.
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.