You are E.N.D...Etherious Natsu Dragneel...my greatest creation and my younger brother.

Please...Kill me.

Natsu's eyes snapped open but he dared not to move. Below him Happy's snores intermixed with purrs filled the room. It was fine. They were safe. He took a shuddering breath, trying to steady himself. The hammock swayed lightly as he turned, attempting to get comfortable once more. The gentle sway of the hammock was oddly comforting, not yet turbulent enough to set off his motion sickness, yet he could feel his stomach churn uncomfortably as he recalled his dream.

It was the same dream again. It was always the same.

The dreams, or nightmares more accurately, had begun shortly after the Alvarez empire fell. Relentless visions and twisted memories of the battles he and his friends fought and the foes that hadn't been spared. Night after night, he would relive the moment where his world set alight, when getting to Zeref was the only thought occupying his head.

Natsu would watch, helplessly as each person he ever loved died. Every death was brutal, slow and constructed to break him. He would watch as his own hands buried themselves in his guildmates bodies. Pulling, clawing…breaking. Nothing was spared, no one was saved.

An endless sea of dismemberment and gore would take over his vision. It would be impossible to distinguish who was who by the end, let alone recognize the piles of shredded and burnt flesh as human. Natsu would scream, cry, beg for it to stop, but it never did. He never did. E.N.D. would tear through every living thing on his path to Zeref. And then… He would always make Natsu watch as he slowly and methodically pulled Zeref apart.

It would start slow, a long incision across the torso, claws easily sliding through the body beneath him. He would take his time, one by one examining the organs it pulled out. Kidneys taken and piled, intestines pulled and coiled, ribs broken and discarded so He could get to his prize. It would finally end when he bit into that still beating black heart, the taste so vivid it scared Natsu off meat for a month.

After the 28th night of hearing his friends beg for his mercy, he had stopped screaming. After the 54th night, he no longer cried. On the 93rd night, he just tuned it out, pretended he couldn't hear it, see it, smell it. He would instead, think about the mundane day to day tasks, little things he put off for the day. Had he submitted his mission report to Mira- she screamed at him as his claws caught on her ribcage. Should he take Happy fishing soon - the exceed was fragile and small in his hands, so easy to crush.

Once he had detached himself from the horror of it all, letting the shock roll over him, there was always a simple trick, an obvious tell that it was a dream. He would grab tiny, innocent Wendy's head and between his hands- squeeze. It was like a game to him , how much pressure could he apply before the skull gave between his hands.

Hands.

Stupid dream couldn't even get that right. Natsu hadn't had two arms since Zeref died.

He rubbed his eyes, briefly glancing down to the stump where his left arm used to be. It was an ugly sight, even with the charred bits missing. Porlyuscia had to amputate the remainder of his arm from mid bicep down. By the time he and the others had finished with Acnologia, his arm had been burnt, torn and useless. It took all he had to use it during that fight and the wild magic harnessed from the seven of them had destroyed the remaining nerves and muscle.

5 months since and he still hadn't adjusted, a pathetic sight really. Gildarts had lost an arm and a leg and managed to whoop his ass in the S-class trials a few months later, yet here he was struggling even though it wasn't even his dominant arm. The phantom pain that raced along his missing limb, reminding him it was gone, plus the odd ache the stump always had when the weather acted up, which thanks to Juvia was often, kept him distracted and irritable. What was worse was the pitying looks he'd get when he tried to reach out or grab a flying chair with his left hand, forgetting that it was gone. It made him want to curl up and die.

Still, Natsu held on to his status as an active mage, despite Makarov's trepidation. The guild treating him like glass was annoying enough, but the thought of watching his teammates walk out those doors, on amazing and dangerous adventures without him? How could he call himself a Fairy Tail mage if this was all it took for him to retire.

Yet despite his enthusiasm to get back in the field, every fight left him more and more frustrated. He was off balance, awkward and clumsy. Time and time again, he found himself instinctively trying to attack or block to his left, only to remember in the nick of time. Those adjustments cost him greatly in the heat of battle, he noted, rubbing his sore ribs.

Today's mission was the same again. He'd been doing well, until he lost himself in the fight. His opponent, a crafty shadow mage, had dodged his over extended punch, zooming close by his left side. In response he had shifted his stance allowing him to glance by even closer, ready to release a devastating sucker punch to the gut with his free hand, before realising his mistake. It left him wide open and vulnerable to the cascade of shadows the mage had sent barreling towards him. Natsu was barely able to block in time, managing to dispel it with his right but not without being blown off his feet and slammed into a nearby tree. He'd won, of course, but he should have known. He should have caught it in time. By now he knew they always go left. Every. Single. Opponent! It was a glaring weakness. They would all go straight for his left side, or try to keep on his left, out of reach.

He almost lost his shit at Gray the first time he tried it.

It wasn't anyone's fault. In their line of work, it was just smart business to aim for your opponents weak spot and take them down. Mages were unpredictable at the best of times, the faster you could take them out, the better for everyone.

Didn't mean he had to like it.

Sighing, he wiggled down further into his hammock. Much to Erza's protest, he did keep the hammock, thank you very much . Didn't need two stupid arms to get in bed. He yawned lightly, still careful of Happy sleeping below him.

Soft moonlight filtered into the room from the one uncovered window in his house, it illuminated the empty room around him. The emptiness left an un-scratchable itch behind, the urge to fill it growing. He was almost tempted to start taking completed requests from the guild to rebuild his request wall. He frowned at the thought, it just wouldn't be the same.

Irene's Universe: One had not been kind to his and Happy's house. Everything he had painstakingly collected over the years, carefully curated into an exhibit of his life - poof! Gone. Knowing his luck, probably at the bottom of the ocean or in a ditch somewhere.

The house had survived…barely. The walls had taken offence to being magically deconstructed and reconstructed, two of them had crumbled immediately, whilst the remaining walls were yet to make up their mind. He'd managed to hang tarp over the gaping holes, swearing he'd get around to fixing it at some point. The tarp had been enough of an ordeal, he'd struggled for…longer than he wanted to admit, trying to get it up with one hand before Happy had come back.

Natsu sighed, god he really was useless now. Gildarts had lost his arm and leg and never managed to be as clumsy as him. Why was it so hard for him to adjust? It was like as much as he tried, it was glaringly obvious he was broken. More than just his arm.

On more than one occasion he found himself fleeing the guild, needing to escape their pitying looks. Everyone knew how weak he was now. it was only a matter of time before their pity became resentment. Resentment for his weakness, resentment because now he was holding them back, just a living reminder of war that everyone wanted to forget. If he couldn't protect them anymore, what good was he? What was he supposed to do now?

He wonders if he should have retired when Makarov asked. The old man had called him into the half constructed office, only a few weeks after the war. Natsu's arm had been amputated around three weeks ago and he was stuck in a wheelchair post surgery as he was still recovering from his numerous other injuries. His wounds from the war had proved particularly resistant to Wendy's healing and the poor girl was so busy anyway, he didn't want to bother her. He'd insist he was fine, ignoring the way it hurt to breathe, or the agonising waves of pain that ripped through where his arm used to be. There was nothing left to heal anymore, why worry her more about something unsolvable.

He'd been wheeled into the office, to where Makarov had been hunched over his desk, eyebrows furrowed and a scowl on his face as he regarded the paperwork in front of him. The man seemed less lively these days, older in a way he hadn't before. Natsu had heard he had died during the war, yet he struggled to believe it, choosing to regard it as a close call instead. The dead don't come back.

Except me.

His heart twisted uncomfortably at the thought, guilt settling in his stomach. Makarov smiled warmly as Natsu entered, pushed by Mira, who then took her leave, shutting the door behind them.

How could the master smile at him like he hadn't caused all these problems, like he wasn't the shared source of misery for the guild.

Because you didn't tell him.

For the first time in his life, Natsu had kept his mouth shut.

At first he hadn't intended to keep it a secret, his relationship to Zeref and what he really was. He really hadn't. He considered telling everyone once they had gathered in the guild to celebrate their triumph. But when he tried he just…couldn't. The words stuck in his throat, panic clawed at his chest every time he tried to voice it. They were all so happy then, why ruin the celebration? Yet more time had passed, much more than just one night and he remained silent.

And the guilt had built up.

Everywhere he looked, destruction reigned. People had suffered, been injured or killed, people Natsu knew and cared about, people he didn't know and now never would. Men, women and children were all killed because of him. There wasn't an apology in any language that could convey how sorry he was to be born.

The only people who knew were Gray, Lucy and Happy. But they didn't know. They didn't understand it was all his fault. Everything. More than just the war but, the R-System, the creation of Deliora, the Eclipse gate -Lucy's mother died bringing him to this time! Every misery they had suffered had been because Zeref wanted him to live. How could one life be worth all this pain?

Natsu often wondered if he made the right choice stopping Zeref. At the time it seemed right, but now as he thought of all the pain his resurrection had wrought, maybe it would have been better to let him go back. Natsu and him could have lived and died 400 years ago. There would be no legendary dark mage to ruin all their lives, they would just be two insignificant mages who had passed, long before Fairy Tail was even a thought.

It could have been nice.

Makarov's voice brought him out of his dark line of thought, "Ah Natsu! How are you feeling m'boy?"

Natsu began to shrug before stopping, he wondered if it looked weird to shrug with one arm. If the look on Makarovs face was any indicator, it did.

"Porlyusica asked if you had been doing your recovery exercises. She will be coming by later to assess if you can be fitted with a prosthetic."

It was clearly an attempt to cheer him up, but Natsu didn't hold out much hope. The temporary prosthetic they had fitted him with had burst into flame the moment it made contact with his stump. Then the next one had, and the next one. The cursed flames turned anything they connected to ash. Natsu had no control over it either, the flames simply rushed out the moment any material made contact. They had tried to build something resistant, even going as far as to commission Gajeel, but the last attempt had ended with metal dripping down his arm and onto the guild floor. Mira had given them an earful for that, not that she had really meant it.

He had stopped hoping after that. He'd begun to think of it as a divine punishment of sorts.

Instead of responding, Natsu decided to hum, in a non-committal sort of way. It wasn't a huge secret that he had given up on getting a prosthetic arm, he was a terrible liar even if he had the energy to fake it. Which he did not. He could manage fine with just the one arm. Plus, Happy was always around, taking it upon himself to be Natsu's helper since he got out of surgery. He'd ask them to stop with the prosthetics, if he didn't see the way they looked at the stump, as if it was the last broken piece to be fixed.

Maybe he should get a cloak.

Pushing past Natsu's lack of enthusiasm, the Master continued, "The reconstruction efforts have been going well, in a few weeks we're going to be officially reopened." He paused, as if expecting something. Natsu gave a grunt of acknowledgement. Sighing, Makarov slid a small stack of papers over to Natsu.

"Natsu, with the casualties in the war and the guild reopening, we need to resubmit our roster of active mages to the council. This," he gestured to the forms on the desk, "is yours. I…haven't sent it off yet."

That caught his attention. Natsu narrowed his eyes, "Why?"

Makarov swallowed, sensing he had entered dangerous territory, "I wanted to ask you, as I have asked all the other members, do you want to remain an active mage?"

Was he seriously suggesting what Natsu thought he was? Retirement?

Natsu had never been good at concealing his emotions, Makarov could see the fury and hurt that flashed across his face at the suggestion. Before Natsu could open his mouth to tell him where he could file those papers, Makarov interjected.

"Now, now. It's not permanent. I was just thinking, given your current situation, and with everything that has happened recently, no one would begrudge you for taking a few months off."

"Do I have a choice?"

Natsu avoided Makarovs eyes, he wanted to scream. Was this what they thought of him? That he was too weak to take care of himself?

Makarov seemed to age before him, a weariness settling over him that made his body sag with the weight. He leaned back in his chair, running with a withered hand over his face. He was far too old for this.

"Of course Natsu. You've always had a choice." He sighed again, "I just want you to be happy. We all do Natsu. Recently, you've been withdrawn and…" He hesitated, pondering how to delicately put it, "...Difficult to be around. No one expects you to be okay, the war was hard on all of us, especially you, but you've been shutting your family out. I can tell there's a great deal you are yet to tell me, and you don't need to. I just…" Makarov paused, looking over to Natsu, who wore a guarded expression. It was an expression that didn't suit the boy who used to be so open and carefree.

Makarov gently grasped the lone hand that rested on the desk next to the forms. Why must his children pay so dearly for his mistakes?

"Natsu, please remember that everyone at Fairy Tail loves you. They just want what's best for you, but we can't decide that for you. You're allowed to let yourself heal, to take a break. No one would think anything less of you."

Silence fell over the two, Makarov desperately hoped that in this moment he was able to break through to him, even just a little bit.

"...When's the guild reopening?"

"Three weeks but-"

"-Give me three weeks."

Natsu spoke quietly, but left no room for argument. If that was his decision, Makarov would respect it, no matter how much he wanted to drag the boy by his ears back to the infirmary and keep him there. What kept Makarov from protesting was the small spark in Natsu's eyes that had been missing since the war ended. It was ember, barely visible compared to how his fire used to rage, but it could catch.

"Three weeks, but that means regularly checking in with Porlyusica, and no missions or helping rebuild." Makarov held up his hands to silence the oncoming protest, "This time is for you to recover, show me you're serious about it. So that means, no running off on some crazy adventure!"

He basked in the small grin that had made its way on Natsu's face, it was a far cry from normal, but it was a start.

"Alright Gramps. Just you wait, in three weeks I'll be unstoppable!"

So much for being unstoppable, any random c-class mage could kick him into a tree these days.

He'd missed his chance for sleep tonight, he was far too alert and his bones ached from the awkward positions he'd been sleeping in. As quietly as he could manage, Natsu extracted himself from the hammock and tiptoed out of his shared room, sliding the door shut behind him. It was barely past 3am and as much as he loved Happy, the cat had been almost overbearing since Natsu had lost his arm. It was sweet at first, then it became frustrating, as Happy insisted on doing even the simplest of things for him. From washing, to cooking, to cutting his own food, he had drawn the line at brushing his teeth!

Natsu sighed for what felt like the hundredth time tonight, it wasn't that he didn't appreciate it but…god it made him feel like a burden. Happy shouldn't have to worry about him like this, he should be able to go off on adventures and visit the other exceeds with Carla and Pantherlily. When he had found out that Happy had skipped out on the trip to New New Extalia because of him…Natsu had never felt more worthless.

"This is all your fault, you know."

He glared at his stump. It did not respond.

He carded his hand through his hair, noticing for the first time how much longer it had gotten. He pulled a strand away from his face examining it for a long moment. Maybe he should ask Cancer to cut it? He released the strand, letting it fall over his face, slightly obscuring the scar that ran over his cheek. Maybe he'd grow it out? Yeah, he liked that. He messed around with it a bit more before letting his hand drop to trace the scar that ran across his face.

It was a pretty wicked cut, running about an inch wide, from his jaw to under his eye socket. Wendy hadn't been able to heal it fully and a jagged scar had formed. Natsu wasn't normally one to be bothered by scars but every so often he'd find his eyes drawn to it. He'd walk past a window or a mirror and wonder if it was as ugly as his mind told him it was.

Ugh, he never used to care about things like this. He sounded like some insecure teenager, not the supposed "Dragon King" who defeated Zeref and Acnologia.

Still, despite the ridiculousness of it all, he often wondered if Gray and Lucy thought of differently. He was a demon after all. The last demon of Zeref. He was a reanimated 400 year old corpse, bound together with black magic and a soul. A truly ugly creation.

On nights like these, when he couldn't get back to sleep, he'd wonder what that it all meant. He wasn't human obviously, not anymore at least, but was he ever? What was he? Was he the same Natsu that died all those years ago, or just some pale imitation of him, one that piloted his corpse. With Zeref gone, would his body just rot away or would he continue to age like normal? Did he still age now that the book was gone?

It would have been better if he had disappeared with the rest of Zeref's creations.

Of course, to say this out loud, would be the biggest slap in the face to Gray and Lucy who risked a great deal saving him. But deep down, he wished they didn't. It would have been easier for them all if they didn't.

He just…didn't understand what he was meant to do now. Zeref was gone, so was the book that bound Natsu to him. Could he pretend to be human? Was he still human? It had been one thing to yell it to Igneel in the heat of battle, but to believe it now, when the world seemed so intent on reminding him of what he was. His skin crawled in discomfort every time Gray activated his devil slayer magic, and the one time he was stupid enough to let it touch him, it had burned. It had burned worse than his arm, worse than any wound he'd experienced before. And it made him weary of Gray. He hated that, hated that the few times he'd sparred with Gray, his body screamed at him to run, to put as much distance between them and that damned ice blade as feasibly possible.

And since awakening, Natsu couldn't enter certain 'auspicious' - as Lucy described it, buildings anymore, like the Kardia Cathedral and Era to name a few. Certain buildings had been steeped in magic and wards meant to repel Zeref's Magic, which now included him. He'd managed to laugh it off or change the subject, not wanting to draw attention or alert his guildmates who didn't know what he was. But it hurt. It was like the universe couldn't let him go one minute without reminding him he was some fucked up science experiment. He was pretty sure Sting was suspicious of him, last time he had seen him the other dragon slayer had been asking some interesting questions. Sting had wanted to know why he had a nephew, who smelt exactly like him and why he claimed to be Zeref's kid. It had taken some creative lying, something that was not his forte, to get Sting off his back. Sting had eyed Natsu with disbelief, before shaking his head. He was clearly letting Natsu get away with it for now, which he was grateful for.

He owed Sting dearly for that.

It seemed he owed a lot these days.