A Woman with armored Heart
The weather in Magnolia was perfect for once—a rare reprieve from the usual chaos that defined life here. The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden hue over the cobblestone streets. A gentle breeze threaded its way through the town, carrying the mingling scents of fresh bread, blooming flowers, and the faint saltiness of the distant sea. It was the kind of day that tricked you into thinking the world was at peace. Almost.
The guild had been buzzing ever since my impromptu healing lesson. I wasn't exactly one for grand gestures, but seeing the looks on their faces after the session? Yeah, that hit different. People who normally wouldn't exchange two words were suddenly helping each other. The usual chaotic shouting had softened into conversations filled with gratitude and relief. For the first time in what felt like forever, Fairy Tail looked... harmonious.
Except for Erza.
She stood out, as she always did, but there was a rigidness to her posture that betrayed her inner storm. On the surface, she was the picture of composure: back straight, arms crossed, her expression a mask of calm. But I'd been around her long enough to notice the stiffness in her movements and the silence that felt more pointed than usual. Dragging Team Natsu to the master's office earlier had barely taken the edge off her frustration.
Mira decided to play mediator before Erza's simmering anger boiled over into another lecture. She practically shoved us out the door with a smile so sweet it could have been a dessert from a bakery. Her parting glance wasn't subtle—it was a silent but clear warning: Don't mess this up.
Before Erza could protest, I grabbed her hand. It wasn't a move made lightly; Erza wasn't the sort to enjoy being pulled along like some sidekick. Her glare could've melted steel, but I met it with an infuriating grin and tugged her out of the guildhall.
The walk to Sweet Delights, her favourite spot, was quieter than I anticipated. I hummed a tune under my breath—something from my past life—partly to fill the awkward silence and partly because the tune was catchy. Erza didn't comment. She walked a half-step behind me, her sharp eyes scanning the streets like she expected trouble to leap out at any moment. Knowing Magnolia, she wasn't entirely wrong.
"Lucas," she said suddenly, her voice softer than I'd expected.
I turned my head, curious. "Yeah?"
"The guild..." She hesitated, her gaze flickering toward the ground before meeting mine. "They've been... different lately."
I raised an eyebrow, the corner of my mouth twitching up into a half-smile. "Good different or bad different?"
Her cheeks reddened slightly—a rare sight from Titania herself. She looked away, pretending to study the flower cart nearby. "Good. It's... nice to see them working together like that."
My smile widened, but I didn't press her further. Erza wasn't the type to openly gush, and pushing her wouldn't get me anywhere.
When we stepped into Sweet Delights, I was hit by a wave of nostalgia so thick I almost staggered. The smell was heavenly—freshly baked bread, warm and inviting, mingling with the sugary sweetness of pastries and a subtle undertone of strawberries. The cozy interior of the bakery welcomed us with open arms. Polished wooden floors reflected the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the windows, while the counters displayed a kaleidoscope of colorful treats, each one a tiny masterpiece.
For a moment, even Erza seemed to relax. Her shoulders softened, and her gaze drifted toward a tray of strawberry tarts. I chuckled under my breath. Even the mighty Titania had her weaknesses.
"Well, Erza," I said, leaning on the counter like I owned the place, "consider this my peace offering. Pick whatever you want. My treat."
"Ah, Miss Scarlet! And young Lucas too!" The shopkeeper, an older woman with a warm, welcoming smile, lit up the moment we stepped inside. Both of us, even if not together we both were here before. Her voice carried the kind of cheer that could brighten even the dullest day. "My, what an good sight. I hear the guild's been quite lively lately, thanks to you two."
Erza blinked, caught slightly off guard by the recognition. Her posture straightened instinctively, her tone modest but sincere as she replied, "It's nothing, really."
"Nothing?" I leaned on the counter, flashing her an exaggerated look of disbelief. "Oh, it's definitely something. You should see them now—practically different people. No more demolishing buildings or traumatizing or beating up clients. I mean, sure, it helps that our new arena's under construction, but I think we're starting a full-blown revolution."
The shopkeeper chuckled, her laugh light and genuine. "Well, revolutionaries deserve a treat. What'll it be? The usual strawberry cake for you, Miss Scarlet?"
Erza's eyes lit up at the mention of her favorite dessert. She tried to mask her excitement, but her voice gave her away as she said, "Yes, please."
While the shopkeeper prepared the order, a few customers approached us. They were a mix of familiar faces and strangers, each offering their thanks. Some praised the changes in the guild, others shared how it had inspired them—or their kids—to think about joining a guild one day.
I soaked it all in, cracking jokes and grinning like I owned the place, but Erza remained polite and composed, nodding and offering small smiles. Still, there was a slight shift in her demeanor, as if the gratitude was quietly sinking in. For someone who bore the weight of leadership so often, it must've been nice to hear the fruits of her efforts acknowledged without pretense.
When the shopkeeper handed me the tray, I scoped out a spot. My eyes landed on a small table tucked away in the corner, perfectly positioned to avoid the general bustle of the bakery.
"Here we go," I said, setting the tray down with a flourish before pulling out a chair for Erza.
She hesitated—probably debating whether to chastise me for my theatrics—but ultimately sat, her gaze meeting mine for a brief moment. There was something in her eyes, a flicker of curiosity or maybe a hint of relief.
I plopped into the chair across from her, leaning back casually as sunlight filtered through the window. The cake sat between us, two perfect slices topped with fresh cream and a single strawberry so pristine it looked like it belonged in a painting.
"Thank you again for the treat," Erza said softly, her voice carrying a rare vulnerability as she nibbled on the cake. "Usually, I come here alone. Most people don't have the courage to join me, even when... even when I wish they would."
Her words caught me off guard. I raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a teasing grin. "Well, guess I'm built different. Do you really think a few punches or kicks are enough to scare me off? I mean, come on, I've survived worse." I leaned back, making an exaggeratedly thoughtful face. "Though, now that I think about it, you haven't punished me in a while—even when I've earned it. Like on Galuna Island, for example. Pretty sure I deserved an earful for dragging you into trouble."
Erza set her fork down gently, taking a measured sip of her green tea. The bitterness of the drink seemed to ground her, balancing out the sweetness of her cake. "No, you were right to argue against me," she admitted, her tone steady but tinged with reflection. "Even when my anger clouded my judgment, I could see your conviction. It's something I respect, Lucas. You think, you act, and—so far—I like what I've seen."
Her smile was small but genuine, and it struck like lightning. My pointy ears turned an embarrassing shade of red, betraying my composure. I quickly coughed into my hand, hoping to disguise my reaction.
If I didn't know better, I'd think her compliment carried a romantic undertone. But this was Erza—every word was deliberate, and I knew better than to misinterpret. Still, if this weren't a public place, and if I didn't have to worry about the guild gossip mill, she might've rizzed me up on the spot.
Fortunately, I'd been proactive. Before we'd even sat down, I'd cast a subtle "Ignore Us" field—a handy little trick angels like me could pull off. It was practically invisible to human senses, a faint ripple in the air that discouraged eavesdroppers and let the supernatural stay hidden in plain sight.
Smirking at my handiwork, I picked up my fork and gestured toward her cake. "Well, don't stop now. If I'm as good as you say, I'd better keep earning it, right?"
Her laugh was soft, almost shy, and the sound of it felt like the most natural thing in the world but that fell away quickly just as it came.
"But it comes down to it, doesn't it?" Erza muttered, her hands clenching into fists as her gaze dropped to the table.
"Down to what?" I asked, concern lacing my tone.
"My anger." Her voice was steady but carried a weight that felt like it could shatter the air around us. "It always comes back—like a volcano. No matter how good a mood I'm in, at the slightest inconvenience, it erupts, and I lash out. I want to laugh at the mischief Natsu and Happy get into, join in on their silliness. I want to live like a normal girl my age—no rules, no boundaries. But I can't. Because the anger always takes over."
I leaned forward, my expression calm, patient, and understanding. "So you think your anger is the reason you can't enjoy life like others?"
"Of course," she said bitterly, her knuckles whitening as she gripped her knees. "It's always inside me. It's what made me the woman I am today. And I... I wish I could just take it and throw it away."
Her voice faltered, self-pity creeping in before she seemed to snap herself out of it. I could tell she hated feeling vulnerable, even now.
"Erza," I began gently, meeting her eyes, "can you tell me about your childhood?"
She tensed. "I grew up with Fairy Tail," she said flatly, avoiding my gaze.
"Before that," I pressed, my tone soft yet unwavering.
For a moment, she didn't answer. Her face betrayed the war raging inside her—anger at me for prying, panic at the memories trying to surface, and a desperate need to keep it all buried. But my soothing aura, bolstered by my angelic nature, seemed to keep her from lashing out.
"Can't we not talk about this?" she asked abruptly, standing up.
I rose with her. "You don't need to go into details," I assured her. "Just try. If it's too much, we'll stop immediately."
Her eyes darted to mine, searching for something—reassurance, maybe, or a reason to trust me. After a beat, she sighed. "Fine."
I paid the shopkeeper, and we stepped outside. But before she could change her mind, I unfurled my wings and pulled her close. With one powerful flap, we soared into the sky. Cheers and gasps echoed below as Magnolia became a blur beneath us.
We landed softly on the rooftop of Kaedeia Cathedral. The ancient building stood tall and resolute, its spires reaching for the heavens. The air up here was different—calm, reverent, almost sacred.
"Really? A cathedral?" Erza asked, crossing her arms. "What am I supposed to do here—confess my sins?"
"No," I said, my voice steady. "Share your pain. As much as you can."
The wind swept gently across the rooftop, carrying with it the distant hum of the city below. The view was breathtaking, but Erza barely seemed to notice. She stood at the edge of the roof, staring out at the horizon, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
"I don't think this is going to work," she muttered, her voice almost lost in the wind.
I kept a respectful distance, my tone gentle yet firm. "You've carried this for so long, Erza. It's time to let some of it out."
Her grip on her arms tightened, her posture rigid. For a moment, I thought she might shut me out entirely.
"Pain doesn't just go away because you talk about it," she said, her voice sharp but trembling.
"No," I agreed, "but keeping it bottled up doesn't help either. You're strong, Erza. Too strong to let this eat away at you forever."
For a long moment, the silence was overwhelming. Then, finally, she exhaled deeply, as though releasing something she'd held onto for years.
"When I was a child..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wasn't always with Fairy Tail."
I stayed quiet, my heart heavy, giving her the space to continue.
Her trembling stilled under my touch, and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply.
"I grew up in a place that could barely be called a home. It was... a prison. A nightmare. The Tower of Heaven." Her voice faltered, her eyes shutting tightly as though to block out the memories. "We were slaves, forced to build something we didn't understand. Every day was suffering. Every day, someone broke—or worse…"
Her hands trembled, her nails digging into her arms. I wanted to reach out, to offer her comfort, but I held back. She needed this space to let it out.
"I fought to survive," she continued, her tone steadying, anger creeping in. "I fought to protect the few friends I had. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't save everyone. I failed them. Again and again."
Her voice cracked at the end, and she turned to face me, her fiery eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Do you know what it's like to be helpless? To watch the people you care about suffer because you weren't strong enough?"
I nodded, my chest tightening. "I do." Memories of growing up magicless and seeing Lucy hurt when we ran away flickered through my mind.
Her anger softened, replaced by confusion. "Then you know why I can't let go of my anger. It's all I've had to keep me going. If I lose it, what's left of me?"
I stepped closer, my voice steady but soft. "Your anger is part of you that knows you deserved to be treated with kindness and respect. It's part of you that loves you."
"Loves me?" she repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief.
"Yes," I said with a small smile. "Anger is important. It needs to be expressed, vocalized, acted out. And in your case, maybe even worked out by kicking a little butt."
A quiet, emotional chuckle escaped her, and I felt a small victory.
"When anger isn't expressed, it festers," I continued. "It turns into rage, something darker and harder to control. But when you express it daily, like you do—with your tough love—it becomes a well-tempered fire instead of volcanic lava."
She hesitated, then whispered, "But Mira, Cana, and so many others... they don't have this problem. They've suffered too, but I'm the angry freak."
"No," I said firmly. "You're not a freak. Your suffering was immense, and so your anger had to be bigger to protect you, to balance it all out. Don't compare yourself to others. You're stronger, Erza. A survivor. A protector."
She fell silent, her trembling easing as my words sank in. It must have felt strange for her—receiving therapy from someone much younger. Then again, I wasn't exactly a typical teenager.
"It's not just you, Erza. Anger is amplified by what we go through. I feel anger too. It's pointed me toward the right path many times, guided my morals and sense of justice. But it can be misplaced if left unchecked."
I leaned in slightly, my voice soft but unwavering. "Be grateful for your anger. It's helped you protect, defend, and love those around you. Suppressing it would have been far more dangerous. Anger isn't inherently good or bad—it's just a tool. What you do with it is what matters. You've used it to build, not destroy, and that's what makes you incredible."
Without thinking, I hugged her, pulling her close. My angel wings unfolded instinctively, a golden halo forming above my head. But she didn't even flinch, her tearful gaze fixed on me.
"And you, Erza Scarlet, have chosen to build," I said. "Despite the burdens forced on you, you've always made the right choice. I trust you with my life and am proud to call you my friend. Please, stop bearing these unnecessary burdens alone."
The rooftop of the cathedral was quiet, save for the soft rustling of wind against the stone. Slowly, the tension in her body eased. Her fiery eyes, now brimming with tears, glimmered with something else—acceptance, maybe even hope.
"I never thought of it that way," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "That my anger could mean something good."
"It does," I said gently. "And it's part of what makes you... you. You're not just strong, Erza—you're remarkable."
Her lips curved into a faint smile, her cheeks tinting pink. "You're surprisingly good at this," she said, her tone lighter. "Talking, I mean. Understanding people."
I chuckled. "Someone has to keep up with you. Besides, emotions are kind of my specialty."
She shook her head, a small laugh escaping her. "Thank you. For this. For being patient."
I smiled and extended my hand. "Come on. There's still plenty of the day left, and I'm not done with this date yet."
She hesitated only for a moment before slipping her hand into mine. "Alright. Lead the way."
We descended from the cathedral rooftop, our steps lighter than when we first climbed it, a quiet understanding settling between us.
Finally, the heavy emotional conversation was behind us, and the date had truly begun. We soared above the city for a good fifteen minutes, letting Erza gather herself while I ensured the ride was smooth. The joyride above the twinkling lights seemed to relax her, the cool wind brushing away the weight she'd been carrying.
"So, where's this amazing place with clothes you promised?" she asked, her voice tinged with both skepticism and excitement.
I could tell this wasn't just a passing interest for her. For someone like Erza, who had endured the harsh conditions of the Tower of Heaven—where rags were a luxury and fashion an alien concept—beautiful clothing was more than a hobby. It was a way to reclaim a sense of self, a coping mechanism she probably wasn't even fully aware of.
"I've been to every clothing store in Magnolia, Lucas," she added as she walked ahead, practically running in her eagerness before stopping to look back at me. For once, she wasn't clad in armor. Instead, she wore a cozy sweater and skirt, a testament to how comfortable she'd started to feel around me. "And I've never seen anything like what you described."
She crossed her arms smugly, her crimson hair catching the dim light as her mood lifted. "I'd hate to make you a liar, though," she teased, her tone playful.
I smirked, matching her confidence effortlessly. "Oh, you won't. But I never said this place was a shop, did I?"
Before she could respond, I snapped my fingers, summoning a swirling blue portal just beside the alleyway.
Her eyes widened as I reached out, grabbing her hand. "What are you—" she started, but her words turned into a startled gasp as I pulled her through the portal.
We emerged in my private dimension, a space gifted to me by the Celestial Grimoire: a vast, shimmering world of endless possibilities.
"Welcome to my little secret," I said with a grin, gesturing around.
It was an enormous, otherworldly wardrobe—a collection of costumes and outfits that would put even the grandest of tailors to shame. Rows upon rows of mannequins stood dressed in everything from intricate ball gowns to sleek tuxedos, elaborate superhero costumes to non-combative uniforms like nurses' and doctors' outfits. There were even more... eccentric options for those feeling bold.
Every piece of clothing here came from another world—a world called the DC Universe. None of it would be recognized in Fiore, which made it all the more exciting. Each garment was enchanted to be self-cleaning and self-repairing, ensuring they stayed in perfect condition no matter what.
Erza stood frozen, her wide eyes scanning every inch of the space. It was as if her very soul couldn't decide what to focus on first. She looked everywhere, taking in the vibrant colors, intricate designs, and sheer variety.
Her awe was palpable, and I swore for a moment her eyes sparkled like stars.
"This… this is incredible," she finally whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.
"Glad you like it," I said casually, though I couldn't hide my satisfaction at her reaction. "Take your time. Try on whatever catches your eye."
Her expression shifted into something almost childlike, a rare moment of unguarded joy breaking through her usual stoicism. "Are you sure?"
"Erza, please," I said with a grin. "Do you really think I'd bring you here if I wasn't?"
She didn't need any more encouragement. Within seconds, she was moving from rack to rack, her hands brushing reverently over fabrics as she tried to decide where to start.
Erza's enthusiasm was contagious as she darted between racks of costumes, her fiery red hair swaying with every move. I lounged in a nearby chair, occasionally guiding certain outfits away from her reach with my will. Some costumes were better left untouched, no matter how stunning Erza might look in them.
The Spectre's Cloak floated high above her sightline, ominously billowing as if it had a mind of its own. No way was I letting her try that on—not unless I wanted to risk inviting the wrath of the Spirit of Vengeance. Eclipso's outfit followed suit, vanishing into a hidden compartment. The Grimoire's enchantments might have neutralized its corruptive influence, but I wasn't about to gamble with a literal cursed costume.
Then there was Doctor Fate's iconic helmet and cloak. Just seeing it made me shiver. I didn't care if it was fanfiction or reality—rumors of Nabu possessing new hosts weren't worth testing.
"Alright, I'm ready!" Erza's voice called out, breaking me from my thoughts.
When she emerged, I nearly fell out of my chair.
She was wearing Catwoman's sleek black bodysuit, complete with cat ears and a whip coiled at her hip. Her playful smirk was as sharp as the claws on her gloves, and she raised her hands like a mischievous feline about to pounce.
"How do I look, nya?" she teased, her tone surprisingly in character as she mimicked a cat's posture."This outfit feels oddly... stealthy."
I leaned back, struggling to suppress a grin. "Mewvolous," I said, playing along as I reached out to pet her fake cat ears.
I chuckled, leaning back in my chair. "You look like a thief who's ready to charm her way out of trouble. Or into it."
Erza tilted her head, examining the whip. "It's... impractical for fighting, though. The claws might be useful, but the rest? I don't see how anyone could move comfortably in this."
"Well," I said with a sly grin, "it's not always about practicality. Sometimes it's about making a statement."
"Hmph. If you say so," she replied, rolling her eyes but smiling faintly as she turned back to the racks.
She chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as she sauntered back into the changing room. "Let's see if you can keep up, Lucas."
The next outfit she chose was a set of gleaming armor with a red and gold motif, complete with a lasso hanging at her hip. She stepped out, the warrior in her clearly intrigued.
"This one is interesting," she said, adjusting the bracers on her wrists. "It feels powerful, like it's made for someone who leads in battle."
"That's because it is," I replied, giving her an approving nod. "You look like a queen—or maybe a goddess. Definitely someone not to be messed with."
She smiled at the compliment, twirling the lasso experimentally. "It's well-crafted. I could see myself using something like this."
"Let's just hope you don't accidentally tie anyone up with that lasso," I teased. "It has a reputation for revealing... uncomfortable truths."
Erza raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "What do you mean?"
"Never mind," I said quickly, waving it off. "Just a joke."
The next outfit she chose caught me completely off guard. It was a jester-like ensemble with black-and-red patterns and a playful yet sinister vibe. She twirled a large hammer over her shoulder as she stepped out, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
"This one is... fun," she admitted, her tone light. "Though I'm not sure what kind of warrior would wear something like this."
"A dangerous one," I muttered, trying to keep a straight face. "And one who probably doesn't play by the rules."
Erza grinned, swinging the hammer experimentally. "It's surprisingly balanced. I could use this."
"Let's just say the person this outfit belongs to doesn't exactly fight fair," I said carefully.
She laughed, clearly enjoying herself. "Then maybe it's not so different from me."
As the hours passed, she tried on several more outfits—some regal, others daring, and a few downright impractical. Each time, she reacted with a mix of curiosity and playful commentary, her lack of context making it all the more entertaining.
"You have quite the collection here," she said eventually, leaning against the doorway with a satisfied smile.
"Well, I aim to impress," I replied with a grin.
Erza tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eye. "And I think you succeeded."
Her words made me pause, the sincerity in her tone catching me off guard. But before I could say anything, she straightened up and gestured toward the portal.
"Alright, Lucas. What's next?"
The atmosphere of the park was serene, with the warm glow of the setting sun casting long shadows across the cobblestone paths. Erza and I sat quietly, the sound of the fountain's gentle cascade blending with the distant murmur of voices and the occasional chirping of birds. The soft breeze carried the scent of flowers, adding to the tranquility of the moment.
Erza took a bite of the snack we'd bought from a nearby vendor, her posture relaxed in a way I rarely saw. Her usual armor, which had always been a second skin to her, was absent, replaced by the simple yet elegant outfit she'd chosen earlier.
"You know," I began, leaning back on the bench and gazing at the streaks of orange and purple in the sky, "you don't draw nearly as much attention without your armor. Not that I'm complaining, of course."
She turned to me, her gaze thoughtful. "The armor… it's not just for protection. It provides comfort," she said quietly, her tone carrying a weight I wasn't sure I fully understood. "But today, for the first time in a long while, I didn't need armor to feel comfortable. Thank you, Lucas."
Her smile was soft, the kind that could make anyone feel like the world had stopped turning for just a moment.
"Anytime," I replied, keeping my voice light. "I'm here for you—if you'll let me."
Her expression shifted, her hand reaching out to grip my shoulder. "It's not 'fine,' Lucas," she said firmly. "Don't you understand? It's more than that."
I tilted my head, curious but staying quiet as she continued.
"This may have started as a joke… a date," she said, her voice faltering slightly. "With me? I mean, I'm not exactly the type for this kind of thing." She looked away for a moment before meeting my eyes again.
"But then I talked," she said, her voice growing steadier. "I talked in a way I've never done with anyone before. I felt free—without worry, without trouble, without rules or expectations. I want more of this. I want to feel this again. To experience it." She paused, her gaze unwavering. "So, will you let me?"
Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.
I leaned in, letting my actions speak louder than words. Our lips met, a gentle, fleeting kiss that carried the promise of something deeper. The world around us seemed to fade, the faint chirping of birds and the soft glow of the sunset suddenly more vivid, more alive.
When I pulled back, I smiled. "Does that answer your question?"
Erza blushed, a rare and endearing sight, before she looked down at her trembling hands.
"What's happening?" she asked, her voice uncertain as her usual armor materialized around her in a flash of light, her magic triggering on its own.
Her brow furrowed in confusion, her hands gripping the edges of her gauntlets. "But why?" she murmured, more to herself than to me.
I didn't let go of her. My hand found its way to her cheek, gently guiding her gaze back to mine, trying to steady her, trying to calm the storm I saw building in her eyes. "Because, Erza," I whispered, "even if you're ready to let go of your burdens, there's still unfinished business you need to face. Some wounds don't heal overnight. You're not ready for next step yet, unfortunately."
She blinked, her face twisted in desperation. "But you said—talking would help. That I'd be normal. Like everyone else…" Her hands gripped mine in panic as she tried once more to change her armor back to something simpler, something that felt less like armor, less like a shield. But no matter how many times she tried, her gauntlets reappeared, her magical aura spinning out of control.
"Work, damn it! What's happened to my magic?!" she shouted, her voice breaking through the quiet of the evening. I had placed a concealment field earlier, but it didn't ease the tension in her body.
I gently squeezed her hands, pulling her back to me as she stood there, lost in her own desperate attempts to reclaim control. "Erza," I said softly, my words a balm, "I've been telling you from the start. Being normal—it's not the goal. You were never raised in normal conditions, so stop comparing yourself to them."
Her voice rose again, a mix of frustration and hopelessness. "Then what's the point of talking about my problems? Going on dates? What's the point of any of this?!"
I didn't flinch. Her anger wasn't really aimed at me—it was aimed at herself, at the parts of her she couldn't yet reconcile. "But today," I said, my voice steady, not afraid of her frustration, "you enjoyed yourself, didn't you?"
"If in one date, we got this close," I continued, my smile soft and hopeful, "imagine what we could do in a year."
Her shoulders sagged slightly, as if a little weight had been lifted. But the pain was still there—like an open wound, raw and real.
"So please," I said, my voice softer now, a plea almost. "Don't armor yourself around your heart like you do your body. Because, Erza… believe me, your heart is just as beautiful as you are."
She responded the same as when I did before as leaped at my mouth with hers.
This time, when she kissed me, it wasn't tentative. It was fierce, as if she were a dragon snatching up its prey, asserting her control, and unwilling to let go.
Her magic flared around us, but this time, she didn't fight it. The armor tried to manifest, tried to protect her, but she pushed it aside with each passing second. No matter how much her armor attempted to shield her, she let it go. The strength in her heart had outgrown it.
In that moment, nothing mattered but us. She was no longer a knight, a warrior, a woman bound by the weight of her past. She was simply Erza, raw and open, free to embrace the connection we had built over this day.
When we finally pulled away, our breaths shaky and warm, I opened my eyes to find her—still in my arms, but different. Her magic was back under control, no longer a chaotic force fighting to break free. Her armor had vanished, leaving her in the dress she had worn earlier—casual, simple, yet somehow perfect.
Her gaze met mine, and for the first time, I saw it clearly: a smile, not carefree or innocent, but full of acceptance. Acceptance of the moment, of herself, of us.
"Thank you, Lucas," she said softly, her voice steady now, her eyes shining with something deeper than gratitude. "This was an amazing date. I will never forget this for the rest of my life."
I smiled, unable to find the right words to match the depth of what I felt. All I knew was that this moment—this connection, this breakthrough—was worth more than anything I could have ever asked for.
100CP Banked
100CP Banked
100CP Banked
Total: 600CP
Sorry for long Yapping I mean Drama episode. But I don't believe someone like Erza, the Traumatized girl like her could be just romanced so easily. I totally forgot to roll for Perks. Oh well. The rules still applies even if I'm forgetful dumbass since this is still being written from Lucas' POV.