Chapter 20

June 7, X794; 5:30 PM

Kardia Cathedral stood recently risen, a grand testament to both resilience and renewal. Its towering spires, sharp and pristine, reached toward the heavens as if still eager to stretch toward divine grace.

The golden rays of the setting sun bathed the freshly-laid stone in warmth, the light reflecting off its smooth, polished surface, casting long, sharp shadows across the ground. The Cathedral, with its recently repaired walls, gleamed with an unbroken elegance, as though the very stones had only just been set in place, proud and unwavering after the turmoil they had withstood.

Lucy could not help but be in awe at such a sight. After Fairy Tail's war against the Alvarez Empire, this building had been decimated to the ground. It is only through the combined efforts and labors of all Magnolian citizens—both mages and non-mages—that this monumental location is rebuilt stronger and better than ever.

Her gaze drifted toward the open grand entrance, where the double doors—reconstructed from the original material splintered due to Gildarts and August's fight—stood like sentinels. They are laden with intricate scenes of celestial beings and divine moments. Despite its age, these doors seemed untouched by the scars of war. It is still heavy with the essence of its craft, the wood faintly scented with the fresh varnish that had been applied just months prior.

Once scarred by turmoil, now stood whole, its silent promise of peace settling into the cool air. Lucy stepped inside, feeling the embrace of sanctuary, the hum of the world outside falling into stillness.

Inside, Kardia Cathedral felt both timeless and new, the remnants of old prayers hanging in the air, mingled with the scent of fresh paint and stone. The soft light from the setting sun filtered through the grand stained-glass windows—each one a new masterpiece of vibrant reds, deep blues, and glowing golds. The panes, depicting scenes of angelic images soaring, divine figures, and sacred symbols, sparkled with a brilliance that seemed almost too vivid for a structure so young. As the sunlight danced across the windows, the colors bled across the stone floors and walls, shifting and alive with the fading light, casting an ethereal glow that filled the sacred space.

The pews, though freshly crafted, were humble in their elegance. Rows upon rows of polished mahogany, their smooth surfaces etched with simple but graceful designs—branches and leaves, a subtle tribute to the divine. The seats, new yet already worn with the touch of hands seeking solace, called out to the faithful. Their curved backs seemed to promise comfort, an invitation to rest and reflect, as if the wood itself carried a weight of prayers whispered within these walls. Aligned in perfect order, the pews stood ready for quiet contemplation, the space between them inviting peace. The air around them was filled with reverence, a stillness that enveloped the Cathedral, as though it too was settling into its new role as a place of sanctity.

At the far end, the altar awaited, bathed in the soft hues of the sunset. The red carpet that stretched before it, rich and vibrant, appeared almost as though it had absorbed the last traces of light, its deep hue creating a striking contrast with the sunlight filtering through the stained glass. The carpet's golden trim caught the light as one walked its length, each step along it feeling more sacred, as though it was a path of destiny leading the soul closer to the divine.

Near the altar stood the holy water stoup, a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Its smooth marble base, carved to resemble angelic wings stretched toward the heavens, gleamed in the dimming light. The water within, crystal clear and undisturbed, shimmered with an ethereal glow, reflecting the light from the stained-glass windows like a quiet pool of serenity. It stood as both a symbol of purity and protection, its gentle reflection a reminder of the blessings that had already passed through these doors. The soft murmur of the water's surface echoed faintly in the stillness, whispering the peace of those who had come before, and the hopes of those who would come in the future.

Lucy's gaze lifted to the vaulted ceiling, where intricate carvings of celestial beings, their wings unfurled, adorned the newly restored stone. Their eyes, carved in painstaking detail, seemed to follow her every movement. The soft light from the stained-glass windows bathed the space in tranquil reverence, the Cathedral pulsing with the steady rhythm of faith and rebirth. Though this place had risen from the ruins of battle, it now stood whole, its quiet presence a living testament to the endurance of hope and the unwavering spirit of those who had rebuilt it.

Lucy noticed the silence of the Cathedral before she saw him—Laxus, sitting alone on the first row, the one nearest the altar and the holy water stoup. She felt a slight pang in her chest at the sight, an odd sense of familiarity wrapped in the quiet solitude of the sacred space. There were no other souls present, not a single whisper disturbed the air, as if even the Cathedral itself recognized the weight of what Laxus carried.

Her instinct was to call out to him, to announce her presence and bridge the distance between them. But she didn't. She remained silent, feeling the pull of the space, the need to respect its sanctity. This was a place of prayer and solace. It would not be right to break that quiet with a loud word or an abrupt greeting. Instead, she approached him gently, her steps soft against the rich red carpet, each one bringing her closer to him. Her gaze never strayed from his figure, sitting still, his back straight but seemingly carrying an invisible burden.

When she reached him, her hand hovered for just a moment before resting lightly on his left shoulder, a simple, comforting gesture. "Laxus?" she asked softly, her voice a whisper against the stillness of the room.

He turned his head to look at her, and Lucy could see the weariness. His eyes, normally so intense, were dull, as if the light of the world had faded from them, leaving only the shadows behind. His face—his strong, once commanding features—were drawn and etched with exhaustion. The lines around his eyes were deeper than she remembered, as if the weight of everything had aged him in an instant. There was a hollow quality to his gaze, as if he had been awake too long, his mind endlessly replaying the same painful thoughts, each one heavier than the last. Even his posture, though still strong, seemed to sag beneath some invisible weight, as if he had borne too much for too long. He was a man on the edge, not broken, but worn to the core.

The light from the setting sun, filtered through the stained glass, casting a warm, golden glow across his face. His features looked almost tragic, yet still magnificent. The beams touched his features like a quiet benediction, illuminating every shadow beneath his eyes, the slight downturn of his lips, the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly beneath the weight of an invisible burden.

There was something raw about him in that moment—something vulnerable, as though the weight of everything had bared him to the world in a way he had never allowed before.

Lucy's heart twisted painfully at the sight of him. This was not the Laxus she knew—the man who stood unshaken, unbreakable, a force of nature wrapped in lightning and defiance. This man, sitting before her, looked… tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep could fix, but something deeper, something that settled into his very bones. She had seen Laxus wounded before, battered and bloodied from battle, but this was different. This kind of exhaustion did not come from physical strain alone. It came from bearing too much for too long.

The setting sun painted him in warmth, but it only made the weariness more apparent.

And yet, even in this state—worn, weary, and silent—he was still Laxus. Still formidable. Still standing.

And that was what broke Lucy the most.

Even now, even here, he was holding himself together.

It would only be prudent to stand strong for him. This was not the time for Lucy to break down. Not yet. Not now.

"Can I sit with you?" Lucy asked, her voice tentative, unsure if she was intruding on a moment he needed to spend alone.

Laxus nodded once, his gaze never leaving hers, his tired eyes softening just a fraction. He motioned to the empty space on his right side, an invitation without words.

"Thank you," Lucy mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. She slid onto the seat beside him, careful not to disturb the quiet air that enveloped the space. For a long moment, they simply sat in the gentle warmth of the sunset, the silence comfortable, yet heavy.

"You know… it's only now that I've realized that you're a fairly devout person, Laxus," Lucy smiled at him, making light of the atmosphere.

Laxus raised an eyebrow as he chuckled mirthlessly. "How so, my Dear?"

"You're a Kardian believer, aren't you?" Lucy asked rhetorically.

"How's my religion got to do with being devout?" Laxus' eyes crinkled, making the lines in the corner of his eyes more prominent.

Lucy shrugged. "Nothing, really. I just noticed that whenever you're not feeling okay… you always go to a church. The first time was when you were–"

"The Fantasia Festival… one of my many shames," Laxus interrupted her, his head hung low.

Lucy did not answer. She did not need to.

"And now…" Laxus began, his gaze staring at her eyes. Laxus shook his head before changing the topic. "Do you believe in Kardiathism, Lucy?"

Lucy considered it for a moment. Rare were the times that religion come up in everyday conversation, especially in such a secular world where Divine is merely equated to Magic. Adding to that, there were literal existence of Gods, Demons, Devils and Dragons in their daily lives.

"Kardiathism. It is a faith devoted to the divine heart, embodying both compassion and strength. It teaches that the heart is the sacred vessel of the soul, a source of purity, love, and unwavering resilience. Followers believe that true divinity is found in acts of kindness, selflessness, and inner fortitude, with the sacred heart serving as both a guiding force and a symbol of their devotion," Lucy discussed, briefly glancing at the very ornate altar before them. " Kardia is one of the ancient names for the word heart. It's be pretty weird if I was not baptized as one," Lucy chuckled.

"So your surname actually stands for something?" Laxus cocked an eyebrow. Lucy found it endearing. Laxus was at his most handsome when he seemed confused. "Yes. Heartfilias believe in Kardiathism… no, the Heartfilia Family is one of the founding members of Kardiathism. Our family goes way, way, way back."

"Huh," Laxus nodded. "That's interesting."

"Yeah. It is for this reason that Heartfilias believe that the One Magic–-the primordial source of all magic—is love," Lucy puffed up her chest in pride. "And we were right, so much so that our First Master Mavis and Zeref was finally able to put an end to their Curse of Contradiction, and finally rest in peace."

"Did you know, Lucy," Laxus began, his voice quiet, yet strained, like it hurt to even speak the words, "that Gramps said he died during the war against the Alvarez Empire?"

Lucy blinked, caught off guard by the sudden confession. "I didn't," she admitted, frowning.

"Yeah." Laxus let out a breath that sounded too heavy for even him to bear. His fingers curled slightly against his thighs, gripping the fabric of his pants like he needed something—anything—to anchor him. "But Gramps said that before he crossed over, he saw The First and Zeref urging him to come back."

His shoulders trembled. Just for a second. It was barely there, but Lucy saw it, felt it in the space between them.

And then he turned to her, his eyes raw, burning with something deep, something hollow.

"I almost lost him, Lucy," Laxus whispered, and his voice—gods, his voice—held a kind of desperation that carved its way into her bones. "And now Ivan… my bastard of a father… is on the verge of losing his life too."

Lucy felt her throat close up. She tried to speak, to offer something—anything—but the words wouldn't come.

Laxus sucked in a sharp breath, like he was forcing himself to keep steady, but the moment he opened his mouth again, his composure unraveled.

"And now… you." His voice wavered, cracked like brittle glass. His eyes bore into her, filled with something broken, something unraveling. "You're dying, aren't you?"

Lucy felt the air leave her lungs.

The accusation in his tone cut deep, but she did not deny it. She could not.

His jaw clenched, his fists tightening as his breath came rough, uneven—like a storm barely contained beneath his skin. His voice dropped, hoarse and raw, every syllable edged with something that felt dangerously close to grief.

"You know… when we first met, I hated you."

Lucy sucked in a sharp breath.

"It wasn't enough that you—a Heartfilia—cost me my one and only failure in an otherwise perfect mission record…" A bitter, humorless laugh scraped past his throat. "You had to join this guild. You had to bring your father here to destroy Fairy Tail—my one and only family."

His hands shook.

Lucy could see the way his fingers curled against his knees, white-knuckled, like he was trying to hold himself together, trying not to snap beneath the weight of something suffocating.

"So when I recognized you," he rasped, "I realized that I would have to weed you out."

His voice was slipping.

Breaking.

"I would have to remove you along with the weak members of this guild—to protect my family." His breath hitched. "I would have to abandon whatever feelings I held for you."

Lucy's heart clenched painfully.

Her lips parted, but nothing came out. She was not sure she could speak, even if she wanted to.

Laxus let out a slow, ragged breath and turned to her, finally looking at her—truly looking at her. And Lucy… Lucy almost wished he would not.

Because the way he looked at her, eyes burning, voice trembling— it hurt.

"You are a stranger to me back then," he ground out, voice hoarse, uneven. "Regardless of whatever I felt for you, you are not my family—but why… why must you hurt me now?"

His breath shuddered. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his entire body coiled tight, as if holding himself back from breaking completely.

"Is this revenge?" His voice wavered, teetering on the edge of something dangerous. "For that time I made fun of you? For making lewd comments about your body? For asking you to be my girlfriend in return for helping the guild against your father and Phantom Lord? For asking Evergreen to turn you into stone? For the wounds your received from Bickslow in a fight that you won?"

Lucy flinched, but still, she could not answer.

Laxus let out a sharp breath—somewhere between a scoff and something agonizingly close to a sob—before dragging a shaking hand through his hair, gripping the strands like he was on the verge of tearing them out.

"I've already apologized so many times," he whispered, broken, raw. "And I've already promised to do better by you. I'm sorry, Lucy. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I will do better next time. Please."

Then, his voice cracked entirely.

"I'm even prepared to do it all over again. A hundred times. A thousand times. A million times—just so I can earn your forgiveness."

He turned to her, and the look in his eyes shattered her.

"Why didn't you tell me that you're sick? Why did I have to find out today?" His voice dropped into something barely above a whisper, shaking, pained. "Why didn't you trust me to help you?"

His shoulders trembled, his hands curled so tightly into fists that his knuckles were bone-white, his entire body a mess of strain and barely-restrained emotion.

"I'm prepared to risk it all, Lucy."

His voice was a storm—a whisper, yet it crashed into her like thunder.

Lucy could not breathe.

Could not move.

Because it was true.

Every word he spoke, every shattered, vulnerable piece of himself he laid bare for her—she felt it. She understood it.

She could see it—the years of guilt, of regret, of words unspoken.

And so, she let his pain sink into her, let it press against the ache in her own chest, until it settled there, familiar and unshakable.

Because in that moment, there was nothing she could say—nothing that would not break them both.

So she stayed silent.

And she accepted his feelings.

"Yes... I'm sick..." She admitted, her voice faltering as her hands fidgeted in her lap. She hesitated, as though the words themselves were heavy enough to crush her. "Will... will you listen to me, Laxus?" she asked, her voice breaking just slightly as she turned toward him, her eyes searching his for any sign that he would.

"Always, Lucy. Always."

Lucy exhaled shakily, the weight of her secret pressing down on her chest like an iron chain. The fading light of the setting sun streamed through the stained-glass windows of Kardia Cathedral, painting fractured patterns of color across the marble floors. The solemn hush of the sacred space wrapped around them, amplifying the quiet tremor in her voice.

"I first found out that I have Magic Deficiency Disease after we finished The 100 Year Quest," she began, voice barely above a whisper. "It was just a random day. I was in my apartment when, out of nowhere, I felt nauseous. The world spun around me for a moment. Then… everything went black. The next thing I remember, I was sprawled across the floor."

She hesitated, glancing at Laxus, searching for any reaction. But he said nothing. His body was still, his sharp gaze trained on her, unwavering. There was no interruption, no impatience—just a silent promise that he was listening. Waiting.

Lucy swallowed hard and continued.

"Given that my family has a long history of Magic Deficiency Disease, I decided to consult with Dr. Medella. Through research and my contacts, I was able to find that she's now working at St. Asclepius." She let out a small, hollow laugh, but it held no humor. "She was also my mom's doctor when—"

She stopped, her breath catching in her throat.

"When?" Laxus prompted, his voice gentle but firm, pulling her back from the edge of hesitation.

"...back when my mom was still alive." The words came out in a whisper, almost inaudible against the vast silence of the cathedral. She could feel Laxus shift beside her, but he held himself back, barely reining in the emotions that threatened to surface.

"The reason I didn't consult Porlyusica is because the type of Magic Deficiency Disease that runs in our family isn't contracted. We don't acquire it because of circumstances. It's hereditary."

A beat of silence stretched between them. The dying sunlight bathed Laxus in a golden glow, but his face was shadowed, unreadable.

"So when you said you were in Crocus to meet with your publishers?" he asked at last.

Lucy nodded quickly. "Oh, no. No, no, no," she reassured. "That was the truth. I was actually meeting with my publishers. But I also took the time to consult with Dr. Medella."

Laxus frowned slightly. "Was that why you seemed to have memorized the building, floors, and rooms?"

Lucy let out a mirthless chuckle. "Frankly, I didn't even realize I had memorized it. But I've been having scheduled check-ups with Dr. Medella. Every two weeks since I found out about my condition. That's why I haven't been going on too many missions lately. And when I do, we conduct the check-ups using Communication Lacrimas."

Laxus was quiet. Contemplating.

The cathedral's silence grew heavy, pressing into Lucy's ribs like a vice. The flickering candlelight illuminated the solemn marble angel statue near the altar, its outstretched hand cupping a shallow basin of holy water. Her gaze locked onto it, as if seeking solace.

Then, softly, hesitantly, Laxus spoke.

"W-Why didn't you tell anyone about this?"

Lucy stiffened, her breath hitching. She refused to look at him, afraid of what she might see in his eyes. Instead, she focused on the angel statue, its cold, expressionless face offering no comfort.

"Because I'm afraid," she whispered, barely holding herself together.

Laxus leaned in slightly. "Afraid of what? We would have helped you through it."

"I know," Lucy said, voice trembling. "I trust you. I trust everyone. It's just that…" Her voice cracked. She gripped the fabric of her skirt, as if to steady herself. "It's just that saying it to you—to Team Natsu, to the guild—it makes it real."

A sob broke free from her lips, and before she could stop herself, tears spilled down her cheeks.

"I'm afraid, Laxus," she gasped, gripping his hand tightly, desperately. "I am so afraid."

Laxus stiffened under her touch, but then, slowly, he turned his palm over, interlacing his fingers with hers, grounding her.

"I'm so afraid that I might end up like my mom," she confessed, choking on the words. Then, through blurred vision, she looked up at him. "I don't want to die. I have so many things I want to do. I want to become an S-Class Mage. I want to become a famous author. I want to travel the world. I want to earn enough money to buy back at least the Heartfilia Mansion. I want to move my dad and mom's graves back there… I want them to have a real final resting place. There's so much more that I haven't done yet."

Her breath hitched as she swallowed back another sob. "And…" she whispered.

Laxus, ever patient, waited. "And?"

Lucy lifted her gaze, her tear-streaked face bathed in the warm, fragmented light filtering through the stained glass.

"I want to have a family of my own," she admitted, voice raw with longing. "A husband I will love and cherish 'til I'm old and gray. And children—many children—who I will love and care for, so they never have to want for anything. A happy family where Natsu, Happy, Gray, Erza, Wendy, Carla, and the others could always visit. Or they could live with me. That would be better!"

Laxus did not speak at first. Instead, he moved, pulling her into his arms with a quiet certainty. His warmth enveloped her like a shield, a steady anchor in the chaos of her emotions. She pressed her face against his chest, her heart hammering in her chest as she felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her cheek.

"I'm so scared, Laxus," she whimpered, her words muffled in the safety of his embrace.

His arms tightened around her. "It's going to be alright, Lucy," he murmured, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "You're going to live and achieve all those dreams. I'll make sure of it. I'll be there every step of the way. You're going to be an S-Class Mage, that's for sure. You'll be more famous than you are right now. You're going to travel the world. You're going to be rich… filthy rich and you'll be able to buy back your mansion. You'll have a family–a fucking happy family, and I'll be with you 'til you're old and gray. All these, I promise you."

Lucy stilled at his words, her breath catching in her throat. She pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face searching his. The golden glow of the setting sun wrapped around him, casting his face in a soft, warm light. His eyes met hers, clear and unwavering, filled with something steady and sure. He was like an angel.

Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, but all that came out was a shaky laugh, watery but still filled with an ounce of hope.

"You… You should really learn to mind your words," she whispered. "Because it sounds like you're proposing."

For a heartbeat, everything went still. Then, a smirk tugged at Laxus's lips, one of those rare, tender smile that softened his usual sharp edge.

"That's because I am, Blondie," he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. His hand gently cupped her cheek, and he held her gaze, unflinching, unyielding. "Marry me, Lucy."