4 – things i've done and things i've said

July turned to October in an instant. Lucy had only spent three months in the dungeon, and her body's condition had deteriorated severely. The stolen armour she donned weighed too much. It was difficult to move. She could feel the questioning stares of the guards as she attempted to march through their headquarters.

Her goal was the stables. She could not travel on foot again. Physically, she'd never make it now. All she needed was a horse.

"Oi! Where are you s'posed to be?" A loud voice called out. Lucy froze. She knew it was directed at her. Everyone else was stationed perfectly in place while she took a leisurely stroll to the stables in the middle of the night. She turned around and faced the towering knight. She couldn't speak. Her voice would be a dead giveaway. She looked the other way, shuffling nervously as she racked her brain for ideas. "Did'ya not hear me, boy?"

The knight's eyes narrowed, suspicion evident on his face as he took a step closer to her. Lucy's mind raced. Run or bluff? Run, and he'd be on her in an instant. Bluff, and she might just have a chance.

She ducked her head slightly, shifting her posture to mimic the other young knights she had seen scurrying about the castle. Then, with a quick motion, she pointed toward the stables. "Orders." She grunted, trying to make her voice low and rough.

The knight frowned. "Orders? At this hour?" He pressed for more.

She nodded, hoping the lack of light masked her dishonesty. "Message. For the captain." Her throat itched.

For a moment, he contemplated. Then, he questioned her. "From whom?" His hand drifted towards his sword.

Shit.

Without another thought, Lucy bolted. She spun on her heel, kicked up dirt, and was gone in a flash. The armour slowed her. She tore off the breastplate, stumbled out of those oversized trousers, and barrelled down the way. The knight's startled shouts rang behind her, but she was already sprinting for the stables. She didn't know exactly where to go, but the faded horseshoe prints in the mud gave her a vague idea.

Behind her, heavy boots thundered against the ground. Close. Closer. Too close. But just far enough. Lucy dived for the stable door, crashing through just as the knight reached out for her dress. She let him tear it, something she might later regret as she felt her legs exposed to the nighttime chill. But her pursuer was left with nothing but a handful of cheap fabric as he fell backwards, and she stumbled forward. The scent of hay and sweat filled her nose as startled horses neighed in protest.

No time to be picky.

She grabbed the nearest saddle, yanked it onto a black stallion, and fumbled with the straps. A second too long—a second she didn't have. The knight was almost on her. She stepped up onto the fence.

Screw it.

She didn't finish fastening the straps. She didn't even secure the reins. She dropped the saddle on the soldier's head, threw herself onto the horse's bare back, and kicked. The beast reared, Lucy clung to its mane for dear life as they dashed forward. The disgruntled knight barely had time to dive out of the way before the stallion charged through the stable doors, hooves pounding against the dirt road.

Lucy tore off the constricting helmet so she could breathe, throwing it behind her. The wind whipped through her golden hair as more shouts erupted around her.

Now they'd know she was gone for sure. She had to be fast. She was faster than the gate, flying through a split second before it crushed her. She could hear the panic of the guards getting further and further. She'd left them with a mess. They couldn't chase her before calming down the frightened horses. They'd have to hoist the gate back up to give chase. Then the rain began to fall, starting as a slight drizzle, thunder promising a heavier downpour. Her tracks would be masked. Perfect.

Lucy found herself cackling as she and her stolen horse galloped towards the Dark Forest.

King Jude was enraged.

The search for the fugitive princess consumed the kingdom. The king would harangue of betrayal, plots against him, orchestrated by his only daughter. The people of Fiore didn't believe him. The king was clearly going mad, but popular opinion of his declining mental state due to the stress of war did nothing to change the fact that seeking the truth was treason. So, most played along.

Every outpost, every village, every shadowy alley bore the weight of the hunt. Wanted notices littered the walls of town squares, her likeness sketched in bold, accusing ink. Messengers rode through the countryside, their orders clear—find her, no matter the cost.

They scoured the forests bordering the capital, assuming she had not made it far. They combed through dense thickets, interrogated merchants, overturned every cabin. Nothing.

Days turned into weeks. Frustration mounted. The king's patience grew thin. More knights were dispatched, spreading farther. To the rivers, the mountain paths, even the lawless border towns. Some returned with news of false sightings. Others never returned at all.

The roads became dangerous in their desperation. Inns were raided by soldiers in the dead of night. Travellers were stopped and questioned, their belongings searched for any sign of hidden nobility.

Still, she eluded them.

Queries crept into the ranks. How could a single princess, alone and untrained, slip past seasoned hunters, decorated knights, men who had tracked war criminals across entire kingdoms? No, how had she escaped the dungeon in the first place?

Some did question the truth of the ordeal. The princess had never been outspoken. It was common knowledge she was kept hidden within the deepest walls of the palace. Rarely did she even make a public appearance. When she did, it was brief. Scripted. It was widely assumed after the sudden death of the queen, the king only wanted to keep his daughter safe. Now, it was looking like there was a deeper story somewhere. But orders were orders. And until she was dragged back in chains, the hunt would never end.

The throne room was thick with tension, the scent of burning candles and incense filling the air as the royal court lingered in silence. Jude sat upon his iron throne, fingers latching into an armrest as if he could squeeze the life from it. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the court. They left with their heads down. Their faith in him was wavering.

It had been three weeks since Lucy's dramatic escape from the depths of his dungeon, and each moment of that absence had been a blistering reminder of his failure. His empire, once a model of power, resilience and stability, was slowly crumbling under the turmoil of her defiance.

He could see through the weak façade of his people. Insurrection had surged in small pockets near the capital, as though her flight had sparked a fire in the hearts of the oppressed. On his borderlands, whispers of dissent turned into roars of resistance. The people had lost their fear, emboldened by the mere fact that the princess—his own flesh and blood—had dared to run.

He had sent every soldier, every knight, after her to no results. No progress. Every time they thought they were close, she slipped away like dust through their fingers. Now, again, he was forced to call upon his hunter. It was infuriating, and a hazardous delay in his recon mission.

"Natsu." The shadows in the corners of the room stirred with the mention of his name, a figure stepping forward from the dark. His black armour was barely visible in the dim light, but his presence filled the space like suffocating smoke. "You brought her back once," Jude grumbled. "Do it again. And this time, she does not live."

Natsu did not answer. He did not react. He only took his sword and went hunting.

Jude tried to relax in his throne, but rage clawed into his chest. In late July, almost a month after Lucy's recapture, he had sent his hunter to the frontlines. Far from the capital, far from her. He wasn't blind. He had seen the sparks of a growing bond between the rebel and his daughter long before the guard named Jackal came to him. His orders were to watch her, not play jester. Not to let his loyalty waver again.

So, like any knowing father, he separated them. The perfect opportunity had presented itself. Alvarez's pushback had been strengthening in the southern region. He needed firepower to break their momentum, to thin out their ranks a bit. The Prince of Dragons was the obvious solution.

Barely a day after his departure, Lucy had proven herself a liability. She knew too much. And worse, she had begun to act out. The reason was becoming all too clear to him. Her temporary submission was a warning. A challenge. She had become too much of a wildcard to keep.

So, he locked her away.

Child of his or not, she was an unpredictable variable. Jude had never been a man to tolerate uncertainty. To hell with blood—his concern lied with his empire.

"I warned you this was the wrong move." A soporific voice broke through the silence.

Jude bit back a snarl, his teeth grinding together. He did not answer immediately. He weighed the words, eyes twitching as they fell on the dark figure standing at his side. "You dare tell me how to control my hounds?"

"I speak as his brother, as your loyal subject, and as your heir." The voice was calm but edged with a threat. "Natsu's weakness is his heart. He will not return her nor kill her. Likely, we'll never see them again."

Jude's rage burned hotter. He did not like being told he had made a mistake. "Leave me, Zeref."

His protégé bowed and disappeared into the hallway. And Jude was left alone with his anger.

Lucy thought she had covered her tracks well. But just like her, he followed the stars. He knew of her obsession with the night sky. When she wasn't playing the role of a brat, she sat in front of her window and stared up at vast nothingness. For hours.

Tonight, the meteors passed in the direction of Waas—more commonly referred to as the Dark Forest. He wondered if she had a death wish. He had made the journey through those woods many a time in his youth, it was not a passage she was built for, but one he knew like the back of his hand.

Her determination to escape was commendable if this was truly her route. Nobody would chase her here but him. It was just a stroke of bad luck that he caught up.

She was close.

When he did find her, just outside of a clearing, she was resting on an unsaddled palace horse at the edge of a cliff, staring up at the night sky.

She looked… different. Not like the snarky girl he had first seen in the throne room. He lifted his visor. Still as a statue, she met his stare. But her eyes—her eyes held fire. No, not fire. Something hotter. Something he couldn't describe. Deep past blazing determination and the heat of hatred, even without flames of her own, he could feel the burning of her soul.

For a moment, he hesitated.

Then she ran.

And Natsu did not let her go.

Lucy knew someone was following her before she even turned around. The air had shifted. The night grew uncomfortably warmer. He was hot on her trail. She had slowed down in the forest, desperate not to lose her way. It proved to be a rookie mistake. She reached a cliff that was surely not supposed to be there. When she spun, dagger concealed in her sleeve, he was already there. A familiar helmet waiting between her and the darkness beyond the trees. Then, he lifted it. Was that some kind of threat?

Lucy didn't know what to do. She took off in the only other direction. She couldn't outrun him. Why was he always chasing her? He's pledged loyalty to your father, idiot. Natsu knew her better than she realised. How was he always two steps ahead? Where had he even been?

Her horse galloped with all its might. The next thing she knew, he was beside her. She panicked, tugging on the mane in front of her. The horse brayed and reared. Lucy was flung off into the dirt. It ran, leaving her to the mercy of the hunter.

"You're fast," he mused, dismounting from his own, saddled stallion. "I'm faster."

Lucy gritted her teeth. "You don't have to do this."

Only he did. Because if he didn't, he was putting his own life at risk. They'd have her location. The king would send others. Worse men. Men who would not hesitate to kill her on sight. Deep down, she knew that. It truly wasn't his fault. But blinded by outrage, she only saw him as her captor. A soldier who belonged to her father.

So, she attacked.

She sprung up with a new quickness. Moving like a shadow, her blade flashed in the moonlight. Natsu's interest piqued. When had she learnt to fight? It didn't matter. He was fire, and fire did not submit to the dark.

He dodged her first strike with ease, catching her wrist before she could land a second.

She gasped, an unfortunate slip-up. In that single breath, he twisted her arm, sending the dagger clattering to the ground. She kicked at him, but he didn't even flinch. She tried to flee on foot, rushing for her weapon as she scampered away, only to be caught by the neckline of her dress. When she struggled, he did not let go. It was a painfully familiar encounter.

"Just stop," he hissed. "You're not getting away from me."

Lucy's chest heaved. "I'd rather die than go back." A hint of something desolate crossed his face. For barely a moment, the fire in his eyes dimmed. And Lucy's did too, for just as quick.

She knew this moment would come. She had spent weeks glancing over her shoulder, waiting for the inevitable. But even now, as she stared into the insipid green eyes of her captor, a man who had torn through battlefields and emerged unscathed, her pulse still roared in her ears.

No. She was not giving in. She had to fight. With every ounce of her strength, she would fight. Tearing herself from his iron clutches, she swung her fist, and he sidestepped the rash punch with infuriating ease. His mouth twitched. She could feel the amusement radiating off him. It pissed her off.

"Really?" He drawled. "You intend to fight me?" He pulled his visor back down.

Lucy didn't answer. She pivoted, bringing her knee up in the only move that had never failed her, dirtily aiming for his crotch—but he caught her leg effortlessly. Her breath hitched as he yanked, sending her tumbling backward. She hit the ground hard, but she was already scrambling to her feet before he could grab her again.

She wasn't trained like him. She wasn't strong like him. But she had survived. And she would not let him take that away from her.

She feinted left before twisting to the right, snatching his dagger from his thigh. This time, she aimed to kill. The back of his neck was slightly visible under his helmet, salmon hair peeked out and covered it. She saw the sparks light in his eyes as he turned. Then the heat rose. Good. Let him burn. She stabbed at the opening, but he caught her wrist from behind. His grip was firm, unyielding.

She used her other hand, wrapping it around him, clawing at his face. Her nails only dug into metal. He didn't lash out. If anything, the bastard sighed. "Are you not tired?" He muttered.

Lucy snarled, twisting around him like she had no bones in a desperate bid to break free, but he was too strong. With one rough yank, he sent her crashing against his chest. His other arm locked around her waist, pinning her against him. Her head started to spin as it collided with blackened steel. Why hadn't he used his flames?

"Let me go!" She spat.

Natsu leaned down, his voice raspy against her ear. "You done?"

Oh, she hated him. Hated the way he always caught her. Hated his effortless strength. Hated his insufferable smugness. Hated the way he looked at her. Hated the way her heart pounded—

She felt tears begin to well up in her eyes. Then she bared her teeth. "Not even close."

He exhaled sharply. Was that a laugh? Before she could think, before she could fight again, he hauled her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing at all. Lucy screamed out in rage, thrashing, pounding her fists against his back, but he didn't even slow down. "Put me down! You bastard piece of-"

"Woah there, that's some foul language for a lady."

She hated him. And, gods help her, she was going to make him regret ever finding her.

The aftermath of their fight left Lucy aching and breathless. Her wrists hurt from where he had wrenched them into the iron shackles now binding her hands in front of her. The chain between them was short, allowing just enough movement for her to keep up, but not enough to fight. Not that she hadn't tried. She had pulled, bit, even managed to land a solid kick to his shin before he finally threw her over the back of his horse like she was nothing more than a sack of grain. He walked with the reins and her restraints.

She had made quite the fuss. Shouting, cursing, and nearly getting herself bucked off for a second time in her struggle. Natsu had merely reached back, fisted a hand in the fabric of her dress, and yanked her upright without so much as a grunt.

Now, they travelled in silence.

Lucy sat backwards on his blue-armoured white horse, stiff as stone, wrists resting against the cantle as they moved at a leisurely pace through the dense woodland. She had expected them to ride hard, straight for the capital gates where her father's men would be waiting with outstretched arms. But he didn't seem hurried to get anywhere. And they weren't moving in a direct path—surely not the way they came. Not the way she was going, either. The stars told her their direction made no sense.

It had been two days since their fight, and still, there was no sign of the edge of the forest. Were they even headed towards Magnolia? She bit her cheek. She wanted to jab, find out if the great hunter was lost. But the sick feeling coiling in her gut told her silence was the best course of action.

She flexed her fingers against the chill of the horse's armour. If she got another chance, she would make it count. She turned her head slightly, voice hoarse from days of stubborn silence and the screaming she had done. "You're sure taking your sweet time." She assayed; words laced with suspicion. "Shouldn't we have hit the drylands by now?"

Natsu didn't answer immediately. She could feel his presence behind her. Steady, immovable. His warmth radiated against her back from afar. She hoped he could feel her death glare just as prominently.

At last, he responded. "I'm not taking you back to the kingdom."

Her breath caught. A cold prickle ran down her spine. She twisted around in the saddle, trying to look at him. "What?"

He slowed to meet her face to face, expression as infuriatingly neutral as ever. "You heard me." Her heart pounded harder. If he wasn't taking her back… then… where? What did he want?

She tugged at her restraints, barely suppressing the panic rising in her throat. "You think chaining me up and dragging me through the woods is going to change anything? If you're trying to break me, you're wasting your time."

His lips curled slightly, but there was no humour in him. "Maybe you're already broken, princess," Natsu said, nudging the horse forward. "You just haven't realised it yet."

A/N: lucy: atk 100 / dmg 0

did she mention she hates him?!