Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Natsu was very disoriented when he finally awoke.

The warm sun and the soft meadow that made up Fiore had vanished, replaced by a subpar windchill and scratchy grass pressed against his cheek. It didn't bother him too much. A dragon's scales were sharper, and he'd spent the majority of his early childhood curled around those. Then, with almost startling clarity, his eyes burst open. Olive green pinpricks darted towards whatever was casting a shadow on him (a large tree) and then to the nearest lifeform (a small rabbit).

He relaxed almost minisculely before stiffening again.

He couldn't smell magic – something that had once been omnipresent - or ethernano. There was no vaguely musty, sharp-fur-mine-greed that he'd always associated with Vulcans, whose scent permeated the surrounding forest of Magnolia. No ice-burn-death-freeze that hung around Gray like a cloud. No steel-blood-other that followed Erza's every step. No metal-gold-mist-gate that curled around Lucy.

Laxus? Nothing. 

Mira? Nothing.

Master? Nothing.

Not even Happy, whose scent mimicked Natsu's with hints of air-salt-fish, was near. 

For the first time since Natsu was eight, scared and trapped inside unfamiliar trees, he was truly alone. It reminded him almost painfully of that month, when the only thing familiar to him was his scarf – Igneel's scarf. His caring foster father who’d been the only one present for 400 years.

Wait.

How– How did he know that? It was written on his (empty) soul like a neon sign. 400 years. Years of darkness, silence, and no scents – except.

Except for the whiff of smoke on his own (not) breath. Except for the taste of iron that grew weaker and weaker as Gajeel drifted further and further away. Except for the (finally) fresh wind that kicked up whenever Wendy stirred. Except for Sting's bright flashes and Rouge's (Ryos') cool relief from the neverending gray.

The blood-sharp of a newborn dragonkin piercing through the veil of fog. The whispers and beats of (him, it’s him, it’s him) a dragon's wings. Dragonfire flickering unknown and unseen. Glimmering stars blinking out one by one as they were hunted down by–

Oh. It was Acnologia.

Acnologia had been the last thing he remembered. Tenroujima was destroyed.

Natsu had to find Igneel.

This new world – with dying magic and old, old strength – still carried the scent of dragons. The jewel-mine-strong-wind-burn-blood that dragons always smelled of. It smelled like home. Like Igneel and Acnologia (and himself, if he concentrated). This world, weak in the everyday magic of Fiore, the magic he was used to, was strong in the Old Magic.

The magic of Life and Death. The magic all dragons carried. The magic of demons, of Celestial Spirits and earthly ones, of fairies and- (Levy and Freed, changing the world with a word. Cana, with old eyes and future-sight. Erza and Lucy, summoning from the Other. Gray and Mira, Elfman and Lisanna, with something else that lurked in their vision. Zeref who was Death but also Life in a way no other being could be.)

Natsu breathed in. Smoke came out.

His scarf was still there, and so was his magic. Dragon magic rushed through him far easier than before and he knew. Knew that Igneel, who'd once dwelled in his magic and kept his dragon and demon from awakening, was gone. He was actually, genuinely, alone.

He sat up.

The sun was almost directly overhead and he had work to do. He could see the mountains easily, and the distinct scent of thieves was clear. Not Vulcan, but similar. A monster, if slightly more human (who was he to judge?) and in a far larger group than Vulcans usually traveled in. He didn't have a bag on him, but one shouldn't have been too hard to acquire. His vest wasn't too damaged, and his pants were… wearable, if only just. He didn’t even have shoes anymore.

Okay. That was fine.

Natsu- Natsu could deal with this. He needed to find water first – his magic would keep him warm at night, and as long as he could make a fire by hand he could provide his own food. Magic would fuel his body, but water? He needed that fast.

The nearby mountains were snow-covered. That’d work.

C’mon, Natsu, think. Erza said that whenever he got lost, he should set a flare and she’d find hi– dang it, that only applied to jobs. He went missing during the battle with Acnologia, they probably thou- oh crap, what if they thought he was dead! So that’s useless. What else?

Uhh… find water and shelter, then food. Water was on the mountain, there was probably a good cave somewhere, and he could hunt down the rabbit he saw since it seemed like spring. There was no hope of rescue, no one to attack, and no one to rescue.

Mind made up, he stood, following the scent of the rabbit he saw when he first awoke.

—

The mountains were colder than they first seemed.

The path up them was also far more treacherous than he’d first thought.

Once he’d finally reached above the treeline (after almost causing an avalanche), Natsu could see smaller mountains to the East of him, each one with sheer, rocky cliff faces. They were a good distance, perhaps fifteen kilometers, but even then, Natsu could hear the cawing and shrieks of eagles. A few he could see, but only when they flew closer to the goat-worthy mountain trail he was following.

It took until the thick, heavy mist of the great mountain had nearly blinded him for the steep, rocky incline he was climbing to meet up with another path. This one was old. It didn’t seem well cared for, and what might’ve once been an often-traveled path was now long-abandoned. The scent of thieves was stronger here.

It’d been getting stronger for a while. The boulders and rocks falling down the mountain had been increasing in frequency, but when he reached the path, the near-avalanches seemed to stop. The wind was loud, but the smoother wall of the path provided some shelter. There were even little nooks and crannies that Natsu could slip into and warm himself slightly.

The nooks would have deep cracks, likely going back meters, and each one gave off a soft, warm air.

Natsu really hoped he was climbing a volcano.

It seemed the most likely.

Why else would there be deep cracks that exuded heat? Why else would people not travel on such a nice path, with such a beautiful view?

He had a steady water source, but he was beginning to regret not hunting more food before climbing up the mountain. He had the rabbit, and that was it. Water and a single rabbit- well, half a rabbit. Okay, maybe only a leg.

There weren’t any bears. No mountain goats. The only other life was the thick scent of thieves that never left. And he couldn’t tell where they were.

As the sky darkened on his first day Completely Lost in Another World (Erza was going to kill him), Natsu found a slightly larger hole in the mountain and fell asleep.

—

By Day Three, Natsu was regretting everything.

He didn’t know what exactly called him to keep walking, what pushed him forwards, but he did. He was starving, and there was no wood to start fires, and did he mention that he was starving? Because he was.

He might actually eat a person, he was so hungry.

Okay, bluff called, probably not. (that was something E.N.D. would do) Maybe.

He’d probably eat a rock first. If Gajeel could, he could too! I mean, rocks can’t be that hard, right?

—

Rocks were, in fact, that hard, as Natsu found out on Day Five.

His teeth hurt, but on the bright side, he was less hungry! But he also had to regrow a fang. Which he didn’t know he could do so… huh. His dragon seed was getting stronger.

His skin was getting tougher, too. The Dragon Magic in the air would sometimes grow even more powerful and coral pink scales would flash across his palms. His eyesight allowed him to see the plains and forest he’d come from, no matter how hard to see it was the previous day. His fingernails were almost permanently claws, and on the soles of his feet? The calluses and blisters were indistinguishable from the scales.

He slept longer now. Falling asleep faster and faster, but rising with the warm sun every day. He could tell that it was getting warmer. The air was less harsh, and melting snow dropped more boulders around him, even if it would freeze again overnight.

There were thunderstorms every other day. Loud flashes, and distant crashes that would echo and echo and give him a throbbing headache. He was half-tempted to stand out in the open and wait for lightning to strike him, just to get a good meal, or even a half-decent one!

The days kept passing. They were painfully repetitive.

Rise at dawn, drink melting snow, wait for the morning thunderstorm to pass, walk. Seek shelter as the midday thunderstorm hits, take a nap, walk. Seek shelter again for the evening thunderstorm, and sleep.

He lost track of time very, very quickly.

Then he saw it. A giant. It was huge, bulky, unwieldy, and clearly made of stone.

Natsu really wanted to fight it.

His fists sparked. The giant turned.

It was holding a large boulder. Twice the size of Natsu, yet it held it easily in two hands. “Hey, Stone-Freak!” The giant, clearly intelligent, looked angry. “Wanna fight! Bet you’ll lose!” It threw the boulder. Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you Etherious Natsu Dragneel, Salamander of Fairy Tail, Son of Igneel, and Fire Dragon Slayer, demolished by a poorly-timed insult and a big rock.

He went hurdling off the mountain path and into the steep valley below.

After many a curse and stubbed toe, Natsu pushed the boulder off him and found himself staring a deer in the face. He ate well that night.

He never did return to that mountain path, but lived in the valley far below. He soon found a pond and waterfall, with a deep cave behind the ice-cold, melted snow.

After spending a grand total of two hours in his little haven – tall trees that blocked the rain and provided shade, plenty of animals to chase, freedom to be as loud as he wanted, a cool echo whenever he yelled, a pond to swim and bathe in – Natsu found himself bored. Of course he did. The idyllic scenery, if colder than what he preferred, was calm, and very much nothing like Fairy Tail. He was lonely.

Now, dragons are a solitary sort, but that is only full-grown dragons. Natsu was very much still a child according to the dragons (and his guildmates). Dragons with young would often form temporary packs, raising the children together and dumping the excitable and hazardous beings on each other. Similar to babysitting, or Magical Vehicle-pooling.

Despite the strong Dragon Magic, there were no other dragons in sight.

He could smell them, though. With every northern or easterly breeze, the scent of dragons grew stronger. So why, why on Earthland, was he heading Southwest?

Every time he took steps North or East, his heart burned. He needed to go towards (it, he must find it. hurry, hurry, it is near.) something. He needed- no, wanted it.

With a boredom-fueled sense of adventure, Natsu set out to explore the cave behind his waterfall. It twisted quite a bit, and he lit a low flame on his fingertip to light the path. Natsu, whose vision was far better than it was before the Battle with Acnologia, didn’t need this light except for places where sharp rocks that would be challenging to see even in full daylight stuck out of the cave. He suspected it was a mine, if an unorganized one, by the abandoned pickaxes leaning against the wall, and the old lanterns that dangled dangerously by rusted chains.

It wasn’t long until he heard a cruel and cackling voice, and rancid air carried the scent of the thie– oh. The thieves. They were what he smelled before, with oil-blood-metal-sweat being buried beneath. The thieves had built the tunnel, and Natsu was getting closer and closer to them. He picked up one of the pickaxes that was in a slightly better condition than the others, and continued even more cautiously than before, creeping near-silently, similar to a cat.

Voices. Loud, scratching voices that shrieked and growled. Speaking in a primal language that rang throughout his whole being.

It wasn’t echoing in his body, but in his soul. The demon in him wanted out now more than ever, and Natsu found it hard to hold back the memory of– (E.N.D., Zeref, Jackal, Kyôka, Mard Geer, Seilah–) It hurt to think.

He kept walking.

The voices and the terrible stench grew louder and stronger, and he found himself filled with rage. Not burning, and angry, and I’m going to cry, I’m so mad. It built. It was annoyance, and a headache from some lady’s stuffy, lavender-scented perfume. It was smoke, and trains, and petty tricks on an already bad day. It was almost as bad as Gajeel’s singing.

Okay, probably not that bad. 

Now that he thought of it, the stone smelled remarkably like Gajeel. The whole mountain did. Iron smelled similar to blood, and Gajeel always smelled like old-anger, and iron-metal-sharp, and like sweat and cat. There was less cat smell in the mountains, and the sharp was less like a well-cared-for sword and more like a rusty axe. Or a rusty pick axe, as it were.

That was kind of weird.

Maybe Gajeel was nearby!

But- no, that wouldn’t make sense. (See! He can too use logic! Take that, Cana!) The air and stone lacked that particular Gajeel scent. It was similar, sure, and it may have had most of the components, but it wasn’t Gajeel. It just wasn’t.

His musing was cut off by a large, ugly creature blocking his path. 

It was grotesque. It had a wispy bit of pale hair around its head, and pointed ears. The ears were bent and crooked, and one was larger than the other. Its eyes were cloudy, and bulged slightly out of its face despite their tiny size. Its face was also flat, which made the bulging eyes even more apparent. It twisted its mouth into a sneer, and showed far too many and far too tiny teeth, all yellowed and crooked.

Finally, Natsu thought, firmly ignoring the stone giant from earlier, a monster to fight. It was almost as eager to fight as he was, if the broken and crackling growl was any tell. It took a stumbling step forward, which brought its uneven legs to Natsu’s attention. It put most of its weight on the left leg, which was far bigger and lumpier than the right. The right would be easy to sweep out with its limited mass, and it would likely be surprised enough that it would flail dramatically before catching its balance again.

Natsu paused to let the amusement run its course before letting out an answering snarl and a pleased grin. The creature, versed in the more animal-like ways of fighting, hunched its shoulders up and flexed its claws dramatically. Of course, it could only flex one hand, as the other was too busy swinging a pickaxe threateningly. It wasn’t really threatening to Natsu, who could burn the wooden handle to a crisp in seconds, but it was funny to watch such an uneven and rough creature attempt something that was meant to be smooth and quick.

The creature pounced, likely sensing that Natsu was barely paying it the attention that a proper fight deserved, and was quickly treated to a vicious punch on the skull. Natsu found it almost interesting – the mushy, lumpy skull grew even more misshapen as its cotton hair caught on fire, and its eyes dared to burst like grapes.

Huh, his thoughts weren’t usually full of that sick desire to (burn, pillage, destroy). He needed to watch himself more carefully. 

At least, that’s what Lucy would say while giving him that gently concerned look of hers.

He really needed to go home.

His desire to return to Fairy Tail was pushed back when he felt a sharp wind on his neck. Normally, his neck wasn’t exposed, protected by the thick scarf of Igneel’s scales. So why– oh, we’re playing it that way. Don’t worry, I’m well-versed in playing it that way.

If those thieving rats thought they could take Igneel’s scarf from him and keep him from beating their hides, they had it coming. 

—

Natsu couldn’t believe the stupid thieves had managed to lose him.

It wasn’t his fault – they all smelled way too similar! The same greed, same twistedness, same shadows, same blood! It was exhausting. One minute he’d catch a whiff of mine-fire-strong-blood-victory, the next he’d be facing a solid wall and the trail was cut off in front of him. A few times, he’d been led back to the outside, but he was mostly brought through twisting tunnels on the outside of the Great Chasm, as he’d taken to calling it.

The Chasm was filled with the scent of rotting wood – huge, shoddily built bridges towered throughout the cavern, and scaffolding and ramps connected everything. Usually, it was the other way around, but these creatures simply refused to follow any known laws. A bridge would twist and spire, only knowable as a bridge because of how it would sway with the deep puffs of steaming air. They were closer to rope ladders, really. A piece of scaffolding was built precariously, only a few beams actually hitting the ground.

It had to be built with magic.

Despite the nearly impossible and practically indestructible structures, – or perhaps because of them – Natsu found himself missing home.

This cavern, without a single fresh breath of air to be found, inhabited by lawless monsters, and filled with magic, was not Magnolia.

Here it was dank and dark. The magic of the little humanoid creatures was sickening and cloying, the light was brought by oil lamps and some far-off magma river at the base of the Chasm, and the buildings were twisted and orderless. It was perfect for Natsu.

But it wasn’t Magnolia.

The inhabitants of the cursed mountain were stupid, screeching little things that called themselves 'goblins'. The only one of any worth was the Great Goblin, who Natsu met after traversing the tunnels for around two weeks. Natsu's skin, previously tanned from years of constant sun, was now pale in a way it hadn't been since his early childhood on the mountaintops of Sin, his homeland. (burned, dead, destroyed– I just want to go back home, big brother– dead, deAD, DEAD–)

After what he guessed to have been a month – the sweltering, stuffy mountain air reached what would normally be unbearable heat, but to Natsu was a comforting blanket of summer warmth – he finally settled down in an abandoned den of sorts. The previous homeowners' blood was splattered on the floors, and their bodies were tossed to the magma river to burn. It was semi-comfortable – hidden entrances and exits, a pile of furs for a bed, a decent storage area for food, and a meager collection of stolen tools and goods.

He could do this.

First, get his scarf back. Second, kill all the goblins in Goblin Town – he learned the name from a frantic runner. Third, kill the Great Goblin. Fourth, get back to Fairy Tail.

Yeah, that wasn't too hard. 

(Who was he kidding? He wasn't as smart as Lucy, as calm as Gray, as strong as Erza – he hated being alone.)

—

It was almost winter.

The population of Goblin Town was slowly shrinking, and Natsu found himself tiring. There was something of a truce between the groups; the goblins wouldn't attack him without need, and Natsu wouldn’t attack them. The only reason the deal was upheld was that the Great Goblin still held Natsu’s scarf and threatened to toss it in the river, and Natsu was strong enough to murder every other goblin in the mountain caves.

There was a word for that; he was pretty sure Lucy had told it to him. Something about countries getting mad, and mass destruction or a never-ending fight ‘cause they were both the same strength. Levy had used that word before too, to describe why Erza and Mira fighting all out would be a bad idea.

And then Laxus had bragged that he would easily take Erza and Mira both down.

That was a fun brawl.

Natsu– Natsu kinda missed those days when he was younger. A little twelve-year-old, pink-haired brat who would follow around his guild-siblings like a puppy. He missed staring at the stars with Erza, glaring competitions with Mira, trying to sneak up on Laxus. He missed Lisanna always greeting him with a cheery grin in the mornings, Gray giving him a slight nod of acknowledgment, even Gildarts was around more often back then.

The guild had drifted as they'd grown. Forming teams and alliances, letting petty arguments build into something bigger–

Lucy joining Fairy Tail seemed to bring everyone a little bit closer.

Now? Who knew where his guild was? Who knew where he was?

He curled up on blood-stained furs and puffed out smoke.

It wouldn’t do him any good to keep looking at the past, but if he didn’t, then how would he learn how he got where he is? He had to keep looking.

Even if it meant he had to ignore the steaming tears on his face.

—

The winter passed uneventfully. Food was a little hard to come by, but the goblins weren’t too bad-tasting. They were, however, rubbery and tough. Lucky for him, his teeth were made for rubbery and tough things. They were sharp enough that, if his mouth was big enough, he could rip dragon scales out by the roots. Sadly, most dragon scales were the size of his head – the only smaller ones were around the eyes, and if you were that close you might as well just go for the eye and not waste energy.

Still, at least he wasn’t hindered by bad teeth.

A few times, he’d chomped on some melded flesh-armor and broke or knocked out a tooth, but they were fairly easy to grow back. He was almost tempted to make a necklace out of the jagged, deadly-looking things. He had almost a dozen, and it wouldn’t be very hard to find a goblin willing to make a dragon-tooth necklace. Even if they were only baby teeth.

Yeah, Natsu decided, he’d get a goblin to turn his teeth into a necklace in the morning.

He was still buried in the slowly growing pile of fur in his makeshift den by the morning, but it was pretty comfortable. And besides, goblins usually weren’t awake until the sun had already been up a few hours. Something about giving those awake all night a few hours to sleep in peace.

His neighbors weren’t too bad. There was a weird schedule to the goblins' daily lives. Morning began with a quiet time for a bit, before ending with a raucous song by the Great Goblin (one which got very repetitive, as he never switched it up unless it was a special day). Lunch was held as a huge gathering – some goblins would find teams to try to get humans with, and would leave for weeks at a time; others would hold a market of some sort, trading metal for food and furs; still, more fought angrily, feasting on the corpses of the losers. 

Natsu got his necklace made, and he didn’t kill the goblin in gratitude.

By evening, the midday festivities were over, and a second quiet time began. This time was ominously empty. Fresh blood coated the walls, lights were dimmed, hundreds slept, and hundreds more were simply gone to other caverns to hunt.

Around the third hour of this, the caves once again awoke. Goblins would wake to find their dens robbed, and would search for the perpetrators with intent to kill; hunting parties would return to begin a new feast; and the Great Goblin held his tournament. 

The goblins who’d tried to “betray” the Chieftain would be entered into a weeklong tournament. For seven days, more and more goblins would be thrown and chained to the island where the Chief kept his throne. Every evening, their chains would be undone and they’d have to fight amongst themselves in order to live. The fights were one vs one’s, and were usually between untrained, scrawny, and malformed horrors. They were given no weapons or food, and so relied on the flesh of their foes to survive.

Natsu found it terrible. (how entertaining. blood spills faster and faster and never to stop flowing– oh look. a new river.) He would usually just stay in his den or steal food from badly guarded market stalls – or, some attempted mimicry of market stalls.

As the lingering cold of winter – made weak by the volcano walls – faded into cool spring, Natsu found himself content.

Every day, he got to fight against evil monsters. He had a home, a routine, and there were no trains. If he ever wanted a snack, he’d figured out a safe (ish) way down the cliffs and to the magma river. If he wanted to hunt, well– plenty of prey lived right next door.

It was only during his musing about his current situation that Natsu realized – he hadn’t spoken a single word in months. Not one word had passed his lips. He’d growled, and snarled, and rumbled, but he hadn’t spoken. He’d used some of the rough growl-speak of the goblins that he’d picked up, but as he attempted to use his tongue the proper way, he realized that his mouth was shaped differently.

His tongue was narrow and pointed at the end, but it was longer than before, and filled up quite a bit of his mouth. His teeth were sharper, angled slightly inward and with magic-tipped edges that made them frighteningly strong and gave him his powerful jaw strength. His hands were clawed, more skeleton-like, and scales smattered along his knuckles.

His ears were more pointed, and though he couldn’t see it, he could feel faint ribbing that echoed Igneel’s ear fins. A glance at a piece of shattered mirror revealed that his eyes were permanently slit, and scales crawled on his neck and jawline in a cruel mockery of facial hair.

Thicker scales – which could pass for the scars he thought they were in poor lighting – covered his knees and elbows and turned them the same salmon pink as his hair. His toes were longer as well, tipped in claws and each one with far stronger muscles than in the average human foot.

He was transforming.

His body was shifting to something it wasn’t and he hadn’t even noticed.  

It felt right.

The way his claws clicked when he tapped them on his knee. The faint rattling as he twisted his torso, and his vertebrae scraped against each other.

He was becoming a dragon.

Chapter Text

Winter nights blurred into fresh spring days. Spring twisted into violent, stormy, summer. Constant rain and melting snow left the cavern walls soaking. A few from the lower caves were flooded out, and the subsequent influx of goblins led to constant fights – something that Natsu greatly appreciated.

Natsu shuffled in his perch.

The hunting parties would be returning soon.

Excitement flew through the air. Joyful chitters called out.

Ah. They’d caught some poor, traveling souls. Likely a group that had sought shelter from the Rock Giants in one of the many trapdoor-tunnels. They were painful to both find and avoid.

Out of a misplaced and out-of-character curiosity, he went in search of the soon-to-be dead travelers. He’d long stopped trying to rescue them – they’d refuse his assistance, believing he was just another goblin playing a cruel joke.

He should really bathe if they actually thought he was one of those things. Or cut his hair, it was getting pretty messy.

Usually, Lucy reminded him to do those, and before her time, Erza had wrangled him into such human frivolities. Even Mira would-

(stop)

He caught sight of the party.

The travelers were… decidedly not human.

They were tiny. Shorter than Levy, tiny.

… Don’t tell Levy he said that.

The creatures were running, stumbling over one another, and yelling loudly. The goblins had their whips out, cracking them to the tune of the hunting song, herding their prey towards the main cavern. Across the bridge, onto the pillar-island of the Great Goblin Chief. The creatures were halted before the pyre at the front of the island, and goblins quickly had the small troupe in shackles. The group – fourteen total, all male, traveling items and ponies being sorted through – was pushed forwards, in front of the Great Goblin.

The Great Goblin said something, and Natsu couldn’t understand the language fully. (he can’t understand them, and it reminds him so much of when he first met the Master, of pain and anger and heartbreak, big brother? what’s going on? i don’t understand!) A lesser goblin responded in the same tongue, and pulled forward one of the human-ish things, jerking it onto its knees. From there, Natsu caught a few of the Great Goblin’s words.

No good, spying, my people, thieves, murderers, then a question – asking for an explanation? 

A traveler stepped forward, looking oddly distinguished for a soon-to-be meal. Your service, suspect, no, shelter, storm, cave. Nothing, goblins, true. It was… defending itself? Probably. Explaining its side? (like the Magic Council – they wouldn’t listen, there was no defense, there was no alternate outcome)

The Great Goblin spoke again, still in that infuriating language that Natsu didn’t quite know yet. Disbelief of some sort, then a mention of knowledge, and a repeat of a word that the traveler had put emphasis on – tho-rin. Then the Great Goblin demanded the truth, and Natsu understood this part near perfectly. (how frustrating, how incompetent he feels, how lost he is)

The goblins were planning on eating the travelers, but they… wanted justification? The travelers didn’t know they were doomed and assumed they had a fair chance to survive, so were arguing their case. 

The traveler spoke once more, but its words were tinged with falsities – it was trying to lie its way out! A goblin spoke up, one of the hunting party, and accused the travelers once more – liar, our people, lightning, cave, invite, creature, dead, he hasn’t explained – and the goblin revealed a blade. The group was sent into a frenzy, some frothing at the mouth, screaming “Biter! Biter!” in the goblin tongue.

The Great Goblin was caught up in the wild energy, and leapt from his throne to point an accusing finger at the travelers. He screamed in both the goblin and other tongue – death threats and violent commands – and Natsu watched carefully.

His scarf, bleach-white dragon scales shining in the firelight, was fluttering from the tight grip of the Great Goblin.

The pyre went out in a flurry of blue-white smoke. The sudden replacement of red and orange with blue and white left most of the cavern inhabitants at a loss. White sparks flickered among the crowd, and Natsu made his move.

Before he could reach the Great Goblin – the ruckus of dying goblins sounded like tortured cats and Gajeel’s singing and it distracted him terribly – a sword flashed and the Great Goblin fell to his knees, dead. Natsu ran faster. The lesser goblins hadn’t realized it, so caught up in the panic and tumbling and screeching, all the terrible howling, that they hadn’t seen Natsu rushing forward to the side of the Great Goblin.

The travelers were escaping, a fifteenth newcomer rescuing them and leading them away while pulling out a glowing blue sword – the same one that killed the Great Goblin, and frenzied cries of “Beater! Beater!” informed him that the goblins were both familiar and hated that sword more than Biter – which he used to cut their shackles.

Natsu was busy with more important things.

His scarf was finally back in his hands after almost a year, and the Goblin King was dead. Of the four things on his To Do list, those were two of them. He was halfway done! Now, all he needed to do was kill the rest of the goblins in Goblin Town and get back to Fairy Tail!

Something flashed out of the corner of Natsu’s eye, and he turned.

The traveling group had long run off, and the goblins had noticed their absence. A few had seen that he had retrieved his scarf, and were eagerly darting away from both the humanoid non-goblins and Natsu. Which, fair. But the vast majority were short-sighted and continued to scramble and howl angrily at the racing prey. The group had a head start, plus two swords that goblins both knew the name of and hated, but the goblins had made the passages in the mountains, and Natsu knew firsthand how hard it was to navigate them at the beginning.

Natsu followed along the passage. (chasing his prey, panting and frothing and baying for blood)

He knew this one well, had been chased down it a few times, and knew that it had a smooth floor that was cleared of any loose rubble, had many side-passages, and had very few sharp turns along the main tunnel.

He headed down one of the smaller side-passages – it was higher up, with a small crack near the bottom of the right wall that lined up with the top of the left wall on the main path – and let slight flames on his fingertips and feet light the way. Eventually, he came to a point where the goblins had begun infighting. Most turned back and clambered over the others, panickingly calling out warnings and fearful exclamations – “Biter and Beater! Biter and Beater!”. Before he had passed them – it was a large group that took up a good length of tunnel, and they were very loud – a few broke off from the main group.

These few had soft coverings over their claws, muffling the clickclickthump that usually gave them away. This was a tactic Natsu was familiar with, and he too carried soft, shoe-like sandals that let him ghost through dark tunnels and hide from patrols. He slipped them on, turned off his flame, and followed after the few dozen goblins and fifteen weird people.

Soon, the side-tunnel Natsu was in merged with the main one, and he was forced to join the goblin hunting party. They didn’t acknowledge him, and likely assumed he was just another goblin runner. Their sense of smell was terrible, and they had no reason to assume that the Terror of the Tunnels would run with them. The forerunners hit the back of the prey group, and one of the odd creatures fell to the ground.

It looked larger than he first thought, and that’s when Natsu realized that it was actually two beings. One carrying the smallest of the group, the one that had been separated earlier during the meeting with the Great Goblin. 

The smallest of the beings curled in on itself, awkward limbs furling and unfurling like a shy fern plant, bending out of sight of its captors. Natsu focused. The small body -overweight for height, clumsy, out of shape, civilian, easy prey- was breaking free. Sliding out of view.

Vanishing.

The smallest one -a child? negative. too old, too mature- was split from his comrades like leaves ripped from an autumn tree.

Sad.

How sad and lonely was a life without guildmates family home company. He almost felt bad for the little creature, already struggling as weak as it was.

It would probably die in these mountains.

Natsu followed his prey, bright lights and flashing swords and blood-curdling screams falling behind him. They were unimportant, for now. (he was far too used to that for it to affect him, was used to being the cause of all that agony)

The creature was silent, small body curling in (like licking flames, like autumn leaves, like frostbitten flowers) as it tumbled down and down a long and narrow crack. And Natsu followed. His palms broke crumbling rock as he held himself in the air. Muscles coiled taut, legs ready to spring, claws digging in.

Descend slowly, be fire, be silent and without warning until the blaze overtakes all.

Be swift.

He darted forward, assured by the lack of light and the way he held his frame. In a crag this deep very little light would reach down, and what did wouldn’t reveal the shadowy form of a human or beast. The poor creature hit a partially cooled pocket of magma in its uncontrolled descent. The flare of hot light made Natsu’s stomach growl, and the sound echoed dangerously.

As the creature rolled lower, Natsu snuffed the magma out, slurping greedily on the flow-

The creature -his prey- hit the bottom.

He didn’t have much hope for its survival, it was a steep fall, maybe one hundred meters, and it had hit quite a few sharp ledges. It didn’t have goblin-thick hide, or dragon scales, or armor, or magic. It was civilian, child-sized, and a cowardly thing that was already unconscious after being dropped barely three feet off the ground.

It twitched.

Natsu left it.

—

While Natsu crawled back up to the tunnel, the fight was near over.

The goblins were licking their wounds, and the creatures were long gone, scent lingering in the still air of the caves, but faded from time and goblin blood. Natsu snorted, smoke pouring from his nostrils and sparks lighting up the heavy smog like lightning in a thunderstorm. The goblins flinched upon realizing he was there, and attempted to scurry out of his way, falling in the path and smearing more blood along the walls with their efforts. Natsu lit them on fire for their troubles.

They screamed and writhed, and the smell of burning flesh made Natsu’s nose wrinkle (oh what joy, freedom to burn, i haven’t -shut up- done this in ages) and his skin crawled at the vile ashes

He plodded along the path, softskin shoes thoroughly ruined and blood-soaked, and ran a clawed hand through unruly hair. A split-second decision led him to light himself on fire, boiling the blood off his skin and out of his hair, and making him slightly cleaner than he was before.

And as he stepped forward- (turn back! turn back! It is back there! Turn back!)

He stumbled.

He fell to the ground, panting and coughing, a sharp tug at his heaRT pulled him down. It was behind him! What was he thinking? He had to get to it, had to protect it- NO! MOVE! BURN! Nothing controls me! a dragon breathes a demon growls a boy cries

He extended a shaking limb forward. (go back! go back! protect it! turn back!)

Claws dug into the earth, pale pink scales and slate gray nails. His arms strained to pull him forward, up the slight slope of the tunnel. Fingers snagged on rough stone, and he pulled himself onward.

His feet caught a crack. Deep red not-quite-scales, crimson and bloodstained, sunk into the wet slush of a fresh pool of blood mixed with dirt and gravel.

I’m fighting against myself, he thought absently. Two pieces of himself vying to do two fundamentally different things. His dragon – wings unfurling, sun-warmed wind brushing against his face, tail flickering like a cat’s – and something far more sinister. Something that had been a part of him for decades longer, yet was a far newer magic than that of the dragons. His Etherious side.

Unnatural and twisting, older and younger, screeching against the fabric of reality and the old beings who’d dwelled long before earth and sky. An upstart to nature – how fitting for Natsu Dragneel.

Now, he was fighting against himself, against this forced nature of his.

But there was something that people often forgot when they thought of the pink-haired Salamander.

Once upon a time, there was no dragon magic in the lungs of Natsu Dragneel.

(keep breathing, the smoke is fine, you’re fine, mom is eaten alive fine, dad is burned to a crisp fine, big brother is fine-)

Once upon a time, there were no bane particles in the heart of Natsu Dragneel.

(ba-bump, ba-bump, boom goes the drum of war, red spills to the ground, blood should stay inside the body but only if it’s mine, big brother’s calling me, big brother needs to die-)

Once upon a time, there was a small, human boy.

(laughter and sunny days just like your name, natsu and everything is bright and colorful, sunsets on mountaintops and jumping from cliff to cliff, big brother is just ahead-)

One who’d just started to learn magic (look, big brother, i can make sparks! aren’t they pretty?). One who’d played, and danced, and loved the sky, and climbing trees and playing with his brother.

It was two against one, in this battle of wills, and Natsu liked those odds.

His right arm shook as he attempted to lift it off the ground. He felt as if he was carrying the whole mountain. Maybe he was. Finally, after what felt like eons, his right arm had moved half a pace away. With two hands in front of him, the endeavor seemed all the easier, and he dragged himself on. After two or three slow crawls, his left leg caught on, crimson scales fading to coral pink and twitching under his body to support his weight.

Five, ten, twenty meters until the red scales (plates? large pieces that slotted and clicked against each other but didn’t quite lay over each other so much as spike up like uncomfortable socks on his skin. plates was a fairly accurate term) were mostly faded on his right leg. He dragged it under him, glad it was under his control, and twinged at the feeling of i will murder you all gathered at his lower back. He was sure that if he lifted the threadbare scraps of cloth not-even-worth-comparing-to-an-actual-shirt wound around his torso, he would see one or two vibrant red scales.

Angry and pulsing and gleeful. i want to play a game! play with me, burn with me

Ugh, he shuddered, it felt horrible and dirty and far too close to him.

Natsu pulled himself along, up the tunnel, around a bend, through a small side passage. The door to the outside was near, but there were always guards there, and he wasn’t in any position to be fighting. The passage he took smelled strongly of the outside wind, and with how steep it was sloping he wouldn’t be surprised to come out halfway up the mountain on a small ledge. Unlike many of the goblin tunnels, it was a natural path, one worn from rain trickling down and bats flying through and birds taking roost.

It was dirty, and covered in what Natsu hoped was mud.

He trudged through the thick sludge, mind blurring, vision offering nothing but vague outlines and a thin ray of light. Up and up and up, never ceasing, endless, mind-numbing climbing and crawling and climbing again.

Occasionally, he would reach for a handhold and the rock would crumble onto his face. Powdered gravel made the air thick, and hard to breathe. Eventually, he had to keep his eyes closed just to keep the dust out of them.

He was blind.

He kept moving.

He could feel the sun on his face, hear the sharp wind, smell the forest, and air, and life. Freedom. He had his scarf, could hardly feel the pull of it anymore, and his head was clear. Clear and bright. 

Renewed. 

Find Fairy Tail. Get Home. Be with his siblings and friends (with Happy, Lucy, Erza, Lisanna, even Gray was welcome at this point). He was so far from them. So lost and trapped for a- a year? A month? Two years?

He- Natsu didn’t know. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed. It didn’t feel like long, maybe two months, maximum.

But -

But it had been spring when he arrived. 

But he knew there were summer thunderstorms.

But he remembered the cold of winter, the constant sleep.

But he felt when life seeped back into the mountains.

A year, at the least.

A year of goblins, and fighting, and starving and-

He was lonely. 

So, so lonely. The voices in his head were quieter and louder all at once.

( get to the ring ! where’s zeref, he was there , so close, he got away. must kill)

(burn it, kill the demon, kill the goblins, find home, find igneel)

(it hurts- make it stop - it all hurts too much - i want to go back to fairy tail, please , i don’t want to die)

He was still blind. Dust and grime coated every part of his body, and he doubted Lucy would’ve let him in her apartment with the state he was in. He was still blind, but he could hear farther than before. Knew that if he looked he would see giant eagles circling huge cliffs and the cold, sparse forest he saw when he first arrived.

Voices echoed from beneath his ledge on the mountainside. Calling and crying.

The travelers (people, he had to remind himself) were below him.

It wasn’t too far of a jump for him.

Thirty, maybe forty meters, though he wasn’t the best at telling distance through sound (Wendy was, sweet little Wendy. Her hearing and sense of smell would be phenomenal when she got older and stronger.) or figuring out distances in general. He knew it was survivable for him, and that was all that really mattered.

With a sharp exhale, Natsu pushed himself off the ledge, his muscles straining with the effort. He tumbled forward, careful not to flip. His balance was catlike normally, but he didn’t want to take too many risks while being so drained and potentially about to enter in a fight with whatever being killed the Great Goblin. His feet hit a broken ledge, and it crumbled beneath his weight, dropping him lower, where he slid down a steep rock slide before leaping away from the cliffside again.

Leaves brushed against his cheek, and he quickly jerked his hands in front of him, where they snagged a branch. He used his momentum to swing around the branch, landing on top.

He blindly fumbled for a leaf, and ended up using almost a dozen trying to clean up his face. His attempts didn’t do much, but he did manage to get a fair amount of ash out of his eyes and clean up a few mats of hair. He blinked wildly, wincing at the sunlight.

The trees were nothing but blobs of green, even the bark was hard to make out against the surrounding branches. The ground was… a distance? Beneath him? Yeah, Natsu couldn't tell. His hands flexed on the rough bark, and his toenails clicked when he shuffled on his perch. Clicked. He brushed over his toes with a gentle (ish) finger, and was semi-surprised at the arch of sharp, flesh-colored claws and toes almost as long as his finger. The area felt oddly skeletal, and he knew that humans weren't supposed to feel that bony, but he had accepted that he was being turned into a dragon, and he knew that he had odd-looking feet now, and he knew that he had claws and scales and spines.

He knew that.

Definitely.

… He, he did know that, technically. But, he had pushed it to the side.

Forgot about it.

It wasn't important.

The goblins didn't care about his appearance, Natsu had never cared about his appearance, why would it bother him now?

People.

Would Fairy Tail like him even when he looked like a monster? (of course they would, they accepted Mira, but Lisanna had vouched for her, and Mira was nice and fun and protective) Would he be allowed to go on jobs that involved actual people if everyone thought he was a bad guy? (they thought he was a monster anyways, with how much fire damage he caused, how many buildings he burned down) Would Happy be scared of him? Would people wrinkle their noses at his face, and grimace at his claws?

Wait.

That didn't matter.

Could he still wear shoes!?

He returned to patting down his feet, though with slightly clearer vision and a renewed sense of urgency. Slowly, he resolved that he could still wear shoes, though he might have to custom order them from somewhere else besides his usual fire-proofing place. He also might be up a shoe size or two, as lengthened toes really messed with one's foot size.

He rubbed his eyes with leaves again, still wishing for something cleaner and a little bit less full-force sun.

He did not get his wish.

He, instead, rubbed against his face and managed to get more dirt in his eyes, and the pressure of his fingers managed to make the sun seem all the more bright. Great.

Natsu crawled to the tree trunk, aiming to climb down slowly. His finger-claws sunk easily into the bark, and he swung his legs under him. They latched on, and Natsu started his descent. There were a few close calls – bark breaking, foot sliding free, or, in one particularly embarrassing case that he hoped no one saw, his right pinkie claw snapped and the sound of it made him jump/fall two meters. When he tried to slide a foot downwards and it sunk into the earth he laid on his back and nearly cried.

Now safe on the ground, Natsu focussed on his hearing once more. Water had a distinct sound, and as a fire dragon who naturally feared the presence of water ( and boats, boats are the worst ) he was very good at keeping an ear out fo- ah, there. Seven kilometers away-from-the-mountain and slightly toward the eagles.

He began the hour-long, mostly blind trek to the creek. A creek with a waterfall, if he was hearing that splashing right. Every once in a while, on the mostly treeless stretches that went downhill, he would curl up and roll down them joyfully. The action had more reasoning behind it than just fun, of course – it was faster than walking, took less energy, and the grass rubbed some of the disgusting sludge off his skin. 

He reached the water.

The ground here was pretty rocky, but it didn’t bother him much. He’d already had the flip-out over his feet, and there was no reason for him to panic twice in a row before he’d had a chance to eat. And anyway, the weirdness with his feet just meant he could walk on the probably-sharp rocks without feeling pain on the most sensitive touchy-part of his body.

What did you call that sense? There were five total, but some people said the ability to sense magic and/or danger was a sixth sense. His hearing, which was pretty sensitive to any and all sounds, was far better than a humans, and only Ryos’ hearing was better than Natsu’s. His sense of smell (smelt? smelling? if you followed what hearing did then yeah, but maybe hearing was the outlier), which was weaker than Wendy’s and Sting’s (who could smell the color white), but way better than Gajeel’s (the deaf drakeling who’s only good sense was his ability to feel vibrations from miles out). His sight, where Ryos and Sting beat out everyone by a wide margin, was still far better than a human’s.

Ah, who was he kidding? Even Gajeel “I was raised in the volcanic-geyser region of natural flashbangs and can’t see anything smaller than Levy” Redfox had better vision than him!

They were raised in similar conditions. They were neighbors, really. Both lived in the darkened-by-smoke-and-ash wasteland where every once in a while the ground would expel lava. Violently. The environment forced their eyes to work better in a sudden switch between night and day, and only with a year’s worth of practice and living in the pitch (and the influx of powerful dragon magic) was he able to clearly view the night.

(Natsu had little way of knowing that both his and Gajeel’s vision was exceptional. He had no way of knowing that it wasn’t normal to sit on the roof of Kardia Cathedral and watch people in the shady Southern market. He didn’t have a clue that he shouldn’t be able to recognize Cana buying alcohol – cloaked in two oversized cloaks, easily walking on stilts, crossdressing, and four kilometers away – from three, four glances between alleyways and near-collapsing buildings.)

His sense of taste was terrible. Most of the dragonkin couldn’t taste much. Gajeel was an exception; something about needing to recognize the tastes of various metals? 

Natsu’s sense of touch was unparalleled, however. While the iron-headed idiot also had a good sense of touch, that was mostly so he could feel vibrations in the earth. Vibrations were what most Iron and Earth Dragons used to communicate. Natsu’s sense of touch was better suited for more delicate and important things, like figuring out what material was burned based on the texture of the ash. It wasn’t much of a distinction to those not dragonkin, but it was a pretty important one to him!

Back to the water.

Geez, his head sure was wandering today, huh?

The water was nice. Natsu was able to clean up and evaluate the damage. His wounds were all easily healable, his hair was a long and tangled mess, and his clothes were in tatters. With the majority of the mud, blood, and soot off his skin, he felt a lot better. Looking downstream, however… Well, the fish downstream probably couldn’t take revenge on him.

He pulled off the remains of his shirt and followed the stream path. He walked downstream, away from the mountains, away from the goblins.

With a strange sort of peace, Natsu continued East.

—

His temporary peace was quickly interrupted by wolves, howling loudly.

Natsu scrambled into a nearby tree, and attempted to figure out where the sound was coming from. When the shadowy figures began to dart under his tree, he knew. They were everywhere. He was surrounded by weird demon wolf creatures.

They barked out vicious words, and Natsu recognized some of them as the goblin tongue. Words like hunt and goblin and fire. One was yowling about trees and magic and tree-people, but was quickly snapped at by a larger one. Natsu tightened his legs, preparing to spring to the next tree. He kicked off of the trunk, and landed on the next tree foot-first and near silently. He was careful to stick to the flow, following the rumble of wolves and the various yips that marked out his destination. Four trees and eleven meters on and the scent of smoke began to flicker at his nostrils.

Woodsmoke. Burning fur. Pinecones. Magic.

There was a wizard ahead of him. 

Chapter Text

The scent of wizard magic compelled Natsu to dart forward.

His stomach growled from the scent of food – cooking meat and pine-fire – and he couldn’t stop himself from speeding up. The branches grew thinner and he was forced to slow his run. Natsu gave up on treehopping and lept to the ground. One bare foot landed on the skull of a wolf, and the bones crunching under his feet brought a sense of peace to Natsu. Violence bled through his being, and his voice rumbled in response to the joy and bloodlust. 

He darted through the thick packs of wolves, and many yelped as he stepped on toes and crushed heads alike. The few goblins present screeched out warnings, and soon the forest was echoing with monsters calling out flame-eater and hunter. The wolves leaned away from him slightly, but they weren’t nearly as terrified as the goblins who were almost instantly gone from sight.

The flame began flickering along Natsu’s skin.

He paused for only a moment to enjoy the feeling of such a wild and well-fed fire. Natsu reached towards the flickering light and pulled it back towards him. His lips were near-instantly chapped by the spicy-sweet flames. Natsu knew his eyes were alight with hunger and satisfaction. The power swirled and spun throughout his chest and his lungs inflated.

The forest darkened rapidly.

With the flame being pulled in and Natsu’s lungs expanding to impossible size – forever breathing in and never expelling, an endless blackhole of flame – there was nothing left to light the forest.

Trees once thrown into sharp relief were dulled to the blue-grays of a moonlit landscape. 

The air was still warm and Natsu still felt like he’s boiling over. Panicked cries danced in his ears, and the wolves cried out in confusion as the goblins re-emphasized flame-eater, flame-eater. There’s a new scent in the air. With the spice of burning pine gone, Natsu could notice the other things in his environment. A rush of cold wind on his skin made Natsu expand his senses. 

The sound of heavy wingbeats. Like Grandeeney’s, they’re feathered and huge. The tidelike push and pull of the wind told the stories of a multitude of giant birds.

Eagles, perhaps?

Natsu entered a clearing. The travelers were ahead of him and so was the wizard. The eagles he sensed were screeching loudly. The travelers were lifted high into the sky, and Natsu felt irrational anger when they began to flee from the goblins. Powered up with partially magical fire, he literally and figuratively burned.

He crouched down, and his hands dug into the flash-cooled earth.

He let his energy pool in the tips of his claws. The heat built and built and built. The air around him vibrated, small rocks in the earth turned bright red. Natsu glared up into the night sky. Every second on the ground was another second the eagles could fly farther away.

And the eagles were very, very fast.

He quickly twisted his body, angling towards the closest eagle, the one carrying the smallest traveler.

Natsu let his fire explode underneath him.

A bright pillar of orange-red-yellow launched him off the ground. He used his hands to steer slightly, and made sure he wouldn’t twist in the air. It was a difficult task, but he’d grown in his mostly-unplanned fire flying skills. Usually by being thrown out of the Guild Hall during brawls. More recently by falling off cliffs and into really deep ravines. He pushed his newly gained firepower towards the outside world, reaching ever faster and farther. 

The eagle grew closer and, Natsu had to grin when he caught the gleam of its huge eye, turned towards him in surprise. It looked almost terrified, and Natsu’s predatory side pushed him slightly faster.

Soon, its tail feathers were under him, and he had to shorten his stream of fire to a burst in order to keep it from catching alight.

He “jumped” on the air in short bursts before he was finally centered between the bird's shoulder joints. There was a ridiculous amount of space on the creature’s back. Granted, it did need pretty good lungs to, y'know, breathe. When he touched down – softly, he wasn’t trying to get barrel-rolled out of the sky – the creature jerked in shock, and Natsu called out ‘sorry’ in Fioran. 

He wasn’t expecting a response, but the bird called back, “You are well-feathered?”

In Fioran.

The bird just- that’s- Fioran? Okay. Fine. That’s- not really fine, but it’s not the worst situation and at least he can communicate.

“Uh, no feathers. Scales are more right, really. My dad’s a Great Dragon. I’m from Fiore, though. We all speak this language.” The bird’s feathers seemed to- un- ruffle? and Natsu listened to it trill out peace-satisfaction . He wasn’t used to Fioran. It’d been a year, and now he was hearing it being spoken plainly and clearly with the subtext and the undertones and overtrills that never carried over to other languages right.

All ideas that had equivalents only in the Fioran language and its dialects.

Ideas that this bird knew fluently.

Nope.

Dealing with that later.

Mmm.

Maybe he cou- “I have not heard of this ‘Fiore’.” -and the bird actually used the proper trill undertone!- “You speak the language of the Great Eagles, and claim the parentage of our old enemies, the drakes, and you claim a homeland that I do not know. You may travel with me to the Eyries, and our King will decide your faith. Are there any languages of Man that you speak that may be understood by the group we carry?”

Natsu realized very fast he must be in an Edolas situation. The fight with Acnologia must’ve been interrupted by an Anima that tossed him- wherever he was now. A place were Fioran wasn’t a human language.

Wait. Question. “Languages of Man.”

Did he know any languages that were actually human ones?

His first language – the one he spoke in Sin – was one learned by the humans because it’s what the resident dragons spoke. His second, Etherian, was just a slightly varied dialect of Sinna. There were additions and changed syllables; many Etherious had large fangs that weren’t conducive to the ‘V’s and ‘B’s and ‘F’s that Sinna humans loved, and dragons were telepathic and could speak as clearly as they desired. Those sounds were replaced with softer hisses and sharper ‘T’s. 

The goblin-tongue was a simple one. Easy. He understood it. It dug into his soul even if he didn’t recognize every word.

He knew his insults, how to “ask” questions, and plenty of words for the world around him.

The weird form of speech that the demon-wolves used was also pretty easy to follow. It was more complicated than the goblin’s in some ways, but the way they used it- It just felt different. Natsu didn’t know how to properly explain it. Maybe it was the excess of long-short howls and yips that reached higher pitches than even Happy could make.

Levy would probably know how to describe it.

“Nah. I don't think anyone’s gonna speak what I speak.” Unless there’s more of an overlap between Earthland and wherever here is.

Sometime during his musing (he just does that now? apparently?!?) the flock of eagles had approached a giant spire. 

They were circling it now, slowly lowering to a level that Natsu could tell was just above a landing platform or something of the like. The other eagles had already landed, and it seemed that the one Natsu was on was awaiting confirmation on if it could land or not. He decided to risk it.

“Hey! Do they not want us to land?” Natsu was going to stop there, but a sick sense of humor pushed his mouth open again. “I can just jump from here, y’know! It’s not that far to the ground.” His voice carried well – like he knew it would in his almost-yelling Fioran (bird?) – and other eagles jolted in surprise at his scratchy, human-ish voice calling out almost tauntingly.

A cacophony screeched out from the audience, and Natsu almost fell off the eagle when a great, booming voice cried out in the dialect of the Southern nobility.

“SILENCE,” the voice – the King, probably – commanded. “Who are you, Silvertongue, to make such a claim? This height is great enough that the most hardy of creatures – of those sentient, and those unaware – are unable to survive even a purposeful leap with great precautions taken. Even the son of a drake would perish on these cliffs.”

Natsu took a moment's pause to suck in air (fill his lungs) and process the eagle’s words. Clearly, this was the leader. Nobody else would be so pretentious. Using such an old insult as silvertongue?

Geez.

“My tongue ain’t silver, glow-feather. And I’ve jumped from higher places b’fore. ‘Sides, this manner of speech is the one I’ve grown up speakin’. My dad’s a fire dragon – not a drake – and I’m from the country of Fiore – in another world called Earthland – and I’ve been stuck in those mountains fightin’ off the-” Wait. What’s the word for goblin? “-thieves that took my scarf. Saw a way out to home, so I took it.”

During his speech, Natsu hated speeches, they’d circled another lap around the landing platform.

Natsu’s sharp ears pricked at a soft whimper from below him.

Oh. Yeah.

There was a guy below him, wasn’t there.

That was a rhetaric- reetorica- rheticarical (where was Levy when Natsu needed her??). A whatever-that-word-was question, which meant no question mark, and did not need to be answered, so he knew there was a guy beneath him and he didn’t need someone to answer the question-not-question. Which was in his head.

Yeah. That- that’s fine, that works.

Where was he going with this?

Right, guy, prey below him that was probably scared of heights.

They needed to land. The eagles were uncertain about him. He could just- jump. Hit the ground.

A thud ricocheted through his bones.

He landed in a manner that had been drilled into him from birth: perched on the balls of his feet; toes splayed like claws for balance; palms digging into the earth and pushing away to allow for a quick takeoff; fingers not touching the ground, as the fragile bones in his hand would shatter under the force of his landing.

The beings around him jumped back, and yelled in surprised unison. One voice carried on longer than the rest.

Almost awkwardly long, really.

He gave the overly round being – so squishy! so cute! – a look and the creature opened its eyes. Slowly, its voice petered out.

—

Natsu was sitting criss-cross applesauce with his hands in his lap.

There were fifteen humanoid beings staring out at him from across the stone nest-bowl-thing.

One was the Wizard, one was the Prey, and thirteen were of the same race, and general size – though one of the thirteen was the Voice. There were no lit fires, and the dark atmosphere probably made everything more surreal than it was. 

Or, not.

After all, Natsu was a wizard from another world who just used fire magic to launch himself onto the back of a giant eagle, spoke the Eagle’s language, and then jumped down onto solid stone, cracking it, uninjured. He also hadn’t showered in over a year – but he's cleaned off as much as he could! – was covered in red and coral scales, and had bright salmon hair.

Actually, daylight might make him seem scarier.

Around the sixteen humanoids – Natsu still counted, right? – was a chorus of eagles all arguing viciously. The half-sized people were darting their eyes between the various eagles and Natsu with fear. One eagle with silvery feathers was cawing about how he should be kicked out for smelling like – and looking like – a goblin.

Another – tawny with a black crest – said he should stay with the flock because he spoke their language. The two eagles bickered back and forth for a good amount of time. The longer they fought, the louder they got. Eagles – most birds, really – had very good lungs.

Natsu had a headache.

“SILENCE!” the king yelled out with familiar exasperation. How often did he have to call for quiet? “The Fire-Borne speaks our noble tongue. He will be granted mercy for this. He is not one of us, however, and cannot stay amongst the Eyrie. He shares our spirit against the Moria-Borne, but he has taken on their twisted nature.

“Look upon his form and see it bears the tainted mark of Ferality. He has joined the Moria-Borne in a twisted life and cannot dwell amongst us civilized and well-feathered folk.”

Ouch. But fair. Natsu had kind of, maybe, lost it. Just slightly, though.

(Fairy Tail would take him back, right? he wasn't really civilized in the first place anyways-)

Chirping murmurs carried through the stone nest, one blending into the next until they were all indecipherable. He could tell there was a lot of agreement. Which was. Not necessarily the best for his continued health and safety.

“He shall travel with the Wizard’s company. I give responsibility for the Fire-Borne to the Wizard and his Company.”

The wizard stood from his seated position across the nest. He spoke in a warm tongue. Smoother, strange. Somehow, Natsu could understand him. 

Somehow.

It was definitely a type of magic.

“Gwaihir, my friend, I am honored that you trust me with one you yourself acknowledge.” So that was the Eagle King’s name! “I would like to speak with the one you call Fire-Borne.”

“Go ahead. I ain’t gonna stop ya.” The tall wizard turned towards him, an indecipherable emotion in his eyes.

“You understand me? I was under the impression you could not speak any language of man.”

Natsu snorted. This guy, a wizard as old as Gramps, didn’t know why Natsu could understand him. “You’re a wizard, sparkle-robes. Ya got magic in your voice."

The man’s eyebrows lifted. They were. Impressive eyebrows. Very.

He took on a countenance of contemplation, “You are very intelligent for one so twisted and tainted. Strong of will to have endured without the company of Man. Familiar with magic. Yes, yes, I think you will do quite well. Five groups of three, but four groups of four.” The wizard began pacing. “Temporary death for a nice, magical number. That will do quite nicely.” His mumbling and rambling stopped as suddenly as his sharp steps.

The wizard’d altered the tempo. Now his eyes gleamed blue and bright, sparkling like stars.

Natsu felt… uneasy.

Or maybe excited?

The feeling he got from the old man’s shining eyes reminded him of something. That feeling before a mission? No, he’s always overwhelmingly happy to get out and fight. But it was close. Oh! It reminded him of Lucy! Or, to be more accurate, it reminded Natsu of when he was trying to convince Lucy to do something. Except then Natsu was the old man and Lucy was Natsu. Like with that Everduke-something boring book mission!

Ahhh, fun times…

Wait.

Lucy didn’t like the Everduke mission. Natsu did. Lucy didn’t. She was very clear about that.

And if Natsu was Lucy right now, then he wouldn’t like this plan. Probably.

He should probably leave before he got caught up in something he didn’t want to do.

—

Welp.

He did not leave fast enough.

He was being sent with this group of magicless half-size people (called dwarves, apparently) to slay a dragon.

It was morning now, the sun just peaking over the horizon. The group was gathered, and this time they were all on the backs of the eagles. Once more, Natsu had been paired with the strange little thing that had caught his eye. 

The eagle and the little one were having a conversation – apparently the eagles could speak whatever language the people here spoke. Natsu wasn’t too interested in the conversation, as it sounded like ugh, pleasantries. Soon the two fell silent, and Natsu felt antsy. He wasn’t used to being near people and it not being loud. Fairy Tail was known for being loud. Heck, they were given weekly noise complaints! Every Wednesday, on the dot, even when they weren’t being (that) loud!

The eagle swerved sharply to the left, and Natsu’s head perked up in joy. Finally, they were changing their path. Except, they weren’t. The leading eagles – carrying the other fourteen humanoid beings – were already in a slow descending spiral. There were only one, three, five, seven, nine eagles and the ninth was only halfway between Natsu and the wonderful earth. 

Huh. It could be worse.

At least the eagles were, y’know, living beings and didn’t make Natsu motion sick.

He paused for a moment to shudder.

Two hours by train was bad enough, at least Erza had the… uh “kindness” to knock him out. Two hours by bird? By a thing in the air that he could fall off of where he was too high off the earth to catch himself. That would be terrifying. That was terrifying.

Natsu settled back in the surprisingly soft feathers of the giant eagle and waited for landing.

Well, no. He could’ve. He just jumped off as soon as they were low enough. 

The little man-creature startled and shouted out – it even reached down as if to catch Natsu! – and politely turned away as if too scared to watch his gruesome demise. The thing Natsu landed on was a giant boulder he’d seen some time ago, and instantly he knew why. It was the only landmark for miles, which made it a very good dropping-off and picking-up point. The remaining three-ish eagles landed to let their passengers off, and as the very short-but-not-as-short-as-the-other-one beings slid to touch earth – very gratefully, almost reminding Natsu of whenever he got off trains. Or cars. Or any vehicles. Really, he should stop thinking about them and be happy he hasn’t seen any in months – they each gave him wide and terrified eyes.

Which. Fair.

Not really.

The eagles called out some not-Fioran greeting- no. What was that word? Take care? No- Farewell! The eagles called out some not-Fioran farewell and the tall wizard man responded in kind, thankfully understandable.

“May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks.” The wizard had a kind of solemn tone, and Natsu was- off put. That. Hahhhhh. That was a very very very old greeting. As in, Levy is the only one who still knows that greeting. She studied it to graduate with her historical archivists degree or something. It was part of this giant test – Ancient Fioran History: The Language of the-

The Language of the Eagles.

Puzzle pieces were falling into place.

Natsu didn’t know where they went yet.

(he didn’t really want to)

“I am glad I could guide you this far,” the tall wizard said. “We’ve come a great distance East over the mountains with not a member lost! However, this is not my adventure. I may watch over you, guide you further, and you may see me before the journey is done, but there are other matters I must attend to.”

That sounded awfully like a goodbye. 

He wasn’t going on the quest. Which, fair, he was pretty old. But also Natsu didn’t know the language. Or understand the people. He didn’t know where he was or where he was going! All he knew is that they were going to kill a dragon!

Natsu didn’t seem to be the only one upset. The company began protesting quite profusely in their own tongue.

Gandalf seemed to sense they were about to fight him on leaving – Natsu sure was, and he could pack a pretty strong punch – and continued speaking. “Oh, calm yourselves – you are all grown!. I am not leaving right this instant! I shall guide you another day or so, to someone who might house us for the night and gift us with more supplies.

“We have no food, no luggage, and our ponies are lost – besides that, none of you know the proper way to go! We’re too far north and not many will be able to make sure you reach the next leg of the journey. There is such a being I know who lives near enough here that we would reach him before some other tragedy befalls us.” Ah, Fairy Tail luck. Natsu thought fondly of having to find allies before everything hit the fan.

It was quite nostalgic.

Sometimes during Gandalf’s speech – the wizard could talk for hours if he wanted – the group had begun climbing down the giant rock (“I believe he calls it the Carrock”). There were steps hewn into it. Whether through tools or age or rain, Natsu wasn’t sure. For some reason his nose felt clogged. Everything smelled like bear.

One of Natsu’s companions spoke up – one of the only ones without a large beard, this one bore the slightest hint of a youthful scruff – and rambled on about something or other. Gandalf clearly understood it, and it seemed he had some compassion for Natsu’s plight, for he repeated the question.

“Ah, Kili! While waiting for our host to arrive would often be best, he does not come here often, especially not during the day, and it would not do to wait for sunset on the off chance he comes to us. No, no, going to him will be the far better solution. All manner of beast would be upon us if we remained. We must go and find him, and hope for the best. He is not a pleasant fellow, but he is an honest one, and I would gladly leave you in his care and, like the eagles, bid you all a ‘farewell wherever you fare!’”

It was midday when Gandalf stopped them before a bunch of tall bushes.

Natsu had spent the morning attempting to converse with Kili and the odd, small one, who he now knew to be called Bilbo (or Master Boggins, Kili was not being helpful about it.) The language was surprisingly easy to pick up. He knew enough of the words that carried over to the Goblin Speech that he could get around.

He also learned that it was called the Black Tongue, not goblin speak, and that it was spoken by all sorts of dark creatures. 

A language by monsters, for monsters.

By the end of it, Natsu could introduce himself (Hello, I am Sir Natsu Dragneel, son of Igneel), say that he didn’t speak the language well (I cannot speak any tongue known to man, dwarf, or hobbit.), and the hardest part of it was just adjusting the way he used his vocal cords and translating his name.

His name – The summer I bowed to the dragon, or Summer who makes dragons bow, or his favorite interpretation, the Guardian of summer – was a difficult one. Fully translating it meant making it ridiculously long and having to learn to respond to the nickname “Summer” that Kili gave him. The eventual solution (and the easiest thing to do) ended up being removing the trills and clicks and making it sound more like it was part of his companion’s spoken language – Westeron. 

It didn’t sound that bad.

Na-tsu Drag-neel.

It was only four syllables, the dwarves spoke it in a different tone than Fiorans, it was missing the hissing-click of his given name- but it was clearly his. Any member of Fairy Tail who heard it would know it was him. If anything, it was closer to the Sinna version of his name, the original version, than the Fioran version.

He was introduced to every member of the Company of Thorin Oakinshield. Bombur, Kili, Fili, Thorin, Bilbo- they were the only names he knew he’d remember. 

He very quickly learned how to say “sorry,” “apologies,” and “thank you.” He also learned that social context placed him with the title of ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’, as he was a landowner and a- knight? a man-for-hire?

Natsu had a feeling that was about to come in handy.

By the bushes, Gandalf began giving more instructions. “The Somebody I spoke of earlier is a very powerful person. You must take great care and let me introduce you. I shall introduce you slowly – two by two, perhaps – and you cannot annoy him for he has a temper as wild as his hair. He is a terrible thing when his anger is upon you, but when he is kind? Or his anger is upon your enemies? He is a great ally.”

The dwarves began speaking over each other. Natsu wished he knew any of the words.

Man did he miss Fiore.

At least he could tell they were asking questions now, and that they were annoyed with the wizard about something.

“Yes he is the one I’m bringing you to! None who can help us have an easier temper than he. And I am explaining as clear as I possibly can. If you truly wish to know more, his name is Beorn. He is very strong, and he is a skin-changer.”

Skin-changer.

That word was not right.

The magic that allowed Natsu to understand Gandalf overlapped and twisted. There was a better word for what he was. Or there wasn’t. Something familiar that echoed and built and thrummed.

Natsu knew what he was. The name sat on the tip of his tongue. It danced in his ears, reverberated in his ribs.

Yet the answer wouldn’t even make it further than his subconscious mind.

The world – and the conversation – moved on without Natsu. Something, something, Beorn can turn into a bear and loves animals and eats nothing but honey and will one day go back to the Mountains when the goblins die.

They kept walking.

And walking.

Bees that were four times the size they should be, fields upon fields of wildflowers, oaks as big as Magnolia’s Rainbow Sakura trees, thorn hedges as tall as a house.

And then a pause.

The wizard gave the final instructions – Bombur and Natsu go separately, by themselves, and Natsu must be last, Bilbo goes in with Gandalf. Five minutes between each group, walk slow and steady. Then the wizard and the hobbit were off, and the waiting game began.

Kili began counting – out loud, to five minutes – and Fili kept trying to throw him off with random numbers. Thorin and Dori began to wander up the path and were soon far out of sight. This time Fili tried counting to five minutes, while Kili threw him off. It was agreed that Nori and Ori were to go next, as they were anxious about their brother being (almost) alone with a violent tempered Somebody.

Then off in the distance Natsu heard a sharp whistle.

Balin and Dwalin set off. A second whistle.

Fili and Kili rushed off next, and- no whistle. Natsu tried to hide how nervous he was.

Oin and Gloin. Bifur and Bofur. Then Bombur barely waited two minutes before he went darting after Bifur and Bofur. He’d given Natsu hesitant glances and kept shuffling away from him. That kinda hurt. He hadn’t even burned down a town yet!

In any case he waited another three minutes before walking down the path the others had gone.

He hadn’t heard any screams yet, and there wasn’t a smell of blood in the air, so he could assume his traveling companions were relatively safe. 

Hopefully. Maybe.

They had that Gandalf-wizard guy?

… Who didn’t even know how to magic-speak.

Dang.

The world blurred as he set forward at a steady pace. Trees towered along the path, wild and strong and free. Horses bigger than any he’d seen trotted past him and flared the whites of their eyes at his presence. He halted, unsure what to do. Something told him not to upset or scare the horses, who easily recognized the hunter in their presence.

A stallion stomped towards him, and the earth pounded and echoed in a way Natsu knew wasn’t quite real. Or it was real, but it was just his magic pushing at his ears, reacting to another’s and translating anger-trespasser-whyareyouhere into heavy stomps he could feel in his bones.

A magic horse, huh?

It wasn’t even a unicorn.

Natsu let himself fall to the ground, his legs automatically crisscrossing, and stared up to the stallion that even Gildarts would have to look up to. “I won’t hurt ya, m‘kay? Just want some room an’ board for a while. I’m with the others who passed.” The horse continued glaring him down, snorting and huffing so deep that puffs of steam churned out of its nostrils like a smokestack. Natsu quickly realized the issue. “I’m a Dragon Slayer,” he said in Sinna, which had different connotations than the Fioran word for it, “an’ we’re going to slay the dragon who lives in the Lonely Mountain. I won’t bring harm to your herd.”

This argument managed to convince the horse, and it stepped aside to let Natsu pass. Geez, if the pet didn’t like him, how would the owner react?

He continued forward with a guard of horses surrounding him.

An escort. Natsu was very familiar with those. He had been arrested enough times to know the protocol, but he’d never had an escort made entirely of horses. Men on horseback, sure, but not regular old unarmored horses.

Wacky.

Meeting Beorn was just as wild as meeting the man’s horses. He was a wild man that even Natsu was wary of and he smelled of bear. Reeked of it, really. Getting permission to spend the night in Beorn’s hall was an awkward affair that he was sure would’ve been worse if he could understand more than half the conversation, but they did manage to get it. Once again Natsu was taught more parts of the language, and could finally hold a short introduction.

It was his… fourth language? Fifth? If you counted the Black Tongue and the demon-wolf language as different languages as opposed to dialects of the same language. After learning Fioran – a painful time period from eight years old to almost fourteen – every subsequent language seemed easy. He probably had such a problem with Fioran because they had to do the “point and repeat” method, as no one recognized Sinna or knew another way to speed up the process. 

The only magical translation spells were just that- spells to aid in translating from one specific language to another, with the caster knowing both languages. 

You couldn’t teach someone a language when you didn't know the original rules and words and subtext of theirs.

So Natsu learned languages the hard way, the best way.

He struggled through being the only one not knowing Fioran – even Gray got the magical language learning advantage because he was from a known continent that the Master could speak the language of – and he struggled through learning the Black Tongue and figuring out the demon-wolf language and he’d struggle through whatever this one was called too.

Or… he could magic his way into knowing the language. That- that was a very appealing alternative.

Let’s see… the translation spell (the inefficient and annoying one) was Mind Magic: Uniting of Understanding, and could only be cast between someone who already knew both languages (through a manner other than just magic) to someone who only knew one. Most Ishgaran mages spoke by infusing their voice with magic, which let them project, be heard, and be understood no matter the language spoken. Except other mages had to respond by using their own magic to translate.

And for once, Natsu wasn’t surrounded by mages.

So how to make himself understood and force himself to understand? How to complete only half of a joint spell and still make it work? It would be impossible.

Good thing he was a member of Fairy Tail. They excelled at the impossible.

He spent most of the night contemplating his spell, and finally – as dawn was breaking – he turned to Gandalf to ask him. Gandalf had no answer, had no clue. He’d always understood everyone and everything, he had no need for a spell.

That helped, slightly. Natsu just needed to mimic whatever Gandalf was doing to understand. He turned to the only thing he hadn’t tried throughout the night. He settled cross-legged and meditated.

Fire magic flickered through his veins and lungs, burning the oxygen in his body and fueling him forward. Sparks on his tongue, scales on his spine, claws digging into his knees- he needed to understand, to speak, to hear. 

Natsu made his decree to the world, and he was Fairy Tail-

-it would listen.

The sun rose and filled him with his own magic.

The first dwarf awoke, and greeted him. “G’morning Sir Dragneel! How are ya this morn’?”

“I’m doing good, Master Fili. I’ve finally got a grasp on this language thing.”

Chapter Text

The journey to Mirkwood was an interesting one. Finally, Natsu could participate in conversation and make friends.

Or, at least, be friendly, as his traveling companions didn’t seem too eager to speak with him. Kili and Fili – unlike the rest of the Company, as they called themselves – were very eager to hang off him and listen to his tales. Apparently he spoke Westeron (weird name for a language considering that they weren’t in the West ) with an accent that was very pleasant to listen to. 

Which.

The spell was still kinda weird. Their accents came across oddly. He could hear their Westeron accents, and his false understanding made them make sense but some things were still off. On top of that, there was a robotic, painfully familiar-not-familiar voice that was repeating everything into his head in Sinna. The actual sound was Westeron, the spell translated it into Fioran, and something that was-but-wasn’t and reminded him of Igneel who was gone from where he used to rest in his magic and-

His brain kind of hurt.

He should’ve just learned the language the hard way.

This way it was like he was trying to read one of Levy’s books in Ancient Fioran (which he could read, unlike Fioran), while Gajeel was growling to him in Sinna, Lucy was scolding him in a Southern Fioran accent, and Erza was beating him over the head because he was nauseous on another train and she was trying to talk over everyone in regular old Fioran. Or something like that.

Where was he? Ah. Forest. Walking. Right.

The Mirkwood Forest – in Fioran the Dark and Damp Woods, in Sinna the Corrupted Place (which was a really weird thing for a nonexistent voice in his head to say and Natsu was starting to get concerned for his own health) – loomed in front of and around the party. Everything was obscured and marred by shadows and the reaching claws of trees.

It was uncomfortably stuffy on the path.

The singular command (“Don’t leave the path!”) given by Gandalf echoed and reverberated in his ears and drowned out his companions. No sunlight reached the forest floor untouched, but Natsu was good at seeing in the dark.

Pitch black squirrels darted across his view. A badger scuttled quietly, ignoring him (the main threat) but hiding from something. This was an Enchanted Forest, and Natsu had a feeling he would not like its Enchanters. 

The sun soon dimmed, the trees grew thicker, giant webs spanned great distance. The lines were thick. Too thick to catch a bug but-

But if Natsu were to stumble into one, would he be able to escape without burning down the forest?

Probably not.

The forest brightened for an hour or two – high noon – and from there just grew darker. And darker. 

And darker.

The sun set, and Natsu felt its natural magic pull from him and the world. A single ray pushed through the trunks of the trees and set itself upon the path. A gift, a reminder that it would return in the morning. The sun was gone. The night grew darker. Natsu’s eyes changed instantly. Reds and yellows and greens faded from his sight, leaving nothing but the cool blues and grays and blacks of night. 

However, the world was still dark.

Natsu could see those within an arm span or two of him. Their forms were gray, and only slightly lighter than the pitch black shadows around him. The strands of hair that fell into his face looked gray-blue-colorless, and Natsu knew his night vision wouldn’t improve. There was shadow magic in the forest, and none would be able to see anything past their hands.

The Company called to each other, and grabbed and flailed wildly for each others hands. Someone called out that he knew they should’ve set up camp before the sun set, and Natsu responded by releasing his fire. Soft orange flames gave Natsu detail and let him see the four forms he couldn’t. He slowly spread it to fill the clearing – a little spot of daylight in a forest pitch-dark.

The Company huddled close to the center of the ring, and marveled at the way the flames didn’t burn any of them. They were warm, kind, and utterly Natsu, and he didn’t know if he should be offended by their lack of faith in him or not. Then again, they’d only known him for two days, he’d only been able to speak for half of that, and they weren’t members of Fairy Tail.

In the air, in the distance, wingbeats came near.

Giant moths, bigger bats, and eyes in the woods, all hovering just beyond where the light reached.

The moths rushed them. Natsu was swarmed by their corpses as the flames recognized them as enemies and dangerous and scorched them. Ash fell into his lungs and burned the eyes of his companions. Heavy bodies dove and swarmed the Company and hit each member with a solid thunk. They were dead in an instant, but their corpses were still annoying.

Before the last moth had crumbled in the fire – which was now flickering – an unholy screech pierced the night. Bats dipped their claws in the flame and pulled away at the first spark of pain. In response, Natsu flared his fire higher to push them back.

Their eyes were red.

Natsu’s fire reflected and revealed their anger. They hated his light, hated him, and would not leave until he acknowledged the shadows and buried his glow. Even the sun, moon, and stars obeyed their demands. 

They wanted Natsu to bow as well.

Natsu was angry at their assumption and sent whips of flame to lash out at the beasts. 

A bat half the size of Natsu began to glow orange-red and dove into the flame. It wasn’t suddenly burned up, it wasn’t destroyed. It dove into the flames unharmed and grabbed for Bilbo-

Natsu leaped in front of his charge and punched the creature into the ground, but let his fire dim.

He understood the warning.

A bigger bat – hung upside down from a bent tree trunk – spread its wings in threat. Natsu felt the urge to flare his fire again, but the hints of orange-gold on its fur held his fire back. He couldn’t burn these things, and they didn’t care if one or a dozen died from his fangs and claws. He had fourteen under his charge, and they didn’t seem eager to group up close and let him do the fighting. If anything, they were spreading out further. Most were armed and prepared to face off against the flying beasts that were bigger than them. 

If Natsu moved, they’d go for whoever he left unguarded. If Natsu flared his fire they’d dive right in.

If he dimmed his fire-

He didn’t get to make a choice.

The edges of his flame began to flicker black like that annoying blonde from Tenrou. Crow-something? Natsu attempted to move the black fire or put it out, but it didn’t respond to him. It wasn’t his anymore. It wasn’t fire. It was a shadow. Death – the evil corrupted murk that made up the rest of this cursed forest. His flame was stolen and consumed by the deep and Natsu had to cut his connection with it before the shadow spread to him.  

Left in darkness, the dwarrow (and Bilbo) panicked.

There were sharp hoots and hollers that echoed around the group like they were in a cave instead of a wood. Natsu called out sharply, “I haven’t moved, idiots! Calm down!” and heard a few other voices repeat his sentiment. Soon the path was filled with heavy breathing as everyone’s eyes adjusted to the dark and shuffled into a huddle. A few hands brushed his pants-leg and Natsu resisted shaking them off like flies.

They stumbled forward slowly, in the darkness.

Natsu kept catching glimpses of movement in the distance, and had to resist sending off a flare of light to reveal it.

Annoyingly enough, he sometimes gave into his impulse and sent an eerie yellow-orange flame hurdling through the dark. In response, everyone had to freeze as their eyes readjusted to the dark, and hope that the forest wouldn’t send the moths and bats and other magical creatures after them.

Nothing like that first encounter happened again.

They kept wandering through the dark.

Step after step, tree after tree, distant flutter after distant flutter.

Finally, came a glint of something shimmering. It was a deep black, and the white of faint moonlight was grey upon the rushing water.

The silent rushing water.

They were almost to the shore before Natsu could hear the trickling sound – a sound which definitely didn’t match what he could see – and someone remarked about the water.

Thick, soupy black water.

Natsu blocked out the conversation going on between the dwarrow and Bilbo. It was said at such a quiet whisper that he could barely understand it, and honestly, the water was more distracting.

It captured the nonexistant light, it pulled and twisted at Natsu's soul, how beautiful and haunting was its call-

Nope.

Nope. That’s an enchantment. 

Don’t touch the water, Natsu.

…

No matter how pretty it is.

ARGH! Stupid magic water.

The thick magic clogged at his senses, his translation spell messed with his head. Something was wrong with this. His vision faded. There was clunking and twisting and something moving towards him from the other side of the shore. Someone spoke to him and nudged him and he cou ldn’t hear them help me pleaseIcan’trespond.

There was a river and a boat, and Natsu hated water – hated swimming – and there was something truly wrong about the inky black waves but it was so pretty . He, less than gracefully, entered the boat. Or he was pushed into it. He didn’t know for sure. He only had a second for disgust to rear its ugly head as a drop of water splashed up from the river and-

How gross. The world was in slow motion and a single drop of oil-thick water wiggled through the air unnaturally -

and 

-he couldn’t dodge but why would he move away- 

                        he

-from the beautiful gem- 

                                             was

-floating through the air-

             out.

—

Waking up hurt.

His brain was foggy and slow. The world was messed up and colors were wrongbrightloudmakeitstopmakeit stop.

The world smelled like soft grass and freshly chopped trees. Sunlight and photosynthesis and plenty of fuel for him to burn. Beneath him was solid stone and a way too soft pillow and the two different textures and pressures were enough to shock him out of his half-awake state.

Natsu looked around the room he found himself in and startled slightly because he was in a jail cell. The door was a heavy iron reinforced wood that Natsu knew wouldn’t burn easily. Of course, his fire was magical dragonfire so he could do it pretty easily and quickly, but most didn’t have that advantage. There was a small window (with bars on it) that was far above his head and didn’t let much light in.

Even with such a small opening, the scents of the outside saturated the cell and sunk into the stone bricks and slabs that surrounded Natsu.

So. He had two options. Stay and be bored, or burn the door and leave.

He was Fairy Tail, this wasn’t the first cell he’d seen the inside of, and he very much hated being kept away from the action.

He let a slow, steady red flame drip from his fingers, and watched as it trickled and crawled away from him, feeding off oxygen and his own magic. As it reached the wood, it burst. Flickering blues and orangey-yellows that hungered and ached and pulled from his magic to be its own.

Wild, uncontrolled dragonfire.

The door was soon nothing but charred black remains and ash that littered the floor. The flames still greedily reached for more fuel, and tentatively licked at the stone. Natsu pulled them back and relished the feeling of a well-burned flame. Even if it was made by him, he could unravel his own magic and enjoy it almost as much as a foreign fire.

But no matter what, it was always his fire.

Fire that couldn’t feed him in the way he wanted.

He was in a long stone corridor. Carefully shaped bricks and a strange type of mortar that held it all together and didn’t smell like anything he knew. Natsu was standing out in the open, and had his face almost shoved up against the wall so he could inspect the stone bricks. They had an odd make, an odd cut, and yet were so familiar.

Had he been in a place built by the same people before?

Probably, but he couldn’t think of any faces. Maybe it was the frog people who worked with the council? No, no, they wouldn’t like dry stone and wood. The giant spider-building guy? What was it… Oh! Nira Vaina! Wait that was a Magnolia trade ship, maybe it was-

Too late for him to react, the scent and sight of someone unfamiliar came from around the corner. Natsu almost gave himself whiplash as his neck snapped and cracked at the sudden movement.

Ow.

Why did his neck hurt?

… He was growing spines.

The cracking sounds and pain were little spikes – his spine – pushing out of his skin and turning into razor sharp spikes.

How long was he asleep?

Natsu can deal with that later.

The person in front of him was pretty tall. Laxus’ height. 

Soft, long brown hair; servant's garbs; a tray of small morsels that he supposed could be called a meal- Ah. This person was feeding the prisoner, him. A loaf of flat bread the size of his hand, a small bowl of fruit, a bit of dried sausage.

Natsu lunged.

This person pushed back with far too much strength for someone so skinny and in a dress. They – she, he could tell from so close up – pushed him off. In surprise, Natsu froze just long enough for her to wrangle his hand off her mouth and scream for help. Voices and thudding feet kicked up and quickly – too quickly – rushed towards his location.

He had a split-second to make a decision. Instinct or no?

Instinct, of course. It's gotten him this far.

He snatched the fallen tray – and its goods – and raced away from the guards and down the hall, looking for a big enough window to jump through.

Right, left, left – is the outer wall thin enough here? should I just break the stone? – right, straight – a horn echoed through the halls, an alarm, they knew he was free – right – window. Big. No glass. Perfect.

He charged towards freedom, set his foot on the windowsill and pushed- He had a moment to witness the beauty of the city he was in, of the forest, before the familiar feeling of arms wrapped around his waist and his breathe was knocked out of his lungs, and suddenly, he was falling.

Natsu twisted in the fall – 30 paces to the ground – and tried to rip his attacker off his limbs. Oddly, his captor was already angling himself to take the fall and cushion Natsu. This wasn’t someone trying to harm him, but someone trying to keep him safe. Someone who didn’t know that a fall of this distance wouldn’t harm him.

20 paces from the ground and Natsu wrapped his slightly shorter limbs around the one who’d tackled him. The man struggled, still under the assumption that Natsu would do something as stupid as die.

10 paces and the man’s wriggling had given him the upper hand. Or the lower ground. Natsu’s full weight would come down right on the man’s – that is not a man – ribcage.

C’mon. Move. I’ll be fine.

He was successful. His leg made contact with the ground first, and the familiar feeling of magic rushing to cushion the blow made the rest of his limb tingle before the shock hit him.

A slip and roll, his delicates protected, the man with practically no shock from the impact.

They sprung apart, and Natsu didn’t wait for the not-man what are you? to react before he darted in a random direction. He could smell the dwarrow in the distance, oddly close to the sound of rushing water considering that they disliked swimming about as much as Natsu.

He moved, faster than any person should. The person who’d tackled him recovered seconds slower, and Natsu flickered a wall of flame into existence. His pursuers stuttered. Natsu took the lead gratefully and continued his full-force sprint towards- a boat. It was a boat. No. Barrels. Barrels, some empty and some full of dwarrow, scattered in the rapids of a foaming white river. He spotted the nearest empty one. It’d be cramped, but his joints were flexible enough.

He ran along the shore, towards a great stone gate, and saw what would be the dwarrow’s doom. Thick metal grates were slowly closing, and the not-Men stood along a bridge, arrows ready.

Natsu took a deep breath, and in a way he hadn’t called in over a year, called out his spell. “Fire Dragon’s Roar!”

It was more powerful than he remembered.

Flames chased the not-Men back without killing them, and the stone began to warp and creek. The heavy metal gate twisted and hit the water with a sizzling crash. The way was clear for the Company. 

Natsu leapt off the stone bridge overlooking the river, and, carefully timing it, settled into a loose barrel gently enough that it wouldn’t fill with water and sink. Arrows flew through the air. it hurts it hurts it hurts Some hit the barrels, most hit the water, one hit him but all of them stunk of death-poison-blood. 

He swung a fire-wreathed arm towards the shore, and watched with glee as flames a dozen paces high sprung up. The– wait. Were those goblins? No. Too big. They were like their bigger, uglier cousins. He’d heard of them. Uruks. The uruks lined the cliffside, but jumped back or burned when the flames hit them. 

A few more stubborn ones let their flaming arrows fly anyways.

Natsu took great joy in raising the temperature of those arrows and burning them to ash. The smoke was more difficult, though. Natsu knew very well that burned poisons could sometimes have worse effects when they were burned.

He knew this from experience.

Carefully, he let flickers of light burn the debris that escaped through the smoke.

Once the uruk began to retreat, and the fires on the shore died down without fuel, Natsu curled up like Happy, pulled the lid on the barrel, and went to sleep.

He ignored the sharp pain in his leg.

—

The thunk of wood on wood woke him.

It took him a moment to reorient himself. He was on a boat, and barrels were being fished from the waves and plunked on the deck. Somehow, Natsu had slept through his own fishing.

It was hard to stay awake.

it hurts

He was so content.

he’s dying again

The scent of dragon gold filled his nostrils. That’s probably what made him so calm. The feeling of familiar scales rubbing on his mind. Did he know this dragon? Did he know this scent? He did.

jewel-mine- strong -wind-burn- blood

smoke- fire -lava-gold

shed scales

heavy breaths

The scent of a dragon in hibernation was strong. Why did he smell like Igneel? Natsu remained in a state of semi-sleep. Not quite awake, not quite asleep. The comfort from another related to him was. . . overwhelming. How could he be anything but content when one of his kin was so peaceful?

Natsu was unceremoniously knocked out of his barrel. 

“Wuz goin’ on? Wherez de fire?” Light bright. Ow. Head. There’s poison in his blood. A small dwarf pranced up to him and poked at his head.

“Oh!” Master Boggins cried out. “Get up like the rest of them! It’s no use to be lying about! We’ve carried you halfway through the Mirkwood Forest, and we’re not to carry you further.”

They. Carried. Him?

“It is good you’ve gotten out too. Perhaps Men – or whatever you are – are as sly as the hobbits. Escaping both the Misty Mountains and the Wood Elves is a sign of a good sneak.”

What? Did Natsu miss something? It felt like yesterday he’d left the mountain range behind, but they’d traveled a day with the eagles, and at least a week through the Mirkwood, and who knows how long they been with the- Wood Elves? Were those the not-Men?

“Carried? I ran myself out of that jail cell! I found you all making your escape by barrels and being buried under arrows, without me! ” They could’ve at least left a note!

A fair few of the Company gave Natsu a look. Oin? spoke up. “How? They kept you locked up under guard in a different part of the building entirely! None of us knew where you were. And we carried you from the river to almost the edge of the forest, before those spiders attacked us and the Elves took us captive.”

“The river,” Natsu realized, his eyes widening. “What happened at the river? After that I woke up in the cell and found you barrel-surfing.”

A few exchanged uneasy glances. “It was enchanted water, Sir Dragneel,” said Kili, “any who touch it are plunged into a deep sleep. It hit Bombur too, but he woke up only a few days after it struck him, and he fell in entirely. It’s been at least two weeks since we passed that river, and you were only touched by a drop.”

Enchanted. He knew it!

Ah but- “What now? Are we still going to kill the dragon?” The dragon who was likely his kin. Don’t think about it, Natsu.

“We need supplies,” said Thorin, “and to thank Mr. Baggins for getting us out of there. Though, I wish we had been given a more comfortable journey. Still. No doubt we’ll be a tad more grateful once we’re fed and recovered. In the meanwhile, what is next?”

“I suggest Laketown,” Mr. Baggins (that was his name!) replied promptly. “What else is there?” A few others considered the option, and it was decided they would make their way there. There was a long bridge to Laketown, which did have a few guards on it, and a hushed conversation between the dwarves ended with Thorin being shoved towards the door. He hid his stumble well, and startled the guards who were drinking and definitely not guarding the bridge as they were supposed to.

“Who are you! What do you want!??” A young guard was the first on his feet, grabbing wildly for his weapons under the table.

Thorin announced himself. “Thorin son of Thror son of Thrain. King under the Mountain! I’ve come to speak to the Master of this town.”

His torn cloak and ragged appearance seemed to vanish. The Dwarf King’s gold (jewelry and armor) gleamed in the firelight of early morning. His face had looked worn down and half-starved from the lack of food during traveling, but now that thin sharpness and the deep shadows took on a different, more menacing meaning.

Thorin was no longer Thorin, uncle to Kili and Fili, leader of the quest Natsu had found himself roped into. He was the unforgiving and stern master. The King Under the Mountain.

And he had come to speak to the Master of the Laketown.

“And who is with you, King.”

“Fili and Kili of the Line of Durin, my sister-sons. Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, a hired and helpful hand. Ori, Nori, and Dori, who are my supporters and confidantes. Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur, who have a shared goal as I. Oin and Gloin, a medic and warrior to keep us hale. Balin and Dwalin, a diplomat and soldier. And Sir Natsu Dragneel, a wanderer who has traveled with us for some time.”

Some time. He’d barely been awake a week (two?) while he’d been “traveling” with them.

“You come in peace?” A different guard spoke up. “Yet you bring soldiers, armor, healers and lies. Lay down your arms ‘King Under the Mountain’ if you wish to enter this place.”

“We have none.” That was true, Natsu hadn’t seen a single axe, sword, or dagger on anyone. Likely, the elves had taken them when they were imprisoned. “We have no weapons and have not come to fight against you. We would not try to fight against so many of you. Take us to your master.”

The guards exchanged glances, clearly worried. “He’s at feast.”

“All the better we see him, then. He wouldn't want to be an ungrateful host to the King and his entourage.”

Natsu could hear mutters among some of the older guards – what King? What kingdom? Rude. He had half a mind to burn them for the insult.

He didn't.

Lucy would kick him.

Meeting the Master of Laketown (Was there a guild here? Probably not. If there was, there was a pretty good chance it was more like Phantom Lord than Fairy Tail.) was certainly a meeting.

Surrounded by gold and jewels, this “Master” stunk of thievery and greed and liar. He was scum. 

Just being near him made black-reddeathfiredevil crawl up his skin and flood his vision.

He could feel his pupils shrinking.

He could feel the anger and disgust clouding his vision.

Natsu wanted nothing more than to punt this man to the moon.

He blinked.

Natsu was standing on the side of a mountain.

What?

Chapter Text

So. Natsu was on a mountainside.

He was also remarkably closer to the Dragon Who Was Probably Related To Him than he was previously. There was smoke in the distance, and Natsu (shame-filled) looked towards the now-burning Laketown. Of course. He‘d gone a suspiciously long time without burning down a town. What had it been? A year and a half? Two? It was now fall, and he’d arrived… last? summer? And before that…

Back in Fiore…

It was probably some minor job. Lucy was there, he was sure of that. But he didn’t quite remember if Gray and Erza were there too.

It figures that he’d burn down the first human settlement he’d come across in over a year.

Ah well, bygones or whatever. As long as he dodged anyone coming to arrest him he’d be fine.

Natsu plopped into a squat, rolling back between his toes and heels. As he investigated his surroundings, his memories flooded back.

He’d killed that terrible excuse for a Master, and started a fire that got… a bit out of control. Then those Uruk-hai had attacked and-

Well.

The fire did not get back under control.

Surprisingly, not many citizens had become casualties. Not many, as in less than a tenth. Probably. Most had escaped by fleeing into the water as – surprise, surprise – they could actually swim extremely well. The Uruk-hai were too heavy to follow them into the waves without drowning (one more reason that Natsu didn’t like wearing armor) and even then were pretty uncoordinated and probably couldn’t swim anyway. 

What had ended his draconic (demonic) reign of terror was a pitch-black arrow striking between his flame-made wings and knocking off one of the only scales on his chest.  He’d dived into the water and swam towards the Shadow-Magic evil that had kept him so deep in Goblin Town for so long.

Below Natsu, slowly creeping up a narrow goat-path, was the Company. They hadn’t seen him. Were unaware of him.

There was a good chance that they thought he was still rampaging in Laketown. 

Natsu remained out of sight, definitely not stalking them as they marched upwards. They came to a ledge and stopped, checked the map, and began searching around the ledge. What were they looking for? A way in? The mountain entrance was on the other side, though. Wait. Secret entrance!

Maybe.

Yeah, no. They were absolutely looking for a secret entrance. There was some sort of disagreement. The door was missing, and then the sun set and the Company slumped to the ground in disappointment. The clouds uncovered the moon, and the light made the paper and stone shineshineshine.

Burning bright. Crystal bright. Metal and magic and life bright.

The whole mountainside looked like a spotlight was shining directly on it. The moon was amplified, and Natsu felt a painful burning sensation everywhere before he remembered a very important part of magic theory. 

The magic of the moon could break any spell. It was very Old Magic.

It could destroy anything. He had to get out of the light.

There was a door now, and Mister Boggins grabbed the key and opened it. He stepped inside, slowly, slowly. Natsu waited for the Company to grow bored and for their eyes to look away from the door. Natsu crept after Bilbo.

The tunnel reminded him of Goblin Town. It was warm. Natsu’s scaled fingers and sharp claws scraped on stone. The moonglow faded from behind him, but the path was still lit by the warm glow in his throat. The scent of dead dwarrow curled through the air. Dust kicked up under Bilbo's feet, and it smelled of ash. Stone walls crumbled under Natsu’s hands, and it smelled of old bones.

Off in the distance, there was an exhale. A dragon’s breath.

Scales. Fire. Jewels-goldmine-LEAVEI’vewarnedyou-letmesleep.

The dragon was here. The dragon was sleeping.

Natsu chuffed. Sparks flickered at his lips, and his pupils constricted at the sudden light. Ash stuck to his tongue, smoke floated past his ears. Bilbo Boggins was hard to follow. A jilted, tiny shadow that crept silently, one well-worn from travel, and in his own element - earth. Natsu could barely get a whiff of the cinnamon-spice-hearthfire-home that clung to everything the hobbit touched. Now, it was faded, buried, under the distinct death-stormiscomingstrongAllWillBurn from the dragon.

Natsu needs to kill this dragon. He is a greedy, greedy thing, and he wants to go home.

He doesn’t know how to do that, but what he does know is this: he’s probably in the past (because the Igneel scent gets stronger, but it’s only Igneel’s smell like Natsu is Igneel’s smell, and he knows that dragons have families and used to be far more numerous than when he was a child) and to get to the future you need either an Eclipse Gate, or to live through it.

Natsu doesn’t know how to build an Eclipse Gate.

Dragons can live for millennia.

He’s slowly been shifting into a dragon, but it’s been getting faster the more magic he’s exposed to. All he needs is to push himself over the edge. He can learn the stupid shapeshifting spells (he’s not half-bad at transformation magic) so he can reunite with Fairy Tail and stay at the Guild in a human shape, but first he needs to live.

Natsu wants to go home.

He is a Dragon Slayer, even if he’s never killed a dragon, and never earned the title (he is, he promises) and if he must kill this dragon who is likely his kin, he will do so. If he must take down a fire-breather who can soar on wings (wings Natsu doesn’t have, wings he’ll earn once he bathes in the blood of his enemies and when the magic finally overcomes what’s left of his humanity) he will do so.

He’s hungry. The stalking through empty halls and past tiny skeletons doesn’t help with that. The dragonfire will be delicious. He hasn’t had a good meal in a while. The food is flavorless, and campfires that he lit aren’t satisfying.

He’s jealous. Because this doesn’t happen to anyone else, and he’s alone. He’s still young. He hates being alone.

But dragons are greedy creatures. If burning hunger, and the loneliness of age, and kinslaying is what it takes to get home, so be it. If he loses his humanity, if he dies, it won’t matter. Dragons can use transformation magic, and Fairy Tail won’t even get his body if he doesn’t at least try.

Natsu loves fighting.

He can do this.

Why does he have to convince himself?

Inhale. Exhale.

(not knowing where his guild was — this uncertainty and loneliness- Is Lisanna dead? Is he dead? Will he never see his family again? What happened on Tenrou? — that was worse.)

In. Out.

In- Bilbo, crumbling stone, hearthfire, slow breaths, shifting gold, ashes, long-dead corpses- Out. 

In. A moth’s wings, solid rock, whistling wind, distant moonlight, earth magic, dust from scratched dragon scales. Out.

Bilbo Boggins was in the main chamber now, piles and piles of gold everywhere. The heat of a sleeping dragon made Natsu shiver. 

Small shifts in the gold let Natsu’s sharp eyes pick out the shape of the dragon. He was huge. Bigger than Igneel. There were some small patches where scales poked out from underneath the treasure. Reds, mostly, but still with a peachy-brown undertone that all dragons of Igneel’s line had. The same undertone as Natsu’s own salmon-colored scales and hair. 

Bilbo didn’t see the dragon.

He crept over gold, and Natsu used the slight rustling from Bilbo’s feet to move forward and up, anchoring his claws in one of the stone pillars. Eventually, Natsu reached a decorative ledge that was high enough that no one would see him (except the dragon, if he stood up entirely) but near enough to a stone bridge that he could jump down and get to a tunnel.

The fire may not hurt him (that much), but teeth were painful.

Bilbo muttered as he slipped around the hills of gold. “The Arkenstone… the Arkenstone… ‘a large white jewel,’ very helpful!”

His luck eventually ran out. The trinkling, clinking sound of gold on gold made Natsu wince. The dragon’s breath hitched.

He was awake.

The gold slipped and slipped until a trickle became a landslide and thick scales – an eye – were revealed. Yeah. This dragon was at least twice Igneel’s length and around his height, which Natsu could tell as the whole room started shifting while the sleeping dragon moved. The eye opened, though it was dull, until a deep inhale registered both Bilbo and Natsu and the eye focused.

Bilbo – who was just right there – disappeared. Like a shadow wrapped itself around him and tugged him into nonexistence, like-

Huh. Like Ryos.

The dragon stretches and rises, shaking the gold off him. Quite a bit sticks to his soft, scaleless, yellow belly.

“Well… Thieves…” The dragon shakes his head above where Bilbo was and his nostrils flare. “One of you I smell – I hear your breath, I feel your air. Where are you, little thief?” The gold explodes into motion, and Natsu finds himself fascinated. Bilbo must be there, running through the gold – Natsu can see his footsteps and stumbling – yet he’s completely invisible.

“Come now,” the dragon croons, eyes locked onto where Natsu knows Bilbo is, “don’t be shy. Step into the light. There is something about you-” Terror, there’s terror about Bilbo. Natsu can smell it even now, 30 paces above Bilbo and with an entire dragon right next to him reeking of gleegleeglee and- oh geez, Levy made him memorize the word, what was it - SCHADENFREUDE!

“Something you. . . carry? Something made of gold, but far more. . . preciouss.” The dragon hissed the last word, letting out a puff of smoke that floated right into Natsu’s face. Because the dragon knew he was here. Out of warping shadows, Bilbo appears, darting under a platform and behind a pillar and out of Natsu’s line of sight. The little he did see was of Bilbo curling in on himself.

What was telling was the way the world seemed to flicker and the feeling of eyes on Natsu’s skin strengthened ten-fold and magic laid heavy and thick.

Dark magic. Black magic. Twisted magic.

The dragon smiled a cruel grin, “There you are, Thief in the Shadows!” The dragon’s neck was long, and let his eye easily meet Bilbo’s.

Bilbo’s voice echoed out, shaky and nervous, but firm. “I did not come here to steal from you,” lie “O Smaug, the Unassessably Wealthy, I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence. . . ” Not a bad lie, though. And it was nice to learn the dragon’s name. “. . . To see if you were as great as the old tales say. I did not believe them.” Oh ho ho, now that was some sly flattery. Even Natsu felt kind of like preening a bit.

Smaug rose up, and Bilbo creeped out where Natsu could see him. “And do you now?”

Smaug’s belly was on full display for Bilbo, but all Natsu could see was Smaug’s jewel-encrusted back. That was pretty impressive, as back scales didn’t have the same stick as belly scales. It would’ve taken time and effort to get all that gold to stick to him. Smaug’s throat flared with a dull fire as he lit himself up even more. The light from his stomach bounced around and filled the room. 

“Truly the tales and the songs fall utterly short of your enormity, O Smaug, the Stupendous!”

Natsu did not recognize most of those words.

The dragon’s head tilted in curiosity. “Do you think flattery will keep you alive?”

“N- No?” said Bilbo, hoping the answer was actually yes.

“No, indeed. You seem familiar with my name, but I don’t remember smelling your kind before. Who are you and where do you come from, may I ask?” Bilbo backed slowly towards his pillar, clearly planning on dodging behind should Smaug try to eat him. Or burn him.

“I. . . I. . . Well,” said Bilbo, creeping away from the pillar and towards something that he didn’t want Smaug knowing he wanted, “I come from under the hill.”

“Underhill. . . ” Smaug repeated, intrigued.

“And under hills and over hills my path has led. And through the air. I. . . I am he who walks unseen.” Bilbo had found his rhythm now, a familiar storytelling cadence.

“Impressive.” Confusing, more like. “What else do you claim to be?”

“I am Luck-wearer; Riddle-maker. . . ” What riddles?

Smaug settled more. “Lovely titles, go on.”

Bilbo hesitated, “Barrel-rider.”

“Barrels. . . Now that is interesting.” Natsu didn’t think so. He was unconscious for most of the barrel ride, but he was absolutely sure it was terrible. Bilbo kept backing away down a hill, and Natsu started looking behind for what Bilbo was looking at. Earlier, what was it he’d said? The Arkenstone, a large white jewel. Very helpful. Natsu scanned the gold for a large white jewel.

Oh. That is large.

And pretty.

It glimmered like a thousand moons and stars, like the sun on ocean waves, like magic and home and life.

For some reason, Natsu was pretty sure that Smaug wouldn’t just let Bilbo take it.

“And where is the little dragon? And your dwarf friends? Where are they hiding?’ Natsu stiffened.

That was not a good sign. Either A) Smaug recognized that they were blood and didn’t want to fight, B) Smaug recognized they were blood and did want to fight, or C) Smaug couldn’t tell and was going to kill him for being an intruder on his territory.

Welp. Good thing Natsu liked fighting. It was a good thing that he needed to get back to Fairy Tail.

“Dwarves? Dragons!?! No dwarves here, and certainly not another dragon! You’ve got everything all wrong!”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Barrel-rider. They sent you two in here to do their dirty work while they skulk about outside. A distraction and a threat. How typical of dwarves.” Smaug hit the pile of treasure and sent up a wave of gold. The Arkenstone skittered away from Bilbo, but closer to Natsu.

“Truly, you are mistaken, O Smaug, Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities,” Bilbo said, trying to get closer to the pretty little gem.

Smaug burned like fire, “You have nice manners for a thief-” he thrashed and swiped towards Bilbo, “and LIAR!”

“I know the smell and taste of dwarf – no-one better. . . It’s the gold – they are drawn to treasure, like flies to dead flesh. I know dragonlings, and the scent of a child’s scales. You have brought a child to face me and take my territory! You have brought the death of this little dragon! Did you think I did not know this day would come. . . that a pack of canting dwarves or jealous hatchlings would come crawling to my Mountain?”

Smaug’s tail flailed towards Natsu and hit the stone pillar he was on. The pillar came crashing to the ground, and Natsu landed on the bridge he’d planned for escape.

Smaug thrashed fiercely, his fire on Bilbo, but his wings and tail on Natsu. When the solid stone bridge was shattered like rotted wood, Natsu was forced to jump across the falling stone and reach for the stable ledge made by the path leading into a stone tunnel. His claws scraped and dug deep, and the sensation of rock under his nails was awful. Still, Natsu pulled himself up the ledge and dove for cover as sharp claws snatched the air behind him.

Instead of the woosh of air that Natsu expected, the painful sensation of claws grabbing his lower half stunned him. The wing claw slammed him into the wall.

(distantly, Natsu heard Smaug yelling at Bilbo, “The King Under the Mountain is dead! I took his throne! I ate his people like a wolf among sheep. I kill where I wish, when I wish! My armor is iron. No blade can pierce me. It’s Oakensheild - that filthy, Dwarvish usurper! He sent you in here for the Arkenstone, didn’t he?”)

Ow.

(“No, no - I came of my own accord.”)

Natsu, confused, looked down at his legs, expecting a bloody mess wherever his baby scales had yet to form.

(“Don’t bother denying it - I guessed his foul purpose some time ago. But it matters not. . . Oakenshield’s quest will fail. . . a darkness is coming. . . it will spread to every corner of the land. You are being used, Thief in the Shadows. . . you were only ever a means to an end. The coward Oakensheild has weighed the value of your life and found it worth nothing.”)

There wasn’t as much blood as he expected based on the pain.

(“No. . . no. . . you’re lying.”)

Instead, there was a tail.

(“What did he promise you? A share of the treasure - as if it was his to give! I will not part with a single coin, not one piece of it. My teeth are swords! My claws are spears! My wings are a hurricane!” Pause. A long pause. Light. “What did you say?”)

Natsu had a tail.

(“I was just saying your reputation precedes you, O Smaug the Tyrannical, truly you have no equal on this earth!”)

It was thick and reddish-pink, a bit darker than his hair, with a pale yellow underbelly that turned orange near the tip. It was a lot like Igneel’s. Straight and pointed, with the ridges on what should be the top side.

(“I am almost tempted to let you take it, if only to see Oakenshield suffer - watch it destroy him, watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad. But I think not. . . I think our little game ends here. . . so tell me, Thief, how do you choose to die?”)

Not good.

(Smaug roared loudly and the mountain shook – again – as he got angrier.)

Or, it would be not good if Natsu was with Fairy Tail right now. Here, it just meant he was that much closer to surviving long enough to get back to Fairy Tail and he was that much closer to being able to take down this dragon.

Smaug’s nostrils flared, and he turned towards Natsu. 

It was strange, seeing Igneel’s features in another dragon.

The ridges on his eyes – his eyes, too – looked just like Igneel’s. The same reds and set that made it look like he was always glaring; the same golden, glowing eyes and sharp-slit pupils; the same spines down his neck and perfectly straight horns. The neck was more heavily wrinkled with age, and the underside of his jaw was more pronounced (and spiked), but that didn’t help much.

“You. . . you are kin to me. . . ” It was whispered in Sinna, the language of Dragons. Natsu’s legs hurt, but he struggled to his feet anyway. He could feel his scales turning steadily coral – the demonic reds were weak under a dragon’s might – and spreading across what was previously skin. 

His limbs felt like lead, or the shattered stone and rubble under his feet.

“I am Sir Natsu Dragneel, son of Igneel, the Fire Dragon King.” He feels like a child again, and so much smaller than he is.

Smaug opens his mouth and breathes smoke right in Natsu’s face. “Igneel is a child. He has no descendants of his own, let alone a dragonkin child born of Man. Speak truly, Deceiver.”

“I am Sir Natsu Dragneel, son of Igneel, the Fire Dragon King. I have a human older brother named Zeref, and I’m part of the Wizard Guild Fairy Tail. I’ve been raised with Gajeel, son of Metallicana; Wendy, daughter of Grandeeney; Laxus, son of none; and Erza, daughter of none. All four are dragonkin.” Steady, explain yourself. “We were battling Acnologia, the Black Dragon of the Apocalypse, when some spell went wrong. I don’t know what, but it sent me here, and I think-

“I think I’ve time-traveled.”

Smaug snorted out sparks. His toothy maw opened in laughter. “You think- Ha! You think I would fall for such a childish ruse? You’re practically a hatchling, and that is why I will show you my mercy, Deciever. Tell me the truth, little Summer. Your lies are weak.”

Natsu burned, both with anger and with the fire in his belly. Flickers of fire licked past his lips and flared around his claws. “I’m not lying! We’re kin! Taste my flame, smell my breath, feel my scales, see my eyes!”

Smaug stopped laughing, and thankfully decided to humor Natsu. A forked tongue flickered through Natsu’s flames, and Smaug must’ve recognized them as his own because he shoved his snout right in Natsu’s chest. “Those scales on that scarf… They are my son’s.”

“Yeah.”

Golden eyes narrowed on Natsu’s olive ones. He let his magic flare through his eyes and burn them golden, let them sharpen his pupils and yellow the whites. The magic faded quickly, but it was long enough for Smaug to see.

“You are my grandson.”

“Yeah.”

“You are near stone-hatch.”

“I dunno what that is, but probably.”

Smaug breathed fire at his face, and Natsu reflexively ate it. It was. . . delicious. His body was warmed to the very edges of his scales, and the reminder of Igneel made his heart ache. Feeling his hunger drain away in just a few bites was one of the best feelings in the world.

“Why are you here with the Barrel-Rider and Oakenshield? I do not wish to kinslay, but I will not leave my mountain.” Oh boy, Natsu was not looking forward to explaining this.

“I came with them ‘cause they knew how to get here, and I didn’t know you were kin. I figured killing a dragon would let me live long enough to make it back to my guild alive, even if I had to use Transformation to change back.” Smaug’s eyes flared with amusement.

“Your logic is flawed, little dragon. The change has already begun, no need to accelerate it. All you must do is let the stone-hatch run its course.” Huh. Is that what stone-hatch is? Odd name for changing from a human body to a dragon one. “Come with me, I will deal with these intruders and protect you while you’re vulnerable.”

‘Deal with.’ As in, kill them?! He’d just gotten attached! Natsu couldn’t let these humans and dwarves die! (even if he’d already burned down the town)

“You are against me killing them?” Natsu must have said part of that outloud.

“Yes! They’re my friends! At least Fili and Kili are, sorta-kinda, I don’t want them dead or sad!”

“Then,” Smaug bemoaned, as if it were a great effort to keep from killing a few individuals, “I will negotiate with Oakenshield’s Company. ”

—

With the way their conversation had resolved, Natsu would’ve figured it would’ve turned out. . . not like this.

Thorin and the rest of the Company had, after a few days of arguing, settled on letting Smaug guard the treasure while they cleaned up portions to be habitable for dwarrow.

The rubble around the front entrance was cleared away for a while, before Smaug pointed out that the Men of Laketown would have heard his roaring, heard him stop, and assume that the dwarrow were successful in killing him. A Company of fourteen and Natsu (though they probably thought Natsu was also dead) wouldn’t be enough to defend the mountain. They ended up restacking the rubble in a far more defensible wall, and set up a watch.

Thorin Oakenshield hadn’t been happy about not being given the Arkenstone, but Smaug had set it in the middle of a grand hall hanging from the ceiling.  The dwarrow couldn’t reach it, Natsu felt no need to get it for them, and Smaug wasn’t letting anyone put their unprotected hands on it anytime soon.

After one of Thorin’s fits, Smaug agreed to help fix some of the Sun Mirrors that used to light up the whole mountain. The mirrors directed the light right onto the Arkenstone, which shone bright enough that it lit up the nearest three rooms and hallways as long as the doors were left open.

Not that the doors could close anymore.

Oddly enough, ravens had started popping up, bringing small bits of food to Natsu in exchange for his shiny scales. 

Traversing the mountain was difficult for the dwarrow (and hobbit). The Dwarven-made bridges across ravines and halls had been carved straight from the mountain, so they had to resort to using Mannish-style bridges as replacement. Smaug would hold the sides of the arches until the keystone was placed by Natsu (under careful instruction of the Company). With the dragons’ strength, the dwarrows’ direction, and the hobbit’s determination to have a good space for a garden and home, it wasn’t more than a few weeks before the halls they used were cleaned and safe to travel through.

Naturally, that was when their first visitors came knocking.

Natsu was on guard with Dwalin, watching the slowly approaching army of Men that had survived Natsu’s flames in Laketown.  They were rushing into Dale – the city rooted at the base of Erebor – and setting up what looked to be a permanent camp.  Dwalin told Natsu to hold fast, before rushing deeper in search of Thorin, who was likely working with Bilbo on a garden project.  Or sorting armor.  Or something.

When Thorin (and the rest of the Company) was gathered at the Gates, a quick meeting was held.

“I burned their town, I owe them something!”

“They are but greedy Men looking to drain dry this Mountain before it can stand on its own.  We should give them nothing.”

“Most of the damage in their town was from the orcs and their own greed.”

“I’m the one who started that fire, and let it burn as long as it did – I probably killed a lot of them, and these few hundreds are all that is left.”

After far too long of back and forth, Bilbo spoke up.  “Is it not in a dragon’s nature to burn?  Is it not in their nature to kill wealthy men?  It is a hobbit’s nature to garden, and a dwarrow’s nature to dig and mine, and a man’s nature to fight.  Besides talk of nature, I know for a fact that Sir Dragneel had been struck by a poisoned orc arrow.  Lesser men have tried to do worse when struck by orc-induced delirium.”

Natsu winced. “I’m not exactly unknown for burning down towns and destroying livelihoods even when I’m all there. Erza’s gotten onto me enough for that, the hypocrite. I don’t really blame them for being mad at me – we should probably give them at least my portion of the gold since it was my fault.”

Thorin inflated and turned so red that Natsu feared he would be the one breathing fire.  Dwalin said something in a language Natsu didn’t know, and Thorin cooled considerably.

“If they come in peace we will. . . surrender. . . only Sir Dragneel’s portion of the gold – no gems, armor, or weapons! – and that will be it!”

—

They didn’t come in peace.

The next morning, an army of Elves was at their doorstep, and the fifteen members of the Company were perched on top of the wall looking down on the impossibly large army. They had two dragons on their side (not that any of the elves below knew that), a hobbit (who was so sneaky he was practically invisible), and thirteen dwarrow who were eager to defend their homes.

Natsu had perched just out of sight of those below. They thought him dead, judging by the ravens who had come with news of “Bard the Dragonslayer.” It probably wouldn’t help anyone if they saw him now.

“Hail Thorin, son of Thrain! We are glad to find you alive beyond hope,” said Bard the not-Dragonslayer, who had neither killed a dragon nor become one. Natsu was not upset at all.

“Why do you come to the gates of the King Under the Mountain armed for war? Lay down your arms, King of Dale. ” Ooh, sick burn, treating the Man like the dwarrow had been treated when they first entered Laketown.

“Why does the King Under the Mountain fence himself in? Like a robber in his hole.” Man, Natsu normally hated political subterfuge and people not saying what they actually meant. Luckily, this subtext was plain enough for even Natsu.

“Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed.”

“My lord - We have not come to rob you, but to seek fair settlement. Will you not speak with me?”  Unfortunately for Bard, he had no idea that most of the negotiating had already been done – if the Men came peacefully, then Natsu’s share of gold would be given over; if they came hostile and ready to take over Erebor, they would face two dragons, a hobbit and thirteen dwarrow.

Both Bard and Thorin agreed to meet on more even grounds.

At the base of the Gate, the two met with eight feet of stone between them. “I’m listening,” Thorin said in a voice quiet enough that only Natsu and Bard could hear him.

Bard sighed, “On behalf of the people of Laketown, I ask that you honor your pledge. A share of the treasure so that they might rebuild their lives.” 

Thorin glared (Natsu was kinda surprised he could hear that).  “An armed host lies at my door. I will not treat with you while such a threat remains.”

“That armed host will attack this mountain, if we do not come to terms.”

Well that wasn’t good.

“Your threats do not sway me.” Probably because he had two dragons on his side.

“What of your conscience? Does it not tell you our cause is just?! My people offered you help. And in return you brought upon them only ruin and death!” That. . . that was not how Natsu remembered it.  He remembered entering Laketown and meeting the Master, who was a skiving, thieving scum that had been torturing the townspeople.  Then he went insane (because of Uruk-hai poison, according to Bilbo) and burned most of it to the ground. 

“When did the men of Laketown come to our aid, but for the promise of rich reward?!”

“A bargain was struck!” When???? Natsu was getting really tired of this “missing all the important stuff” thing.

“A bargain? What choice did we have but to barter our birthright for blankets and food? To ransom our future in exchange for our freedom? You call that a fair trade? Tell me, Bard the Dragonslayer … Why should I honor such terms?”

Thorin returned to the Company, world-weary and filled with sorrows.  He’d just invited that army to their death, and he knew it. If Bard had just called off the Elves, he could’ve had his gold.  Instead, once again, Men and Elves thought that power and strength were the only way to deal with things.

“Begone!” He called from the peak of the wall. “Ere arrow fly!”

Bilbo’s eyes wobbled dangerously, and he reached to comfort Thorin. “How long do we have to prepare?”

Thorin wiped his hand over his face, “Not much longer. Dwarrow once again lay claim to Erebor, not against the dragonkind, but with them. I have called for the return of our brothers.”

—

The mountain became a flurry of movement, as the dwarrow re-armored, the defenses were set, and the weapons were sharpened and readied.  Smaug had taken to using his claws to sharpen various swords and shields.  He’d taken a not-insignificant amount of time that night to sneak the armor and weapons to a halfway point between Erebor and the Iron Hills, where backup was.

A piece of mithril armor had been found by Thorin in his ancestor’s chambers and given to Bilbo. With Natsu’s ability to travel far faster than the others, he’d been able to find catapults and war-weapons and return them to the surface.  Vast amounts of automatic systems were set up that would allow not even five dwarves to have the take-down power of 200, as long as Natsu was there to speed along reloading.

They strategized in the late of night and early morning – Natsu would hang back and stay out of sight as long as he could, Smaug would keep ferrying weapons, dwarrow, and messages back and forth, Bilbo was sent (against Thorin’s will, as he was outvoted), to spy on the other camp and learn their numbers.

He did so successfully.

The Men were a haphazard, armorless mess of mostly civilians;  the Elves were prepared;  Gandalf had been sighted in the Elven War Tent;  and no one knew that the Dwarrow of the Iron Hills were on their way.

Oh, and Natsu couldn’t forget! An entire army of Orcs was also heading towards Erebor.

Everyone wanted a piece of the Mountain!  They thought that no dragon meant easy game, and had no clue that there were now two dragons in the mountains.

By the morning, everyone was in place.

Dain’s army of Dwarrow stood before Gandalf and Thranduil’s Elves, as well as Bard and some of his men. Tensions built up between the two, and the mountain halls were filled the stumbling sounds of dwarves manning the cannons and catapults. Just as both armies let loose their rallies, rumbling that wasn’t from dwarves or dragons shook the stone. Smaug hissed an angry hiss, “ Were-worms. ”

Yeah. That was an understatement.

Tunneling worms lept from the earth, easily crushing solid rock before diving beneath the stone and vanishing from Natsu’s senses.

From the tunnels – three! big enough to hold Smaug, Igneel, and at least another dragon in that tunnel side by side! – the Uruk-hai came forth. Natsu could hear their warhorns and whistles, smell their bloody stench, and see their ugly mugs.

Elves, Men, and Dwarves all paused, and came to an instant agreement. No one liked the Corrupted Ones. No one would let those abominations live.  Natsu’s skin itched with the battle before him.

Everyone turned towards the south and charged.

The catapults were recalculated, and the boulders that flew across the valley managed to knock out a large portion of the Orc-adjacent beings. Elven arrows took out quite a few too, and the Dwarven charge had led to a vast amount of space claimed on the unCorrupted side. Still, the orcs were far more numerous than the three armies combined.

Perhaps Natsu would get his fight after all. 

In his native Sinna he called out, “Hey Gramps! Ya thinking what I’m thinking?”

Smaug’s scales flickered orange. “Of course,” he toothily grinned, “I would be overjoyed to oblige.”

Natsu lept to Smaug’s shoulders, grasping onto familiar spines that were really just like Igneel’s. Smaug readied himself to pounce. The way they’d redesigned the front gate – to have openings for catapults and launching attacks – left a similar, if larger opening near the peak of one gate. It was mostly acting to let light in, but it was just big enough that Smaug could leap through it without damaging the stone as long as he kept his wings tightly furled. It was also high enough that he could safely snap them open again before hitting the ground, hundreds of feet below.

They both roared – twin battle cries that would rattle the bones of friend and foe. Smaug lept. Natsu grinned.

Daylight struck him as blindingly bright. The armor of thousands of soldiers made the whole valley glimmer like gems. Silver and brass and steel called out to Natsu.

So did the blood.

The screams of Men, the cheers from the Dwarrow, the shocked silence from the Elves. The terror of the Uruk-hai and their kin, as they realized that the Dragons were headed for them.

Natsu kicked off of Smaug, and used his flames to direct him towards the West flank of the battle. There, the city of Dale and all the civilians were hiding. Smaug didn’t have nearly as small a body as Natsu, so he wouldn’t have as much finesse or be able to protect the city in quite the same way.

And splitting up meant they both got their fill of bloodlust.

Smaug took sweeping dives towards the blinded Trolls. His flames lit up entire contingents of the Orcs, and his presence in broad daylight meant he even got to make a speech.

“I am fire!” he hissed, burning a tunnel and killing every Orc inside of it.

“I am death!!” he roared, landing and crushing no less than fifty Orcs.

The battle raged, and Smaug’s speech went on nearly as long – say what you will about full-grown dragons, but they can be extremely self-confident and conceited.

(Says Natsu, the teen who proclaims that he could probably beat Erza if he just keep trying. Who knows?!? Maybe next time he see her he will beat her! He sure won’t know until he tries!)

In all honesty, it was anticlimactic.

By the time the Eagles showed up, they were just picking off stragglers. Natsu had managed to speak to a few of them in Fioran, and had gotten quite a few compliments on the wings that had pushed out of his back when some stupid white Orc had gotten a lucky stab from behind.

They weren’t too pretty, not like some that he’d seen, but they were intimidating.

All over his body, he was now covered in coral and reddish scales. The pale yellow that made up his wings and underbelly was far more vibrant than Smaug’s. The orange was kinda surprising too. It was mostly right under his neck, but some of it had filtered in with his pinker scales and made odd swirls and patterns along his remaining skin and throughout his scales.

Baby patterning, he knew, that would fade once he got a bit older. Either he’d settle on coral-red-yellow, or he’d go more coral-orange-different-yellow.

Still.

Baby-patterning.

He was like, 450-ish! Not a baby.

Stupid stone-hatch.

And well, that brought up one more thing.

Because Natsu was turning to stone.

He had moved from the Gates of Dale to Erebor, right at the drawbridge on the valley side. Someone had explained to the Elves and Men that the two dragons had actually made a deal with the dwarves and they were getting along fairly well now, so not only was Smaug standing right next to Natsu, but so was Gandalf, and that Elf-King guy (Thade-duel? Natsu had forgotten his name again), Bard the not-Dragonslayer, Thorin, Bilbo, and Dain.

And the Eagle-King. Can’t forget him.

The battle was over. Natsu took one last look at the beautiful Gates of Erebor – still armed to the teeth and guarding all the treasure inside – and let the stone overtake him.

—

The Armies looked on as Smaug blew soft, comforting trails of smoke and fire towards the statue.

The statue itself was uniting.

The Dwarves couldn’t help but compare it to their own births, being carved from Mountain-stone by their Dwarrowdams, and the first Dwarves being carved by Mahal. Sharp edges, dramatic figures – all portrayed perfectly in the Man-turned-Stone who would one day be a fully fledged dragon.

The Elves too, couldn’t do much but compare it to their artwork. Everything they did and made was designed to last as long as physically possible, while also carrying graceful organic curves.  Every time an elf had worked with stone, the smooth panels of a face, the depths of light and shadow – beauty was harnessed, but so was their eternity.

The Men compared it to their war. They’d often built statues of great warriors and kings to commemorate them, but never had such a remnant of battle turned itself to stone, awaiting the day he could hatch.

The lone Hobbit, like the Dwarves, was reminded of how the little fauntlings would dig their way from Yavanna’s dirt, and how, time and time again, they would be called back to that dirt until they were finally laid to rest in Her Garden. This dragonling, time and time again, had found himself at battle and mountain and treasure, he had become battle-mountain-treasure, and as a grown dragon, his death would be in those things.

The Eagles thought of their eggs, and the little nests that were the size of a Man’s house, and wondered when the last time it was that a dragonling had hatched in this way.

And the Dragon?

He returned to the Lonely Mountain, waiting for his grandchild to hatch.