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Chapter Text

Prologue

Calomene opened her eyes and immediately, her whole body erupted in pain. She would have screamed, if she had been able to. Gritting her teeth, she sat up, only to see blood spilling to the ground. Her blood.

What had happened?

It was dark. The air reeked of iron, dust and… death. It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She was sitting in a cavern-like room; far above, the faintest glimmer of light peeked through. All around her was stone … and a body.

She gasped when she recognized the man beside her. Ignoring the burning pain in her limbs, she crawled toward the blond man. His body was covered in wounds and grime. He looked like a corpse.

“Please be alive,” she whispered. Tears stung her eyes and finally spilled over when his chest moved ever so slightly. “Thank the gods,” she sobbed.

“It’s so like you to pray to the gods, Cal,” came a voice, quiet and weak, not powerful and proud like it used to be.

Calomene looked up, meeting two blue eyes. “You’re alive.”

He groaned in pain. “Barely.”

“Don’t say that. Everything will be alright.”

But even as she spoke, she knew it was a lie. Her legs were numb after only a few meters of crawling and the smell of blood was growing worse. She felt cold. So very cold. He gave her a sad smile.
She shook her head. “Kai… I don’t want to die.” Their fingers found each other, locking together.

“Me neither,” Kairos rasped. But both knew — they would.

“What happened?” she asked.

He was silent for a moment, thinking back.

“I’m not sure … We were on our way to Urdis, because of the war,” he coughed. “It was getting ugly.”

“Yes,” she remembered. Queen Irene had fallen to the dragons of Alakitasia. While the two great enemies clashed in a battle to the death, her own group had hunted down every dragon they came across. Those creatures were monsters, seeing humans as nothing more than insects. They had killed so many of their friends and family, she had long since lost count.

“We’d just passed the latest battlefield,” he whispered. “Then Acno went mad.”

She shut her eyes at the memory of her friend. They all carried a deep hatred for dragons. But after Acnologia found the body of a little girl, brutally wounded by a dragon pack, something inside him had broken. He began to relish the killing. Bathed in blood, he lost himself to rage.

Everything fell apart that morning, when Acnologia suddenly screamed in agony. Before their eyes, he sprouted horns and scales, fangs and claws. He transformed into a massive black dragon.

He had roared and in the next instant, flung Kairos’ little brother aside, killing him instantly. He couldn’t tell friend from foe anymore. Blinded by rage, he became a monster. Their entire group, her comrades, ran. But it didn’t matter. He hunted them down. He slaughtered them all.

Calomene still saw the massacre before her. The earth trembled, flames devoured everything. The last thing she remembered was staring into his gruesome eyes. For a heartbeat, she thought he would deliver the final blow. But then the ground beneath her vanished. That’s how she ended up here. In the dark. Bleeding. Dying.

Hatred burned within her — not just for the dragons, but for the dragon slayer who had once been their friend, their sanctuary when nobody wanted them. She felt betrayed. How could he do this?

“I’m sorry,” Kai whispered.

She looked into her friend’s injured face. His sun-kissed skin had gone pale. His usually bright blue eyes were dull. Panic gripped her. “No, stop. Hey, look at me!”

But he didn’t. His eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, on the light far beyond their reach. “Before I die… I want to tell you something.”

“Please, don’t say that.”

“I love you.”

She froze. Tears rolled down her cheeks. If it weren’t for the horrible circumstances, she would have screamed with joy. “What? Why are you— Since when?”

“Since I saw you in that arena.”

She sobbed. “That… that was years ago.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He was silent for a few seconds, then spoke, his voice even weaker than before. “I thought there would be more time. After the war…” He took a ragged breath. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. That’s not…” She laid her head on his shoulder, heart heavy. “Kairos… I love you too.”

But he said nothing.

“Kai?” She looked up. His eyes had lost their light. “Kairos! No!” she screamed in agony. “No, no, no. Why?!” Her voice echoed into the void. No answer came. She was alone. “Why?!”

The hatred inside her swelled. She wanted to rip everything apart. The cave, Acnologia, the dragons, the kingdom, this fucking war. She wanted to take Kairos away. Far away. Live a normal life with him. In peace.

But that was no longer possible. He was gone. She was dying. And all her rage meant nothing.

“Are you sure?”

She stopped. Her curses faded. Had she just heard a voice? Her heavy eyes scanned the dark, but there was nothing.

“Remember your lessons…” Was she imagining it?

“My faithful moon blossom.” She blinked slowly. And then she knew. That voice…

“Lady Alyona,” she breathed her goddess’s name. Though the cave was dark and cold, a divine warmth now surrounded her. A presence she had thought lost forever, not since that fateful night, two years ago. “I thought you died.”

“Gods cannot die. Not truly.” Something unseen brushed her hair. “I cannot do much for you, my most faithful child. You avenged the deaths of my children and struck down every dragon in your path. I‘ll show myself grateful.”

“I felt so alone.”

“You were never alone. I have always watched over you,” the voice whispered in her ear, calm and soothing.

Calomene wept like a child returning home after a long, painful journey. “Then help me. Save me. Save Kairos. End this damn war.”

“I’m afraid that wish lies beyond my power. His life is forfeit. Your life will end too. The war of the dragons is already written. I cannot change the tapestry of this fate.”

Full of fury, Calomene screamed. “Then why are you here?! To mock me?!”

A sigh echoed from the darkness. “Keep your anger, child. I cannot change the weaving of fate.” Calomene clenched her eyes shut. “But…”

That single word sparked a flicker of hope. She looked up into the void. “But?”

“Though I am weakened, I can alter individual … threads.”

“You mean… you can save us?”

“No. Not in this life.”

“What?” she whispered, confused.

“Dry your tears, child. You haven’t much time. The dragon is coming.” Her voice turned urgent, nearly frantic. “Believe — and follow my lead.”

Tears streamed down her face as she sat up. Pain shot through her body. Yet her hands moved as if guided by another. She reached for her old, torn bag. Her fingers found two crystals — dragon lacrima, formed from the hearts of fallen beasts. Once, she had planned to sell them to the highest bidder.

“What are you going to do?”

“Shh, child. Trust me. This is my last gift to you. Lift the crystal.”

Calomene felt death creeping in. “I… I can’t…”

Her arm suddenly lifted, as if by unseen hands. “Repeat after me.” She obeyed, repeating words in a language not meant for mortal tongues. The syllables felt ancient, sacred. “Now, speak your wish, child.”

“A second chance,” Calomene whispered. “That is my wish. For us.”

A chuckle, so light like a feather. “So be it.”

Chapter Text

Did you ever wake up only to realize that the love of your life is dead?
No?
I did.

It’s the worst feeling on earth. Like your heart is being ripped out of your chest. As if you can’t breathe. As if the darkest and coldest winter has begun, far from any hope of sunshine.

That’s exactly how I felt when I opened my eyes a year ago.

I was lying on the dirty floor of an even dirtier guild. My body was burning with agony. I had cried and sobbed. But not because of the incredible pain caused by the implantation of a Dragon Lacrima, but because of memories I had long forgotten. Memories that came back to me after the Dragon Lacrima had entered my body. I had screamed because of the wounds that once adorned my body. Once… in a life long gone.

What happened, you ask?

I was implanted with a Dragon Lacrima by my guild master. He hoped it would give him a stronger mage. A better slave he could command as he wished. Because that’s all I was to him at the time: a slave, a tool he used whenever he wanted. I had long since forgotten why I had even joined this guild.

But as the Dragon Lacrima took over my body, as this ancient magic coursed through my veins, I felt as if I were truly seeing the world for the first time. Memories of a past life came back to me. In this life, I was Liva Eleoria, born and raised in a noble family. A bright future ahead of me, full of luxury and comfort.

But in the past, I was someone else. Someone more powerful, someone cunning, someone very dangerous.
Suddenly, I remembered a life full of pain, war, betrayal and sadness and yet it was the greatest gift I had ever been given. These old memories of a dragon slayer called Calomene gave me back what Liva didn’t have: power, courage and a damn hard fist.

I punched my master in his miserable face and then I left. No, I ran — I fled. Away from that guild, away from the life I knew and away from the people I had once considered my family. Because even though I had my memories back, I couldn’t forget that I was still Liva. I was scared as hell of my old guild master.

There I was — I had escaped his clutches, but I still wandered aimlessly with no idea where to go.
The thought of returning home, back to the house made of marble and gold, to the colorful dresses, the grand balls, back to my loved ones, back to the boring life of a female aristocrat … It didn’t feel right. Nor was I ready for the judgment. Too much fear and shame kept me away.

What would my parents say? How disappointed would they be in me? How angry?
I had done things in the name of that guild that others would have been imprisoned for. How was I supposed to go back to my old life now? After everything that happened to my brother, how could I be a burden to them too?

So I left them a letter and then I fled again. Far away from my hometown. Out into the world. For a whole year.

Did I have a goal? Yes, in a way I did. I was looking for Kairos. Maybe he had gotten a second chance too?
And I was searching for my brother, who had vanished from the grounds of the Magic Council after a terrible accident a few years ago.
But somehow, I couldn’t find either of them. I wandered aimlessly across the continent until I finally arrived back in Fiore. In front of Solia’s Cradle.

And well, this is where our story begins…

🌙

Solia’s Cradle, Year X791, Spring

Liva Eleoria pushed open the crooked door of Solia’s Cradle, the old wood groaning like it resented her return. Warm light spilled into the dusty afternoon and the scent of roasted meat, smoke and spilled beer clung to the wooden beams like stubborn memories. The cozy hum of conversation and clinking cups usually offered some comfort — but today, it all grated on her nerves.

Her mood was foul.

She had set out in the morning full of stubborn hope, determined to find a new set of clothes after her tent and all her belongings had been incinerated by a swarm of cackling goblins, but the city nearby had mocked her with its prices. Ten thousand jewels for a shirt that felt like paper and pants that scratched her legs. Highway robbery. She could’ve bought a low-tier lacrima for that.

Now she was broke, sore and tired.

She let the door fall shut behind her with a thud and shuffled across the creaky floorboards, her boots scuffing softly. One of them had a hole in the sole — she felt every splinter.

Being a mage without a guild felt a lot like being a stray dog: hungry, unwanted and out of place. The jobs that did exist were either death traps or just barely legal. For a fleeting moment, she considered that offer from the Magic Council — the one that reeked of her family’s interference. Maybe they thought if she worked close to Era again, she’d come crawling back home.

But home wasn’t an option. Not yet. Not while her chest still tightened at the thought of her grandmother’s disappointed eyes… or the accusing silence of her ex-fiancé.
No. Not yet.

With a sigh, Liva dropped herself onto the barstool and let her forehead fall against the counter with a dull thump. The wood was cool and familiar. She considered staying like that forever.

Behind the counter, Maria, the tavern’s owner, was lining up mugs with the grace of a seasoned warrior preparing for battle. Her arms moved smoothly, the way only a woman used to chaos could manage.

“What’s wrong, Liva?” Maria asked gently, glancing up with a warm, knowing smile. She couldn’t have been much older than Liva, yet there was something maternal in her presence, something safe.

“I have no clothes and no money,” Liva mumbled against the wood. “I’m going to die. Probably soon. Hopefully in my sleep.”

Maria chuckled. “No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will. Look at me! I’m wearing rags and my right boot talks back when I walk.”

“You look fine, honey. Maybe the sky seems cloudy now, but the sun will shine eventually.”

Liva lifted her head just far enough to roll her eyes. “Can’t I be miserable in peace?”

“Not in my tavern.” Maria’s tone was teasing, but kind.

“What do you think, that money’s going to fall from the sky?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I just think change is coming.” Maria smiled again, soft, a little cryptic.

Liva let out a long, exasperated breath. “Ah. Change. Wonderful.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “Fuck change.”

Maria didn’t flinch. “Change is good.”

“I don’t like good things.”

“Nonsense.”

Liva narrowed her eyes. “Why are you so sure about that?”

“The cards told me.”

“The cards?”

“Yes.”

“You’re telling me you’re a fortune teller now?”

“I wanted to study divination at the magic academy,” Maria said with a wistful smile. “But then my father got sick. I stayed to care for him. When he passed, I inherited this place. The tavern became my path.” She looked around the room like it was the most precious thing in the world. “But yes, I still dabble in card reading.”

Liva turned away, bitterness licking at her insides. “Believe me, the cards are liars.”

From the floor, a soft flutter interrupted them.
Cricket.

The strange little creature — half owl, half lion cub — flapped awkwardly onto the counter. His wings were still too small for flight, his downy feathers puffing up as he landed beside her like a wayward pillow.

Maria grinned. “Cricket, our friend here’s in a mood again.”

He hooted softly and blinked up at Liva with enormous golden eyes. He always looked mildly confused. She had rescued him from shady merchants a few weeks ago — and Maria had offered her room and board in return. Liva had vaporized the merchants, ruined a local wheat field and used the stolen money to pay the angry farmer.

Now she was trapped here. Trapped, but safe.
Cricket hadn’t left her side since. He was annoying. He was noisy. But she liked him.

“Someday you’ll be as big as a horse,” she murmured, gently stroking his head. “And we’ll take over the world.”

Maria clapped her hands suddenly, drawing Liva back.

“What is it?”

“Your fate is written by the goddess Alyona.”

Liva’s head jerked up. “…Alyona?”

Maria blinked, surprised by the reaction. “Yes. You know her?”

Liva hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Most people think of her as a goddess of prophecy. But she was more than that. People prayed to her for luck, guidance, hope… She used to be worshipped all across our lands. But that was a long time ago.”

Maria leaned in. “You know a lot.”

“I liked history,” Liva said quietly. She didn’t mention the visions or the dreams of her past. Or Calomene — whose life still hunted her in the darkest hours of the night.

“All right then,” Maria said, drawing a deck of dark cards from beneath the counter. “If you know so much of the past, let me offer you a glimpse of what lies ahead.”

Liva didn’t respond at first. But then, slowly, she nodded.

Maria drew three cards. “The first: The Upright Lightning.”

A stark black card with a jagged white bolt. Liva stared. Something stirred in her chest, a long-buried ache. She always loved lightning and thunderstorms. For various reasons.

“It symbolizes sudden change. A revelation. A shift so sharp it’ll leave you breathless.”

Liva reached for the card. For just a heartbeat, she saw Kairos. His grin. His voice. She blinked it away.

Maria flipped the next. “The Eternal Ring.” The symbol shimmered. Gold on black, unbroken. “It stands for a bond. Love, or unshakable friendship. You will not be alone.”

A fragile hope bloomed in Liva’s chest. “…Are you sure?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Maria smiled softly. “Yes.”
And then… the third. Maria’s fingers hovered. Her smile faded. “…The Black Dragon.”

Liva’s breath caught. Her pupils shrank. And for a moment, the tavern was gone. The scent of fire, ash and blood filled her senses. Acnologia’s roar echoed in her bones. The screams of her dying comrades became all too real again.
The card was heavy in her hands.

“What does it mean?” she asked, though she already knew.

“It’s a warning,” Maria said gently. “Your happiness will be tested. The path ahead won’t be easy.”

Liva’s eyes narrowed. “The Black Dragon stands between me and my peace? How fitting.” She dropped the card onto the counter. 

Maria flinched as a sudden pulse of cold magic radiated from the blonde. “Liva—”

But Liva was already rising, a hollow smile on her lips. “Right. Well. I’ll take over here. You go to the kitchen. The miners will be here soon and they’ll want hot stew and cold beer.”

Maria hesitated. “Liva…”

“Yes?”

“…The cards might mean something else. They’re never absolute.”

Liva met her gaze. Calm. Steady. “Of course, Maria. After all, the cards are liars, aren’t they?”

🌙

Makarov Dreyar was exhausted.
His back ached, his legs protested with every step and he was starting to deeply regret his stubbornness to travel this route on foot — again.
For old times’ sake, he had told himself. But nostalgia did little to appease a body that had long since outgrown such romantic notions.

With a low groan, he halted and tilted his head skyward, exhaling slowly. He had just returned from Era, the seat of the Magic Council.

There had been a great deal to explain since he and some of his guild member had come back after seven long years. And then there was the mess with Twilight Ogre, that disgrace of a guild that had wormed its way into Magnolia, tormenting the remaining members of his guild during his absence.

He had to admit, his influence within the Council had diminished. But still, they had received him with a certain respect. That, at least, he appreciated.

As the sun began its descent toward the western horizon, Makarov finally reached Solia’s Cradle — a weathered inn tucked between road and woods, a place where he had often stopped over the years. To rest. And, in younger days, to drink far too much.

The original owners, dear friends of his, had long since passed. Seven years ago, their son had taken over the business, along with his teenage daughter. Makarov wondered, with a flicker of sentiment, how they were faring now.
Without wasting another thought, he stepped up to the thick wooden door and pushed it open.

The inn, made entirely of wood inside and out, breathed rustic charm. It smelled exactly as in the past. His eyes caught on the checkered curtains, the little flower arrangements on the tables. Clearly, someone took pride in the place. But the feminine touch was impossible to miss.

“Good afternoon!”

The greeting came from across the room and his eyes fell on a blonde woman he didn’t recognize. Blue eyes met his with a sharpness that made him pause. Not unfriendly, but watchful. Measuring.

He knew that look. Many of his guild mages had worn it themselves, his grandson included.
There was calculation in her gaze, vigilance and maybe a hint of defiance. Those eyes didn’t match her youth. They’d seen too much already.

“Hello,” he replied, settling onto a high stool by the bar. A delicious scent wafted from the kitchen, stew, thick and hearty. His stomach growled.

At last, the woman gave him a small smile. It softened her face, warmed it. “Something to eat, I assume?”

Makarov chuckled. “Be a dear, child. And a cold beer, if you’ve got one.”

She nodded once. “One stew,” she called toward the kitchen and poured him a glass. He took a long, grateful sip. The day had been warm, despite spring’s lingering chill and he’d been dreaming of this moment for hours.

Then something cooed beside him. He turned — and blinked.
A baby griffin sat at his side. No larger than a housecat. Its soft, downy feathers twitched and its owl-like eyes blinked at him with bright curiosity.

“That’s Cricket,” the woman explained as she noticed his expression. “An owl-griffin.”

“I can see that,” Makarov murmured. “But what’s he doing here? Griffins don’t belong to this region.”

She nodded. “They don’t. I think he was meant for the black market. I rescued him. He’s stayed with me ever since.”

He studied the creature’s innocent face. “He probably thinks you’re his mother.”

“Probably.”

The kitchen door swung open behind her. A dark-haired woman emerged, balancing a steaming bowl. “One stew for—oh!” She froze. Makarov turned to her, recognizing her at once. The young girl from seven years ago, who had helped her father clean tables and carry trays.

“Maria, right?” His voice softened. “It’s good to see you again.”

She gave him a stunned smile, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Mister Makarov… I can’t believe it. I heard rumors that Fairy Tail had returned, but I didn’t know if it was true. I’m so glad it is.”

“The pleasure is mine, child.” He took a spoonful of stew, savoring the taste. “Where’s your father?”

Maria lowered her gaze. “He passed away two years ago. It came suddenly. An illness.”

Makarov’s smile faded. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard.”

“It was,” Maria said quietly. “But I managed. I had to. And now I have help — for a few more days, at least. Liva here’s been working with me.”

His gaze shifted to the blonde woman behind the counter. “A traveler?” he asked.

Before she could reply, Maria answered, “She’s a mage. A strong one.”

“Oh?” Makarov leaned forward with interest. “Which guild?”

“She doesn’t belong to any—”

“Maria.” Liva cut in sharply.

“Sorry,” Maria murmured, looking chastised.

Makarov regarded the young woman closely. Some mages chose to remain independent, but without a guild, legal work was harder to come by. Riskier. Often poorly paid. Liva must have felt his stare. “I’m not doing anything illegal,” she said stiffly. “I’m just traveling.”

“I didn’t accuse you of anything, child,” Makarov said mildly.

“But your look was… judgmental.”

“Judgmental?” He took another thoughtful sip of his beer. “Forgive me. Occupational hazard.”

Liva frowned. “Occupational hazard?”

Maria leaned in with a grin. “Yes, Liva. You’re speaking to Makarov Dreyar, Guild Master of Fairy Tail. One of the Ten Wizard Saints. Pretty impressive, huh?” Liva froze. Her pale face turned even paler.

“Makarov… Dreyar?” she whispered. “I thought all of you were dead. There were so many rumors. Monsters. Invasions…”

Makarov swirled his beer slowly. “Hmm. We were attacked. Monster or invader? Perhaps both.” He looked up toward the wooden ceiling, his voice turning grave. “We were attacked by a dragon.”

“A dragon?” Liva breathed. Her voice had gone hoarse. “That’s… impossible. There are no dragons left.”

“And yet one destroyed our island with a single strike,” Makarov replied. “A black dragon. Acnologia.” Maria gasped and turned to her friend, who had gone completely still. Liva’s fingers clenched around the dish towel like claws.

“We barely survived,” Makarov went on. “Only because we sealed ourselves away with powerful magic. It took us seven years to return.”

“That’s… horrible,” Maria whispered.

Suddenly the front door opened just then and a group of miners entered, laughing and stomping the dust off their boots. Liva stood abruptly. Her face was stone, her jaw tight.
“I’ll take care of them,” she muttered and walked toward the newcomers. Her stride was stiff, not hurried, but definitely a retreat. As if the conversation had hit a nerve too deep to touch again.

Makarov’s eyes followed her. It wasn’t unusual for people to walk away after hearing that story. The notion of a dragon still roaming the world struck fear into many hearts. He couldn’t blame her.

“She has a powerful magical aura,” he said quietly.

Maria, surprised by the sudden change of subject, gave a small nod. “She does. I’m not particularly strong myself, but even I can feel it. She’s no ordinary mage.”

“Do you know why she hasn’t joined a guild?” he asked, frowning slightly. “I don’t know the full extent of her abilities, but based on presence alone, she could be near S-Class.”

Maria didn’t look surprised. She’d seen Liva hurl those black market traders halfway across the valley. That kind of strength wasn’t something you came across every day.

“I don’t know her whole story,” she said after a pause. “She once told me she walked the path of darkness. But after leaving her former guild, she started walking the path of light again. I think she’s been through a lot… She talks in metaphors like that.”
Makarov muttered into his beard. He knew that phrase. “Path of darkness” might sound poetic, but in Council terms, it was the way they referred to members of dark guilds. That meant Liva had likely once belonged to one. If she hadn’t been pardoned, she wouldn’t be using the term so casually.

“So now she travels? Works the occasional mage job?”

“She tries,” Maria replied. She reached for a set of tarot-like cards resting on the counter. One showed a bolt of lightning, another a ring and the third the silhouette of a dragon. She mixed them back into the stack absentmindedly.
Makarov watched her carefully. There was more to this story.

“I don’t know exactly what happened to her,” Maria admitted. “But whatever it was… it left scars. Deep ones. Scars no one can see.” She shuffled the cards again and drew three. The same ones as before. Lightning. Ring. Dragon.

With a sigh, Maria shook her head in frustration. “Liva isn’t a bad person. She can be bristly, even harsh, but she always helps. Always shows kindness, even when she doesn’t want to. But she’s like a ship caught in a storm. Just drifting.”

The old guild master exhaled slowly. “That sounds tragic.”

Maria nodded silently, then blinked and gasped. She shuffled again, this time whispering something ancient under her breath and drew three more. The ring. The dragon. And a final card, marked with a symbol that looked remarkably like a fairy.

Her eyes lit up. “Of course! Yes!” She grabbed Makarov’s hands in sudden urgency. Caught off guard, he let her.

“Now that you’re back,” she said quickly, “Fairy Tail will become what it once was again, won’t it? Could she… could Liva find a place there?”
Makarov was stunned for a moment, then turned his thoughtful gaze to the blonde woman. Liva wouldn’t be the first with a difficult past. Every one of his children had their share of pain. Erza, Gray, Gajeel, Juvia, Laxus… and many more. He would never deny someone a chance at a better future.

“I won’t force her,” he said eventually, his voice soft. “But if she wants to be part of Fairy Tail… she’s more than welcome.”

Maria’s face fell a little. “That’s the problem. She doesn’t believe in guilds. She avoids them like the plague.” That was a problem.

“Is it really that important to you that she joins one?”

Maria nodded, eyes full of earnest worry. “Without a guild, she can’t take official jobs, not the kind that feed you and give you a roof. When I met her, she’d been wandering the continent for a year. She looked like a skeleton. Lonely. Lost.” She exhaled. “I just think… everyone needs a place that feels like home. Like family.”

Makarov understood better than anyone. That was what Fairy Tail stood for. And people like Maria hadn’t forgotten.
“Alright then,” he said, finally. “I’ll show the girl not all guilds are bad.”

Maria lit up like dawn. “You would? Thank you! Thank you so much!” She grabbed his hands again. “But… how will you convince her to go with you?”

The old man grinned. “Leave that to me.”

What they didn’t know was that Liva had heard every word. Her enhanced hearing made eavesdropping easy and right now, she was fuming. How dare Maria speak to a stranger about her like that? Like she was some stray to be taken in.
Grinding her teeth, she took a customer’s order and walked off, burning with silent fury. She would never agree to Maria’s little plan.

An hour passed. Liva carried a stack of empty plates back to the kitchen. The miners behind her were shouting, laughing, downing drinks after a long day. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Makarov was still seated at the bar. Drinking. Waiting, no doubt.

She glanced at the clock. It was nearly seven. Night would fall soon. “Do you want a room for the night, Makarov?” she asked casually.

The old man looked up, surprised. “What? Is it that late already?” He frowned. “I was actually planning to head back to Magnolia tonight.”

Her arms crossed automatically. “That’s at least an hour or two on foot, Makarov.”

“You’re right,” he said, sheepish.

“Where are you coming from, anyway?”

“Era. Had to explain to the Council what happened seven years ago.”

“Era?” Her brows shot up. “And you walked? At your age?”

“Hey, hey, hey now,” Makarov said indignantly. “I might be old, but I’m not decrepit. A little walk won’t kill me.”

He gestured so wildly he nearly tumbled off the stool. Liva caught him just in time as he winced and grabbed his back.

“Ugh… my back…”

“You alright?”

He sighed, deeply. “No, not really. You’re right. I’m getting too old for this kind of thing. I was stubborn, thought I could manage it on my own. But honestly, if I’d collapsed somewhere on the road…” He shook his head. “It’s dangerous.”

He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “I don’t even know how I’m getting home tonight.” Liva only nodded, clearly unmoved. She knew exactly what he was trying to do. Trying to draw her in.

Makarov sighed inwardly. Either she didn’t get the hint… or she was ignoring it.
“I heard you’re looking for a job,” he said bluntly.

Liva’s eyes narrowed. “I already have a job.”

“Oh? I thought you were a mage. Looks to me like you’re a bit overqualified for bartending.”

“You take what you can get.”

“How about accompanying me to Magnolia?”

She let out a dry laugh. She knew he’d try to rope her into joining Fairy Tail somehow, but this? This was a bit too on the nose. “Forget it.”

“I’m a customer making an official job request,” Makarov said smoothly. “I need a strong mage as an escort.” Cricket chirped at his side. “Animal companions welcome.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “First, you’re one of the Ten Wizard Saints. You don’t need an escort. Second, why would I even consider it?”

“Because I need company and you need money. Isn’t that enough?”

“I’m not that broke.”

“You’ve got a hole in your shoe.”

“What?!” she squeaked, totally caught off guard. “Maria! I told you it was visible!” she shrieked toward the kitchen, mortified as she dove behind the counter.

Makarov chuckled. “So? Do we have a deal?”

Liva stared at him. His logic wasn’t even bad. And truth be told… she did need the money. She could take the job, walk him to the city gates, take the cash and be done with it. If he thought he could manipulate her, he’d be sorely disappointed.
“Only as far as the gates of Magnolia,” she grumbled.

Makarov laughed. “I’d be grateful if you walked me all the way to the guild. They’re expecting me. I’ll pay you there and you get a hot meal and a room.”

“I get paid. I don’t need charity,” she snapped.

He just smiled. “How much do you want?”

She held up five fingers. “Fifty thousand Jewels.”

He stroked his beard. “Done.”

She flinched, barely, but enough. That was an absurd amount of money for such a simple escort. Makarov knew it and he knew she’d caught the bait.
At last, Liva scoffed. “Fine, old man. You’ve got yourself an escort. When are we leaving?”

Makarov smiled to himself and drained his drink. “Right now. You coming?”

Chapter Text

Memories of a Dragon Slayer — Calomene

My memories of the past haunted me night after night in my dreams. I can still remember the war well. Much was blurred, but some days were burned into my memory.
Back then, fire and ash rained down from the sky, while dark clouds gathered in the distance, heralding a thunderstorm. I tasted the iron taste of blood on my tongue.

Completely exhausted from days of fighting, I allowed myself a brief moment to catch my breath. The thought of lying down in the mud sounded inviting. But I knew I couldn't allow myself a moment of weakness if I wanted to survive.

Suddenly the ground shook beneath my feet and the wind picked up. Instinctively, I threw myself to the ground. Not a second too soon, because shortly afterwards a dragon passed just above my head.

I stared at the gigantic beast. As powerful as they were, their personalities were equally ambivalent. I had once called so many dragons friends and only a few of them were left. Most of them had sided with the enemy, who had the goal of subjugating all humans.

Far in the distance, somewhere in the middle of the battlefield, there was a bright flash of lightning and the dragon fell to the ground like a stone. The ground shook again. A terrible roar could be heard, mixed with the angry cry of a man.

I jumped up immediately. My legs carried me, despite my exhaustion, 

When I got to the gigantic battlefield, I looked at the disaster. Hundreds of dead dragons and humans lay scattered on the ground. They had all killed each other. It was a gigantic massacre that had now spread across the whole of Ishgar. 

The dragon that had flown in the sky just a few moments ago, lay in a gigantic crater and in a huge puddle of its own blood. Its eyes gazed blankly into the distance. It was Bacches, one of the few dragons still serving on the side of the humans under Queen Irene.

A man stood in front of the dragon. Covered in blood, breathless, trembling.

“Are you all right?” I asked cautiously. “What happened?”
He flinched when he heard my voice. He turned around and stared at me as if he was seeing me for the first time.

My heart skipped a beat. Even though he was covered in blood and dirt, he was still the most handsome man I had ever seen. I had often wondered if he wasn't a god, he seemed so powerful and strong

“No,” he replied tonelessly. “He's dead.” Suddenly, tears dripped down his cheeks. His legs gave way beneath him. He clutched his head, sobbing. Startled, I slid down the crater.

“Kairos, are you hurt?” But he looked at the dragon. We had lost another ally, a strong one at that. His opponent must have been a strong dragon if he had been defeated in a few seconds. I knelt down next to him and lifted his head. “Kairos-”

“I killed him.”

I faltered. “What?”

“I killed Bacches.” He stared at the ground. “Why did I do that? Why on earth?” 

I looked at his blood-stained hands in horror. We were Dragon Slayers, it was our job to kill dragons. But only those who wanted to enslave humans. Killing an allied dragon was against the law.

„Kairos, what have you done?“

🌙

Magnolia, Year X791, Spring

Drenched in sweat, Laxus Dreyar woke up from his dream. His eyes widened in horror as he stared at the wall of his bedroom. The bestial smell of ash and blood still lingered in his nostrils. The noise of fighting and screaming rang in his ears. His skin felt like it was covered in dirt and blood.
After a few seconds, his heartbeat calmed down and he finally caught the familiar smell of his bedroom. From outside, he heard birds and the soft murmur of people.

Quietness. Peacefulness. 

He fell back into his pillow and closed his eyes again. With each passing second, the dream faded and after a few minutes he could barely remember it, except for the smell of ash and blood. Only the strange feeling that he had done something terrible remained.

Hoping that a cold shower would calm his thoughts again, he got up. While his skin cooled under the cold, he stared blankly at the tiles in his bathroom. 

Strange dreams had been tormenting him for days. He knew that they were terrible images that his head created in his sleep, but after waking up, he could remember little. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel uneasy. He had the feeling that he had forgotten something very important.

Laxus shook his head and finally strolled through his home. It was a tiny apartment, not far from the guild hall. 

It felt strange to be part of the guild again. His exile and the matter on Tenrou Jima were still fresh in his mind, but to the rest of the world, seven years had passed.

Laxus finally entered the small kitchen. He was famished, but apart from emptiness, he found nothing in his fridge. He groaned in exasperation. “I'll have to go shopping then.”

It was unusual to wander through the Magnolia‘s market again. He hadn't done it since he was a teenager. In general, he hadn't taken much time to linger in his hometown in recent years, not counting the Sleeping-Beauty-sleep-thing. 
He'd always been on jobs, always with the urge to get stronger so that one day he could take Fairy Tail for himself. He had amassed a fortune that other people would probably retire with. But every Jewel had gone to the restoration of Magnolia after Fairy Tail's battle. 

Now he felt remorse.

After his exile, Acnologia and those gruesome dreams, he realized what a wonderful city Magnolia was. It was a peaceful city in which a man could live without fear, start and raise a family and grow old.

Laxus stopped and blinked for a moment. What the hell was wrong with him? When did he start thinking about things like this?

To distract himself, he stopped outside a bakery and looked at the baked goods with a growling stomach. He would only take one breakfast with him, because anything else would be a waste. He knew that he and his team would be heading out again today or tomorrow. They had to prepare for the Grand Magic Games and raise money. Under no circumstances would Laxus stay in this shoebox called an apartment any longer than necessary.

“Good morning, what can I get you- oh.” The sales clerk fell silent in her enthusiasm and stared at Laxus almost fearfully.
The mage couldn't blame her. He had earned himself a certain reputation, one he was no longer proud of.

“Good morning, half of this please,” he pointed to a sweet pastry about 50 centimeters tall, which had been braided like a plait and sprinkled with nuts and powdered sugar.

“Of course.” The woman got over her brief shock and gave him a professional smile.

“Hmm, wait.” She looked at him questioningly. Laxus considered the pastry. The whole piece was a bit much, but on the other hand, he knew exactly how much Evergreen, Fried and Bickslow loved sweets. “Can you wrap this up for my friends? I'll have some...” His gaze wandered thoughtfully through the goods on display. Then he saw some warm milk buns. The very ones he had always eaten as a child. They brought back memories of carefree times with his family. A good time. 

He smiled. “That one, please.” He waited and finally raised his head when the sales clerk didn't move. To his surprise, he was met with a warm smile. “Are you all right?”

She just laughed softly and shook her head. “I'm sorry, you just reminded me of your mother.”

Laxus stared at her. His mother. His mother?! He blinked at the lady a few times. “Uh, what?” He rubbed his head sheepishly as the sales clerk grinned.

“You look a lot like her.”

Did he? Laxus could barely remember her. She died when he was just a little kid. “Um, thank you?”

The woman laughed. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude.” She began to wrap the baked goods for him. “Your mother was a good friend of mine.” A sad look briefly flitted across her face. “If only it hadn't been for that illness ...”

He nodded. “Yes, it happened pretty quickly.” Laxus didn't remember much about her, but he knew exactly what damage her death had done to his family. His father had never been the emotional type, but the death of his wife had changed him completely. Laxus remembered outbursts of anger and arguments. They were not pleasant memories.

The lady handed him his purchase. “Nonetheless, I'm sure if she saw what a strong mage you've become, she'd be mighty proud of you.”

Before Laxus could say anything in reply, he heard a derisive snort from the store. “I don't think you believe that yourself.”

“Mother!”

“Kyra, gods rest her soul, would turn over in her grave if she saw what that boy did seven years ago.” A tiny, ancient-looking woman sat at a table. Watchful eyes peered out from behind her countless wrinkles, looking at Laxus with disapproval. She held a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

“I'm so sorry,” the sales clerk apologized. “My mother has no manners sometimes. You know, the old people...”

“What do you mean the old people?” hissed the granny.

Laxus looked at the old woman calmly. “You don't have to apologize for anything. She's right.” The two looked at him in surprise. “I did terrible things seven years ago and my behavior was anything but okay. I know that words can't excuse my actions. Let me try anyway.”
He bowed his head briefly. “I'm also sorry if I've treated you wrongly in the past. I still have a lot to learn.”

The sales clerk smiled mildly again and shook her head gently. “Don't worry, my boy.”

The old woman snorted and began to pour a fresh cup of tea. She then stood up and walked towards Laxus. She held out the steaming cup to him. “Drink.”

“Uh, what?”

“Drink!” she scolded him. Narrowing her eyes, she looked up at him, barely reaching his belly button.

Laxus felt like he was going to be scolded again for not eating his vegetables. Rather automatically, he took the cup and drank it. The tea was spicy and his dragon tongue recognized a variety of precious herbs. Some leaves were still floating in the cup and eventually stuck to the empty bottom.
The old woman almost snatched the cup out of his hands. She looked at the leaves in the cup with eagle eyes.

“What is she doing?” Laxus asked the old woman's daughter quietly. She just laughed, embarrassed.

“Well, she...” She sighed. “She reads your true intentions and your future in the leaves.”

Laxus rolled his eyes inwardly. Well, great. Did he have to meet such a crazy old woman today?
As if the sales clerk heard his inner conversation, she raised her hands. “I'm so sorry. She's impossible sometimes. I hope that doesn't make you avoid our store now?”

Laxus looked at her curiously. “Has this happened before?”

“Oh yes, you have no idea. People don't like strangers meddling in their affairs.”
Laxus believed that. However, this cranky old woman was no reason for him to avoid this bakery. If he remembered correctly, this place had the best pastries in Magnolia.

“I see,” the old woman finally grumbled, drawing attention to herself again. She scrutinized Laxus' stature. Tall, strong and yet she could now detect incomparable kindness in his eyes. Emotions she had not seen in them seven years ago. “It took an exile, a dragon and seven years of sleep for you to find your true self.” Slowly, she returned to her chair. “You should drink wistaberry tea. It will help with your nightmares.”

Laxus stared at her in bewilderment. “How...?” 

“Oh, mother, stop it,” the daughter whispered, but her mother merely waved her hand.

Laxus walked towards her. “Tell me, how do you know that, old woman?” he growled.

Unimpressed, she took a sip from her own cup. “These leaves grew under the light of the moon and the moon has much to tell. Your dreams have something to show you. Listen to them and you will soon see the truth.”

“The truth?” he asked himself. “What is the truth?”

“The truth about the past, present and future.” She showed him his cup. The leaves were shaped like a crescent moon. Laxus had no idea how she drew her information from that. “Alyona be with you, you still have a long way to go, Dragon Slayer.”

“Okay, that's enough, mother!” The salesgirl stormed over to Laxus and tried to pull the man out of the salesroom. “I'm so sorry. Please don't pay any attention to her.”

The old woman suddenly smiled. “Her magic is rooted within the moon, by the way.” As he was being pulled out of the store, she caught his gaze. Confused, he looked at her. “The dragon slayer girl from your dreams. She uses the moon. Look out for her.”

After these words, Laxus left the bakery on his own. His legs carried him as fast as they could onto the thriving streets of Magnolia. They only stopped when he reached the large park.
His heart pounded loudly with unease. This old witch had seen inside his head within minutes and thrown his inner struggle at his feet. She seemed to know everything.

A shiver ran down his spine.

He sat down on the stone staircase. He didn't know how the old witch knew so much about his dreams. 
“She uses the moon...” He repeated the sentences a few times. The dragon slayer girl from his dreams.

Was he dreaming of a girl with moon powers? He couldn't remember.
“What a shitty day,” he sighed and closed his eyes.

“Here you are!” Laxus opened his eyes after a few minutes when a shadow settled over him. He looked into the faces of his three closest friends. 

“We were looking for you,” Ever accused him.

“What are you doing here?” asked Bickslow, accompanied by the shrill ‘What are you doing, what are you doing?’ of his puppets.

Laxus said nothing and instead pressed the sweet pastry into Fried's arms.
“Where are you going? Huh? What's that?”

“For the three of you.” Laxus didn't see it, but their cheers made him smile. “Are you coming now?”

“Yes, yes!”

When the three of them arrived at the guild, they were greeted by the everyday noise. Although the guild had lost quite a few members in the last seven years, the dozen or so that remained made up for everything. They were just terribly loud.

“Oh, you're still here,” they were greeted by Mirajane. “I thought you had already left for training.”

Laxus and his friends settled down at the guild bar. “I thought the same of you. Some of you have already left.” Natus and his team, for example. He couldn't spot Gajeel anywhere either.

Mirajane nodded. “I wanted to wait for the master's return and then we'll set off too.”

Laxus looked at her in surprise. “He's not back yet?” It was already early afternoon.

“The master isn't the youngest anymore,” Mirajane said with a smile. “It's taking him longer to get back than it did a few years ago.”
Laxus hadn't known that. Only now did he realize how little he had actually heard about what was going on in the guild.

“Laxus, when are we leaving?” Fried asked.

The Dragon Slayer thought about it. An inner feeling compelled him to stay. “Let's wait for Gramps. Then we'll get out of here.”

🌙

On the way to Magnolia, Year X791, Spring

Liva already regretted agreeing to accompany the old geezer.
Less than ten minutes in, he had launched into a cheerful monologue about his guild. About the members, their missions, the great deeds they had accomplished.

Cricket listened with rapt attention, growling in delight whenever something new caught his ears. Liva was beginning to suspect the creature understood everything being said.

After an hour, she knew most of the names: Natsu, Lucy, Gray, Erza, Levy, Gajeel, Macao… and on and on. But she had already forgotten half of them. Why bother remembering strangers?

“You know, Liva,” Makarov said at last, “our guild is like one big family.”

“Family, huh?” she muttered. “From what I’ve heard, Fairy Tail has slowed down in recent years. You used to be the strongest guild in the land. Your guildhall was destroyed, your numbers are dwindling.”

“And yet,” he said with a gentle smile, stroking his beard, “those who remained have kept Fairy Tail’s heart alive. A building can fall. We can vanish to the farthest corners of Fiore. But Fairy Tail lives through its people. Every single mage ensures it stays what a guild should be.”

“And what should a guild be?”

“A place for children who are looking for a home,” he said softly. “For the lost, to give them somewhere to return to, no matter what happens. A place where we lift each other up when we fall.”

Liva stared at him and despite herself, tears welled up. The warmth in his voice was disarming. Frightening, even. She looked into his eyes and found nothing but kindness, warmth and sincerity. For the first time in years, a longing stirred in her heart. A longing for home.
She couldn’t believe, that Makarov Dreyar gave her such serenity, not after … She cut off that thought.

“That sounds… nice,” she said, voice barely audible.

“It is.” He tilted his head. “So, tell me, why won’t you join a guild?”

Liva stopped in her tracks. “Maria’s been talking again, I see.”

Makarov met her sharp gaze without flinching. “I’ll be honest. Maria believes Fairy Tail might be the right place for you.”

“I doubt it.” Her tone turned bitter. “A guild is where you submit to the master. I won’t give up my freedom. Not again.”

Concern crossed his face. “I don’t know what your former master was like, Liva. But in Fairy Tail, no one submits to anyone. You’re an independent human, you think, feel, live freely. As your guild master, I would ask for nothing from you, except staying out of trouble.”

“I’m done talking about this.” Her voice was sharp. She turned and walked ahead, leaving the old man behind in the dimly lit street.

He sighted and followed. Until they reached their goal, he didn’t bring it up again. Makarov sensed a terrible past and, as Maria told him, deep invisible scars. He heard the fear, the revulsion in her voice. So he let it be.

Instead, he used the rest of their journey to get to know her better. She was a remarkable young woman, very intelligent, well educated and behind some of her witty remarks, he realized, was a good heart. She was articulate, perceptive, wise beyond her years. With every word, he felt a growing sorrow that such an interesting mage might never call his guild home.

As Magnolia came into view, Liva quickened her pace. She wanted this over with.
They passed through quiet city streets until they reached a small hill. There, in the shadows, stood a run-down shack.
Liva raised her lantern, confused. “What is this?”

“That’s our guild.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said flatly.

“Hey now,” Makarov grumbled. “Show some respect.”

She looked the structure over critically, her dragon eyes piercing the darkness. It looked as if a stiff breeze would flatten it. “Looks pathetic.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” he huffed. Suddenly, laughter and light burst from within.

“Well,” she said, holding out her hands. “I brought you here. Where’s my pay?”

Makarov crossed his arms with a huff. “You’re a rude brat. Worse than my grandson. I told you, you could stay the night. You’ll get your payment in the morning.”

“What?! That wasn’t the deal— Hey! Old man!” she yelled, chasing him as he marched toward the door. “You can’t just—!”

But as she stepped into the guild, all her words got stuck in her throat.
The room exploded with cheers and music. A tall man with white hair was arm-wrestling five other mages, who were groaning and straining in vain.

“Elfman, how are you doing that?” one of them gasped.

“Because I’m a man!” Elfman roared with laughter, as if that was explanation enough.

Beside her, Makarov sighed. “Always so noisy.” He strolled to the counter, where a young woman with long white hair greeted him with a radiant smile.

“Welcome back, Master! How was the conference?” She handed him a tankard without missing a beat.

“Thank you, Mirajane. It was… fine. Nothing special.”

She nodded, then spotted Liva. Her eyes lit up. “Oh! Who do we have here? Welcome to Fairy Tail!”

Liva rubbed her hands, suddenly shy. “Uh, thanks.” She cleared her throat. “I’m Liva.”

“I’m Mirajane,” she said warmly.

“Mira, dear,” Makarov said, “Liva was kind enough to travel here with me. Could you get her something to eat and drink? I promised her a bed for the night.”

“Of course, Master.” Mira nodded at Liva. “Thanks for helping our old man.” And off she went. Liva stared after her, dumbfounded. That much kindness? It disarmed her.
She sank onto a barstool beside Makarov, stunned. “What the hell…?” He just chuckled.
Before them, the arm-wrestling contest had devolved into an all-out brawl. Mages tumbled across tables, laughing and shouting.

“Uh, Makarov…”

“Yes?”

“Your guild members are fighting.”

“Yes, yes,” he said cheerfully. “Happens all the time.”

“…Huh?” She blinked, bewildered. But then she noticed something. The laughter, the grins. The way they held back just enough. It wasn’t malicious. It was play.
She thought of her old guild. Dark. Fearful. Brutal.
Fairy Tail was the complete opposite. Of course, it was.

“Master!” a voice suddenly called. “What kind of beast did you drag in? It’s eating our food!” A green-haired man came into view.

Alarmed, Liva looked around. “Cricket?!”
He was nowhere to be seen.

“Is this yours?” a deep voice rumbled and a shadow loomed over her. A moment later, Cricket landed in her lap, happily munching on something sweet, face covered in powdered sugar. He looked up at her with innocent eyes.

“Hey, lady. I’m talking to you.”

Liva froze. That voice—
Her heart pounded. Her hands began to tremble. Slowly, she looked up. And gasped.

He was tall. Broad. Muscular.
His cloak looked absurdly expensive. His blond hair was cropped short, a scar ran across one eye and his brow furrowed in a very familiar way.

No. It couldn’t be.
Tears filled her eyes.

“Kairos,” she whispered, too quietly for anyone to hear. He looked back at her. 

She had found him. After all this time.

Chapter Text

I remember the exact day I met him for the first time.

It was the spring festival — one of the grandest celebrations in Emberfall Village. That day, Alyona’s temple was draped in flowers, flowing fabrics and hundreds of flickering candles. People came to burn small offerings in the sacred fire, whispering their wishes to the moon goddess, hoping she would grant them.

I was only sixteen then, just beginning my training as one of Alyona’s priestesses. I wore the white robes and silver jewellery with pride. Even though I was still a novice and tasked with hard chores like scrubbing floors and washing linens, I loved it. I was walking the same path my late mother had once walked and that knowledge filled me with purpose.

As dusk fell, the heart of the celebration began. A great bonfire was lit in the village square and everyone — no matter their background or status — joined hands to dance in wide, joyful circles. People laughed together, shared food and for one perfect evening, the world was simple and bright.
I stood at the edge of it all, as I always had. Even as a child, I found more joy in observing others’ happiness than in being part of the spotlight. Attention made me nervous.

My gaze drifted over the crowd — and stopped.
There he was. Kairos.

The eldest son of General Ceres of Everglade. A dragon slayer, just like his brother. Feared on the battlefield, honored by the Queen herself. He was the pride of an entire nation. And he stood there, tall and striking, radiant with magic and strength. His shoulder-length hair caught the firelight like molten gold, wild and beautiful.

Then, as if he had heard my thoughts, he looked straight at me.

I froze. My heart pounded like war drums. I lowered my gaze immediately, feeling like a child who had been caught staring at something sacred. When I dared to look again, his seat was empty.
Where did he go, i asked myself. I felt a little sting in my chest. Did I scare him away?

“What a lovely party.” The voice came from just beside my ear.

I jumped.

Turning sharply, I found myself face to face with him. Kairos, smiling, amused, like he’d known me forever.
I opened my mouth. Closed it again. And then smart words followed: “Uh.”

He grinned, as he looked me up and down. “Do you mind?” He held out his hand.

“What?” I blinked at him, completely caught off guard.

“Would you like to dance with me?”

“Dance? Me?”

He looked around playfully. “Well, I don’t see anyone else here, do you?”

I felt my cheeks flush with heat. Gods, how embarrassing. “Yes, of course. I’d love to.”

His smile broadened. He took my hand and pulled me into the clearing, into the heart of the dance, into a world of spinning firelight and laughter. “I’m Kairos.”

“I know.” He laughed, a deep, warm sound that settled somewhere beneath my ribs.

“Is that good or bad?” he asked, eyes sparkling. I glanced away, flustered.
“And you are?” His voice was gentle. Steady. The kind of voice that made you feel safe.

“I’m Calomene.”

He repeated my name slowly, as if savoring it. “Calomene. That’s beautiful. I’ll remember that.” And then he took both my hands and we danced.
We danced until the fire was nothing but smoldering embers. We talked and laughed, as if we had known each other for years. Together we tasted the food and the wine. All until the sun settled in the west and rose in the east again. The next morning, he was gone. 

The dragon war still raged and the queen called its best soldiers back to the frontlines.

The next time I saw him… we stood on opposite sides of an arena.

🌙

Fairy Tail Guild Hall, Year X791, Spring

There he stood. Kairos of Everglade.
Or at least… he looked like him. His voice, his presence, his scent — identical. The electric hum of his magic. All the same.

Had Lady Alyona granted her wish? The one whispered in a cave, surrounded by blood and darkness, four hundred years ago?
Gods rarely granted wishes. Even Alyona, as a goodness of dreams and hope, didn’t grant them so easily. And yet… first her memories had returned. Then she had met Maria, with her strange prophecies. And now this. Now him.

Her vision blurred. She wept, tears falling silently, the weight of it all crashing over her.


Laxus stared. The woman clutched her griffin as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. She was pale, trembling. She looked so sad.
“Laxus!” Makarov snapped, sharp and scolding.

Laxus blinked. “What? Did I… scare her?” He took a step back. “I’m sorry. You okay?” She shook her head — no. Then yes. More tears streamed down her face.
“…You sure?” he asked. The other mages watched them. “You don’t look okay. Uh… what was your name again?”

She blinked at him. And he watched as a whole symphony of emotions moved across her face. Shock, fear, sorrow… resignation?

Something twisted in his chest. He felt the same strange feeling he had had after his dream. As if he had forgotten something. Should he know her? He didn’t think so. He’d remember someone like her, so sad, so … so strikingly beautiful.

He blinked, stunned over his own thoughts. What the hell?

Suddenly the griffin chirped as it finished the last crumbs of milk bread — his milk bread. Laxus narrowed his eyes. “You and I aren’t finished, bird!” he muttered to the beast. 

Cricket cackled in reply and his eyes glimmered challenging. As if he told him: “Try it, if you dare.”

“Oh, you are a though one, huh?” Laxus growled.

“…Are you talking to my griffin?” Liva asked, dumbfounded.

He gave her a flat look. “Of course I’m talking to the griffin. Why wouldn’t I?”

She grinned, amused. “He’s an animal.” Her laughter was bright, genuine. Startling.

Laxus frowned, annoyed. Was she mocking him? “Griffins are magical creatures,” he huffed. “They understand human speech perfectly well.”


Surprise flickered across Liva’s face. She picked Cricket up and stared into his wide, gleaming eyes. “Cricket… do you understand me?” The owl-griffon cooed softly, as if to confirm.
“What?! You understand me?!” she cried. “I told you my whole life story and you didn’t think to say anything?!” Cricket let out a guilty little chirp and averted his eyes.

Beside her, Makarov chuckled. “Don’t be too hard on him. He’s still very young, more hatchling than anything. He probably hasn’t even learned how to talk properly yet. I’m sure, he had no ill intention.”

Liva suddenly felt absurd. She hadn’t known griffins could speak at all.
Oh gods, she had spoken to Cricket about her past. One night, after terrible nightmares, she had cried like a baby and out of despair, she told him everything.
He knew it all. Her past life, her aristocratic origin, her brother’s disappearance after Jellal’s prison break. She even told him, that in search for her brother, she had joined this wretched guild. 
Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Liva almost panicked, but none of the people around her seemed to notice the storm inside her.

Cricket jumped out of her lap. Completely at ease, he mingled between the tables, half fluttering, half jumping.

Suddenly Laxus’ voice cut in, cool and skeptical. “Where did you even get that thing? It’s a wild animal.”

She felt his gaze immediately. Sharp, assessing and despite herself, a flutter of nervous excitement rose in her chest. Her instinct was to leap up, embrace him, pour out everything that had been locked in her heart for centuries.

But he didn’t know her. He didn’t recognize her.

He had looked straight at her and Liva had felt it like a blade: She was a stranger to him. He had no memory of who she was. No memory of them. A stab of pain bloomed in her chest, but she forced it down immediately.

“Don’t be greedy, Liva”, she thought to herself.

Kairos was here. Alive. Unharmed. And if Makarov’s stories about this guild were true, he was probably happy too.
How could I wish for more than that? But her mind betrayed her.

“I love you,” Kairos’s voice echoed through her memories, broken and raw. “Since that day in the arena.”

She bit back a sob.
Of course she had hoped for more. Of course she had imagined that when she found him, he would remember her. That he would hold her again, feel the same as he had four hundred years ago. That they could pick up where they’d never even had the chance to begin.
She had hoped for love. Real, unguarded love. For dancing until dawn. For laughs under the moonlight. For gentle, unspoken touches she had only dared to dream of. But how could she expect that now? In this place?

Kairos— no, Laxus lived a different life. One free from the pain, the war, the madness that had twisted their past into a blood-soaked nightmare.

If this guild truly offered him peace, if this place had given him safety… then that would have to be enough for her heart. Right?

🌙

“Unbelievable. She’s ignoring me again,” Laxus muttered under his breath. The blonde woman was staring off, completely absorbed in thought.

Makarov observed the scene in silence, intrigued.
Liva had been alert and attentive for hours — and now, this? He narrowed his eyes, deeply curious. What’s going on in that head of hers?

Laxus turned to go back to his table and end the evening with his friends. They were leaving at first light. But then he looked at her one last time and something stopped him. Something about her pulled at him.

The longer he studied her, the clearer it became: beneath her quiet presence was a staggering magical force, barely contained. It clung to her like mist. But it felt familiar.

Who was she?
Where did she come from?
Why did she have a damn owl-griffon as a pet?
And why the hell did it eat his breakfast?

He flicked his finger at her. She startled and snapped out of her thoughts, sitting up straight like a scolded student. “Yes?”
Despite himself, Laxus crossed his arms and sank into the seat beside her.
Makarov took a slow sip of his beer, watching his grandson’s behaviour with undisguised interest. Now this was intriguing.

“Let’s try again. Why do you have an owl-griffon as a pet?” Laxus asked again. “They’re dangerous.”

Liva looked up at Cricket, who was wobbling clumsily through the laughing mages like he owned the place. He wasn’t dangerous, he was only a baby.
Smiling faintly, she told the mages about the black market traders. About how she had thrown them across the valley, obliterating half a crop field in the process.

The others leaned in as she spoke and she coughed, embarrassed by her reckless behaviour. “I thought I’d struck gold when I took all their Jewels. But I wrecked the whole field… so I gave it to the farmers. It was only fair.” She scratched her cheek in embarrassment.

Laxus studied her. That sounds like something Natsu would do, he thought. Or Erza. Or any other of their guild. The recklessness. The absurd kindness. The chaos. He didn’t say it, but it fit.

Behind him, Mirajane set a steaming bowl of soup on the counter. “That story could’ve come straight from Natsu,” she said brightly, speaking out Laxus’ thoughts in the next moment. “You’d fit right in with Fairy Tail. You’re a mage, right?”

Liva tensed. “Uh… Yes.”

“I thought so, your magic power is incredible. Are you already part of a guild? Or are you looking for one? Is this the reason why you’re here?”

With every question, Laxus noticed the blonde woman’s growing wariness. Something in her shut down, she lifted up walls and her eyes became full of mistrust. “No … well, look—“

“She’s not interested in guilds,” Makarov interjected, watching Liva closely. “She only helped me, because of her good nature. Liva will be leaving tomorrow morning. Off again, far from Magnolia. Isn’t that right, Liva?”

The blonde stared at him like he’d just accused her of murder. Suddenly she paled. “What?”

“You turned down my offer to join, didn’t you?”

“I… did, but…” She trailed off.

Makarov looked at her patiently, a smile creeping onto his lips. “But?”

She could hear the grin in his voice and for a moment, the thing she wanted to do, was to shove him off the bar counter. She had made a decision to herself, back at Solia’s Cradle. Follow him here, get her pay and leave. Vanish from Fiore again, living this second life far away from any guild-drama, travelling the now peaceful lands.
But now… it has changed. Now she was aware of Laxus’ existence. Tangible. Real. Breathing. She could feel him. Hear his heartbeat, even from a distance. Slow. Strong, like him — without doubt.

Liva couldn’t leave. Not now. Not so easily. Not after she had searched for him for a whole year. She remembered that buried cave. Watching Kairos die. She had wished, then, for a life free of war, for both of them.

She wasn’t naive. She knew Laxus wasn’t Kairos.
Same soul, maybe. But a different man. Different past. Different future. She didn’t want to burden him with hers. Not when he had been spared from it so far.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy too, came Alyona’s voice, soft in her mind. Or perhaps it was only her heart?
Whatever the source, Liva made a decision. Just this once, she would be selfish.

“I want to join the guild,” she said suddenly.

Makarov lowered his jug. His eyes sparkled. “Change of heart?”

She shrugged. “You spent two hours telling me how great this place is. Why not? Besides… I could use a few Jewels.” She lifted her boot with its wide tear and gestured vaguely at her travel-worn clothes. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

Makarov grinned. “I’m glad to hear it.” He pushed the soup toward her. “Eat up, girl!” Then he stood, his voice booming through the hall: “Oi, brats! We’ve got two new members!”

The entire guild stilled for a beat and then exploded into cheers.
Laxus watched the chaos rise. He could already hear music and mugs clinking together. In a few seconds, everyone would crowd around her, curious and thrilled. Not in the mood for the noise, he stood up. 

“Have fun,” he said quietly, nodding toward her as she sipped her soup.

“Where are you going?” she asked quickly.

He raised an eyebrow and pointed toward the table tucked into the corner. “To my table?”

“Oh— right. Of course.” She sighed and covered her face with her hand. “Sorry. That sounded weird. Uh— I’m Liva. Nice to meet you.” He nearly laughed. Why was she so flustered?

When she looked up like that, eyes wide, she reminded him of a startled mouse. “Laxus.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“Oh? Is that good or bad?” he asked, amused. She blinked, then she chuckled softly — but didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry Cricket ate your food,” she murmured. “I’ll pay for it, of course.”

He nearly responded with “I’d recommend it”, but the look on her face — embarrassed, remorseful — softened his edge. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck.
“No problem,” he said and turned away before she could say anything else.

Behind him, Max had already taken his seat, eager to know more about the strange new girl with the owl-griffon and the eyes full of sadness.

🌙

Liva suddenly found herself surrounded by a small group of guild members. Though they were few, they made enough noise for a hundred. The warmth, the laughter, the unfiltered joy took her by surprise, but she welcomed it with a soft, grateful smile. She spent a whole year running around the continent, she almost forgot how much she enjoyed the company of nice, friendly people.

“Not that you have had many nice and friendly people around you in recent years”, her inner, bitter voice echoed. 

Again, she suppressed the memories and her fear of guild mages and looked into the bright, smiling face of the fairies. Liva had learned to read people’s intentions — she felt nothing evil emanating from those mages. Maybe they weren‘t that bad.
Starting to relax, she started recounting fragments of her journey across the continent, only telling short bits and only the good things. Suddenly a stamp was held out in front of her nose.

“It’s your turn”, Mirajane smiled and showing her Cricket’s marked wing. 

“Oh, yes.”, Liva completed forgot the guild mark.

“Where would you like your guild mark?” Mira asked kindly, her smile full of gentle mischief. “You should choose a spot where you can show it if needed. Some clients insist on seeing it as proof.”

Liva nodded, already familiar with the custom. She had worn her old mark on her back, easy to hide when necessary, because she felt so much shame. “My upper arm,” she said quietly, then offered her left shoulder.

With practiced hands, Mirajane pressed the stamp to her skin. In seconds, the mark of Fairy Tail bloomed like a delicate brand across her upper arm in a brilliant shade of cerulean blue.

Liva stared down at it, conflicted. She had never thought, that one day Fairy Tail’s mark would adorn her skin. She had learned, that Fairy Tail was taboo. That the fairies were mere filth under her shoes. But after what happened in her last guild … 
Yes, this mark felt right. Something in her seemed to heal. Just this morning, she never would have imagined this day would come. Life had such a strange way sometimes.

“Tell me, Liva,” said a brunette woman, Cana, grinning wide with a tankard in hand and the unmistakable scent of alcohol wafting from her like perfume. Yet despite the smell, Liva didn’t think she was an addict. No, she just seemed like someone who liked to enjoy herself.

“Yes?”

Cana’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “The question’s burning under all our skins. What kind of magic do you use?”

Makarov snapped his fingers. “Oh, damn! I forgot to ask that!”

“You forgot?!” several mages exclaimed at once.

Liva laughed, light and melodic, watching the chaos unravel like a play. Truth be told, she hadn’t told Makarov anything about her magic. It had simply never come up. “Well…”

🌙

Laxus had returned to his table, sinking into his chair with a quiet sigh. Within minutes, the volume inside the guild had climbed to its usual joyous uproar. Once, long ago, he might have rolled his eyes and scoffed at the whole display, at how easily his guildmates celebrated the arrival of a newcomer. But now… he found comfort in their innocence. In their kindness. In the noise.

“Unusual for you to be so curious,” Evergreen teased, glancing at him from across the table.

He suppressed an inward groan. Of course. “What do you mean, Ever?”

“You sat down next to her. That’s unlike you.” She leaned forward slightly, a playful gleam in her eyes. “Do you find her interesting?”
Here it comes, he thought.

“What, what?” Fried blinked between them, clearly lost. “Did I miss something?”

Bickslow cackled, his dolls echoing his mood. “She’s a cutie, isn’t she? A pretty woman.” — “Pretty, pretty!”

Laxus crossed his arms, deadpan. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Liar, he told himself.

Evergreen rolled her eyes and tossed her hair. “Typical. I expected better from you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You didn’t notice her behaviour? Her eyes?”

“What?”, he asked confused.

“Unbelievable. Men are all idiots,” she said bluntly.

“What?!” Bickslow looked at her. “Just because Elfman’s too dense to realize you like him doesn’t mean we’re all dumb,” he protested.

Ever’s face turned crimson. “I— I do not like Elfman!” she snapped. “He’s an oaf! And vulgar!” She gestured back to that man, who currently was fist fighting Ward.

“Sure,” Fried muttered.

“Shut up, Fried!”

Laxus watched them descend into playful chaos, the kind of argument only close friends could have. He found himself smiling. Gods, how he’d missed this. How many nights during his exile had he stared at the stars and longed to sit here again, to listen to their constant bickering, to feel this noisy kind of belonging.

“You alright?” Fried asked quietly, concern in his soft eyes.

“Huh?” Laxus blinked, caught off guard, then shook his head. “Yeah. I’m just glad… you’re all here.”

Fried’s eyes widened, brimming with emotion. “What?”

“Don’t cry, man,” Laxus muttered.

“I’m not!” Fried insisted, already wiping his eyes.

“Laxus, did you make Fried cry?” — “Cry, cry!” Bickslow’s dolls chirped.

“Laxus said he’s glad we’re here,” Fried sniffed. And that did it. Bickslow and Ever both burst into tears as well.

Laxus groaned. “Guys, come on …”


“Do we have a plan?” Bickslow asked eventually, pulling them back to business. “Where to next?”

Laxus leaned back and slapped a job notice on the table. “Waas Forest. S-Class mission.” The others leaned in.

“You got an S-Class mission?”, Ever asked impressed. “But I thought our guild was so looked down, that we didn’t receive any good missions anymore.”

“I still have a few contacts”, Laxus said, a little proud.

Fried scanned the paper. A monster had been attacking villages around the forest. So far, every team sent had failed. A reward of one million Jewels was being offered. Enough to keep them afloat for a while.

“The whole forest is known for being packed with monsters,” Fried noted.

“Sounds like fun,” Bickslow grinned.

“Great training opportunity,” Evergreen agreed. “So, when do we leave?”

They looked to Laxus. But before he could answer, a shrill “WHAT?!” rang across the hall. The four of them turned just in time to see the entire guild staring wide-eyed at Liva.

“But— But that means you’re like Laxus!” Laki exclaimed in disbelief.

Laxus immediately straightened. What?

Max scratched his head. “We’re collecting them now, aren’t we? Another one? No wonder you’re like Natsu.”

“Hey, Laxus!” Cana called grinning. “Liva’s a Dragon Slayer — just like you!” Laxus’s gaze sharpened.

Liva looked at him, calm and observant. “You have a Lacrima inside you too.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A fact.
He nodded slowly. So… she was one of them?

Makarov beamed like a proud grandfather. “Another powerhouse!,” he laughed loudly.

“Dragon Slayers have elements, right?” Max asked. “Natsu is fire, Wendy is air, Laxus is lightning, Gajeel is metal…”
Liva was surprised— he was well-informed. Even today, as in centuries past, Dragon Slayer magic remained one of the most enigmatic forms of power. It wasn’t called Lost Magic for nothing.

“Yes, exactly,” she confirmed.

“What element do you use?” Lisanna asked, eyes shining with curiosity.

Liva had been waiting for this. With quiet pride, she smiled. No matter what, she would always be proud of her magic — especially in this life. Her Lacrima had spared her from the madness that had devoured so many Dragon Slayers in the last war. She wasn’t as strong as she used to be, but that didn’t matter. She would rebuild that power — step by step.

“I’m glad you asked,” she said. “I am the Lunar Dragon Slayer. I draw my power from the moon.”


Laxus froze. His mind echoed with a memory — the voice of the old woman from that morning.

“The dragon slayer girl from your dreams. She uses the moon. Look out for her.”

A chill ran down his spine, as he looked at the proud smile of the woman. 

Coincidence? It had to be. Or… was it?
How could that old hag have known? And now, less than a day later, this woman appeared?
He narrowed his eyes, the possibilities tumbling in his head. Was this all some plan? What did they want from him? No, he hadn’t anything valuable to offer.

Even after minutes of thinking, he still had no clue what the hell was going on. But he knew one thing for sure — Liva was at the center of it all. And he wouldn't — for his and the guild’s safety — let this woman out of his sight any time soon.

Laxus watched her carefully. She was smiling, speaking with the other mages, but now and then, her eyes found him. When their gazes met, she turned away quickly — too quickly, too nervously. Which only made him stare even harder. What was she hiding?

Evergreen watched him, arms crossed. “Men,” she muttered under her breath.

After a while Laxus said, “Tomorrow morning. Seven. We meet here.” His team nodded. “Good. That’s it for tonight.” The Thunder God Tribe stood, ready to get some rest.
“Ever,” Laxus called as the woman turned.

“Yes?”

“I’ve got a request for you.”

🌙

“The Master said you need a place to sleep tonight, since you don’t have a room in the city,” Mirajane said softly.

Liva turned to the female mage. “Ah, yes… That was our agreement.”

Mira nodded. “It’s nothing fancy, but we have a kind of sickbed in the back room. If you want, you’re welcome to use it tonight.”

Liva hesitated. The journey back to Solia’s Cradle would take two hours. If she left now, she wouldn’t reach the inn until well past midnight. Normally, she didn’t mind walking under the stars, as moonlight only ever made her stronger, but the thought of making that trip again, Magnolia fading behind her, weariness in her bones… No. Not tonight.

“I’ll gladly take it,” she said, her voice calm but grateful.

“I’ve already put together a few toiletries for you,” Mira added with a gentle smile. “We don’t have a bathroom, but—”

“No, no,” Liva interrupted, her hands raised instinctively. “Please… that’s more than enough. Don’t trouble yourself.”

For a brief moment, Mira blinked, surprised. But then she smiled again, smaller this time, tender and knowing. “Kindness doesn’t trouble me, Liva.”

Liva stared at her. A strange tightness rose in her chest, something small and raw. When had someone last done something kind for her, simply out of care? Without expectation. Without some hidden reason.

She returned the smile, weak but sincere. “Thank you, Mira. I really do appreciate it. But you didn’t have to go to such lengths. I’ll manage just fine for one night.” Still, Mira only nodded, that same warm smile still resting on her lips.

The guild hall had grown quiet. Most of the lamps had gone out and the large clock on the wall pointed just before midnight.
“We should sleep,” Liva murmured, glancing down at Cricket, now curled up contentedly in her lap. The little owl-griffin cooed in soft agreement.

She bid the remaining guild members good night, her voice low but warm. Then, despite herself, her gaze drifted to where Laxus and his team had been. A pang flickered in her chest. The table was empty.

When had they left?

She’d forced herself not to look, not to seek him out with her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to draw attention. And in doing so, she hadn’t noticed when they’d gone.


She closed the infirmary door gently behind her. The room felt more like a makeshift storeroom than a place of healing. It spoke volumes about the guild’s current state.

Cricket was already nestled on the neatly made bed. Liva knelt in front of him, her shoulders slowly sagging under the weight of the day. When the tears welled up, she didn’t fight them. Cricket chirped in alarm, fluttering anxiously around her.

“I’m sorry, Cricket,” Liva whispered, her voice cracking and yet, a smile found its way onto her face. “Do you remember when I told you about my past?”

The owl-griffin tilted his head. “Prr?”

“My past life,” she clarified softly.

“Prr…”

“It’s him.” Her voice was so quiet now it barely reached her own ears. “Laxus is Kairos.”

“Prrrt?!” Cricket gave a startled hop, flapping his wings in disbelief.

Liva laughed through her tears, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yes, that’s exactly how I wanted to react, too.”

Her eyes drifted toward the window. Slowly, she rose to her feet and opened it. The night was still, uncannily so. No crickets. No rustling leaves. Just silence and the luminous glow of the full moon.

She folded her hands and bowed her head, eyes closing. “Thank you. Thank you. I don’t deserve such kindness, my lady.”

As if in response, the moonlight gently spilled across her face and in that moment, a soft wind stirred the air. Almost imperceptible. Almost like a voice. “My last gift.”

Liva’s eyes fluttered open, lips parting in quiet awe. Had Alyona’s voice just carried on the breeze?
A hush fell again. But this time, it was not empty. It was peaceful.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the stillness. “Your gift is beautiful.”
She lingered a moment longer, eyes lifted toward the sky, letting the silver light embrace her. She would sleep well tonight.

Chapter Text

Memories of a Dragon Slayer — Kairos

Kairos of Everglade was a proud man. A warrior, forged by years of battle. The youngest captain in Her Majesty Queen Irene’s army and one of the most gifted Dragon Slayers in her ranks. He was used to standing on the battlefield, death breathing down his neck, danger lurking behind every shadow. And he was damn good at what he did. Yet here he was, stuck in half-frozen Aberfort, wasting his time with green recruits.

With a scowl, he studied the dozen figures gathered in the courtyard below. Humans bundled in cloaks, a few dragons looming behind them like guardians of old.
The heavy wooden door behind him creaked open.

“Kairos, your foul mood is poisoning the entire fort. People are getting nervous.”

“Let them,” he grunted without turning.

“Kairos, brother.” A hand settled gently on his shoulder. Kairos glanced over to see the familiar silver eyes of his younger brother, Fynn. People often mistook them for twins, the same strong jaw, the same cold, piercing gaze, but Fynn was three years younger and not nearly as tall.
“In your position, you should care about the morale of your people.”

Kairos looked away, back to the falling snow dusting the courtyard. Soon the fort would be buried again under ice and silence.
“There are better men to greet the new ones,” he muttered. “Percival, for example. He’d love to fill their heads with tales of honor and patriotic devotion.”

Fynn stepped up beside him. “Which is exactly why it should be you. You don’t tell them lies. We don’t need boys playing war. We need soldiers, who know what they’re risking.”

Kairos exhaled slowly. “They’ll die like the rest,” he said flatly. “How long have they been training with the dragons?”

Fynn flipped through the papers in his hand. “Three to six months.”

“That’s barely anything.”

“It’s all the time we have.” A heavy silence followed, broken only by the faint rustle of parchment.

“What is it?” Kairos asked without looking.

Fynn shifted awkwardly. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

Kairos raised an eyebrow.

“Do you remember the village of Emberfall?”

His breath caught for the briefest moment. Of course he remembered. Far to the south, nestled among endless fields lay Emberfall and between this beautiful village stood the sacred Temple of Alyona. They’d visited six months ago, during the Great Festival. The air had smelled of flowers and spice, the wine had flowed freely more than one night and the dancing had lasted until dawn.
He remembered one night in particular — dancing with a young priestess, laughter echoing under the stars. She had bewitched him without a single spell. A smile, a glance — that was all it had taken. He hadn’t wanted to leave.

Fynn must have noticed the light in his brother’s eyes, because his voice softened. “Kairos, I’m sorry. I bring bad news.” He handed him a report. Kairos scanned the lines and with every word, the color drained from his face.

“Emberfall was completely destroyed in a dragon attack. The village, the people, the temple… all gone.”

Kairos collapsed onto a chair. His eyes locked on the phrase total devastation. “Were there survivors?”

Fynn looked out the window, his voice low. “A few farmers. They were working in the fields. That’s all.”

Kairos inhaled sharply, hands trembling. No. It couldn’t be. “When?”

“Six months ago.”

The paper slipped from Kairos’s fingers. His mind conjured images of Emberfall — the lush meadows, the white marble temple glistening in the sun and on the hill before it, a girl with eyes like spring water. Calomene. Her innocence. Her laughter. Her hopelessly offbeat dancing. It had all felt like a dream and now that dream was burned to ash.

“Are you alright?” Fynn asked gently. Kairos nodded distantly and suddenly rose to his feet. “Where are you going?”

“The recruits are waiting, aren’t they?”

Fynn dropped his gaze and followed in silence.

🌙

The cold struck like a blade.
A sharp, biting wind greeted them as they stepped into the wide courtyard. Kairos didn’t flinch. He hadn’t felt the cold in a long time. The harsh winters of Aberfort had become second nature to him, the frost in his bones familiar, almost comforting.

Waiting for him were about a dozen recruits, bundled tightly in thick winter coats, their breath visible in the air. Beside them stood three dragons: Bacches, Oberyn and to Kairos’ surprise, the Moon Dragon, Vega.

“Captain,” Vega greeted, her deep voice calm and grounding. Her silver-gray scales shimmered faintly in the snowfall, almost blending her into the landscape like a living ghost.

“Vega,” Kairos replied, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t expect you. Thought you didn’t train Dragon Slayers.”

“Straight to the point, as always,” she said with a soft chuckle.

“That’s just the way he is,” Bacches rumbled with a grin. “Here are your recruits, Captain.”

Kairos folded his arms behind his back and began pacing in front of the fresh faces. Unlike them, he wore no winter clothing, just his standard black training gear, as if daring the elements to touch him. Years of brutal training had stripped him of weakness. Cold. Heat. Hunger. All irrelevant.

“I’d like to welcome you to Aberfort,” he began in a low, even voice. “But that would be a lie.” The recruits flinched. A few shifted uncomfortably.

“To be blunt,” Kairos continued, “you’ve just signed your own death warrants. For months now, they’ve been sending me idiots like you. All chasing glory. Honor. Fame.” He paused, letting his gaze sweep over them, his eyes cold and hard. “Let me tell you something, none of them are alive anymore.” A tremble ran through the line.

“There’s a war out there,” he went on, voice flat. “And you won’t find any glory on the battlefield. You’ll watch your comrades die, men, dragons, doesn’t matter. Some will be eaten alive. Others torn to pieces. Some… you’ll watch being tortured right in front of you. And if you’re unlucky, you’ll be next.” Silence fell. Snow whispered around them.

“I’ll give you one chance to leave. Right now. Go back to your old lives, while you still can.” He paused, waiting. Not a single one moved. “So be it.”

He glanced toward Fynn, who gave him a silent nod. “To your left, there’s a small training ground,” Fynn said, gesturing to the fenced-in area nearby. “Each of you will face our captain in combat. We want to see what you’re made of.”

A sharp grin crossed Kairos’ face, feral, almost gleeful, as a nervous murmur rippled through the line. “Silence!” They obeyed. “Line up.”

The recruits filed into a line, one behind the other, waiting their turn. The first young man stepped into the arena. Kairos eyed him, wrapped in his thick coat like a frightened child.

“Take it off.”

“What?” the recruit stammered.

“The coat. The gloves. The boots. Everything.” 
When the man hesitated, Kairos’s smile deepened. Soon, the recruit stood before him in only a thin shirt and trousers, already shivering violently.

He didn’t last ten seconds. Neither did the second. Or the third. Or the fourth. They were average, maybe slightly above. It was to be expected. They’d only been in training for six months.
Then, the last recruit stepped forward. Vega leaned down and whispered something softly to the figure, her words a balm meant to calm.

“Hey! You’re up!” Kairos barked across the snow.

The final recruit rushed forward, stripping off boots, gloves and jacket mid-run. At the center of the ring, the figure pulled off a woolen cap and unwound a scarf from their face.

A gust of wind caught pale ash-blonde hair, lifting it like silk into the air.

Kairos’s eyes narrowed — just barely.

She stood before him now. A slim face, blue eyes staring straight through him, not with innocence or joy, but with a hollow depth carved by grief… and a flicker of something else. Hope?

Calomene. She had survived the dragon attack.

Kairos fought every instinct screaming in his body. He wanted to embrace her, to hold her, to cry out with joy. But he couldn’t. Not here. Not as her commanding officer.
He forced his face into a stern mask and lowered himself into a combat stance. “Let’s see what you’ve got, girl.”

Calomene’s gaze turned icy, as she didn’t see any recognition in his face. “Come at me, then.”

They fought against each other. And her magic was breathtaking.
She moved like a dancer, guiding the moonlight with elegance and precision, every motion fluid, every spell a graceful step in a silent rhythm. Her power shimmered through the icy air like silver fire.

The training ring, once blanketed in snow, was now laid bare. The sheer magical force radiating from the two opponents had melted every trace of frost. The ground beneath them had cracked, broken open by the pressure of their clash. Deep craters and scorched earth told a story of raw power unleashed.

Kairos stood at the edge of the battlefield, gaze locked on the woman now kneeling in the center of a crater. Her shoulders rose and fell with each heavy breath. She was trembling. Spent. But her eyes… Gods, her eyes still burned with defiance. As soon as she met his gaze, he saw it: She wasn’t finished with him yet.

A slow grin tugged at his lips. He hadn’t expected this from the little priestess. She was a fighter. A real one. And he liked it.
Without a word, he launched forward.

A little farther off, Fynn stood with the rest of the recruits, eyes wide in disbelief as he watched the battle unfold.

“Vega,” he said, barely able to form the words, “how long has she been training with you?”

The dragon gave a low, pleased hum. “Five months.”

 “What?!”

“She’s a natural, isn’t she?”

“A natural? That’s an understatement.”

“You think so?”

“She’s holding her ground against my brother.”

Vega’s head shook gently, her silver eyes narrowing. “Not for much longer. Her magic reserves are nearly depleted.”

No sooner had she spoken than the sky split open with a crackling thunderclap. A flash of blue lightning lit up the arena. The battle was over.
Kairos stood above her, his boots just inches from her exhausted form.

She lay sprawled on the ground, her body marked by bruises and scrapes, blood drying in delicate trails across her arms. Despite the freezing cold, she was drenched in sweat. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, but her will hadn’t broken. He, by contrast, hadn’t even lost his breath.

With a glance toward the edge of the ring, he called out, “Fynn. Take the others to the sleeping quarters.”

Fynn hesitated. “And her?”

Kairos’s eyes didn’t leave her. “Give her a moment.”

Fynn nodded respectfully. “Follow me!” he barked and the recruits, casting awed glances back at the arena, obeyed without hesitation.

Kairos waited until their footsteps faded into silence. Only then did he kneel. Their eyes met, hers still fierce beneath the exhaustion. The cold mask on his face faded. He reached out a hand. “Well done, Calomene.”

Her eyes widened, stunned. “You remember me?”

A rare softness flickered in his expression. He let out a quiet laugh and helped her to her feet. His hand resting softly on her back. “How could I forget, little priestess?”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. She blinked them away quickly, swallowing the weight in her throat. “It’s all gone.”

Pain crept into his features as he draped her coat over her shoulders. “I only just found out. I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” she said quickly, cutting him off with a wave of her hand. Her gaze drifted to the swirling snow. “I don’t want pity.” For a few heartbeats, silence stretched between them. Then she turned back to him, her voice low, edged with something darker, something burning.
“I don’t want pity,” she repeated. “I’m here because I will hunt those dragons. One of them killed my friends. Everyone I cared about. Everything I had.” Her fingers curled into fists. “That monster will come to know me.”

🌙

Magnolia, X791, Spring

Liva couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept this well. The infirmary bed, though humble and a bit narrow, was the softest thing she’d laid on in years. Her aching body welcomed it like an old friend and for once, the dream about her past was a beautiful memory of her beloved.

She might have slept straight into the afternoon, had her door not exploded open with the force of a thunderbolt. In an instant, she bolted upright, her heart hammering in her chest, eyes wide with alarm.

“Get up!”

Still half-asleep and with her mouth agape, Liva stared at the towering figure that now filled the small room like a sudden storm. His presence swallowed the space whole.

“…Kairos?” she mumbled, squinting.

The man blinked. “What?”

“What?” she echoed, now fully awake, her voice shrill with disbelief.

“Are you stupid or what?”

Liva gasped, utterly offended. “I beg your pardon?” Beside her, Cricket, curled up at the edge of the bed, lifted his feathery head and gave a drowsy screech. Liva pulled the blanket higher. “What the hell are you even doing here, Laxus?” she snapped.

The blonde man, clearly unimpressed, didn’t bother with an answer. Instead, he tossed a cloth bundle straight at her face. “Get dressed.”

Liva caught it with both hands, blinking in confusion. “Get dressed? For what?” She peeked into the bag, clothes. Real clothes. Sturdy. Warm. Not rags. Whose were these?

He was already turning to leave.

“Wait! What is this? What are you planning?” she called after him, baffled.

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes like twin bolts of lightning. “You’re coming with us on our next mission.” And with that, he was gone.

“Huh?” Liva stared after him, stunned into silence. Then her voice broke free, echoing down the hall: “WHAT?!”

🌙

Laxus was tired and fucking cold. He had dreamt again at night — about something very cold and windy and the feeling was still stuck in his bones.
He slid a note across the bar with a practiced hand. His grandfather would find it eventually. In his neat but blunt handwriting, it read:

Gone on a mission. Blondie and the owl are with us. Back in three months. 

— Laxus

Behind him, a soft cough broke the silence. He turned to find the Thunder God Tribe, Fried, Evergreen and Bickslow, standing behind him, arms crossed, expressions expectant.

“What?” he asked.

The three exchanged glances. Then Ever narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Mind telling us why she’s coming along?”

“Does it bother you?” Silence. “Well?”

“Not exactly,” Fried replied. “But…”

“But?” Laxus arched an eyebrow.

“That’s not like you,” said Bickslow. — “Not like you,” Bickslow‘s babies echoed in singsong. Ever nodded eagerly.

They weren’t wrong. Laxus had never been one to care much about newcomers, never mind invite one into his team. Even he didn’t fully understand what had possessed him this time. 
But he didn’t trust that chick. Maybe his dreams and the old hag’s words have made him paranoid, but he couldn’t leave the guild behind and leave this strange woman in the middle of his home.

“She’s a Dragon Slayer,” he said simply.

“That’s it?” Ever asked, unimpressed.

Bickslow grinned. “It hasn’t anything to do with the fact, that you talked so much to her yesterday?”

“What? No!”

“I mean, she is beautiful!”

Laxus sighted. “Shut up, please. That’s not true.”

“Well, what is your reason?”

Laxus shrugged. “Did you feel her aura? She’s got power. And…” He paused, voice lowering a fraction. “I’ve got a gut feeling. Having her with us might not be a bad idea.”

“Hm,” Fried murmured, then smiled faintly. “Well, that’s good enough for me.” He glanced at Ever and Bickslow. “She doesn’t know anyone here. Let’s show her what the coolest team in Fairy Tail can do.”


Moments later Liva and Cricket stepped through the door and found themselves facing an oddly cheerful sight. Evergreen, Bickslow and Fried were bouncing in a loose circle, celebrating something only they seemed to understand.

“What’s with them?” she asked Laxus, tugging awkwardly at the foreign clothes she now wore. They were surprisingly well-fitted and the material was… expensive? Certainly better than anything she’d owned in years. It felt strange to wear something that didn’t scratch or sag or smell like dirt.

“Get used to it,” Laxus replied, expression unreadable. She wasn’t sure if he meant the clothes… or the three lunatics currently doing some kind of synchronized cheer. 

“Great,” she muttered, still half-asleep, rubbing at her face. Then her glare turned sharp. “Now are you finally going to tell me what this is about? What do you mean by ‘mission’?”

“We took on an S-Class job in the Waas Forest,” he said, handing her the quest sheet.

Her eyebrows climbed. In her past, she often was in the region around the Waas Forest. “We’re going to the Waas Forest? For how long?”

“Three months.”

“Three months?!” she echoed, her voice bordering on panic. Only now did she notice the pile of camping gear stacked by the door. “Why?”

“We’re preparing for the Grand Magic Games,” he said casually, as if it were obvious.

Suddenly Liva’s eyes lit up, a fire burning in them. “You’re competing?!”

Laxus saw the sparkle of excitement in her face and smirked slightly. “Yeah. Gramps is choosing the final lineup in three months.”

“Wow. That’s amazing— wait.” She blinked. “Gramps?”

“Yeah.”

Her face contorted in confusion. “And… who exactly is your grandfather?” Laxus raised one eyebrow. He didn’t even have to speak — the judgment in his eyes said everything. He really thought, she was dumb.

“Master Makarov,” Fried explained gently.

Liva stared at Laxus, her eyes growing wider by the second. “You’re kidding.”

“Why would I?” Laxus asked, clearly puzzled by her reaction.

“So … you’re Laxus… Dreyar?”

“Obviously.” He turned and strode toward the exit, calling over his shoulder, “Come on. We’ve got a long way to go.” He and the Thunder God Tribe hoisted their gear and moved toward the gates.

None of them noticed Liva standing frozen in place, her expression horrified, arms clinging tightly to Cricket as if he might be her only lifeline.

“Prr?” the griffin chirped curiously.

“Oh, Lady Alyona …” she whispered, heart sinking. Of course, her mistress wouldn’t make it so easy for her. “That is cruel.”

🌙

The road to Waas Forest was anything but easy. They would take the train to Clover Town and from there venture on foot into the wild, unyielding lands of northern Fiore.

Liva came to a halt in front of the train, already pale. “Are you sure we can’t just walk?” she asked, voice low.

Next to her, Laxus gave a swift nod. “Wouldn’t mind that either.”

Evergreen shook her head, grinning. „No way.“

Bickslow let out a laugh. “What, are you travel-sick, too, Liva?”

She shot him a dry look. “Of course. Every Dragon Slayer gets it at a certain strength level. That’s because of our mutation.”

It was one of the less glamorous side effects of Dragon Slayer Magic, something Liva hadn’t exactly missed. The more attuned a Slayer’s senses became, the more they clashed with their still-human body. It created a disorienting imbalance, a nauseating conflict that left many with unbearable motion sickness. In the past, some Slayers had used enchanted amulets to counter the effect, but Calomene had never learned the spell. And therefore Liva didn’t know it either.

„Is that so? I always asked myself, why they have motion sickness.“ Bickslow just kept laughing. 

“Go on. Laugh,” she muttered as she stepped into the train. “If I puke on your shoes, it’s your fault.” That, at least, was enough to shut him up.


After what felt like an endless, bone-rattling journey — at least for Liva and Laxus — they finally reached Clover Town and began the climb into the mountains beyond. Liva remained mostly silent through the hike, carefully avoiding the subtle, observant glances Laxus kept casting her way.

The silence was filled by the lighthearted teasing the four of them exchanged. There was something warm in it, unspoken affection beneath the banter. Liva had noticed how close the Thunder God Tribe and Laxus were. They weren’t just comrades. They were family. It made her quietly happy to see that, in this life, Kairos had found such bonds.

When the path finally fell quiet, wrapped in a peaceful stillness, Liva found enough courage to break it. She glanced to Bickslow, who had been walking beside her for a while now. “So… why did you bring me along, anyway?”

Bickslow, that strange mask hiding half his face, just shrugged. “No idea. Laxus wanted you with us.”

That caught her attention. “What? Why?”

“Because he‘s interested in you,” the mage said with a mischievous snicker, which made her blush.

“Shut it,” Laxus growled over his shoulder.

“What?” Bickslow replied innocently. “I meant her magic. You said her magic was interesting, didn’t you? Or were you thinking of something else~?”

Laxus only rolled his eyes with a muttered, “Idiot.”

Liva looked down at the path, cheeks red. So much for staying under the radar. So much for observing from the shadows, far from Laxus‘ line of sight. He had pulled her straight back into the light. Just like back then. Just like at the festival, when he’d taken her hand and drawn her out to dance in the clearing.

Her eyes lifted again, landing on the back of his head. He moved with steady confidence, every step purposeful, as if he’d always known the way.
A born leader, he had always been. A brilliant flash of lightning across the darkest night. Silent. Watching. Then swift. And before anyone could brace for it, came the thunder.

She smiled softly to herself and followed the group toward Waas Forest.

Chapter Text

Memories of a Dragon Slayer — Calomene

The fortress of Aberfort was ablaze. Flames devoured its towers, painting the night in red and gold. Screams echoed through the darkness, desperate cries for water, for mercy. And through it all, dragons roared in the distance, their voices shaking the mountains.

Just beyond the gates, we pushed our way through knee-deep snow.

I lit our path with a glowing orb of my moon magic, my breath ragged in the cold. Behind me, Fynn dragged an unconscious Kairos, whose body was slashed and broken, his head hanging limp, blood soaking into the snow.

“I will never forgive them for this,” Fynn spat, fury etched deep into his face. “He gave them everything. His sweat. His blood. His damned life. And for one mistake, they want him dead?!”

“He killed Bacches, Fynn,” I said calmly, but inwardly I was fuming. “He was our friend.”

“It was an accident! There’s a war going on, for fuck’s sake!”

“It’s still against the law. And the punishment for killing a comrade is death.” Behind us, voices rose in a chorus of rage — pursuers. Closer than before.

I spun around. “Gravitational Field!”

My palm thrust forward and with a sound like bones breaking under pressure, a wave of energy slammed into the men behind them. They were thrown back into the burning fortress, their bodies suddenly too heavy to rise again.

Fynn hoisted Kairos over his shoulder with a grunt. “You should’ve torn them apart.”

“Your anger won’t help me,” I snapped.

Fynn stepped in front of me, trembling. “They tortured him. They broke him. If we hadn’t gotten there when we did, they would’ve burned him alive. Does that mean nothing to you, Cal?!”

“Of course it does!” I shouted, my voice raw. “Gods, of course it does! I’ll make them pay for even laying a hand on him—” My words caught in my throat. I felt so much pain and confusion in that moment. “I… I hit Vega for him, Fynn. My own master. Do you think I did that lightly?”

Gods, what had I done?

Without waiting for a response, I pushed past him and disappeared into the darkness of the forest. “I’m just as furious as you are. But rage clouds the mind.” I didn’t look back. “If they catch us, Kairos will be executed. And we’ll be forced to kneel beside him as they do it.”

🌙

Waas Forest, X791, Three months before the Grand Magic Games

Beside a short rest, they wandered the whole day and night. Though exhausted, Liva had nothing against it. She didn’t want to go back to sleep.
Her last short nap showed her a painful memory. The moment, Calomene and Fynn decided to betray the kingdom and safe Kairos. A now rogue dragon slayer, punished for killing the dragon Bacches, nearly dead due to torture.

But even Laxus seemed to have a bad rest. His face had been pale and restless. Maybe he still suffered from the train ride?

Nonetheless they continued they way and soon stood before a village near the Waas Forest. Destruction and suffering stretched before Liva like a familiar painting, one she no longer flinched at. Not like the others did. Not like the Thunder God Tribe.

“What the hell happened here?” Fried murmured, eyes scanning the ruined landscape.

Before them lay a half-destroyed village, houses caved in or collapsed, smoke curling in the still air. The scent of blood and ash clung to the ruins like a second skin. A handful of survivors moved quietly through the mud-caked streets, heads bowed, voices hushed. Somewhere in the distance, Liva caught the faint sound of sobbing.

In the sludge, Cricket paused beside a torn, dirtied doll, its limbs mangled, its smile faded. He picked it up with a haunted look.

“The monster,” Laxus said quietly. “This is where the last attack happened.”

“The trail is still fresh,” Liva observed, her voice steady. “We’ll find the best intel here.” She gave Laxus a short nod. “Good thinking.” He gave a grunt in response.

“Well, great,” Evergreen muttered, skirting a puddle of filth. “I can think of a hundred places I’d rather be.”

“You could’ve gone with Elfman,” Bickslow teased, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“Shut your mouth!”

“Hey! You there!” a voice barked.

An old woman approached, her gait stooped, face weathered by time and life. Suspicion hardened her features as she looked them over. “Who are you?”

“We’re mages from Fairy Tail,” Laxus replied, holding up the official job request. “We’re here to hunt the creature that attacked your village.”

“Fairy Tail?” Her eyes, dull, exhausted, flicked over the paper. After a long pause, she folded her hands behind her back. “I’m Baya, the village elder. You really think you have what it takes, to be successful?”

Laxus met her stare without flinching. “It wouldn’t be our first monster.”

“Those aren‘t just monsters,” she muttered. “But demons from the underworld.”

Liva's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Demons? As in … plural?  

“We’ll be the judge of that,” Laxus said, his tone clipped. “But we’d appreciate anything you can tell us.”

Her gaze lingered on him, unreadable, then she nodded. “Very well.”

“I take it this destruction was the thing‘s doing?” Bickslow asked, eyes sweeping the wreckage.

“Not one creature,” Baya corrected, her voice brittle. “Several.”

“Several?” Fried stepped forward, alarmed. “The contract only mentioned one.”

“Are we even hunting the right thing then?” Evergreen asked.

Laxus waved her off. “The briefing said the last attack happened here.”

“You sound awfully certain,” Liva noted, brow arched.

He nodded. “It’s an S-Class request. I did my homework. The attacks always start at dusk on a full moon night. They strike fast and vanish before dawn. The creatures dig under barriers, disable wards somehow. They don’t come through the main roads, they rise straight from the shadows.”
Liva couldn’t help the flicker of admiration in her chest. He’d done more than just show up, he understood what they were walking into.

Laxus turned to Baya again. “Can you describe what we’re dealing with?”

She frowned in concentration. “They’re about his size,” she said, pointing to Bickslow. “Bodies covered in moss and rot. No eyes. No nose. Just… mouths. Huge ones. They took our animals and … people, too.” A heavy silence fell over the group.

Liva heard the tremor in the old woman’s voice. “How many villagers did they take?”

“Twenty or something,” she said hollowly. “And… it’s the children they want. They drag them from their beds in the dead of night.”

Evergreen’s breath caught. “Good heavens.” No one spoke. A monster that hunted children, this was no ordinary mission anymore.

“I hate to ask,” Fried said gently, “but… do they use magic?”

Baya shook her head. “Not that I’ve seen. They come in swarms. They don’t think, they overwhelm. Pure brute force.”
The shattered remains of the village supported her words. Splintered wood lay like broken bones in the mud. Walls crushed inwards, rooftops torn off by monstrous strength.
She pointed toward the looming forest nearby. “They came from there.”

Fried quickly jotted the details down in his notebook. “Thank you.”

The old woman turned to leave, then hesitated. “I doubt you’ll be able to stop them,” she whispered. “But gods, I still hope you do.” Her voice cracked and tears shimmered in her eyes. “Avenge our children.” The group fell silent as she disappeared into the ruins.

Once alone, they drew together.

“So?” Evergreen asked in a hushed voice. “Do we stay here and try to draw them out? Set a trap?”

Laxus looked toward the forest edge, just beyond the village. It loomed like a living shadow, gnarled trees twisted into unnatural shapes, fog curling low across the ground. The air around it was too still, too quiet. Something watched them, waited for them.

He shook his head. “No village has been attacked twice. I don’t know how they pick their targets, but it seems they’re after livestock and children. There’s nothing left for them here.”

Liva felt it before he said it. “So… we go deeper?”

He nodded once. “Exactly.”

🌙

The forest swallowed them whole. Even before the last ruined rooftops faded from view, the world beneath the trees had already shifted. Light dimmed, the air thickened and every step forward felt like stepping deeper into something alive. 
The Waas Forest pulsed with an eerie silence. No birdsong, no rustling creatures, only the distant trickle of water and the soft crunch of boots on dead leaves.

Twisted branches reached down like claws, blotting out the sky in places. Moss coated everything, from bark to rock to bone. Occasionally, a faint hiss echoed through the air, half wind, half whisper. The temperature dropped as they moved, damp cold seeping into their clothes and crawling along their spines.

“There,” Liva pointed, her eyes narrowing as they reached a slight clearing.

A stream snaked through the undergrowth, glinting faintly in the dying light. Just beyond it rose a jagged ridge of stone, broken in places and covered in ivy. At the base of the formation yawned the mouth of a cave, half-hidden by overgrown roots.

“Looks defensible,” Laxus said, scanning the cave. “Water nearby, stone at our back.”

Fried nodded. “The entrance is narrow, easy to ward.”

“Let’s get to work,” Liva said, already moving. Cricket followed her.

They made camp quickly but with practiced precision. Fried and Bickslow carved protective runes around the cave, anchoring them with small protection lacrima. Evergreen conjured floating lights to ward off the gloom, their glow magical and warm. Liva and Laxus cleared the inside, brushing away cobwebs and damp moss, setting up the tents and a fireplace. The air inside smelled of minerals and something faintly metallic. Iron, maybe, or old blood.

It would have to do.

As dusk bled into night, the group prepared to scout. Liva tightened the straps of her borrowed cloak while Laxus slung his coat over his shoulder, lightning crackling faintly along his arm.

“Stay close,” he said to her. “No heroics.” 

Before she could be happy, that he cared about her, Laxus added: “I don’t want to collect your remains, if you can’t fight.”

Liva scoffed. “Believe me, I’m a capable fighter.”

“We’ll see.”

They set out, moving in formation through the undergrowth. Bickslow’s floating babies spun in slow circles, scanning the shadows. Liva’s senses prickled, her magic tugged at her like a compass needle, alert to anything unnatural. There was no sound but their breathing, the occasional snap of a twig beneath a careless step.

Then suddenly the ground moved.

It wasn’t loud, not at first. Just a low groan beneath the soil, like something ancient had rolled over in its sleep. Then the earth cracked. Roots shuddered, trees swayed and the ground beneath Laxus and Liva gave way.

“Laxus—!” Fried shouted, behind him Cricket screeched. Too late.

The two were swallowed by the earth. Dust exploded around them and the forest above vanished.

🌙

Liva hit the slope hard, sliding through mud and moss, branches slashing at her arms. She came to a stop with a jarring thud against a tree trunk. A heartbeat later, Laxus crashed down beside her, landing in a crouch, electricity sparking around his fists.

They were alone.

“…You good?” he asked, straightening.

She winced. “Fine. You?” He gave a grunt in reply. They looked up. No sign of the others. 

Liva stood, brushing a smear of mud from her cheek. “Great. We’re cut off.”

“No shit,” he muttered. Suddenly, the forest had shifted around them again, deeper, darker, even quieter than before. The trees leaned closer. The air was too still. Then came the sound. Wet footsteps. Sloshing.  “Stay alert. Something’s moving.”

The rustle came from the left, then the right, then both. The trees around them flickered with movement. Liva turned just as the first creature emerged from the shadows.
It matched Baya’s description exactly: hunched, moss-covered, rotten. No eyes. No nose. Just a single, gaping maw, wide enough to bite through bone. There were five. No — seven. Their gait was jerky, uneven, but they moved with purpose, towards them.

“They’re not wasting time,” Laxus muttered.

“No.” Liva’s voice was calm. “They’re hungry.”

The monsters attacked.

One lunged at Liva, claws outstretched. With a swift gesture, she flung her hand upward. “Gravitational Field!”
The creature slammed into the earth as if gravity had tripled, limbs cracking beneath the sudden weight. Another surged toward her flank. She inhaled, her chest glowing with pale lunar light. “Lunar Dragon’s Roar!”

A radiant beam exploded from her mouth, white and laced with frost of the cold moon. The shockwave shattered the monster’s mossy exterior, sending it back with a bone-crunching thud. Laxus was lightning in motion, he struck one of the creatures with a blast of raw energy, sending it crashing into a tree, bark exploding from the impact.
But it was in vain. More of these monsters emerged, crawling from burrows, from behind rocks, from under roots. Snarling. Snapping. Hungry.

Laxus frowned. “They just keep coming.”

Liva nodded. Now they understood, why the villagers had problems with fighting them. For seasoned mages, those creatures weren’t difficult, not individually. But they were persistent and relentless — and a lot.

“We need to move!” Liva shouted, as they were getting surrounded. A monster jumped at her from the left.

“Keep your guard!” Laxus barked, killing that thing and saving her. Another lunged for him from behind, Liva reacted on instinct, raising her hands. “Lunar Shroud.”
A shimmering veil cloaked her and she rushed between him and the beast, absorbing the impact. The monster’s claws passed through her like through mist, unable to find its target. Laxus turned and punched the monster into oblivion.

He grunted. “I didn’t need saving.”

“You’re welcome,” she chuckled.

They fought side by side, barely in sync, but something was beginning to form between them. When Laxus struck, Liva used the momentum of his thunder to draw the enemies into her gravitational field. When she blinded them with her moonlight, he moved in for the kill. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.

The last creature fell with a strangled screech as Liva slammed it into the earth with crushing force.
Silence. Only their ragged breaths remained. They stood still, breathing hard. Listening for more opponents. But no more emerged.

“…You fight well,” he said, his voice lower than usual.

She looked at him, sweat on her brow. “So do you.”

“Tha—“

“Although your timing needs work.”

He scoffed. “I saved your ass twice.”

“Uh-huh. You nearly hit me once.”

“You moved into my strike zone.”

She arched a brow. “You have a strike zone?”

“Tch.”

Despite the bickering, there was something else between them now, an unspoken recognition. Mutual respect. Acknowledgment.

Then Liva’s ears twitched, Dragon Slayer instinct awakening. She closed her eyes, focusing on the subtle rhythm of energy in the distance. A trace of Fried’s enchantments. Their camp. 

“This way,” she whispered. He nodded.

They moved together, not speaking, but falling into step with surprising ease. The night was far from over.

🌙

Later that night, the campfire crackled low, casting trembling shadows on the cave walls. It smelled of scorched pine and damp moss and the air was thick with the breath of the forest — old, heavy and watchful. 

The others had been relieved when Liva and Laxus returned, a bit bruised but walking on their own feet. Fried had immediately begun reapplying protective runes. Bickslow made a joke Liva barely registered. And Evergreen muttered something sarcastic that no one laughed at. Cricket had jumped at them both, crying and happy at the same time.

Now it was quiet. The adrenaline had drained away, leaving only a brittle stillness between them all.

Liva sat at the edge of the firelight, her back to the rock, cleaning a shallow gash along her ribs. Her coat, borrowed from Evergreen, lay beside her, torn and crusted with monster blood. The small injury wasn’t deep, but it stung like fire.

A flicker of magic to her fingertips, moonlight, soft and pulsing and the skin beneath her touch began to cool and mend. Not completely. But enough to not cause problems.

From the other side of the fire, Laxus watched. She felt it. Even without looking.
“What was that last move?” he asked, voice rough with fatigue.

“Lunar Shroud.” Her eyes didn’t lift. “Makes me intangible for a few seconds and I can absorb the hit. I still feel it, but it doesn’t hurt me physically.”

Laxus frowned. He saw the claws running through her whole body, as if trying to rip her apart. And she said, she felt the attack, but didn’t scream or even flinch?! 

“That’s horrible”, he said breathless and he meant it. That was like torture.

Liva hummed, unbothered. “Yeah. Costs more than it’s worth, sometimes. But I’m used to much worse treatments.”
She remembered the punishments in her last guild. Blows. Slaps. Whipping. Cutting. The last one left small, but long scars on her back. Easily to miss, but they were there and the wounds had been deep.

There was an uncomfortable pause. Laxus asked himself, if the woman was even human.

“You threw yourself between me and that thing.” He sounded surprised.

She shrugged, still focused on her wound. “Felt like the logical thing to do.”
She played it cool, but the truth was: She would sacrifice the world, for his safety.

“No.” His tone was blunt. “It wasn’t.” She didn’t respond, tried to bite down a smile. Such a typical reaction. Always so proud and rational. He really didn’t change.

The fire popped.

“Thanks,” he said eventually.

That got her attention. She glanced up, startled, not because he’d spoken, but because of how quietly and humbled the word had come.
Laxus wasn’t looking at her now. He was poking a stick into the fire, brows furrowed. Like the heat might give him answers he didn’t want to ask for out loud.

“You did good out there,” she said after a moment. “Better than I expected.”

He huffed. “Didn’t realize you had expectations.”

Liva allowed herself the ghost of a smile. “I always do.” Especially for him. He looked at her then. Just briefly. A flicker of something passed between them. Unspoken. Uncertain. Then it was gone.

“You okay?” he asked. He vividly remembered her silence and her sad eyes during their travel to the forest. There was something beneath the surface. A story, she wasn’t ready yet to share. Laxus wouldn’t pry, but he wouldn’t lie, if he said he wasn’t curious about her past.

Liva hesitated. This question wasn’t about the wound.
“I’m fine,” she said. The lie came easily. Too easily. She never was fine. The memories of the dark guild and of Calomene’s life rested on her mind constantly.

Liva stood slowly, slipping her coat back on, though it stuck a little to the half-healed skin. Her eyes lifted to the forest beyond the fire’s edge. Somewhere out there, more of those things waited. Or worse.

Laxus rose, too. He didn’t speak again, but as he passed her, his hand brushed her arm, barely a touch. Just enough to steady her as she slipped slightly on the uneven ground. Just enough to be intentional.

She didn’t flinch. But she didn’t look at him either. Even though she wanted to.

There were walls between them still. Thick ones. She felt, that he wasn’t trusting her completely. She could feel the storm beneath his silence. But something was there. Acceptance? The start of camaraderie? Or even friendship?

Whatever it was, in the silence of the forest, with the fire hissing low and the shadows leaning in, Liva was happier then the last few years of her life.

Chapter Text

Memories of a Dragon Slayer — Calomene

Acnologia had always been an imposing figure — tall, broad, devastatingly handsome. But since turning rogue, there was something different about him. A menace that clung to him like a second skin. His hatred for dragons and his hunger for more power and blood oozed from every fiber of his being, palpable and unrelenting.

We first crossed his path about two months after our escape from Aberfort. Kairos’ physical wounds had started to heal by then, but the punishments for his betrayal had carved much deeper scars beneath the surface.

I often sat with him by the campfire, saying nothing. Silence was often the only way to stay close to him without wounding his pride. Fynn, blessed with the voice of a muse, would sing lighthearted songs, talk to him about their childhood, went hunting with him — all trying to lift the heavy fog that clung to him. But our efforts could only do so much. The darkness in him had rooted itself too deeply.

That’s why the encounter with Acnologia was… valuable. It saved him, somehow.

We had been walking since dawn through a scorched valley — miles of dead land, void of life or sound. Except for the guttural snorting and scraping of a dragon nearby.

I don’t know if it was Kairos’ rage or his desperation that led him straight toward the beast. When we reached it — towering amidst the ruins of what had once been a village — the carnage was undeniable. Scattered bodies lay across the ground, discarded like scraps, mere snacks in the eyes of the dragon. And then something inside Kairos snapped. 

I had never seen him kill a dragon like that before. It was not a battle. It was an execution. 
Not that I minded — the creature was everything I despised. I had slain dozens of their kind and I would do it again without hesitation.

As Kairos unleashed his fury upon the beast, we heard footsteps behind us. Then: clapping. Slow. Applauding. Almost… admiring. There he stood, between the ruins, a smirk carved onto his face.

“Now that,” Acnologia said, “was beautifully done.”

“Who the hell are you?” I asked, my voice sharp, my mind reaching towards my magic.

He smiled — a blade of a smile, calculated and sharp. “No need for suspicion. We walk the same path, you and I.” His eyes shifted to Kairos. “Dragon Slayer. Exiled. Hunted. Forgotten by the kingdom. You may call me Acnologia.”

His gaze flickered over the bandages wrapped around Kairos’ arms and abdomen. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Captain Everglade.”

Kairos sized him up, unimpressed. “You know a lot for some stray half-pint.”

Acnologia chuckled, low and amused. “You’ve got fire. I like that.” He gestured to the roasted dragon carcass at their feet. “Would you like to join us?”

“Us?” I echoed, narrowing my eyes. Behind him, two figures emerged from the shadows — faces hidden beneath deep hoods, but unmistakable Dragon Slayer eyes gleamed beneath. His followers.

That day, we made our choice.
We had nowhere else to go. No home. No future. Acnologia was right — we were cast out, hunted, forgotten. We followed him.

The Everglade brothers saw something in him that I did not. To them, he was salvation — a shepherd to lead lost souls from the slaughter. They followed him blindly, loyal like sheep to the knife.

I was not so easily convinced. I shared his hatred for this world and its cruelty, but not his all-consuming fury towards every breathing dragons. His methods were reckless, his thirst for destruction far too eager, too wild.

But I would change my mind soon.

🌙

Waast Forest, Year X791, Three months before the Grand Magic Games

The night in the forest was quiet, but at the same time it was not.

There was an unnatural stillness pressing down on everything — a silence that hummed beneath the surface, broken only by the occasional gnarls and creaks echoing from the dark shadows between the trees. It felt as though the forest itself was holding its breath.

Liva woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Her breath came fast and shallow, her eyes burning with a familiar, poisonous hatred.

Acnologia.

Even whispering the name in her mind sent another wave of fury through her.
Her hands trembled as she pushed herself upright. She couldn’t stay inside the tent. Not like this.

Carefully, she crawled out into the heavy darkness, her bare feet touching the cool stone floor of the cavern. The campfire still burned, its embers crackling softly, throwing restless shadows against the walls. Evergreen stood somewhere near the entrance, standing watch like a silent guardian.

But Liva didn’t want to face anyone right now, not while this storm raged inside her. She lowered herself to the ground just outside her tent, kneeling as though in silent prayer, her entire body taut with tension.

Her fingertips prickled with the familiar pulse of her magic, eager — desperate — to be unleashed, to rip apart everything around her.

Calm down, she ordered herself, her voice a strained whisper. “You’re not Calomene anymore. You’re better than her. Don’t let this fury guide you.”
Her fists clenched tightly against her thighs as she forced herself to breathe, to wrestle control back from the dangerous power clawing at the surface.

Then a soft rustle reached her ears — the fabric of another tent shifting. She flinched and turned her head just slightly.

Laxus stepped out into the dim firelight. Tall. Barefoot. Disheveled. His usually sharp gaze was unfocused as he rubbed his forehead, pale in the flickering glow.

“What the fuck…” he muttered under his breath, voice rough from sleep.

Liva’s breath caught in her throat — but not because of his words.

Her gaze fell instinctively, betraying her better judgment and landed on his bare chest. Broad. Strong. His muscles flexed subtly with every small movement. The black tattoo on his side drew her attention like a magnet. The scar over his eye only seemed to make his features sharper, more magnetic in the low light.

Holy shit, he was hot. Her poor heart.
Her pulse quickened. A heat rushed beneath her skin, replacing her earlier rage with something equally dangerous, but far more pleasing. Damn it.
She forced her eyes back to the ground, willing her traitorous heart to calm. She exhaled slowly.

That faint sound was enough to alert him. His head snapped up, eyes wide when he finally noticed her sitting nearby.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice low, but now fully alert.

Liva tried to muster a smile. “Not tired, I guess.”

His brow arched. He didn’t buy it for a second. She looked like hell — her hair a tangled mess, her pajama top slightly askew, exhaustion written all over her face. But still beautiful.

“You’re a bad liar.”

She blinked, caught off-guard. “W-What?”

Without another word, he lowered himself beside her, close enough for his warmth to brush against her, but careful not to touch.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked after a beat.

She sighed, nodding. “Yeah. Bad dream.” He only grunted in acknowledgment. “You too?” she probed gently.

“Didn’t say that.” She frowned at him. Of course he was lying, it was written all over his face. He looked rattled.

“You’re a bad liar too,” she said softly. He exhaled through his nose but didn’t argue. Silence settled over them like a heavy blanket.
Finally, she asked, “What did you dream about?”

He stayed silent.

She rolled her eyes. “Gods, sometimes you’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Stubborn and too proud for your own good.” He looked offended. “Well, I dreamt of a monster.”

“No shit, we are in a monster forest.”

“Not this kind of monster”, her voice quietly. Laxus felt the air shift — she suddenly looked furious. “But of a monster, who took something dear from me.” She met his eyes, her normally blues eyes shone with faint moonlight, pupils sharp like a dragon. “And I don’t take it kindly, if someone is meddling with what’s mine.”

On that day, Laxus made a mental note to always stay on her good side. That woman was as crazy as Mira.

“And what did you dream about, Laxus?”, she tried again.

He hesitated. For a long time, she wasn’t sure if he would answer at all. “You wouldn’t understand.”

She hummed. “Try me.”

He drew in a slow breath, his eyes fixed on the flickering flames. “I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I can’t remember the dream. Ever since we came back from Tenrou Island… the dreams are always there. But I never remember what they’re about. Just… unease. Emptiness. Something’s missing.” He clenched his jaw. “I barely get a good night’s sleep. It’s fucking frustrating.”

Liva’s gaze softened. She could hear the weight in his voice, even if he tried to hide it behind frustration. He really was exhausted.

“Maybe you’re still processing everything,” she said quietly. “You fought a dragon. You nearly died. You lost seven years. That doesn’t just fade overnight.”

“Maybe,” he mumbled, unconvinced.

She tilted her head, her voice lightening as she offered a tentative smile. “You know what could help you clear your mind?”

“What?” His tone was dry, almost wary.

“Wistaberry tea.”

He groaned and rolled his eyes. “You too? Is it possible that you know that old hag from the bakery?”

“The what?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Nothing.” He rubbed his neck. “You don’t happen to have this wista-something in your bag, do you?”

“Laxus,” she deadpanned, gesturing to her thin nightwear, “I’m wearing borrowed clothes. Do I look like a herb lady to you?”

He glanced at her with a flicker of amusement in his tired eyes. “Actually… yeah. Kinda.”

She gasped in mock outrage but laughed softly, the tension between them easing. For a few precious moments, the oppressive weight of the forest faded into the background, leaving only the warmth of their quiet connection lingering between them.

🌙

In the morning, when the first light trickled through the thick canopy in dappled patches and dew clung to the moss-covered trunks, a weight hung in the air, like a breath held too long. There was no birdsong, no rustle of wildlife. Only the distant sound of water flowing and the groaning stretch of branches shifting above. 

Liva thought, that the animals must stay away from this monster infested part of the forest. They must be scared of what lied beyond the thick branches.

The hollowed cave near the river, protected on three sides by rock and vegetation, was easily defensible. Laxus had chosen the location with a good feeling in his gut: a place to regroup, to train, to wait. And it was safe.

After a few days, the group had established a rhythm. One part would train, the others patrol. Always rotating, always watching.

The creatures — those moss-covered horrors with their eyeless faces and gaping maws — hadn’t returned. But they felt them. Lurking beyond the protection runes. A wrongness that clung to bark and shadow alike.

Liva stood at the edge of a clearing, sparring with Laxus. Again.

“Faster,” he barked. “You hesitate when you switch stances.”

“Well, sorry, Mister Lightning Bolt,” she countered, sweat beading at her temples. “But just because you are jumping up and down like a rabbit, doesn’t mean I have to do it too.”

He growled. A flash of lightning sparked from his fist, attacking her forefront. Her boots dug into the earth as she instinctively shifted gravity midair and vaulted behind him. He turned just in time to meet her palm.

The impact echoed through the clearing. Dust flared. Laxus skidded a few feet back, blinking. A crescent-shaped shimmer of light still hung in the air where her attack had landed.

Liva lowered her hand slowly. Her breath came fast. “Moonlash,” she said grinning. “New technique.”

He gave her a long, silent look, admiration flickering shortly, then he nodded once. “Not bad.”
But it wasn’t just technique that drove them. It was something else, something wordless in the air between them. Trust came slowly, like thaw after winter. A step forward, a pause. A glance held too long. But it came.

After a day full of training, finally Fried and Bickslow returned from one of their scouting trips. The dirt staining their clothes and the scratches on their arms made it clear they had encountered some resistance along the way.

“Everything alright?” Laxus asked, eyeing his friends.

Bickslow, ever in good spirits, rolled his shoulders with a grin. “Still got all my limbs, so no problem.” — “No problem, no problem!” echoed his babies in unison.

Cricket, who had taken quite an interest in Bickslow and his floating dolls, crept closer with curious little steps. Like he was sniffing the mage, he pecked cautiously at Bickslow’s pant leg with his small beak.

“Stinks,” he chirped. 

The mages froze.
Liva, who had been busy preparing dinner, lowered the knife in disbelief. “Did you just say something, Cricket?”

The owl-gryphon looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes. He nodded. “Stinks!” he repeated.

“Who? Bickslow?” Evergreen grinned, barely suppressing her laughter. Cricket cooed in response.

“Your first word!” Liva cried out in excitement. Cricket hopped around her in a flurry of movement as she enthusiastically ran her fingers through his soft feathers.

Evergreen burst out laughing, her voice ringing through the clearing. “I can’t believe it! I didn’t even know owl-griffins had such a sensitive nose!”

Bickslow, less impressed by Cricket’s observation, only grumbled, “Nonsense.”
Yet, once no one was looking, he subtly lifted his shirt to his nose — only to grimace instantly.

A short while later the scout group had bathed, changed clothes and took care of their little wounds. Night descended fast and once more the forest was swallowed by shadows. The mages huddled around the fire, seeking the warmth of it and eating their dinner. Sparks rose into the air like fleeting stars. 

Bickslow was entertaining Cricket, mimicking words and sounds for the small owl-gryphon. “Say it: lightning. Come on, little guy.”

“Llll…eye…nnnniiiiig,” Cricket stumbled of his own tongue, tilting his head.

Evergreen clapped lightly impressed. “He’s actually learning. Griffins are amazing.”

„Can‘t you learn him something easier?“, Liva deadpanned.

„Like what?“

„I don‘t know. Tree? Cat? Shoe?“

„Nah, too easy. He is the griffin of the Thunder God Tribe, he needs to be clever, right buddy?“ — „Buddy, buddy.“

„Bud-dy.“

„Exactly!“ Liva smiled inwardly after Bickslow’s words. They had only been a team for a few days and they had already accepted them. Strange. But welcome. It felt nice.

Laxus watched the wholesome encounter for a short time, only to look back to Fried, who had a very thoughtful expression on his face. He had been rather quiet since they had returned.

„Care to tell me what caused your injuries?“

Fried stirred the pot above the fire. “The monsters.“

„I guessed that much. What happened?“

„Suddenly, we were surrounded.” He huffed. “I didn’t hear them. They popped up from nowhere.”

Laxus hummed. “They are very predatory and silent — for normal monsters. I’ve never seen something like that.”

Fried’s face darkened. “They don’t just act like normal monster. Their behavior is too rigid and targeted. Like puppets.”

Bickslow sat beside them. “They were being controlled,” he said. “At least, that’s what it felt like.”

Liva folded her arms, frowning. “Controlled? Who would control monsters and have them raid villages and attack people?”

“Someone sick,” Evergreen muttered darkly.

“Whoever or whatever it is,” Laxus said, his voice cold and steady as his gaze swept across the group, “we need to find it. And eliminate it. If we can trace where these creatures come from, we might just find the one who’s pulling their strings.”

After that, silence settled over the camp, each of them lost in their own thoughts. One by one, everyone disappeared into their tents, leaving only Laxus, who had first watch, awake. Soon, the sound of Fried’s and Bickslow’s snoring echoed through the cavern. Next to her, Evergreen was still chattering happily to Cricket, her voice trailing off mid-sentence as sleep finally claimed her.

Only Liva remained wide awake in her sleeping bag, eyes fixed on the jagged ceiling above. For days now, this cave had unsettled her. Not because it lay deep in a forest that seemed to breathe darkness — no, under this circumstances, it was the perfect shelter.

The true reason was far more insidious. Every second she spent here dragged her back to that day. The day her first life ended. At times, she swore she could still smell the blood in the air. Every morning she feared that, there would be no exit — only a little hole in the ceiling, letting in a pale, useless beam of daylight.

And every morning, her eyes would seek out Laxus first, needing to make sure he was still there. Still breathing. Still alive.

Of course, she knew it was all in her mind. Ghosts of a past that refused to loosen their grip. But knowing didn’t make it easier to forget.

With a heavy sigh, she sat up.

🌙

Laxus had been staring into the dwindling flames for what felt like an eternity. He knew he should have gotten up to toss another log onto the embers, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to move. The last days weren’t really … restful. He zoned out too often, staring into nothingness.

Suddenly, a piece of wood landed in the fire with a dull thud, sending a small shower of sparks into the air. Pulled from his thoughts, Laxus turned to see Liva silently settling down beside him. She sat close enough that their legs nearly touched, but still left just enough space between them — respectful, careful.

“Can’t sleep again?,” he asked.

“Yes.”

He noticed her fingers fidgeting with a small stick, her gaze lost in the flickering glow of the flames. Something was weighing on her — he’d sensed it for days now. She had dreams too. Dreams, that woke her up in the middle of the night. Not only once he had heard her quiet cries. 

“If you collapse on patrol tomorrow, because you didn’t get enough sleep, that’s on you,” he muttered. The words were rough, but his voice lacked any real edge.

“Let that be my problem.” She didn’t look at him. He grunted softly under his breath.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The only sounds came from the soft crackle of the fire and the distant breathing of the sleeping camp. Then, as if searching for something to fill the heavy silence, Laxus spoke.

“Your fighting style… it’s not exactly… traditional, is it?”

She smiled — that same sad little smile she wore too often, one that never quite reached her eyes. “My former teacher despised tradition.”

And this was the first time, Laxus dared to ask more about her. About her past, her old life before they met. “Who was your teacher?”

She paused. 

“Sorry, if you don’t want—“

“No, it’s okay,” she said, her voice calm, but laced with something colder beneath the surface. “I had a few teachers. Someone who made me strong. And someone I had to … survive.”

Laxus sensed there was a story behind those words — one she wouldn’t share. She was more mysterious than anyone he’d ever met. In truth, he knew next to nothing about her, aside from her name. And that unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

He had known his team inside and out for years — their strengths, their weaknesses, their stories. And yet here she was, part of their circle now, a shadow among them, her past hidden behind guarded eyes.

And it had been his decision. He was the one who had brought her here.

Why?
Was it because of his distrust towards her? Because of those dreams and the strange bakery lady? Even now, he couldn’t fully answer those questions.

It had been a gut instinct. Something unspoken. And, judging by how well she fought alongside them, he had gained a strong new ally.

He trusted his instincts again now as he found himself speaking words he hadn’t planned to share.

“Seven years ago, a few months before the dragon incident…” Liva’s head snapped toward him, her eyes wide with sudden focus. “… I had been banished from Fairy Tail,” he continued, his voice low. “Because I made mistakes. Terrible mistakes. I put my guild, my friends, in danger. And I paid the price.”

Her expression remained unreadable — no judgment, no pity. Simply… listening. Waiting. “What did you do?”

He stared into the dark woods, unable to meet her gaze as old shame twisted in his chest. “I tried to take over the guild. By force.”

She remained silent, patient.

A bitter smile ghosted his lips. “To this day, I don’t even know what I was trying to prove. Or to whom … The apple doesn‘t fall far from the tree, I guess.” The last words were more a murmur to himself, but Liva heard them regardless. 

What he didn’t see was the way her eyes softened at those words. A glimmer of understanding — quiet, warm, unspoken.

“But you’ve changed,” she said softly. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

Gently, she placed her hand on his arm, drawing his eyes back to hers. And there it was. A tenderness in her gaze that caught him completely off guard. Her eyes shimmered, as if holding back tears, yet her smile was steady and full of quiet strength.

“Believe me,” she whispered, “when I look at you, I see a strong, loyal mage who would give everything for his guild. We make mistakes and we learn from them. That’s what makes us human. And our humanity… we have to hold onto it, for as long as we can.”

For a moment, all he could do was stare at her, struck by the weight of her words and the warmth behind them. Finally, he managed a quiet, honest, “Thank you.”

She smiled again, retreating slightly to give him space and the silence that settled between them was no longer heavy. This time, it was peaceful.

🌙

The morning mist hung low over the forest floor, curling like ghostly fingers between the ancient roots. Every step crunched softly beneath Evergreen’s boots as she led their small patrol unit deeper into the shadows. Liva followed closely behind, her eyes constantly scanning the darkness, while Cricket hopped silently along the branches above them, his keen eyes flickering.

None of them spoke. Even Evergreen, who usually couldn’t resist filling the silence, was quiet. The oppressive atmosphere of the Waas Forest was different today. Heavier. More ominous.

“There,” Evergreen finally whispered, pointing ahead.

In a small clearing, half-shrouded in fog, the creatures shuffled like broken puppets. The moss-monsters. Their moss-covered bodies twitched and jerked unnaturally. They moved aimlessly, like marionettes controlled by invisible strings.

“They’re not hunting,” Liva murmured. “They’re… wandering.”

“Like zombies,” Evergreen said with a shiver. “Creepy.”

Cricket tilted his head, observing the creatures. “Strange,” he whispered. His voice was still broken and childlike, but his vocabulary had grown.

The three crept forward, careful not to disturb the twisted branches beneath them. The moss-monsters didn’t notice them, too entranced by some unknown command.

“Let’s follow them,” Evergreen suggested quietly. “Maybe they’ll lead us to whoever’s pulling the strings.” 

“Good idea.”

With cautious steps, they moved like shadows behind the shuffling horde.

Chapter Text

Waas Forest, Year X791, Three months until the Grand Magic Games

Liva, Evergreen and Cricket followed the moss-monsters deeper into the forest. The terrain thickened as they advanced, the trees arching inward like claws. The air smelled damp and metallic. Suddenly, the forest opened into a massive hollow — a natural nest hidden between jagged cliffs. And there, at the heart of it all, sat the nightmare.

The spider creature was unlike anything they’d faced before.

Its lower body was a grotesque fusion of hairy spider legs and pulsating, web-covered flesh. From its bulbous abdomen extended dozens of glistening, silken threads that wove through the entire nest like veins. But its upper body… was that of a woman — pale, eerily beautiful, with empty, soulless eyes and a wicked smile. Her long white hair flowed down like strands of web itself.

Around her were dozens of large, fleshy cocoons. Some pulsed, others lay still like sleeping hearts.

Then they saw it — the monster gently lowering a struggling, crying child — likely one of the destroyed villages — into one of the half-formed cocoons. With delicate but horrifying precision, she spun her silk, wrapping the child tightly until only muffled cries remained.

Evergreen’s hand flew to her mouth. “By the stars…” The creature took the cocoon and with slow and nearly affectionate movements, she hung the cocoon into the air. “What is that thing doing? Is she eating them?”

“No … She’s using them…” Liva whispered, her voice tight with horror, as she slowly realised. “They’re not food.” Her eyes looked over the pulsing cocoons. The longer she looked at them, the better her dragon’s eyes could see the shape of a spider-like shadow. “They are incubators.”

“What?!” Evergreen’s voice trembled. Her question was answered in the next instant.

One of the nearby cocoons shuddered violently. With a sickening wet snap, it split open. A smaller spider-like creature emerged, its eight glistening legs twitching as it shook off the remaining silk. Its eyes gleamed with feral hunger.

“They’re breeding new monsters…” Liva breathed. She stepped back, her foot touching an invisible string on the floor. At that moment, the monstrous spider-woman’s head snapped around. Soulless black eyes locked onto their hiding place. She had sensed them.

“Shit!”, Evergreen screamed.

An ear-piercing screech cut through the air as dozens of silk threads shot toward them like razor-thin whips.

“Scatter!” Liva shouted. 

Evergreen blasted one of the threads with her magic as they leapt in opposite directions. The moss-monsters, alerted by the noise, now turned towards them as well. Their maw’s wide open, hungry.

“We are at a disadvantage here,” Evergreen shouted over to Liva. “There’s too many of them!”

Liva’s mind raced. She was right. Although she trusted her magical abilities, the moss-monsters were resilient and she didn’t know, what power this spider-monster had. To fight alone, was too dangerous. “Cricket!” she called, pointing to the treetops. “Find the others. Bring help!”

Cricket hesitated for a moment, his tiny wings fluttering with fear. But then, with a determined nod, he vanished into the canopy like a dart.

The moss-monsters closed in.

“Evergreen, right flank!” Liva commanded.

“Got it!” Evergreen shouted and released a barrage of her sharp fairy dust projectiles, slicing through several of the moss-covered creatures. But for every one they felled, two more emerged from the shadows.

Liva focused her magic. “Lunar Dragon’s Nova!” She gathered her magic into a small sphere, only to send it into the sky with full force. Several meters above their heads, the sphere burst into thousands of shards of light. Razor-sharp and deadly, they shot down onto the dozens of moss-monsters. Some fell to the ground dead, others stumbled on injured.

The spider-woman hissed again and yanked at her threads. Two more cocoons burst open. More spiderlings skittered out, faster and more agile than the moss-monsters.

“Liva, we need to fall back!” Evergreen shouted.

“I know!”

The smaller spiderlings moved like shadows, spitting sticky threads that bound trees and rocks alike. Two threads snapped forward — as fast as lightning — and wrapped around Evergreen’s leg, the another shot right through her rips.

“Ah!” The mage screamed, slamming hard onto the ground.

“Evergreen!” Liva cried and sprinted to her friend’s side. The spiderlings lunged for Evergreen, fangs gleaming.

“Lunar Dragon’s Roar!” Liva unleashed a beam of frigid lunar energy from her mouth, blasting the spiderlings back in a wave of icy force. Frost laced the ground where the beam struck. The spiderlings hissed and writhed, temporarily stunned.

But more came.

She dropped to her knees beside Evergreen, who was clutching her bleeding side. The silk had cut deep into her skin.

“We need to move. Now!” Liva growled and hoisted Evergreen onto her shoulder.

“No … leave me,” Evergreen gasped, eyes fluttering.

“Never.”

The forest closed in like a cage as more threads lashed toward them. The monsters howled their eerie, hollow cries. The giant spider-woman began to descend from her throne, her pale hands weaving new lines of silk with terrifying speed.

Just as Liva feared they were about to be completely overwhelmed— “Lightning Dragon’s Roar!”

A thunderous burst of lightning tore through the trees killing the monsters around the women. Laxus stepped between them, lightning crackling along his fists. Behind him followed Fried and Bickslow, both releasing waves of powerful runes and cursed energy that tore through the monsters like paper.

“Liva! Evergreen!” Laxus shouted. “Get back, we’ve got you!” The forest exploded in blinding light and crashing thunder.

Liva stumbled backward with Evergreen, her strength finally giving out. But relief flooded her chest as her team surrounded them, pushing back the swarm. The spider-woman shrieked furiously, her silk threads whipping madly before she vanished into the darkness of her nest — for now.

As the monsters retreated and the clearing finally fell silent, Laxus rushed to Liva’s side. “You okay?” he asked hoarsely.

She could barely nod. “Thanks to you.”

He gently touched Evergreen’s wound, checking her pulse. “We need to get her back.”

Cricket landed on Liva’s shoulder, his tiny body shivering but safe. “Help… came,” he whispered proudly.

Liva smiled weakly. “Yes, you did well, little one.”

As the team retreated toward camp, the forest behind them pulsed and hissed with unseen threats. But for now, they had survived. And tomorrow, they would return.

🌙

The atmosphere at camp was heavy. The fire crackled, casting restless shadows along the rocky cavern walls as the group gathered in tense silence. Evergreen lay propped up in the women’s tent, her wound cleaned and bandaged but still throbbing with pain.

Liva sat close beside her, carefully replacing the soaked cloth with a fresh one.

“Hold still,” Liva whispered softly, letting her fingertips brush over the wound. “Lunar Mend.” A soft silver glow spread from her hands, cool and gentle like moonlight itself. The bleeding stopped, the skin sealed enough to prevent the worst. “That should help.”

Evergreen winced but managed a faint smile. “Don’t waste your magic on me.”

“Nonsense,” Liva replied. “We’re a team.”

“Really? The first time we met, you didn’t exactly look thrilled to join a guild,” Evergreen teased, her voice hoarse but playful.

Liva paused, her lips curling into a small smile. “That’s true. But these last days… I’ve learned not everyone out there is a terrible person. Especially not you.”

Evergreen’s gaze flickered for a moment, something dark passing through her eyes. “If you only knew…” she whispered.

“I don’t care about your past.” Liva’s voice was gentle but firm. “I told Laxus the same.”

Despite her exhaustion, Evergreen opened her eyes wider, surprised. “He told you about his banishment?”

“Yes. Why? Is that a problem?”

The brunette blinked, her head falling back onto her bedroll. “No. Just… unexpected.” Liva didn’t understand what she meant, but she sensed it wasn’t the time to ask. “I should’ve seen that damn thread coming…” Evergreen muttered bitterly.

“You did great.” Liva shook her head. “We were outnumbered. Rest now.” Her voice softened even more as fatigue seeped into her words. “Sleep.”

“Ever.”

“What?”

“My friends call me ‘Ever.’ You should start too.”

Liva blinked, caught off guard, then smiled. “Good night, Ever.”

A few feet away, Laxus stood silent, arms crossed, jaw tight. His sharp gaze never strayed far from the two women.

“They’re multiplying,” Fried said grimly, breaking the silence. “And fast. If we wait too long, there’ll be dozens more.”

Bickslow’s floating babies spun around him, their eerie singsong voices echoing: “More, more…”
Cricket perched nervously on a rock, feathers puffed. “Big spider… bad spider.”

Laxus exhaled heavily. “We can’t take her head-on without a plan. We still don’t know enough.”

Liva approached, her expression serious. “She controls those moss-monsters like puppets, using her threads. And now we know how she breeds. By capturing victims and weaving them into those cocoons. If we wait any longer, this whole region will be crawling with her spawn.”

A chill passed through the group at her words. Even seasoned mages weren’t easily shaken, but the thought of those fleshy eggs bursting open unsettled them deeply.

“She’s spun her web like a network,” Liva continued. “Almost like veins… she can sense through them.”

“That’s why she found you so fast,” Fried said. “The entire nest is alive.”

“Not only the nest. I think she wove her threads through the whole forest. That’s why she’s always one step ahead.”

The fire cracked loudly.
Bickslow chuckled darkly. “The forest is like one giant webbed heart, pumping out nightmares.”

“We’ll have to sever her senses before the strike,” Fried suggested. “Disrupt the web. Otherwise, she’ll control the battlefield again.”

Laxus grunted his approval. “Exactly.”

A tense silence followed as they all absorbed the weight of what was coming.
Then Liva straightened her back, resolve flickering in her tired eyes. “I can help with that.”

Laxus looked at her. “How?”

“My spell Gravitational Field. I can collapse parts of the silk network, distort her perception. It might blind her long enough for you to get close.”

“That’s risky,” Fried said. “You’ll have to get dangerously close.”

“I know.”

Ever’s voice called out weakly from behind. “Don’t play hero.”

Liva smiled softly. “I won’t. And you should sleep, Ever.”

“But she’s right,” Laxus added. His voice was low, his concern barely veiled.

Liva’s gaze hardened. “If we don’t stop her soon, more lives will be lost.”

For a brief moment, something in Laxus’ chest tightened. The quiet resolve in Liva’s voice stirred something in him — a familiar ache, like a déjà vu. He felt as if he had sent her into battle before — and lost her on the way.

“You won’t do this alone,” Laxus said firmly. “We go together.”

“We’ll split into two teams,” Fried followed up, already planning. “Liva, Bickslow and I will target the web inside. Laxus, you lead the assault on the spider itself.”

“What about me?” Ever asked.

“You stay,” Laxus said firmly. “You’ve done enough. Sleep.”

“But—”

“No.”

Evergreen groaned. “Ugh. Fine.”

“Stubborn woman.”

“Finally,” Bickslow grinned. “Something fun.”

Cricket puffed up his tiny chest. “Cricket… help too!” he chirped.

“You have a very special task, Cricket.” Liva gently patted his head. “You’ll stay here and guard Ever.” The small creature pouted but nodded.

Laxus took a slow breath. Lightning buzzed faintly beneath his skin. “Tomorrow, at first light. We end this.”
The team nodded.

Then Bickslow glanced at Liva. “Will Ever be alright?”

“Yes. I healed her enough so she won’t bleed out. But she needs rest.”

Fried hummed. “You can heal?”

That surprised Liva. She glanced at Laxus, who suddenly found great interest in staring off into the distance. 

Her eyebrow arched. She had healed herself in front of him after their first encounter with the monsters. She thought, that the four Fairy Tail mages had exchanged every information they got about her. Collecting every bit of knowledge of her personality and her magic powers, so that they could assess if she was a worthy companion.
But Laxus had trusted her from the beginning — whether consciously or not — and never told his friends about her healing abilities.

That realisation was enough to send Liva into higher spirits. “Yes, you didn’t know, Fried?” But she openly grinned at Laxus, who blushed slightly under her amused gaze. 

“No.” The green-haired mage shook his head. “Healing magic… that’s rare.”

Fried watched her with a quiet, thoughtful gaze and Liva shifted slightly from one foot to the other, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her pants.

In the few days she’d spent with the group, one thing had become very clear to her: Fried Justine was by far the quietest and most reserved member of the Thunder God Tribe. He was always a watchful presence in the background. A man of few words, but when he spoke, those words carried a weight that made others listen.

He treated her with a polite sort of civility, and he didn’t seem to mind that she was traveling with them, but she could tell she hadn’t truly earned his trust. Not yet. Not in the way he trusted the others. Not in the way he trusted… Laxus.

That was the one thing that made the serene mask he wore slip. Around Laxus, Fried was different — always loyal, openly devoted and almost affectionate. It was in the way his voice softened when he spoke to him, in the way he watched him when Laxus‘ attention was elsewhere. 

Liva noticed it because she noticed everything around Laxus.

And she wondered. Not in judgment, but in quiet curiosity. Did Laxus realize how deep that loyalty ran? Did he acknowledge it? Or was he deliberately choosing not to?

Perhaps it was one of those unspoken truths that didn’t require words between them. Perhaps it was a silence that spoke volumes.

Liva didn’t intend to ask. Whatever existed — or had existed — between the two men was none of her business. It wasn’t her place to pry. Yet, she felt a faint ache of understanding in her chest. The bond between them was palpable and in its own way, beautiful. It spoke of belonging, long before she had stepped into their lives.

It made her wonder about belonging itself. What it meant. What it felt like. What it might feel like for her… Where did she fit into? To this team? To this guild? Or somewhere closer, deeper… somewhere that felt like home?

She was ripped out of her thoughts by Fried‘s next comment, his eyes softening a bit: „You’re like Wendy.”

“Wendy?”

“She’s Fairy Tail’s Sky Dragon Slayer.”

Liva’s eyes widened. She had heard Makarov mention the girl before, but she hadn’t realized Wendy was a fellow Dragon Slayer. “Another one? How many are there?”

“With you? Five,” Bickslow answered with a grin.

Her smile faltered. “Come again?”

“Natsu, Wendy and Gajeel were even raised by dragons. They were like parents to them.”

Liva almost choked. Dragons raising humans? In her time, dragons only trained apprentices — never raised children. What the hell happened in the last 400 years?

“I didn’t know there were still dragons left… besides Acnologia.”

Laxus sighed. “Another mystery. Their dragons vanished the same day. All of them. No one knows why or where.”
Liva’s brow furrowed deeply. That really was a mystery worth remembering.

Suddenly Cricket tugged at her boot. “Stinky.” 

Bickslow burst out laughing. Liva sighed. “Yeah, you’re right, little one.” She glanced down at her mud-streaked, bloodstained clothes. In all the chaos, she hadn’t even thought about her appearance.

She placed her hands on her hips. “Well, I’m going to take a bath.”

Fried looked up, concerned. “You’re sure? It’s already night.” His eyes warned her: too dangerous. Normally both women went together to wash — one bathing, one keeping guard. Even with protection runes, the risk was real.

Liva shrugged. “I’m not sleeping reeking like a monster nest.”

Fried stood. “Then I’ll—”
He was yanked back by Bickslow, grinning devilishly. “Laxus, you should accompany her.”

“WHAT?!” Laxus and Fried barked in unison.

Fried stiffened, scandalized. “Bickslow—”
“Stop with this crap,” Laxus growled, voice deep enough to vibrate the air.

Liva felt a warmth rising in her chest — soft and strange, brushing the edge of giddiness. Yet she noticed how Fried’s dark gaze shifted towards her, sharp as a knife, wary. The way he watched felt almost like stepping into a snake’s den. And in that moment, she knew, her suspicions were probably correct. And Fried didn’t like it when Laxus paid attention to women.

“Look, guys,” she said quickly, trying to defuse the tension. “I don’t care who comes along. As long as I don’t get killed while I’m naked.”

“N–Naked?” Laxus echoed, voice rising an octave, the tips of his ears flushing crimson. That only made Fried scowl harder.

“Gods above,” she muttered, scooping up her things and beating a hasty retreat toward the river.

Behind her, Bickslow wheezed like a man possessed, brushing tears from the corners of his mask. “Well,” he choked out, “you gonna help her out, or should I?”

Laxus leveled a glare at him that could have leveled mountains. “Sometimes I really hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Bickslow said smoothly, as he watched Laxus stalk down the path after Liva.
Then he tilted his head towards Fried, still scowling, still perched stiffly by the fire. “Aw, don’t be so sour, buddy.”

Fried flinched as if Bickslow had thrown a dart. “I–I’m not sour.”

Bickslow gave him a long, knowing look. Even behind the mask, that gaze was sharp enough to sting.
“I just think,” Fried said, brushing hair from his eyes with a faint sniff, “we shouldn’t trust her too quickly. You’re being too reckless. Too fast.”

“Trust?” Bickslow drawled, leaning back against the tree and lacing his hands behind his head. “She saved Ever’s life. Healed her when none of us could. And she’s only here because we dragged her into this mess. Seems to me she’s earned at least a chance to prove herself.”

Fried scoffed, brushing the thought away like a fly.

Bickslow tilted his mask towards him, voice dropping low, teasing. “Y’know, buddy, I don’t think this is about trust at all. I think you’re just jealous. You noticed how many times Laxus’ gaze lingers unconsciously on her, when it doesn’t have to… and you don’t like it.”

Fried went crimson to the tips of his ears. “Shut up.”

Bickslow sank down to the ground with a languid sprawl, resting his head against the tree’s gnarled roots, and gazed into the crackling fire. “Make it easy for them, huh? Let the big guy have a shot at happiness for once.”

Fried drew in a sharp breath, voice tight. “I would never stand in the way of Laxus’ happiness.”

“Good.” Bickslow waved a lazy hand and winked. “Then keep your mouth shut and your eyes open… and let’s just see where this goes.”

Fried didn’t reply this time. He clenched his jaw, brushing a long-fingered hand down the length of the sheathed blade at his hip.
Whatever he felt, the sharp sting of old loyalty, the ache of belonging, the instinct to protect, he kept to himself.
Because in the end, that was all he wanted. Whatever this strange, stubborn woman meant for Laxus, whatever path they would walk, Fried just hoped — more than anything — that it led to a brighter place. Even if that meant accepting that a mysterious woman like Liva might be worth the risk.

🌙

The night air was cool, the moon hanging like a pale sentinel above the dark forest.
And Liva was kind of pleased, when she noticed the lightning mage following her.

With a small smile on her lips, she knelt at the riverbank, carefully placing her spare clothes on a nearby rock. The water glittered under the moonlight, smooth as glass.

Behind her, Laxus stood at a respectful distance, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. His gaze was fixed somewhere between the trees and the stars — anywhere but directly at her.

“You don’t have to stand there like a bodyguard, you know,” Liva called softly over her shoulder, beginning to unlace her tunic. “I’ll manage.”

“I know,” Laxus said, voice rough. “But I’m not taking chances.”

The sound of fabric slipping to the ground mingled with the gentle rush of the river. Laxus clenched his jaw, trying very hard not to let his mind wander.

Liva waded into the water, sighing softly as the cool liquid embraced her skin. She dunked herself fully, washing away the dirt, sweat and blood from the last battle. With closed eyes, she not only bathed in the river’s water, but also in the cool moonlight.

After he heard her sight, Laxus painfully closed his eyes. Focus! Enemy territory. Danger everywhere. You’re here for her protection. Nothing else.

But even as he told himself that, his traitorous gaze flickered sideways for the briefest of moments. The moonlight reflected off her wet skin, tracing the elegant lines of her back. But then — he froze.

Long, pale scars marked her skin like cruel remnants of something dark. Neat. Precise. Intentional. Laxus inhaled sharply through his teeth, the sound barely audible, but enough for Liva’s sensitive ears.

She stiffened for a heartbeat, her hands faltering in their movements. Then she spoke, her voice quiet, steady, but carrying something heavy beneath it. “You saw them.”

Laxus turned his head away instantly, as if burned. “… I didn’t mean to.”

Silence.

“I know.” She drew in a breath, hugging her arms around herself for a moment, before slowly sinking deeper into the water again. “It’s alright. You would have seen them eventually.”

He didn’t answer. The silence pressed between them like a third presence. His mind was racing. Anger, he felt. Burning anger.

Who?
Who did this to her?
Who would mark someone like that?

He didn’t know the details. He didn’t dare to ask. But suddenly, so many things made fucking sense. The way sadness lingered behind her smiles. The quiet heaviness in her eyes. The weight she always seemed to carry.

“Are they… old?” he asked carefully, voice low, almost reluctant to intrude.

“A few years,” she replied, her tone soft but distant. “But some wounds don’t fade. Not the ones you carry inside.”

Laxus clenched his fists slightly. “Is that why?

“Why what?”

“Why you always look like… like you’re carrying something heavier than anyone else here.”

She fell silent for a moment, the water swirling gently around her. Then she looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes reflecting the pale moonlight, fragile but unafraid.
“Maybe,” she admitted quietly. “But I’m still here, aren’t I?”

He wanted to say something — anything — to wipe away that quiet sadness in her voice. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, his chest just tightened. 
“You’re strong,” he finally managed, his voice gruff. “Stronger than most.”

Liva let out a soft, breathless laugh. “You don’t know half of it, Laxus.” 

“Maybe not,” he said, not knowing the truth behind her words. “But I’d like to.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. The moment they hung in the air, Laxus almost regretted speaking them, but he didn’t look away this time.
Liva’s expression shifted — surprised, but not displeased. A warmth crept into her eyes, mingling with something far more dangerous, something neither of them dared name.

“The past is hurtful,” she whispered. “You might regret that.”

He stepped a fraction closer, not aware of the truth behind her words. “Try me.”

Her breath caught for a second, not from fear, but from the strange, electric tension pulsing between them. The sound of the water, the moonlight, the distant hum of night creatures — everything else faded into a quiet backdrop.

Liva smiled faintly, her voice now barely above a whisper. “Then stay close. And maybe one day… I’ll tell you.”

Laxus swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The moment lingered. Delicate. Dangerous. Charged.

And then, as if some unspoken agreement had been made, Liva turned back to her washing, allowing him the space once more — though she knew well that his gaze lingered longer than before and neither of them tried to pretend otherwise.

Chapter Text

Memories of a Dragon Slayer — Calomene

The sky above the camp was black, like scorched earth, broken only by the flickering fires of the sentries. Smoke coiled through the night like silent phantoms, as if even the stars refused to witness what was to come.

Kairos stood at the edge of the hill, his gaze locked onto the royal camp below.
There was no fear in his eyes. Only rage. A burning, all-consuming rage.

Behind him, the rest of the group waited in the shadowed thicket. No one spoke. Yet the tension was as tangible as a blade against the throat. The wrath reflected on the faces of the men like a silent storm about to be unleashed.

I, however, clutched my cloak, my fingers still trembling. I felt it. They burning remains of their touches, the bruises and cuts all over my body — evidence of what the soldiers had done to me, a deserter,  before I had managed to escape. 

My voice was barely a whisper, like a question thrown into the void. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t”, Acnologia said. “Don't apologise for the behaviour of filthy animals.”

I blinked tears away. Never in my life had I met such terrible human beings. I myself had fought in the dragon war, but under Kairos’ wing I never like that… Like I was meat to the other men. 

“Why… why do men do such things?”

Acnologia moved closer to her, his voice soft, almost tender. “Because they went mad.” His cold eyes drifted down to the camp. “They believe the weak exist for their amusement. As prey. But tonight, we’ll teach them what it means to become prey themselves.”

Kairos said nothing. He hadn’t for hours. He inhaled deeply. Smoke. Steel. Sweat. The fury boiled in his veins, hotter than any flame.

They tried to harm her. His Calomene. If they had arrived only seconds later… The thought alone made his jaw clench tight.

Fynn stepped to his other side, his face hidden in the shadows. As a former soldier, he knew the depths of war’s cruelty, but that they had nearly done this to a friend stirred something darker within him. Something cruel. Hungry.

“Just say the word, brother.” He clicked his tongue, a wolfish grin on his face. “I want to hear them scream. They’ll pay for it.”

Acnologia slid between them, placing a steadying hand on Kairos’ shoulder. “Do you hear it?” His voice was a dark whisper.

Kairos heard nothing.

“The world is calling for your power. Give them what they deserve for hurting our Calomene.” Kairos’ eyes flickered. For a moment, he hesitated. And then, he let go.

A furious thunderclap shattered the silence as energy surged through him. Lightning burst from his fingertips, swirling like living serpents through the night. His magic pulsed with unrelenting hatred.
A blinding flash struck the heart of the camp. Explosions followed. Tents tore like paper as fire and storm devoured the night. Soldiers stumbled from the wreckage, screaming in panic, only to be cut down by the next wave of crackling energy.

Kairos dove into the fray, his body wreathed in crackling power. Every punch hurled men dozens of feet, bones splintering beneath the sheer force of his blows.

“FOR HER!” he roared, as if each strike could erase Calomene’s suffering.

Fynn followed his brother with a grin, his magic, a vicious symphony of shockwaves and sonic bursts, making soldiers bleed from their ears and collapse into unconsciousness, behind him the others of our group.

I watched the inferno unfold. My lips trembled. The screams, the stench of burning flesh, it sickened me, terrified me … and yet … A part of me felt safe.
I knew, no one would ever try to harm me again, as long as my friends fought by my side. Only my friends, because nobody else could be trusted anymore.

When the last soldier fell, only the crackling of the flames remained. Kairos stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving. His eyes still glowed, but the fury was slowly giving way to a heavy emptiness.

Acnologia emerged from the smoke, calm and deliberate. His voice wrapped around Kairos like a cold current. “Do you see it now?” He gestured to the bodies.

“No. Only that I became a ruthless murderer.”

Acnologia clicked his tongue. “This is the true nature of the world. Either you rule… or you are crushed beneath it. You have power, Kairos. More than any of them. And tonight, you did what had to be done.”

Kairos lowered his gaze to his blood-soaked hands. “They wanted to hurt her… They deserved it.” His voice was rough, brittle, caught between guilt and relief.

“Exactly.” Acnologia stepped even closer, his words like a dark melody. “And you protected her. You are not the villain, Kairos. They are.”

“This world only understands strength. Everything else is an illusion,” Fynn growled. “The kingdom tried to kill you, brother. But look at you now. Even the storm fears you.”

Behind them, I slowly approached. My eyes reflected fear, but also… something else. Admiration. Or perhaps was this the first dangerous evidence of my own growing madness?
Kairos looked at me. My lips quivered, but I forced a grateful smile. “Thank you…”

He only nodded in response.

“Well, we’re done here.“ Acnologia smiled at the devastation, pleased. „Let’s go.”

🌙

Waas Forest, Year X791, Three months until the Grand Magic Games

The air was heavy with morning mist as they moved out. The first grey streaks of dawn barely illuminated the dense forest, yet every step forward felt like slipping deeper into a living nightmare. Shadows crept and twisted, strange sounds rustled in the undergrowth, but none of them spoke. There was no need — they had gone over the plan again and again. Now it was time to act.

Liva walked at the center of the small formation, her breaths steady, though her chest tightened with each step. After yesterday's nightmare, she felt exhausted. The tiredness only made her tension worse. 

She could feel the faint pull of the spider’s threads even from here — invisible to the eye, but not to her senses. They ran like veins through the ground, the trees, the air itself. A pulsating web of power, all feeding back to the creature waiting at the heart of its nest.

Fried led the way, fingers tracing invisible symbols into the air. His runes shimmered softly, forming protective seals that bent the light and muffled their steps.

Nearly invisible. Even the occasional whisper of wind failed to give them away.

Bickslow followed close behind, his floating Seith puppets circling in tight formation, eyes glowing faintly as they scanned for hidden threats. His usual grin was gone, replaced by quiet focus. They all knew how high the stakes were.

The deeper they went, the thicker the webs became. Thick, pale cords stretched from tree to tree, some as wide as arms, others as fine as hair. The smell of decay grew stronger, mixing with damp earth and stagnant air. Strange, fleshy cocoons hung from branches like grotesque fruit. Some twitched. Others were mercifully still.

Liva swallowed hard. We have to end this.

Finally, they reached the heart of the nest — a vast clearing swallowed by webbing. The central chamber stood like a grotesque cathedral of silk. Dozens of thick anchor lines ran from the ground up into the towering cocoon-shaped structure at the center. This was where the Spider Queen ruled her domain.

Fried turned back to her, giving a small nod. Now.

Liva stepped forward, drawing a sharp breath as she summoned her magic. The familiar cold pull of her lunar energy filled her veins. Her fingertips began to glow faintly with silver light. She narrowed her eyes, focusing on the threads surrounding them. Each strand was part of her enemy’s nervous system — its eyes, its ears, its heartbeat.

“Gravitational Field.” The ground pulsed.

Invisible waves rippled outward from her as if gravity itself were folding and twisting around her will. The silk lines shuddered, some snapping under the strain, others twisting in unnatural ways as the web began to destabilize. The ground beneath the nest trembled, the carefully spun network collapsing in sections.

Almost immediately, high-pitched screeches echoed through the air. Shadows burst from the far edges of the clearing — smaller spider-like creatures, guardians of the nest. They skittered forward with unnatural speed, claws clicking against stone and silk.

“Here they come,” Bickslow hissed, his voice low but ready.

The Seith puppets darted forward, cutting off the first wave of creatures. Fried stepped beside him, hands already weaving new runes into the air. Protective barriers flared, deflecting venomous projectiles and sharp legs trying to pierce through.

“We’ll hold them off!” Fried called to Liva without taking his eyes off the attackers. “Keep going!”

Liva grit her teeth, maintaining her spell as the tension on the web fought back against her magic. Just a little more… The network trembled violently. Threads snapped like whips all around her, writhing as if alive.

And then, from the shadows of the cocoon, something massive stirred. The Mother itself.

With a deep, bone-chilling hiss, the monstrous, but beautiful spider woman crawled into view — its size nearly filling the entire chamber. Its black, chitinous shell gleamed in the faint light and her black eyes fixed on the intruders. She looked angry.

Liva’s breath caught for a second.
The beast let out a shrill, ear-piercing screech, shaking the entire nest.

“Oh shit,” Bickslow muttered. “She’s awake.”

“Get ready!” Fried shouted.

Liva dropped the Gravitational Field, now shifting her stance as the first tremors of battle truly began.

As the Spider Queen let out her chilling screech, dozens of smaller creatures burst from hidden crevices, their spindly legs clattering against stone and silk. The entire lair trembled with life, as though the forest itself was rebelling against the invaders.

Bickslow’s Seith puppets immediately spread out, darting through the air in erratic patterns, intercepting the first wave.

“Come on, you ugly bastards!” Bickslow shouted, his voice steady despite the chaos.

Fried stood firm beside him, hands weaving complex runes mid-air, forming glowing barriers and sharp-edged traps. Each monster that crossed the lines of his seals was sliced apart or immobilized in bursts of emerald light. “Focus, Bickslow. We hold this position. Liva needs space to fight, until Laxus is ready.”

Liva, meanwhile, stepped forward, directly into the center of the Queen’s chamber.

Her breathing was labored. The Gravitational Field had drained her, much more than she’d anticipated. In her past life, this spell would have been child’s play. But now her limbs felt heavy, her magic core throbbing as if warning her that she was pushing too far.

Keep going. You can’t let them down now.

The Spider Queen towered before her, looming on spindly legs, her fangs dripping venom that hissed as it touched the stone.

“You dare disrupt my nest…” the monster hissed with a distorted, feminine voice. “You will feed my children.”

Liva narrowed her eyes, raising her arm and calling on what strength she had left. The familiar cold pulse of lunar energy responded, but sluggishly.

Damn it. Not now.

“Lunar Dragon’s Spear!” A brilliant silver beam erupted from her palm, slamming into the Spider Queen’s armored shell. The creature screeched, staggering back under the assault, but its thick exoskeleton absorbed much of the blow.

It was barely wounded.

From his vantage point above, hidden among thick webs and rock, Laxus watched every movement with narrowed eyes. His whole body tensed, electricity crackling faintly beneath his skin as he waited for the perfect moment to strike.

Come on, Liva… just a little longer.

But then it happened.

In her exhaustion, Liva made the smallest misstep — her boot catching on a loose strand of sticky silk as she retreated. It was only a second. But it was enough.

The Spider Queen lunged forward, its front legs slamming into the ground on either side of her, blocking any chance of escape. Sharp fangs shot forward and slashed across her side — tearing through fabric and flesh alike. A cry of pain escaped her lips as blood splattered onto the white webbing.

“Liva!” Fried’s shout echoed from the other side of the chamber.

Before she could recover, the Queen’s silk shot out — wrapping around her arms, legs, torso in a matter of seconds. The webbing tightened like cold ropes, lifting her slowly from the ground.

Liva struggled, panic rising in her chest. No… not like this…

Her magic was slipping, her strength fading fast. Her breathing grew shallow as the threads began to cocoon her, drawing her toward the monster’s claws.

And from above — Laxus saw red. His heart stopped as his vision blurred — but not from fear.

A flash. A memory — no, not quite a memory — something older, deeper.

A cliff.
A scream.
A woman being dragged toward the jaws of a dragon.
A man’s desperate voice shouting her name.
Calomene.

The name didn’t register, but the surge of emotion hit him like a bolt. His instincts roared to life. Without conscious thought, his magic exploded. “No!”

The rocks beneath him shattered as Laxus propelled himself forward in a surge of lightning, slamming into the battlefield with a deafening crack of thunder. The Spider Queen reeled as the sheer force of his impact sent tremors through the ground.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!”

Electric arcs burst from his body like wild lashes, slicing through the silk threads that bound Liva and searing them into ashes mid-air. Her cocoon unraveled and she dropped, barely conscious, into Laxus’ arms.

Liva blinked up at him, dazed, barely registering the crackling fury radiating from his entire body. “Laxus…?”

His jaw clenched. “I’ve got you.” Then he turned — slowly — toward the Spider Queen, his eyes burning with lethal intent. “You picked the wrong prey, bitch.”

🌙

Laxus gently lowered Liva onto the ground beside Fried and Bickslow, his movements surprisingly careful despite the chaos surrounding them.

“Stay here,” he ordered, his voice low but firm. His hand lingered briefly on her shoulder. “You’re bleeding too much.”

Liva tried to protest, but the words caught in her throat as another wave of pain pulsed through her abdomen. Her blood soaked through her torn clothing, staining the white silk beneath her. “Laxus—”

“No.” His blue eyes narrowed. “You’ve done enough. Let me handle this.” Without waiting for further argument, he stood and turned back toward the monstrous Spider Queen. Lightning crackled furiously around him as he strode back into the fray.

“Protect her,” Laxus threw at Fried and Bickslow over his shoulder.

“You got it!,” Bickslow answered, his tone unusually serious.

The battle that followed shook the entire cavern. Laxus charged at the Queen, every movement a blur of raw power. Thunder roared and webs burned away as his lightning met the spider’s venomous strikes head-on. Each blow from the Queen shattered rock and tore apart parts of her own nest, while Laxus’ magic exploded like distant storms, forcing her back again and again.

Liva watched helplessly, her breathing shallow, her hands trembling. Damn it… Damn it!

Panic and shame swirled inside her chest. She had made a rookie mistake — and now Laxus was risking his life because she had been careless.
Nothings is worse than being useless, her old guild master’s voice whispered in her head. Weakness is punished. Uselessness is punished.

Her eyes stung. She clutched the blood-soaked fabric at her side, feeling herself slowly slipping toward unconsciousness.

And then— A whisper. Soft. Familiar.

“You’re not useless.” Liva’s eyes snapped open, her breath catching. Before her she saw little fireflies in, radiating the frosty cold of a clear full moon night. “Look.” Her vision shifted upward and she saw it.

A hole in the collapsing nest had exposed the sky. The sun shone directly into the chamber, its warm light cutting through the dust and smoke like a lifeline.

“The sun”, she thought.

“The moonlight comes from the sun.”

Liva blinked, then her eyes grew. Yes, of course! In that moment, her instincts flared. The sun light and the moon light were different sides of the same coin …
With every ounce of strength she had left, Liva gritted her teeth and began to crawl — dragging herself across the ruined silk toward the sunbeam. The pain was unbearable, but she refused to stop.

Keep going. Keep moving.

Her fingertips reached the circle of warm light. The moment her skin touched it, the tiniest bit of shiny, white scales appeared and vanished in the same instant. The sun beams suddenly turned into chilly moon light, as though recognizing her. A surge of cool, calming energy flooded her veins, reaching for her empty magic resources and powers. The pain dulled, her magic steadied and grew. She felt as if she bathed in moonlight. 

“Lunar Mend.” Soft silver light wrapped around her wounds, slowing the bleeding, stabilizing her injuries just enough. She gasped in pain, the color slowly returning to her face. 

Breathing in deeply, she rose. She wasn’t fully healed, not even close, but she could stand. And fight.

Laxus was still locked in combat, his body not bruised, but his breath heavy. The Spider Queen reared back for another deadly strike. That monster was so strong, even Laxus had is problems fighting her.

“No more,” Liva whispered. With a cry of determination, she charged forward, her magic swirling anew, drawn from the sun and moon itself. Silver light radiated around her, her Lunar Dragon Slayer Magic pulsing with fierce determination.

“Laxus!” she shouted, her voice stronger than she thought possible. He turned, momentarily shocked to see her standing again. “I’m not leaving you to fight alone!”

The electric storm in Laxus’ eyes sparked wildly as a new surge of emotion hit him. “Then let’s end this,” he growled.

And together, they fought the spider, like they did with the moss-monsters. Helping each other out, when the other could not. Throwing punches into the body of the beast. They found a way to harmonise, to sync. And then, they prepared for the final strike.

The Spider Queen hissed, venom dripping from her lips, but even she paused at the sight before her. Two mages stood side by side, their auras intertwining like threads of destiny.

Liva’s silver moonlight pulsed in rhythm with Laxus’ crackling electricity. The air grew dense with raw energy, vibrating as their magics reached for one another. Neither spoke, but something between them had clicked. A silent understanding. A bond.

Fried’s breath caught in his throat. “A… Unison Raid?!,” he whispered, his voice full of disbelieve.

Bickslow stared wide-eyed. “Impossible…”

The Spider Queen shrieked, sensing the shift. Her legs tensed for another assault, but it was too late.

Liva’s arms rose, moonlight swirling around her fingers like liquid silver, forming delicate ribbons of energy. The air cooled sharply as a pale mist descended, ice crystals forming in her wake. At the same time, Laxus extended his hand, the crackle of thunder roaring through the chamber like an incoming storm. Sparks danced wildly across his skin, illuminating every corner of the nest. As their powers met in the air, they didn’t collide, they fused.

The moonlight wrapped itself around the lightning, coating the electric arcs in a shroud of icy silver. The combination created an ethereal spear of pure destruction: blinding, frozen light surging with violent thunder. The temperature dropped rapidly, frost blooming across the silk webs as static snapped with terrifying intensity.

The Spider Queen recoiled, her eyes reflecting the incoming doom.

“NOW!” Laxus roared. Together, they released it.

The frozen lightning bolt struck the Queen directly, piercing through her armored thorax. The sheer force of the blast shook the entire cavern and the echo of shattering ice and cracking thunder rolled like an avalanche. The Spider Queen let out one final, piercing scream before her massive body convulsed—and then collapsed into a heap of twitching legs and broken silk.

The other spiderlings scattered, paralyzed by the overwhelming display of power.

Silence fell.

Even the remaining monsters hesitated, frozen mid-movement, as if the sheer weight of the Unison Raid held the very air captive. The unnatural quiet was broken only by the crackling remnants of electricity, dancing through the frost-covered remains of the nest.

Fried stood frozen in disbelief. “Incredible…” he whispered. “That level of synchronization… it’s like they were made for this.” Bickslow could only nod, wide-eyed, for once speechless.

The storm of energy gradually dissipated, revealing the two mages still standing. Laxus lowered his arm, his chest heaving with exhaustion. Beside him, Liva wavered slightly, but remained upright, supported by the fading moonlight surrounding her like a guardian.

Their eyes met. Neither spoke at first, but something unspoken passed between them. Respect. Relief. And something deeper.

Laxus finally let out a breath, his voice soft but filled with quiet pride. “You’re unbelievable.”

Liva smiled faintly, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re not bad either.”

🌙

The journey back to camp was quiet, but heavy.

Laxus carried Liva in his arms, his hold firm, but gentle, as if afraid she might shatter if he wasn’t careful enough. Her head rested against his chest, her breathing shallow but steady. The warm beat of his heart was oddly soothing to her.

“Just rest,” he whispered as she stirred. “We’re almost there.”

Bickslow and Fried walked ahead, clearing the path. They exchanged glances every now and then, both still unable to fully process what they had just witnessed. 

Liva and Laxus performed an Unison Raid. This spell was only possible, if the mages had a special connection, but Laxus and Liva had only known each other for a week. Nonetheless they were able to create such strong spell. 

Fried felt doubt stir within him. Just yesterday, he’d been convinced Liva was someone to be treated with caution — someone not fully trustworthy. And yet, after seeing her stand beside Laxus, after watching her support him through a brutal battle and bear witness to their seamless Unison Raid, it was as if she had already found a way into the very heart of the man he swore to protect.

It hurt to admit it, but maybe Bickslow was right. Maybe there really was something to those glances Laxus and Liva exchanged when they thought no one was looking. Maybe she would be a good influence on him, a source of strength and belonging — just as the Thunder God Tribe had always tried to be.

Whether it was camaraderie, friendship, or even… love, consciously or not, Laxus and Liva shared a bond that felt unlike any other. And despite the sting of doubt, despite the instinct to shield, Fried couldn’t help but wonder if this strange woman might truly be exactly what Laxus needed.

As they reached the cave, Fried and Cricket quickly prepared a place for Liva to lie down. Bickslow fetched clean water and bandages, while Evergreen — still injured herself — sat nearby, worry etched into her face.

Laxus gently lowered Liva onto the bedroll, brushing a strand of hair from her sweaty forehead. “You should’ve stayed down,” he murmured, almost scolding, but the warmth in his voice betrayed him. “You were bleeding out back there.”

Liva smiled weakly. “I couldn’t just watch you fight and having all the fun alone, big boy.”

“You almost got yourself killed,” he snapped softly, voice tight. 

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“Damn it, Liva…” He sat back for a moment, running a hand through his hair. “You did push yourself too hard.” His voice cracked ever so slightly and his jaw clenched. “You don’t have to prove anything to us.”

Liva’s eyes welled up. His concern touched something deep inside her, something fragile. “I’m not trying to prove anything,” she whispered. “I just… I didn’t want to be useless.” The word hung between them like a shadow. Useless.

Laxus inhaled sharply, sensing the weight behind her words. “Bullshit. You’re not useless.”

“But—“ She bit her lip, lowering her gaze. “When you say it, it sounds so easy, but …if you failed… if you were weak… you were punished.” Her voice trembled now. “If you couldn’t be strong enough, you didn’t deserve to stay.”

Laxus froze. “Who told you, being hurt means being useless?”

Liva gulped. “My old guild master,” she confessed. His features hardened. “If he thought you were useless or a failure, he punished you. Hard.”

Laxus remembered the scars on her back. He felt a burning fury. “Show me that bastard, I’ll kill him.”

She chuckled, humourless. “No, you won’t.” Suddenly tears dropped down her eyes.

“No one will punish you here,” he said firmly, voice low and steady. “Not while I’m around.” He reached out, brushing his fingertips gently along her bandaged arm. “You’ve got nothing to prove. You’ve done more than enough. You saved all of us.”

She looked up, tears glistening in her eyes. “You really think so?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he cupped her cheek carefully, his thumb brushing away a tear that escaped. His hand was large, calloused — but his touch was heartbreakingly gentle. “I know so.”

For a long moment, neither moved. The air between them grew heavy, charged not with magic itself, but it still felt magical. The distance between their faces was too small, their breathing too synchronized.

Laxus’ gaze dropped briefly to her lips, then back to her eyes. His chest tightened painfully. Gods, she was beautiful. Even wounded, even exhausted, she still looked ethereal.

Liva felt her heart race as her own gaze flickered to his lips, just for a second. The warmth of his hand on her cheek sent shivers down her spine. A desperate part of her wanted him to close the distance, but neither dared to move.

Suddenly, as remembering their surrounding, Laxus exhaled softly, pulling back just a little to give her space. “Rest now,” he whispered. “We’ll talk more when you’re stronger.”

Liva swallowed her emotions and nodded, secretly wishing he hadn’t shown any restraint towards her.

🌙

The camp had fallen silent. The only sounds were the distant crackle of the dying fire and the occasional soft breathing of those asleep. Even Cricket was nestled into Liva‘s side, snoring faintly.

But Laxus remained awake.

He sat a few feet away from where Liva rested, his elbows braced on his knees, watching her in the flickering light. The shadows danced softly across her sleeping form. She looked peaceful now — but far too pale for his liking. The color hadn’t yet returned fully to her face and though her breathing was steady, it was shallow.

He hated seeing her like this. After everything she’d done. After how she threw herself back into that fight despite the pain. 

Laxus clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with the silent anger that twisted inside him. Not at the spider monster, not at her — never her — but at himself.

He hadn’t been fast enough. Hadn’t been strong enough. That old, gnawing feeling crept up on him — the fear of not being able to protect those he cared for. 

And gods help him, he cared for her, he realised.

Suddenly, Liva stirred. A soft whimper escaped her lips as she shifted slightly in her bedroll, her face scrunching into a pained expression. Without thinking, Laxus moved closer, lowering himself to sit beside her.

“Shhh,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Her brows furrowed as if she still fought some invisible demon in her dreams. Instinctively, Laxus reached out and brushed his knuckles softly across her cheek, letting his fingers trail lightly along her jawline.

The contact seemed to calm her. Her breathing steadied, her tense shoulders relaxed and slowly, her eyes fluttered open. Her eyes struggled to focus. “Laxus…?” she echoed faintly and sat up, disoriented.

“Yes,” he murmured. “You’re alright. Just rest.”

But instead of closing her eyes again, she reached out weakly and touched his arm, her fingers barely curling around his wrist. Her hand was cold. “You… you stayed,” she said softly.

He swallowed hard, his heart aching at the vulnerability in her voice. “Of course I stayed,” he whispered. “Where else would I be?”

Their eyes met in the dim light and for a long moment, neither spoke. The tension between them was fragile, delicate — like walking across thin ice.

“Laxus…” she whispered again, “I’m scared.”

His chest tightened. “Of what?”

“Of being weak. Of falling back into who I was. Of not being enough. I… I’m a terrible person.”

“You’re not,” he said firmly, leaning in slightly. “Not even close.”

Her eyes glistened, tears threatening to fall, but she fought them back. “I… I don’t want you to see me like this. This wrath, this hatred… I’m too weak.”

“Liva.” His voice softened even more, though he still had no idea what exactly tormented her so deeply. “I’ve seen you fight with everything you have. I’ve seen you stand when you should’ve fallen. I’ve seen you bleed for others.”

He paused, lowering his voice into a near whisper. “There’s nothing you could show me that would ever make me think less of you.”

The tears finally spilled down her cheeks.

Without thinking, Laxus cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing away the wet trails as they fell. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a heartbeat. His warmth soothed her, grounding her in a way nothing else ever had.

For one moment — one dangerous, fragile moment — he almost closed the distance between them. But instead, he rested his forehead gently against hers, breathing her in, feeling her warmth, her pulse beneath his fingertips.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he whispered.

A quiet breath escaped her lips, shaky but full of gratitude. “Thank you…”

Neither moved. They stayed like this, until Liva eventually slipped back into the land of dreams. 

And Laxus stayed. The whole night.

Chapter Text

Memories of a Dragon Slayer, Kairos

The night was unusually still. Only the crackling of the small campfire broke the silence, its flickering light casting soft shadows onto the worn faces of those gathered. The others had long since drifted off to sleep, scattered around the clearing like exhausted sentries of a war that never seemed to end.

Kairos sat where he always did, a little apart, yet never too far from her. His gaze wasn’t on the stars or the dark horizon. It was on her.

Calomene sat close, her head gently leaning against his shoulder, her breathing steady, almost weightless. The firelight painted her skin in gold and amber, softening the bruises still faintly visible beneath her sleeves. The fading remnants of what the soldiers had tried to do to her days ago. She was so small against him. So fragile and yet, she had endured.

Kairos barely dared to breathe. He could feel the warmth of her against his arm, the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the faint scent of her hair carried by the wind.

How many times had he wanted to tell her?
How many times had the words built behind his ribs, only to die before reaching his lips?

Tonight, for a fleeting moment, it felt different. The weight of their shared fears, their losses and the endless running had drawn them together in a quiet intimacy neither dared name.

Her eyelids fluttered briefly, half-lidded, before sinking again.

“Tired?” he whispered, barely audible.

“Mhm,” came her faint reply. “Just… don’t want to move.”

“You don’t have to.”

A soft, content sigh escaped her lips as she nestled just a little closer, trusting him fully in that brief, stolen moment. Her fingers grazed his coat, as if silently anchoring herself to his presence.

His throat tightened.
Kairos shifted, only slightly, turning his head so he could watch her peaceful face. The words trembled at the edge of his tongue.

Say it. Tell her now.

His gaze dropped to her lips — so close, so inviting. His pulse quickened. The world around them seemed to fade into nothing but this fragile breath between them. For a heartbeat, he leaned in. Close enough to feel her breath against his skin. But then — he stopped. Coward.

His jaw clenched, his heart aching under the weight of his own restraint. He pulled back the slightest fraction, his voice instead breaking the silence in a whisper thick with everything he couldn’t say.

“I’ll protect you,” he said softly.

Calomene, half-asleep, smiled weakly against his shoulder. “I know.”

The fire crackled again. The stars above remained distant and cold. And as she finally drifted into sleep against him, Kairos sat perfectly still, keeping watch through the long hours of the night — guarding her, as always. Swallowing the words that would never leave his mouth. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Never in this life.

🌙

Waas Forest, Year X791, Three months until the Grand Magic Games

The sun broke gently through the forest, scattering beams of light across the small camp. The wildlife had returned over night, the birds morning songs weaving through the trees as if the horrors of the spider monster had never happened.

But for Laxus, the nightmare hadn’t entirely faded. Liva was still injured.

He sat cross-legged beside Liva’s bedroll, carefully unwrapping the bandages around her ribs. His movements were deliberate, almost reverent. The fight had left angry bruises blooming across her pale skin and the gash along her side was still deep and tender, though much improved thanks to her own healing magic.

She winced as the fabric peeled away.

“Sorry,” Laxus murmured, his voice unusually soft.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, though the strain in her voice betrayed the lie.

“No, you’re not,” he said simply. His fingers ghosted over the wound, checking for signs of infection. “But you will be.”

Liva watched him in silence, studying the furrow of his brow, the faint line of concentration etched across his face. He had always been handsome, but like this — when he thought no one was looking — there was something heartbreakingly tender about him.

This wasn’t the Laxus who had once tried to take over Fairy Tail with arrogance and force. This was a man who stayed by her side all night. A man who had given everything trying to protect her.

“You’re surprisingly gentle, you know,” she teased, a small smile tugging at her lips.

He snorted under his breath. “Don’t get used to it.”

But when his eyes met hers, the corner of his mouth curved slightly upward. The air between them shifted, warm and intimate. The unspoken things hung there, filling the space with something new, something dangerous.

From a distance, Fried and Bickslow watched quietly, both exchanging knowing glances.

“Wow,” Bickslow whispered under his breath, his floating dolls snickering around him. “He’s totally smitten.”

“Careful, Bickslow,” Fried murmured, but it lacked is normally visible disdain. “He might hear you.”

“Worth it.”

Cricket, ever loyal, nestled into Liva’s lap, sensing the softness in the air and giving a satisfied chirp.

After securing fresh bandages and pulling the blanket back up to her waist, Laxus stood and glanced toward the pile of supplies nearby. His voice returned to its usual calm authority, though the warmth lingered beneath it.

“We should get moving soon,” he said. “We still have to collect the remains for the client.”

Liva nodded, her tone growing more serious. “We need enough remains from the nest as proof.”

“That’s right,” Fried added, approaching them with his usual calm. “The client will expect us to bring back sufficient evidence before releasing payment.”

Liva glanced up. “Who’s the client?”

Fried checked the quest papers. “Duke Anthony Camilia. He owns the whole region.”

The name hit like a silent arrow. Liva’s breath caught for the briefest of moments — so quick that most wouldn’t have noticed. But Laxus did.
Her face remained composed as she forced a small, practiced smile. “Ah, I see.”

Laxus narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing the shift. “You know him?”

Liva flinched. “Why do you think that?”

“Gut instinct.”

Liva laughed inwardly. Of course. “No. Not really.” She waved her hand dismissively, as if brushing away an irrelevant detail. “We’ve crossed paths once or twice, nothing important.”

Laxus didn’t believe her, she really wasn’t a good liar. But still, he didn’t press — not yet — but something about the way her shoulders stiffened and her voice flattened made him file the information away. He’d ask her later, after the job was finished.

Bickslow, oblivious to the tension, chimed in. “Fancy title for someone who hires us to kill spiders.”

“Fancy title and pretty rich,” Fried replied.

Laxus stood, his gaze lingering on Liva and Evergreen. “You both stay here. Rest. Fried, Bickslow, let’s collect the remains.”

“I can help—” Liva began.

His voice was gentle but firm. “You almost died last night. You’ve done more than enough.”
For once, she didn’t argue. Instead, she allowed herself to sink back against the bedroll, exhaling slowly. There was comfort in letting herself be cared for, though it still felt unfamiliar.

As the three men headed toward the ruined nest, Bickslow couldn’t resist one last grin. “Man… I never thought I’d see the day when our grumpy boss turns into a mother hen.”

Laxus growled under his breath. “Keep talking, Bickslow and I’ll bury you with the spiders.”
Bickslow laughed, but even Laxus could see it: something had shifted. Something was growing between him and Liva and no amount of teasing would change that.

🌙

The village sat nestled just a stone’s throw from the edge of the forest, its quiet charm sharply contrasting with the horrors that had plagued its outskirts for weeks. The villagers, though cautious, peeked from their windows and doorways as Laxus and the others arrived, pulling behind them the gruesome remains of the spider queen.

They had loaded the spider carcass onto a small cart, the woman body with long, spindly legs bundled and tied down. The eerie shimmer of silk still clung to some of the pieces, glinting mockingly in the morning light, a grim reminder of their earlier fight.

Cricket sat proudly on the edge of the cart, his wide eyes scanning the surroundings, as though standing guard over their grotesque trophy.

At the village square, the elder — an older woman with silver hair pulled into a tight bun — awaited them. Baya’s sharp eyes studied the cargo with a mixture of relief and revulsion.

“You’ve done well,” she said as they approached. “Very well. The monster has terrorized our lands for too long. The Duke will be most pleased.” Her gaze softened slightly, though her hands remained tightly clasped. “You’ve avenged our children. Thank you.” Laxus gave a silent nod in acknowledgment.

“Where is this Duke?” Fried asked politely.

“Duke Camilia resides at his estate beyond the hills,” Baya replied. “But he will be informed at once. Normally, his steward would handle such matters, but under these circumstances… he may choose to come himself.”

Laxus crossed his arms, eyes scanning the village as habit demanded. “We’ll wait here.”

At her gesture, a young villager sprinted off toward the estate, while the mages remained in the square. The morning dragged on slowly as villagers resumed their daily routines, sneaking curious glances at the infamous Thunder God Tribe — and at the monstrous remains.

With nothing else to do but wait, the mages wandered through the village, chatting with the locals and occasionally lending a hand with small chores.
Laxus paused in front of a small hut, its herbal aroma wafting thickly through the air. He wrinkled his sensitive nose at the pungency.

“Good morning, boy,” an elderly man greeted him with a cheerful hum, oddly out of place in this otherwise somber village. The old man busied himself arranging jars and bundles of herbs on a table, clearly awaiting customers.

Laxus furrowed his brow. “Morning.”

“Looking for something, son?” The man gestured toward his goods. “Herbs for tea? For wounds? I have all kinds of medicines and ointments.”

After the fight — and with the women’s injuries — their supplies were running dangerously low. “Actually, yes,” Laxus said, stepping closer. “Two of our team were injured during the fight. We’ll also be staying in the forest for a while to train. We’ll likely need more supplies soon.”

The man nodded sagely. “Wise of you. The forest is unpredictable.”
They went over a variety of herbs and salves, choosing those simple enough for non-medics to apply.

“I think that should cover it.” The herbalist studied him closely with tired but sharp eyes. “Do you need anything else? Perhaps something… not battle-related? I have some excellent teas.”

Laxus hesitated for a moment before saying, “Do you have Wistaberry?”

The herbalist blinked in surprise. “No, sorry, son. Wistaberry is a magical flower and quite expensive.”

“I see.”

The old man scratched his chin, then retrieved a bundle of dried blue petals. “You suffer from nightmares, I assume?”

Laxus exhaled through his nose. “Something like that.” He explained, briefly, how he never really remembered the dreams but woke up exhausted, the weight of them still lingering.

The old man nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Well… Wistaberry is known to clear the mind during sleep. You’ll rest deeply, but your dreams may become vivid. I’m not sure if that’s something you truly want.”

“Why?”

“Because some dreams are better left forgotten,” the man said, his voice low. “Once remembered, you can’t unsee them. I’m not sure, if you want this distraction during your training period.”

Laxus hummed. He wasn’t incorrect. Distraction wasn’t an option.

The herbalist handed over the bundle. “But for now I can suggest this mixture of herbs. It will help you rest during your sleep.”

“A sleeping potion?”, Laxus took the bundle.

He old man laughed. “Something like that. Brew this with hot water, maximum of eight minutes. One teaspoon a night. No more. Don’t underestimate its effects.”

“One teaspoon. Got it.”

“Oh and if your team suffers more injuries, you’re always welcome here,” the man added with a kind smile. Laxus nodded his thanks.

Nearly two hours later, the steady rhythm of hooves echoed along the village path.

A small group of soldiers approached — disciplined, well-armored — leading a dark, elegant carriage trimmed with gold. Villagers gathered at a respectful distance, whispering in hushed awe and anxiety.

The carriage door opened with a smooth, practiced motion and Duke Anthony Camilia stepped out.

He was younger than Laxus had expected — perhaps late twenties — and carried himself with the effortless grace that only noble breeding could instill. His lean figure was wrapped in an immaculate dark green coat, embroidered with fine golden threads. Sharp cheekbones framed a dark, handsome face, his long white hair pulled back in a neat tail. His green eyes swept over the mages with polite curiosity, but behind them glimmered something far more calculating.

The Duke offered them a smooth, practiced smile. “So. You are the ones who rid us of this plague.”

Baya bowed low. “Yes, Your Grace. They risked their lives to protect us.”

Duke Camilia’s gaze flicked briefly over the spider remains with mild disgust before settling back on the group. “You have my gratitude. Truly. Without your intervention, more of my people would have suffered.” He stepped closer, stopping before Laxus, Fried and Bickslow.
“I would like to know the names of those who displayed such bravery.”

Bickslow grinned beneath his mask. Fried answered with their names, voice even and respectful: “We are the Thunder God Tribe of Fairy Tail, Your Grace.”

“Fairy Tail, I see.” Anthony nodded. “And you?” His gaze locked onto Laxus with pointed interest.

“Laxus Dreyar.”

The Duke’s smile faltered. For the briefest of moments, the warmth vanished, replaced by something colder — something sharper. His green eyes narrowed, calculating.
“Dreyar?” His voice dropped into something quieter, darker. The air around them thickened. Fried and Bickslow instinctively tensed, picking up on the sudden shift.

But Anthony recovered quickly, his polite smile returning — though now thinner, more strained. “Well. I appreciate your services nonetheless.”

Laxus raised a brow, voice low but direct. “You got a problem with me, buddy?”

The others stiffened, sharp intakes of breath filling the silence. Even the Duke seemed briefly taken aback by the bluntness, but then his smile curved into something far more dangerous. “Actually, yes. Buddy.” He stepped in closer, their faces now only inches apart. “Tell me. Where is Ivan?”

🌙

Fairy Tail Guild Hall, Year X791, Same time

The warm morning sun bathed the gardens of Fairy Tail in a soft golden hue. Birds chirped in the distance and the gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the old willow tree where Makarov sat, savoring the rare moment of quiet.

But even in the peace of Magnolia, his mind was not fully at rest. For days now, he had been unable to shake the feeling that something about Liva’s past did not add up.

She seemed polite, friendly, powerful, but beneath it all lay a fear he recognized too well. A fear of authority. Of failure. Of other mages. Not the kind of fear one develops overnight, but one born from experience.
And so, as any guild master who cared for his children, he had quietly requested the Magic Council to conduct a discreet inquiry into her background. Not to pry, but to protect.

And now… the answer had come.

The hurried footsteps of one of the guild’s couriers broke the silence, pulling him from his thoughts. The young man rushed toward him, nearly stumbling, clutching a sealed envelope.

“Master Makarov! A message from the Council. Priority seal!”

Makarov’s brow furrowed. “So soon…”
He reached out with steady hands, breaking the crimson wax carefully. His eyes scanned the neatly written words.

Subject of inquiry: Liva Eleoria.
Parentage: Daughter of Viscount Alexander Eleoria and Viscountess Sophia Eleoria.
Status: Official heir following brother’s disappearance.
Last known records: Declared missing approximately one year ago.
Affiliation during disappearance: Raven Tail.

Makarov’s breath caught. Raven Tail.
The name hit him like a physical blow. For a brief moment, the world around him seemed to blur as the truth settled heavily on his shoulders.

The trembling of her voice.
The panic in her eyes when he had mentioned his own surname.
The way she flinched at certain words. Her reluctance to speak of her past.

It all made sense now. And the answer — the source of her deepest wounds — was one he knew far too intimately.

His own son. Ivan.

The paper slipped slightly in his grasp as his jaw clenched, his chest tightening under the weight of guilt and silent rage. 
Ivan was the reason for her pain. He had once again hurt someone who now sought shelter under the Fairy Tail banner.

Makarov’s lips trembled as the fury simmered inside him. Not loud, not explosive, but cold and bitter, cutting deeper than any blade.

A hoarse whisper broke from his throat, filled with quiet fury. “How dare you, Ivan…!”

The birds continued to sing, blissfully unaware of the storm building in the old master’s heart.

🌙

The air in the village square had grown heavy.

Laxus stood firm, his gaze locked with the Duke’s piercing green eyes. The tension between the two men was palpable, like a storm building on the horizon, waiting to break.

Anthony’s polite mask had fully cracked now, his aristocratic features sharp with barely contained anger. His voice was cold, almost hissing as he stepped closer. “Tell me,” he repeated, “where is Ivan?”

Fried and Bickslow stiffened at the name, exchanging quick glances, instantly on alert.
Laxus narrowed his eyes but kept his voice steady — too steady. “I don’t know. Haven’t seen him in years.”

Anthony studied him for a long moment, lips curling into a bitter, humorless smile. “Convenient,” he murmured.

Laxus tilted his head slightly, lowering his voice. “What do you want from him?”

Anthony’s gaze darkened at the question. For a brief second, a flicker of pain crossed his features — quickly swallowed by anger. “He took something from me,” he said, voice nearly a growl. “Or rather… someone.” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “He abducted my fiancée years ago. She never returned.”

The words hung heavily in the air and Anthony offered no further explanation, as though daring Laxus to draw his own conclusions.

Laxus kept his expression blank, but inside his mind was spinning violently. His fiancée…?

Anthony exhaled sharply and composed himself. His cold smile returned, though his eyes remained like sharpened steel. “But… this conversation may be better suited for another time.”

Fried stepped forward, voice polite but tense. “Your Grace, if there’s nothing more, we’d like to return to our camp. Two of our members are still recovering.”

Anthony gave Laxus one final, penetrating look. “I’m certain we will speak again.”

With that, he turned on his heel, his soldiers swiftly falling into formation. They gathered the spider remains and loaded them into the carriage. Within moments, the Duke vanished inside, rolling away down the dirt path, leaving only the fading echoes of hooves behind.

As the tension slowly dissolved, Bickslow muttered under his breath, “Holy shit…”

Fried nodded gravely. “What a strange occurrence.”

But Laxus remained silent, jaw clenched, the storm inside him only beginning.

His fiancée disappeared four years ago.
Now he’s looking for his father.
And why does Liva know that guy?

🌙

The sun hung low in the sky when they finally returned to camp. The trip back from the village had been quiet — too quiet.

Laxus barely spoke. Not because there was nothing to say, but because his thoughts wouldn’t stop. They spun, like the storm clouds that gathered before a lightning strike, heavy and charged with something he couldn’t yet name.

The Duke’s words still echoed, sharp as a blade under his skin:
Four years ago. Ivan. Abduction? And standing right next to him: Liva, who flinched after hearing the duke’s name. And Liva, who flinched after talking about her previous guild master, apparently a cruel man.

The pieces weren’t fitting perfectly — not yet — but they were circling each other dangerously close.

Laxus clenched his jaw as they approached camp. He didn’t want to believe it. Hell, he didn’t even know what he was supposed to believe. But something was wrong.

Liva was already sitting by the fire when they arrived, her small frame wrapped in a light cloak. She looked better — color slowly returning to her face — but still too fragile for his liking.

The moment she saw them, her eyes brightened and immediately found his, searching. Always searching. She smiled softly, but after he didn’t return her smile, it vanished — and that hurt him far more than he thought it would.
There was something in her eyes now — a flicker of uncertainty — like she could sense the storm beneath his silence.

“Everything went well?” she asked, her voice gentle, almost too careful.

Laxus grunted. “Yeah.” He kept his gaze down as he unloaded the supplies. 

Technically, it wasn’t a lie. The mission was complete. They’d been paid. But the Duke’s face — that shift from friendly to cold when hearing Dreyar — still sat like stone in his gut.
Fried and Bickslow exchanged a glance behind him. They felt it too — the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. Even Evergreen lingered by the tents but wisely said nothing.

The fire crackled between them as the sky darkened into twilight.
As the night settled, the others retreated one by one into their tents, sensing his mood, giving him space.

Only Liva remained by the dying embers, sitting quietly across from him. Watching. Always watching.
She didn’t press him. Not yet. But he could feel her eyes on him. Soft. Careful. Patient. And that only made it worse. Because she didn’t know what storm was building inside him. Or maybe she did?

After a while, Laxus couldn’t sit anymore. His skin felt too tight, his breath too shallow.

He grabbed his towel and walked toward the small river nearby, desperate for the cold water to wash some of this away. The moon hung low above the trees, its pale silver light slipping through the branches like a silent witness.

He stripped down, wading into the icy water. The cold was a relief — biting, sobering — as he scrubbed away the sweat, the dirt and the heavy weight clinging to him since the village. But the questions refused to wash away.

The duke’s fiancée was abducted. By his father? Yes, he was a bastard, but abduction? What the hell? And why did Liva know that Duke?

Laxus pulled his shirt back on, running a hand through his damp hair as he stepped out of the water. His back was still to her when he heard the soft crunch of leaves behind him. Light steps. Hesitant.

He didn’t turn. Didn’t need to. Her voice came, gentle, but steady. “Something’s wrong.”

He slowly turned around. Their eyes met in the moonlight.
Liva stood there, looking beautiful, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as though trying to shield her body.

“What do you mean?”

“I can see it on your face,” she whispered. “You’ve been different. Ever since you returned from the village.” She paused. “Did something happen?”

Laxus inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. He didn’t want to force her. Not now. But she started the conversation. 
Finally, he nodded. “Yeah, we were greeted by the Duke himself.” 

He noticed, how she stiffened. Now she was nervous, sweat formed on her forehead.  “What?”

He took a step closer, standing right before her. She only reached his quest, head laid back and looked at him. “He wasn’t pleased, as he heard my name. Do you know why?”

She paled. “W-Why?”

“Because apparently my father stole from him.”

She looked scared now. That look in her eyes hurt him. He didn’t want her to be scared, not from him, not from anything in this world. And he didn’t want to go on, but nonetheless he still continued and spoke the suspicion that had been tormenting him since he left the village. “I think, your fiancé is looking for you, Liva.”

She froze. Her eyes widened, lips trembling and with that single look, Laxus had his answer. But still, he waited patiently. Waited for her to say it herself.

Liva lowered her gaze, closing her eyes briefly as if battling herself from within. And then, the she finally spoke. “Please, don't think that I wanted to hide anything from you.”

His gaze softened. “I didn’t say that.”

“I just didn’t know were to start and …” She glanced to the side. “Well, doesn’t matter now. It would have come out eventually anyway...”

He listened.

“I’m not who you think I am.” Her voice was barely more than a rasp.

Laxus frowned, his heart beginning to pound. “What do you mean?”

She swallowed hard, tears already glistening in her eyes. “My full name is Liva Eleoria.” Forcing herself to meet his gaze, she continued. “Daughter of Viscount Alexander Eleoria.”

His eyebrows rose, after hearing the aristocratic title. “So, you’re something like … a princess?”

She stared and suddenly laughed. “No. No. Definitely not. But … yes, my family is influential. And as you correctly guessed, Anthony was my fiancé.”

Laxus felt his stomach twist. Anthony. That was a blow.

She sat down into the grass, patting the ground beside her. “Would you like to hear my story, Laxus?”

He sat next to her as fast as he could, looking at her with watchful eyes. “Of course, always.”

She inhaled shakily. “I had an older brother. Leander… He disappeared six years ago after a dangerous person broke out of prison. They said, he was dead, died during the fire. And with his death, I became the heir of our family.”

Her fingers clenched into the fabric of her cloak, as though gripping it would hold her together. “My family belongs to the high nobility, with ties reaching from the Magic Council to the king of Fiore.”

Wow, that was influential.

“The engagement with Anthony was arranged when we were still children. Anthony and I … we knew each other since childhood. He was Leander’s best friend; they grew up together, studied at the same academy, they were doing so much mischief.” She laughed, as remembering a funny story.

“Anthony and I … after Leanders disappearance, our relationship grew. We did everything together. I really loved him… or at least, I thought I did.” Her voice wavered.

Laxus could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Strangely, he was nervous. “What happened?”

She exhaled shakily. “Your father happened. Ivan.”

The name sliced through the night like a blade. Laxus froze.

“Ivan… I don’t know how, but he got…  information. He showed me proof that my brother hadn’t died during Jellal Fernandez’s prison break. He showed me footage. My brother helped him escape.”

“What?!”

“Yes, I know. I thought the same thing. First, I was in denial. My brother… helping a criminal? Probably out of spite. He and our father often had arguments about Leander's future.” She laughed bitterly. “Maybe, he thought, helping Jellal would give him a chance to flee our family name.“
She suddenly looked very sad. „But once the shock over his betrayal faded… I was relieved. Leander was alive. Somewhere.”

Her voice grew colder, more hollow. “Ivan promised to find him. He said he had contacts, knowledge. But in return, I had to help him with something: Use my family’s influence to legalise his guild.”

Laxus felt his throat tighten, he feared what else she would tell him.

“I was naïve. Desperate. I wanted to see my brother again, to ask him why.” Her voice broke completely now. “So I joined him. I joined his guild. Raven Tail.”

The words hammered through Laxus’ mind like thunderclaps. Raven Tail. Ivan. His father.

“He promised so much.” Her voice was barely a breath now. “But it was all a trap. I doubt he ever knew where my brother was. He only used my influential family name.” She sobbed.

“Liva…”

She held up her hand, tears shimmering in her eyes. “It started harmless. Small jobs. Courier work, simple missions. Then… it got worse, it escalated. Illegal missions. Shady deals.” Tears ran freely down her cheeks now, but she forced herself to go on. “I did terrible things, Laxus.” She reached for his hands, steading herself. His fingers slung over her’s. “For years, I stayed with Raven Tail. And even though I completed a thousand tasks perfectly, one single mistake was enough to lose his favor.”

Laxus closed his eyes. He knew what she meant. His father was unforgiving.

Her trembling hand rose to her throat. Laxus had to summon every ounce of strength not to interrupt, not to demand she stop reliving this horror.
“When I failed… he or others punished me. That was normal in Raven Tail.” Her fingers brushed over invisible scars. “I did it to others, too, when they failed their missions.” Her voice quivered, raw with shame. “They punished us with magic. With chains. With… knives.”

Laxus flinched, suddenly he saw them again. The scars on her back. The ones she never wanted to explain. His stomach twisted into a cold, sick knot.
His own father did this to her. To his Liva.

His fists clenched on instinct. Lightning crackled wildly around him, arcs of electricity flashing into the trees, illuminating the clearing in a dangerous, flickering glow.

Liva recoiled, startled. But Laxus immediately raised his hands, fighting to pull his magic back. His voice trembled. “No, no, no… This isn’t your fault. I’m sorry. Please…”
He leaned closer, carefully, as if she might break at his touch. His large, rough hands cupped her tear-streaked face, gently brushing away her tears.
“I swear to you… I didn’t know.” His voice cracked — raw and broken, a storm of fury, grief and guilt. “That bastard… he did this—” He couldn’t finish.

Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest, wrapping her in his embrace like a shield from the world that had failed her.

“I’m so sorry, Liva.” His voice was a whisper full of rage. “I’m so, so sorry.”

His magic still sparked dangerously around them, barely held back by sheer will. Lightning streaked across the sky, though not a single cloud hung above. A low rumble rolled through the forest like distant thunder.

And yet within his arms, there was a fragile silence. A small, sacred haven just for the two of them.

“I can’t believe he did this to you.” His voice thickened with barely contained rage.

“You believe me?”, she sounded astonished. 

His gaze darkened. “I know my father, Liva.” His fingers caressed her. “Your Dragon Lacrima … it was his doing, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

He gulped. The implantation of a lacrima was a painful procedure. He was very young when he had received his, but he remembered every second clearly. The pain. His own screams. Like a monster was crawling through his own flesh.

As if she had read his thoughts, she cupped his cheek. “Although the pain was unbearable, I’m thankful I got those powers. They made me stronger.”

He drew her closer, hugging her, as if she was the most precious thing in the world. “I’ll make him pay for this.” There was an ominous promise in his voice. “I’ll protect you now,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “No one will ever hurt you again. Not as long as I live.”

Liva sobbed quietly against his chest, after hearing this promise. Clinging to him as his heart burned with wild fury and suffocating guilt. She never would have thought, that he would be against his own father. Hence, she never dared to mention Ivan and her past with him. She was too scared of his reaction. But this … this was everything, but what she had imagined.

His magic slowly settled, but his eyes still burned with electricity. Wild, furious, ready to set the world ablaze for what had been done to her.  “Thank you for telling me.”

🌙

Unbeknownst to the two wrapped in their fragile embrace beneath the moonlight, they had gathered quite an audience. Watching them with watchful eyes, waiting for the next morning.

Chapter Text

Memories of a Dragon Slayer — Calomene

We had found shelter in a half-collapsed barn on the edge of a ghost village, roofs caved in, windows shattered, the wind whispering through empty doorframes like the sighs of those who’d once lived there. The rain had passed, leaving puddles and silence behind. For once, there was no pursuit. No dragon roaring in the distance. No blood on our boots. Just… stillness.

Fynn found the guitar first. It was lying beneath a broken bench, its strings dusty, the wood worn smooth by time. He plucked at it with cautious fingers and when the sound didn’t send the forest into flames or summon a dragon from the sky, he grinned.

Then he began to play.

The melody was fast, happy — a tavern song I hadn’t heard since before I became a soldier. His voice followed, beautiful as always, warm and unbothered, carrying lyrics that didn’t belong to war, but to a young night full of ale and slurred laughter.

And for a moment, I forgot.

I stepped out into the clearing without thinking — skirts muddy, hair unbraided. The notes filled my lungs like clean air. I spun once, twice — letting the music pull me. The world tilted. I laughed. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed.

I called to the others, told them to join in. After a few seconds, some shaky voices rose through the clearing. Even Acnologia joined, for once loosening that uncanny mask he always wore.

When I stopped turning — dizzy, breathless — he was there.

Kairos.

He stood at the edge of the barn, half in shadow, arms crossed, that same unreadable expression carved onto his face. For a heartbeat, I thought he’d say something — tell me to stop, to act like a proper mage, not a child. But he didn’t.

He walked toward me, silent. Then, without a word, he reached out.
His fingers found mine — calloused and warm. He pulled me into a spin — clumsy, abrupt. I stumbled into his chest and he caught me, one hand steady at my waist.

We stared at each other.

The music played on. I could feel his heartbeat beneath my palm — too fast for a man like him. He looked away, then back. And then, he twirled me again. This time I didn’t stumble.

We danced. Or something like it. There were no practiced steps, no rhythm, only instinct. The beat was in our feet, in our laughter. He smirked and his eyes softened. Mine must have shone like stars.

And just like that, I was back at the festival. The night we met. The lights, the crowd, the big fire. The way he’d looked at me then — like he didn’t quite understand why he couldn’t stop.

Here, in this ruined village, with mud on our boots and war on our heels… he looked at me the same way. Like I was something worth remembering.

We didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. Only the creak of the old guitar, the crackle of wind and the heat of his hand in mine.
For one minute, the war didn’t exist. We weren’t fugitives. We weren’t cursed. We were just a boy and a girl, dancing.
And I didn’t want it to end.

🌙

Waas Forest, Year X791, Three months until the Grand Magic Games

The air was heavy with dew, thick with the scent of damp moss and pine needles. A pale mist hung low over the campsite, swirling between the underbrush like ghosts reluctant to leave. Suddenly birds were beginning their morning chorus, their chirping distant and tentative, as if they had never left the monster-infested forest.

Laxus stood alone at the edge of the camp, arms crossed, back leaning against a twisted old pine. His coat hung loosely over his shoulders, hair still tousled from a restless night. He’d been awake for hours. Dreams again — fuzzy, laced with feelings and voices he didn‘t understand. They left him restless, night after night.
After tonight’s dream, he had the strange urge to dance — what bothered him immensely. He never had the urge to dance.

He scolded himself, that he didn‘t drink the sleep potion, he got from the village‘s herbalist yesterday. But last night was too emotional, too many things at once. He totally forgot.

A twig cracked nearby and he didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
“Morning, Boss,” Bickslow greeted, voice low and unusually calm for him. “You’re up early.”

“A few hours already,” Laxus muttered.

Evergreen approached with Fried at her side, the three of them gradually forming a semicircle near the campfire, now crackling gently with freshly-fed flames.
“You still having those dreams?” Fried asked, his tone respectful, but direct.

Laxus nodded once. “Every damn night.” They all fell silent for a moment. The fire popped, breaking the stillness.

“It’s quieter today,” Evergreen remarked, glancing toward the tents. “She’s still asleep?”

Laxus followed her gaze. The flap of Liva’s tent remained undisturbed, a faint silhouette visible within — curled up, still, her magical aura faint and slow.
“She’s out cold,” Laxus said. “Probably hasn’t moved since last night. Cricket’s watching over her.”

Bickslow grinned faintly. “Then we shouldn’t wake her up. The little owl will murder us, if we dare to breathe too loud, huh?”

“That little owl of yours,” Fried replied, folding his hands behind his back, „is a mighty griffin. Give him one or two years and he will be as big as a horse or bigger. Depending on his explicit race.“

The group settled around the fire, pulling out provisions and slowly preparing breakfast. The quiet of the forest gave way to familiar sounds — water bubbling in a pot, the soft clink of metal, the rustle of dry leaves. It was domestic in a strange way, as if they were pretending this place wasn’t a makeshift training ground in a monster-infested forest.
Laxus stirred the contents of the small pot absently, not really hungry, but needing something to do.

Then Fried spoke again — always with that measured calm. “We heard her last night.”
Laxus’ hand paused mid-stir.

“Both of you weren‘t exactly quiet,” Evergreen added softly. “None of us were trying to listen, but…”

“But we listened anyway,” Bickslow finished, uncharacteristically serious.

Laxus didn’t look up, his jaw tight. The flames reflected in his narrowed eyes. He exhaled, long and controlled. “I see.”

“You looked like you’d been hit by a train when she clung to you,” Bickslow said, but without mockery. “Didn’t think I’d ever see that expression on you.”

“She told me everything,” Laxus said after a pause. “About my father. About what he did.”

“And about her family. Her brother and her … fiancé,” Fried added quietly. This time, Laxus looked up and Fried knew immediately that Laxus was not comfortable with the idea of Liva having a fiancé.

“I didn’t ask her for that,” he justified. “She just… needed to let it out.“ And I needed to hear it, Laxus thought.

Silence again, not awkward, but weighty.

Eventually Bickslow leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “You know, when we first met her, I thought she was just another blondie. Nothing special.”

“But our assumptions about her were not true.” Evergreen whispered quietly. “She is strong. She is loyal. She saved my life and healed me, even though she had wounds herself.”

And then Fried said something that stunned Laxus. Of all people, he had least expected him to say those words. “She’s one of us now.” 

That landed heavier than any teasing could. Laxus blinked once. “What?”

“She is,” Bickslow confirmed. “And so is that cute owl-griffin. I’m not even mad anymore, he said that I stink. He called us, after Ever‘s injury. For a dangerous animal, he is loyal as hell.”

“Exactly,” Evergreen added. “Liva isn’t just some mage we’re training with. We saw what Ivan did to her, we heard her story and we’re not letting anything like that happen again. Not on our watch.”

“They’re part of our team,” Fried concluded. “During the training and after everything that will come.”
Laxus stared into the flames for a long moment, letting the warmth sink in — not just from the fire, but from them.

„You got a problem with that, boss?“

Laxus smirked. „No. Definitely not,” he finally said. They nodded in unison, no further words needed.

Then, slowly, the mood shifted. The air lightened. The fire crackled a little louder. Bickslow leaned back with a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
“Of course…” he began, too casually for Laxus‘ liking, “…it does help that she’s cute.” Laxus didn’t move, but his eye narrowed.

Evergreen smirked. “Delicate face, soft voice, moonlit skin… She’s got that mysterious vibe, doesn’t she?”

“She does,” Bickslow agreed with exaggerated solemnity. “And that whole ‘tragic backstory’ thing? Total heartbreaker. No wonder you were holding her like a damn porcelain doll last night.”

Laxus growled low in his throat, his ears growing hot. “Don’t,” he warned.

“But we’re just talking, Laxus,” Evergreen purred. “

Fried tilted his head slightly. “Feelings often find clarity in hardship.”

“Not you too,” Laxus muttered, glaring at him. Since when did Fried accept any other female around him beside Ever? Was he bewitched or bribed by Liva? What the hell.

“I’m only observing,” Fried said, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly. Somehow, he found fun in teasing his friend.

“Cricket definitely ships you two,” Bickslow added. Laxus gave him a look of pure threat.

“I mean, come on,” Bickslow continued, undeterred. “Don’t tell me, you don’t feel anything deep down your heart, man. You carry her back to camp after she got injured, you’re all quiet and broody, but around her you — of all people — joke, she opens up to you and not anyone else and she falls in your arms. If that’s not the beginning of a tragic love ballad, I don’t know what is.”

“You want a ballad?” Laxus snapped with red ears. “I’ll give you one with lightning bolts!”

Evergreen leaned over to Fried, whispering mock-dramatically, “He didn’t deny it.”
“I noticed,” Fried murmured.

Laxus stood up. “I’m going to check the perimeter.”

“Sure you are,” Bickslow said, eyes twinkling.

“We start with the training down the riverbed.“ Evergreen waved him off. “Tell Liva we said good morning when she wakes up.”
“Or whisper it gently to her ear, whichever fits your mood!”
Fried only said, “Make sure you both eat something. You’re no good to anyone on an empty stomach.” 

Laxus paused, eyes on the woods beyond. He clenched his fists once, then relaxed them. “…I’ll tell her.”
Then he vanished between the trees, his silhouette swallowed by fog and forest — the echo of teasing laughter still clinging to the air behind him.

🌙

The scent of pine and earth was the first thing Liva noticed.
She stirred beneath the blanket — soft, fluffy, still warm from sleep. A breeze whispered through the camp, making the tent walls shift with a sighing sound, as if the world itself were exhaling. For a moment, she stayed still. Limbs heavy. Eyes closed. Her chest ached with something soft. Something familiar.

It wasn’t fear.

She blinked slowly, adjusting to the pale morning light filtering through the tent fabric. Her gaze drifted to the spot beside her — empty. Evergreen’s sleeping bag was neatly rolled up. The familiar hush told her everything she needed to know.

No voices. No bantering. No footfalls.
She was alone.

Laxus hadn’t woken her. That was new. Normally he dragged her out with the first rays of sunlight, tossing a curt “Get up” over his shoulder like it was a universal truth. Training waits for no one.

Cricket lay curled near her shoulder, one wing twitching rhythmically. His soft snore filled the silence with something oddly comforting. She reached out and ran a finger gently down the arc of his feathery back.

“I guess they’re already out training,” she murmured.

Cricket stirred, cracked one eye open. “Mornin’.”

She smiled. Small. Fragile at the edges. But real. “Good morning, buddy.”

Pushing herself upright, she wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders, letting her eyes wander over the quiet cave and the campsite. It wasn’t much — a self-made wooden table with uneven stools, a handful of tents, a blackened firepit and the little makeshift kitchen. And next to it…

Laxus’s clothes.

His dark, sleeveless shirt hung from a low branch after washing, drying in the sun, the fabric swaying lazily in the breeze. On the table, his magical headphones rested like forgotten relics of some other life.
The sight of them made her chest tighten. Not from pain. But from something warmer. Softer. A slow-burning ember.

It amazed her, how often she noticed him. The small traces he left behind, his scent lingering in the morning air, always the same: like a summer’s day before a thunderstorm. Electric. Rainy. Earthy. Something ancient in her wanted to bury herself in that smell and never move again.

Her fingers brushed the edge of her sleeves. Last night had cracked something open in her. It was like some of the heavy burden was lifted from her shoulder. She felt lighter, more free than yesterday. And then the feeling, Laxus left within her …
She told him some bits about her past and he didn’t run. He stayed. He listened. He understood. Even now, with him gone, the feeling lingered — a gentle pressure behind her ribs. An echo of his quiet, steady presence.

Liva closed her eyes again. Just briefly. It felt so good, to finally tell someone about Raven Tail, who wasn’t an owl-griffin.

She wandered slowly through the cave mouth and out into the campsite. The grass was still cool and damp beneath her bare feet, soft like moss. The clearing lay in that gentle hush only morning could grant, light filtering between branches, the wind barely breathing. Somewhere in the distance, magic flared in the air, a brief shimmer — someone training, perhaps Fried or Ever.

She crouched beside the stream that curved past their camp, dipped her hands into the water and splashed the cold against her face. It bit into her skin in the best way — sharp, grounding. The fog of sleep dissolved instantly.

Suddenly, last night came rushing back.
Her voice, breaking like ice underfoot. Laxus, still as stone beside her, but listening. Not pulling away. His words, understanding, quiet and steady, had held her together better than any spell.

They had sat so close she could feel his heartbeat.

Now, in the morning light, that moment felt distant. Like something sacred. Fragile. A thread of moonlight she dared not touch too suddenly, for fear it might disappear.

She dragged her fingers through her hair, untangling the strands with quiet care. In the stream’s surface, her reflection stared back — tired eyes, sleep-creased skin, a faint bruise at her jaw from the fight against the spider monster. And still… she now saw something in her own reflection … She saw strength, power and a glint of hope.

Even though the past hovered over her like an ominous shadow, she vowed here and now, that she would overcome those fears. That one day, she wouldn’t flinch when the past whispered and she wouldn’t curl away, thinking of it. 

She would learn to breathe and live through it, to stand and keep going, step by step. Because she got another chance in life. And yes, Liva and Calomene both shared tragic pasts, but Calomene never gave up and so Liva wouldn’t either.

Liva stood up. A dull ache tugged at her arms, her legs — the last remains of her injury by the spider queen. Liva had spent most of yesterday healing her and Evergreen's injuries with Lunar Mend. Another reason, why she slept so long — she had been utterly exhausted.

The young woman had just finished tying her blonde hair into a loose braid when footsteps crunched softly over the moss behind her. She turned.

Laxus emerged from the tree line, his silhouette etched in gold by the morning sun. His coat and shirt were slung over one shoulder, exposing his well-defined upper body. His hair was damp, clinging to his temple and the air around him carried a faint electric charge — like static after a lightning strike, subtle but unmistakable.

Her breath caught for a moment.
Gods, she thought, who sculpted that man?

He didn’t look at her right away. His eyes swept the camp like they always did — sharp, alert, half-strategic reflex, half habit. Then they landed on her.
“Morning,” he said, his voice rough from training.

“Morning,” she echoed, brushing her hands off on her pants.

He stepped past her and dropped his things onto the table. From the inner pocket of his coat, he pulled a small bundle wrapped in linen — herbs, their soft fragrance already rising into the air.
„Yesterday, I got these from a herbalist in the village,” he said, offering it to her. “No Wistaberry, but he gave me a mix that should help with sleep. Figured it might come in handy, with my dreams. And well … maybe it could help with your’s too … The last few days were… a lot.” His gaze flicked to the bandages on her body. “And you’re still not fully healed.”

She smiled gently, touched by how much he noticed. How much he cared.
“Thank you,” she said, voice low. “But I don’t think I’ll need them. My dreams… aren’t always pleasant, but some are. And I want to remember those.”

His expression shifted — not disappointment, but something quieter. Understanding.

He scratched the back of his neck and looked away, as if the trees had suddenly become deeply fascinating. “Right. Sure. I just thought… if we’re gonna keep training like this, you should get proper rest. But if you don’t want to…”

She tilted her head, studying him. His posture was almost sheepish. Almost. “If you keep going like this,” her voice full of teasing, “you’ll become our next herbalist.”

He snorted, then chuckled. “Honestly? I think I already am. You have no idea how often I’ve patched Bickslow back together.”

She let out a soft laugh. “I can guess.”

His eyes met hers again, warm and steady. “Just let me know if you change your mind.”

“I will.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, not really. It was soft, like moss underfoot — a space neither of them rushed to fill. Something tentative hovered between them. Like a bridge, half-built, but holding weight anyway.

She folded her arms and glanced toward the field beyond the tents. “You were out early.”

“Checked the protection runes. Then needed to burn off some static.”

“Did it help?”

He shrugged, expression unreadable. “Mostly.” A beat later. “Thinking’s worse than hitting things. Yesterday… was a lot.”

Her breath hitched, not quite a laugh, but close. “Yeah. I know what you mean. Sorry for… dumping that on you.”

He looked at her sharply, but his voice was gentle. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me.”
That last part lingered. Trust me enough. Their eyes held for a beat longer and something unspoken passed between them. 
Suddenly he asked, “Are you hungry?”.

By the time the fire crackled to life beneath the iron pan, the morning sun was rising high. Sunlight streamed through the trees in soft beams, catching in the smoke that curled gently skyward. Birds and other animals stirred in the canopy. The world was waking for real.

Laxus stood by the fire, sleeves still rolled up, stirring eggs with practiced efficiency. He’d added dried herbs from Fried’s pouch — nothing extravagant, but enough to fill the air with the faint scent of rosemary and sage.

Liva watched from the side, a thin blanket wrapped around her shoulders, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. There was something oddly endearing about the way he moved — precise, focused. Not the brute force of battle. This was something else.

“Do you want help?” she asked softly.

He paused, spoon hovering over the pan. For a heartbeat, he didn’t answer. Then he nodded once, not looking up. “Sure.”
Just that. No stubborn protest. No ‘you’ll just mess it up’. A quiet permission.

She moved to his side, slipping the blanket off and folding it over a stool. When she reached for the pan’s handle to hold it steady, her fingers brushed his — warm, calloused, roughened from years of combat.

Both froze — only for a heart beat, but either of them noticed. They shared a quiet look and then moved back to work, falling in a comfortable rhythm.
Liva slicing bread and arranging it on the plate, Laxus adding eggs and quietly handing her the next things. Staying close and working together wasn’t entirely new, but this version of it was. Gentle. Unhurried. Domestic, even.

When they sat, it was side by side, not across from one another. Close enough that her knee bumped his. Close enough to feel the residual heat radiating from his skin.

He poured her tea first, without comment. But she noticed.
Liva placed the larger slice of bread on his plate, as if in exchange.

Their hands brushed again and this time it lingered just a breath longer. Long enough for her heartbeat to skip. She looked down quickly, suddenly fascinated by the texture of her plate.

Eat. Focus.

But her eyes kept drifting sideways — to the line of his jaw, the way the morning light caught in his hair, still damp and tousled. The quiet way he ate, like he was thinking three layers deep even while chewing. He tucked into the food with silent appreciation and she found herself watching the slow rhythm of it far more than she should’ve.

You’re staring, she scolded herself. Stop it.

He reached for the teapot again, his elbow touching hers and this time her breath caught audibly. Laxus raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. He poured more tea, for both of them. She took a sip to ground herself, willing the heat in her cheeks to fade. The silence stretched again, but it didn’t feel empty. Just full of everything they weren’t saying.

Finally, he broke it — in that dry, deadpan tone of his. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna start thinking there’s food on my face.”

Her head jerked up, eyes wide. “W-What?”

He didn’t even blink. “Or worse. Egg in my hair.”

A beat. Then she laughed. Soft and sudden, like sunlight breaking through clouds. The sound spilled from her before she could stop it, full-bodied and genuine.
He looked over at her then — really looked — and something shifted in his expression. A softness. He didn’t smile, but his gaze stayed on her just a little too long. She saw it. Felt it. And it stole the air from her lungs. Her laugh faded, but the warmth lingered.

He looked away first.

They ate the rest of the meal in easy silence — two souls who had fought, bled and healed together, now sharing eggs and tea in a forest clearing like it was the most natural thing in the world.

🌙

The forest clearing was broad enough for sparring. Through the high branches, shadows crossed the moss and stone like soft-spoken witnesses. A breeze stirred the edges of Liva’s cloak. Somewhere in the distance, wildlife rustled through the thicket — cautious, alert, unseen.

“Ready?” Laxus asked, rolling his shoulders back.

Sadly, he was wearing his shirt again. Or… gladly?
Liva wasn’t sure she’d be able to concentrate if she had such a delicious view of his chest the entire time.

She nodded once. Her body had already moved into her fighting stance before the motion finished. No hesitation anymore. No waiting for instruction.
This time, she trusted the rhythm in her bones and the person standing across from her.
They began to circle each other slowly. The way fighters did when they respected what the other was capable of. Liva watched how he distributed his weight, the twitch in his fingers, the half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, like he was holding back a comment.

Then — without warning — he lunged.

She moved before her mind caught up. Pivot, drop, parry — electricity crackled past her shoulder, close enough to lift the hairs on her skin. Her magic flared beneath the surface. Not threatening. Not fearful. Just there. Just alive.

“Well done,” he murmured.

Their rhythm quickened — step for step, breath for breath. He went low. She flipped back, crouched, swept at his feet. He jumped, lightning licking around his boots and landed behind her with a thud that shook the earth. She spun, arm raised, but he was already reaching — caught her wrist mid-air, redirected her motion. She let it flow, using his grip to flip upright again.

Their breaths shortened. Timing sharpened. They weren’t just sparring anymore. They were in sync, like dancing together.

Every movement brought them closer. Every dodge, every feint, dissolved the space between them — until his hand gripped her shoulder. Until her palm slid over his hip during a spinning counterstrike. Skin brushed skin. Breath tangled with breath. Sparks — literal and otherwise — danced between them.

She stumbled once — more over her own balance than his blow — and he caught her without thinking, instead of attacking her. His hand found hers, pulling her upright in one smooth, practiced motion. And then he didn’t let go.

They froze like that. Fingers locked. Her body barely an inch from his. Liva’s gaze lifted slowly. His chest rose and fell hard. Damp golden strands clung to his temple. Her heart thundered — wild, unreasonable — in her chest.

He met her blue eyes. And didn’t look away. Her cheeks flushed. Then, almost too softly to notice, she laughed. Just once, short, breathless, like it had escaped before she could catch it.

That was enough. Laxus glanced away, jaw tight. Not angry. Not frustrated. But like something had cracked open too far and too fast — and he didn’t know how to contain it.

They kept going after that. But slower. Their bodies still moved, but the rhythm had changed — heavier, weighed down with everything unspoken.

Eventually, they collapsed onto the grass, breathless and spent.
Liva dropped onto her back, arms stretched wide. Laxus sat first, then leaned back beside her, close but not touching.

The forest canopy shimmered above them as wind stirred through the leaves. For a while, they just breathed.

Then, unexpectedly, Laxus said, “I like your laugh.”

Liva turned her head toward him, lashes half-lowered in the sunlight, the warm light shining on her cheekbones. “You think so?” she murmured flustered. “I think it sounds strange.

“No,” he said. “It certainly does not.” She looked at his face, eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun.

“Then what does is sound like?”, she wanted to ask — desperately — but didn’t dare. Instead, she too closed her eyes, letting the moment seep into her skin. The training. The laughter. The presence beside her.

Gods, she had missed him. And now… he was here. Not a dream. Not a ghost. Real. Solid. Breathing. Alive. For the first time in a long time, she felt safe.

Laxus didn’t move. But he watched her. Eyes unreadable. Something flickering behind them.

🌙

That night, Liva dreamed again.

She stood in a clearing painted with moonlight, soft silver filtering through the trees. The air smelled of moss and lightning. Someone was laughing — warm, familiar — and she turned toward the sound.

Kairos.

Tall. Smiling. Blue eyes crinkling at the corners like they used to when he teased her. He held out his hand and she took it without thinking, warmth surging through her like she’d never lost him.

They danced — slowly, playfully — the way they once had, long ago, when the world had still been whole. Her heart ached and healed in the same breath.

He wore a thick, fur-lined mantle. Strange. Not his. He pulled her close and murmured something, but the words were muffled, lost to the sound of her own pulse. She looked up at him — and paused.

There was a scar over his eye. A deep one. One Kairos had never had. And his hands… his hands weren’t calloused in the right places. They were broader. Rougher. The way they held her didn’t feel wrong — but not like him either.

Her gaze sharpened. This wasn’t a memory. And this wasn’t Kairos.

Her breath caught as the truth unfurled inside her — slow and quiet and devastatingly tender. The warmth, the safety, the steady presence… it wasn’t born of the past.
It was Laxus. It was him, wrapped in the shape of someone she had once loved. Her dream had pulled from her grief to build something that felt familiar, but her heart had filled in the rest with what it was quietly starting to yearn for now.

She stepped back in the dream.

Kairos — or what was left of him — smiled and began to fade like mist and Liva just stood there, stunned.

When she woke, her cheeks were damp. The world outside the tent was still dark, the faintest glow of dawn just beginning to rise. Her heartbeat was a quiet thrum beneath her ribs, still feeling his touch on her skin.

Chapter Text

Waas Forest, Year X791, Two and a half months until the Grand Magic Games

The air cracked with heat and illusion.

Blades of lightning split the horizon as shimmering constructs burst from the ground — creatures forged from Fried’s runes and Evergreen’s magic: fanged wolves of glowing shadow, armored centaurs and a towering serpent made of flickering light and smoke. They weren’t real, but they hit hard enough to bruise. Hard enough to break, if you didn’t move fast enough.

“Go!” Fried’s voice rang sharp through the trees.

Liva didn’t wait. Her body reacted before thought could anchor her. A sprint, a sidestep and her spell Moonlit Chains shot from her palms in spiraling arcs of silver light, binding the legs of a charging centaur illusion. The creature toppled with a sound like shattering crystal.

Then Laxus was already there.

He leapt over her shoulder mid-run, lightning bursting from his boots as he drove a fist into the thing’s chest. The blow exploded in a crack of raw force — a pulse of thunder that rippled through the moss and dirt. The centaur vanished in smoke.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t have to. One enemy down. Seven more to go.

A shadow-wolf lunged from the left. Liva dropped low, sliding across the earth, fingers brushing moss and grit as she redirected gravity around her core. “Gravity Fang!” Her kick, strength doubled due to the spell, hit upward like a sledgehammer. The illusion shattered mid-air, dispersing in a rain of glittering light.

Behind her, Laxus grunted. “Nice.” She spun to catch his blue eyes. He was already moving. And gods, he moved like a storm.

They were fluid, two forces woven together: silver light and electric gold, orbiting each other in perfect momentum. He covered her blind spots, she caught threats before they reached him. Every near miss became a shared breath. Every dodge closed the distance between them more.

“You seeing this?” Evergreen whispered on the sidelines, nudging Fried.

He didn’t blink. “They’re either soulmates,” he muttered, “or they’re going to kill each other one day.”

Another wolf darted forward. This one smarter. Liva reached for Moonshadow Mirage, splitting herself into four afterimages. The illusion monster hesitated, long enough for Laxus to hurl a bolt of lightning straight through its chest. The wolf exploded. The illusions faded.

“You could’ve warned me,” he growled, glancing at her. He didn’t knew that spell.

“I was busy not dying.”

“You’re lucky I like saving your ass.”

“You’re lucky I let you.” They almost smiled. Almost.

A second later, Liva ducked instinctively as the serpent coiled back, its jaw gaping. Lunar Shroud flickered to life — the magical veil wrapping her in ethereal glow, making her invincible for a few seconds. Laxus stood just beside her, hand outstretched, forming a lightning shield for himself. They locked eyes.

And then the beast struck — and failed due to their defense spells.

Liva darted forward. She pushed off a rock, redirected her own gravity, launched herself onto the serpent’s head. She struck the beast into the head, it vanished in glittering fairy dust — and with the head, Liva’s ground vanished too. She fell. He stared at her and instead of stepping sideward, he stayed. Liva fell straight into his arms.

Her knees landed on either side of his hips. Her hands caught his shoulders.

And just like that, they froze — pressed together, breathing hard, her chest rising and falling against his. She could feel the heat of him through every inch of her body. His hand had instinctively wrapped around her waist. He looked up at her. Her hair spilled around them like moonlight.

“Uh, sorry,” she whispered and hopped off him quickly, heart pounding, face flushed. Back on her own feet, she didn’t dare meet his eyes.

Neither did he — not right away. Laxus felt the aftershock of that touch like it was carved into his ribs. Her weight. Her warmth. The way she smelled like cold air and heat at once.

Focus, idiot.

But it was impossible now. Every movement she made burned into him — her sharp precision, the flicker of emotion across her face when she struck, the way she bit the inside of her cheek when planning her next attack. He’d trained with dozens of mages. But none like her.

The final illusions were harder — three armoured warriors encased in golden shell runes, each with oversized weapons and brute force. Evergreen raised a brow. “Let’s see if they can pull off the last combo.”

Liva nodded toward Laxus. “You ready?”

He smirked. “Born ready.”

She flicked her wrist — Lunar Nova charged in her palm, a sphere of silver light pulsing between her fingers. At the same time, he raised both hands, static curling around him, brighter, louder.

“Now!” she called. She launched the Nova into the sky. It exploded overhead in a shower of light shards — blinding the constructs momentarily.

And that’s when Laxus struck. He redirected the shards with his lightning — supercharging the fragments midair, turning them into plasma-tipped missiles. The sky lit up. The constructs didn’t stand a chance. When the smoke cleared, only silence remained.

Liva bent forward, hands on her knees, breath hitching. Sweat beaded her temple, hair sticking to her cheek. Her fingers trembled faintly from the magic flow. Laxus stood a few paces away, chest heaving, a bruise already forming along his jaw.

They looked at each other. Still panting. Still charged. Something passed between them, but neither said a word.

🌙

The fire crackled low, spitting amber sparks into the dusky air.

Liva sat cross-legged by the flames, arms bare, hair damp with sweat and effort. Her tunic clung in places it shouldn’t, streaked with dirt and the ghostly shimmer of spent magic. Across from her, Laxus pulled off his shirt with a wince, rolling his shoulders. A shallow scratch marred the skin along his abdomen, crusted red at the edges.

She noticed before he said a word. “Hold still,” she murmured, reaching for the small tin in her satchel.

Laxus raised a brow but didn’t argue. He sat down beside her, stiff and breathing slowly.
Liva dipped her fingers into the pale salve, the scent of lavender and moonwort curling between them. When she pressed it to his skin, he hissed softly.

“Don’t be dramatic,” she said, dabbing gently. “It’s barely a scrape.”

His ears were red. “It’s stinging like hell.”

“Good. That means it’s working.” Their eyes met, just briefly.

Her touch lingered. A current pulsed between their skin — faint, but undeniable. Her magic always did that: light, healing, delicate like breath across bare skin. But this time it felt different. This time it felt… just like her.
His muscles shifted under her hand. Her fingers paused, not because she was done, but because the space between them had collapsed into something else entirely. Then—

“You almost fried my hair with that last move,” Laxus said, low and dry.
The moment shattered, but softly. She rolled her eyes, relieved. Or maybe disappointed?

“Could’ve been worse,” she said, screwing the lid back onto the tin. “Could’ve set your ego on fire.”

He smirked. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried.”

She laughed, a genuine sound that slipped out before she could stop it. It felt good. Too good.
Her body was still humming from the fight, her skin too aware of the heat between them and now her laugh was another betrayal. She wasn’t supposed to enjoy this — not the way his voice wrapped around her like silk, not the way the firelight flickered across his jaw, not the way he looked at her like she was something worth noticing. She had sworn herself, to let Laxus be. To not mingle in his life too much.

He leaned back on his hands, stretching his legs toward the fire. “You always that reckless in training?”

Cut off from her bitter thoughts she said, “You bring out the worst in me.”

“I try,“ he smirked.

Liva turned her gaze to the flames, desperate for a distraction. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, almost absently.
Laxus watched the motion like it meant something holy. He blinked and dragged his eyes away.

The fire had burned low, but the heat between them hadn’t. It clung to the air, thick and slow. She pulled a cloth-wrapped parcel from beside her — different fruits Fried had handed them earlier. 

Liva took a bite, chewed slowly, then glanced over. “You want some?”

Laxus shrugged. “Sure.”

They shared the fruits and after a long, grueling day of training, they tasted like a gift from the gods. As they ate and gazed into the crackling fire, a comfortable silence settled between them. Both were exhausted, yet somehow not tired — just content to linger in this rare, quiet moment together.

“You know what I’ve been wondering?” Liva said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Hmm? What’s that?” Laxus tilted his head, curiosity softening the sharp lines of his features.

She lowered her gaze, unable to hold the weight of his stare. “When I told you about my past…” Her voice faltered and she stopped.

Laxus shifted, leaning forward now, giving her his full attention. “Yeah?”

With a quiet breath, Liva looked up. The warm glow of the fire reflected in the blue of his eyes. “You didn’t ask. Not for details, not for more. You just… accepted it.” She searched his expression. “Why?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… why didn’t you ask more questions? Why did you just accept it?”

“Because I believe you,” he said simply. “When I look into your eyes, I can see the pain, the anger, the fear — it’s all real.” He leaned closer until their faces were only a breath apart. “And I can also tell you’re carrying more than you’ve shared. But that doesn’t matter right now.”

Liva swallowed hard, voice wavering. “Sorry, I—”

“You don’t have to justify yourself. You ask why I didn’t pry? Because I don’t need to. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.” The deep rumble of his voice softened as he spoke. “Trust goes both ways, Liva.”

Trust. The word lodged deep in her chest. So rare, so fragile, yet stronger than steel.

Before she knew it, she was leaning into him, looping her arms around him in a quick, tight hug. “Thank you,” she breathed.

Laxus froze for a moment, eyes widening in the darkness. Just as quickly as she embraced him, she pulled back, cheeks flushing crimson as tears shimmered in her eyes.
“N–no problem,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand down the back of his neck as he glanced toward the fire — suddenly very aware of the warmth still sparking between them.

They sat like that for the next hour — not talking much, just letting the silence stretch and shimmer. It was no longer awkward. It was expectant. Every word had weight. Every brush of fingers felt like a held breath.

And Liva knew. She was enjoying this too much. Too close. Too warm. Too alive.

This wasn’t just post-training comfort. This was something slipping past the edge of mere friendship and she wasn’t sure she wanted to stop it. Not tonight.

🌙

The stars blinked faintly above the treetops, veiled behind shifting clouds like half-formed thoughts. The fire had burned low to coals, the camp grown quiet save for the rustling of leaves and the occasional crack of wood settling.

Liva sat apart from the others, her knees drawn up, arms wrapped loosely around them. Her magic was quiet now, tucked away beneath her skin like the tide retreating after a storm. And yet her body still remembered — the pulse of Laxus’ magic next to hers, the flicker of heat when his hand brushed hers, the taste of laughter shared too easily.

She exhaled slowly. This was dangerous.

It wasn’t that Laxus reminded her of Kairos — he didn’t, not really. They looked the same, but were fire and ice, earth and water, completely different forces. But somehow, that made it worse. Kairos had been her past. Her grief. Her unfinished story.

And Laxus… Laxus was becoming real.

His presence filled space like a storm gathering — quiet at first, then undeniable. And it scared her, how her heart reacted to that. How it reached toward him without permission. How it remembered his voice, the curve of his grin, the way he looked at her, when he thought nobody noticed. 

Was it wrong to want more?

She’d sworn, she wouldn’t do this again. Not after Laxus had been spared of his past life‘s memories. She remembered, how hollow Kairos‘ had become in his last days. How much he had changed from the young captain to the rogue and mad dragon slayer.

Next to him, Laxus was a saint. And a selfish part in her didn‘t want him to change. He was perfect to her.

Liva blinked hard, gaze drifting across the clearing — and there he was, not far, sitting by a log, arms resting on his knees. His shoulders rose and fell in a rhythm she was starting to know too well. The scar above his eye caught her eyes.

She didn’t mean to walk over. Didn’t mean to reach out. But her fingers brushed the edge of that scar — barely a whisper of contact — and he turned, startled.

Their eyes locked. She froze. And something cracked open.

Gods, what was she doing?

Her hand dropped like it had touched fire. “Sorry,” she murmured, stepping back. He said nothing, only watched her retreat — gaze unreadable, but burning.

🌙

Laxus didn’t move at first. He just sat there, breathing like someone who’d nearly drowned.

The ghost of her touch lingered on his skin. It hadn’t been a kiss. Hadn’t been anything, really, only a fleeting touch. And yet it left his chest feeling tight, like there wasn’t enough air in the whole damn forest.

He’d known plenty of heat. Plenty of women. But this — this was not the same. With Liva, everything mattered. Every glance. Every silence. Every time she said his name like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to.
He told himself to leave it alone. Let her heal. She didn’t owe him anything, not her past, not her pain, not her heart.

But hell, he wanted it anyway. And that scared him more than any battle ever had.

It seemed, she didn’t know what it meant, when his eyes lingered too long on her lips. When he rose earlier than the others just to catch her alone. When he held back his lightning around her, because he didn’t want to burn what he was slowly beginning to care about.

He remembered something Makarov once told him — back when his own anger had nearly eaten him alive: “Power without connection is hollow. Love doesn’t weaken you, it makes you brave.”

Back then, he hadn’t understood it. But now, with the taste of her laugh still on his thoughts and her magic brushing his skin like moonlight …
Now, he thought he might. And damn it, he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

🌙

Waas Forest, Year X791, Two months until the Grand Magic Games

The person standing watch had three tasks: Staying awake. Brew coffee for breakfast. And check if monsters were lurking nearby.

Liva walked through the night, doing the third task, and small spheres of moonlight lit her way. Suddenly, she felt being watched.
Carefully, she moved like a ghost through the dark woods, senses attuned, scouting for any omnious presence lurking near their campsite.

Then, somewhere behind her, she sensed something. Or, let’s say, she sensed him.
Not through sound — Laxus was too good to make a sound — but through his magic. A quiet hum of thunder just beyond the veil of her awareness. Familiar. Intrusive. Welcome.

She didn’t turn, but smirked. “You always sneak around like that or is it just for me?”

His voice cut through the hush, low and amused.“Couldn’t help it,” he said, closer now. “You’re practically glowing.”

She looked up to the spheres, dancing across her shoulders like fireflies. With a brush of her hands, the lights were gone, leaving them in the dark forest. “Well, better now?”

He let out a low hum, watching her attentively. “You sure the dark is better?” She turned to him and her breath hitched. Only mere inches separated them, she had to tilt her head back, to look into his face. Damn, he was close.

“W-What do you mean?”

Without an answer, his hand reached out to her. Her breath caught, heart suddenly hammering wildly in her chest and he? He just brushed a patch of moss off her shoulder.

“Were you crawling across the forest floor?”, Laxus asked amused.

Liva let out her breath, feeling strangely disappointed. “Moss patrol now, are you?” she said, meant to sound dry, but her voice wavered. He still was damn close.

“Just doing my part for our safety,” he replied. “The forest’s still dangerous at night. Maybe the moss is a disguised monster.” He joked, obviously.

She laughed, turned around and her heel caught on a root before her, hidden in the deep shadows. She stumbled a little, nothing serious. Laxus caught her. He didn’t need to, but he did it anyway. As if he longed for a permission to touch her.

One arm slid around her waist. The other braced against the tree behind her. And suddenly they weren’t apart anymore. They were close — very close — pressed together in a tangle of breath and tension and something sharp-edged and fragile between them. Her back hit the bark. His chest met hers. His eyes burned silvery in the dark.

“You alright?” he asked, voice a shade too low.

“Tree broke my fall,” she managed.

A smirk tugged at his mouth. “Lucky tree.” Liva tried to laugh. It came out like a breath. She looked up. He hadn’t moved.

Liva could count the hair hairs on his skin. Feel the electricity of his body, like a storm waiting to break. His hand still rested just above her hip — too steady. Her pulse thundered.

“Laxus—” she started.

“Sorry,” he interrupted. Neither of them moved.

“Don’t be,“ she answered quietly.

His lips were near, enough that his breath grazed her cheek. Her lips parted. She didn’t know what she was about to say — maybe something clever. Maybe something dangerous. Or maybe she was waiting for something else.

She blinked up at him, lips barely a breath away from his. And then — he pulled back. Not abruptly, but carefully. Deliberately. Like it cost him something. “We should finish the patrol. I’ll help you,” he said roughly. His voice had changed — huskier now, strained.

She nodded, though her hands still shook. They didn’t speak on the walk back to camp. Didn’t look at each other. And neither found sleep easily that night.

🌙

Memories of a Dragon Slayer — Calomene

The sky was violet — just mere minutes until sunrise. Below us stretched the valley, golden fields rippling like breath, rivers glinting like blades, the far edges already darkening beneath distant wings.

They were coming. And we all knew it. But for one stolen moment, everything was still.

I stood at the cliff’s edge, wind tugging at my braids, the cold biting through the fabric of my coat. My hands were clasped behind my back — steady, composed. Just like the military instructors had taught me. And still… my heart was not.

Behind me, I heard his footsteps. I didn’t have to turn. I would’ve known Kairos anywhere — by the weight of his stride, by the way the air shifted when he was near. He always moved like someone who already knew where he was going. Like fate had whispered it to him.

“You shouldn’t be alone up here,” he said.

I smiled without turning. “Neither should you.” He came to stand beside me. Close, but not touching. Never touching.
We looked out together — two silhouettes on the edge of a world about to burn.

“They say the dragons move with the dawn,” I murmured.

“Then we’ll meet them at sunrise.”

I dared to glance at him. His hair was wind-tousled, his armor only half-fastened and his eyes — gods, those eyes — too serious for someone so young. A thin cut traced his cheekbone from the last skirmish. I ached to reach out and heal it.

I didn’t.

We had fought the dragon war side by side for a long time. Slept beside the same fires. Bled into the same soil. Memorized each other’s scars and silences. And yet… We had never said the thing.
Never named the feeling that hovered in the quiet between our laughter and our rage. Maybe we thought it would break if spoken. Maybe we were already breaking.

“Kairos,” I said softly. “If I di—”

“Don’t,” he whispered. He turned to me fully then. His gloved hand rose, hovering just over my cheek. Not quite touching. Still not touching.

Our faces were inches apart. The wind carried the scent of ozone and smoke and fear. His breath warmed the space between us. I thought he might kiss me. I think he wanted to.

But then — a roar echoed across the valley. One dragon. Then five. And then the sky was full of wings.

He stepped back. “You’ll stay with the third unit,” he said, voice shifting — not cold, but composed. The Captain again. “Hold the ridge. Don’t break formation, no matter what.”

“I should fight beside you.”

“You’d make me reckless.” It was the closest he’d ever come to telling me.

He turned away, toward an allied dragon, a silver-scaled beast. His cloak snapped behind him like a war banner. Just before he climbed onto the dragon’s back, he looked over his shoulder one last time.
“We’ll see each other later,” he said. “Promise.”

“Don’t die. Promise,” I replied. We shared one last look — no one promising anything.

Then he was gone. And the sky cracked open with fire.

🌙

Liva woke with wet cheeks and trembling hands.

The dream clung to her skin like smoke. She pressed her palms to her face, trying to breathe, but her chest felt split down the middle. Two names hovered in her heart. Two souls. Two lives. One lost to the past. One waiting in the dark.

She felt it again, that gnawing fear of fighting in war. Of surviving, only to find that those you love didn’t make it. War was never glorious. It only brought pain and silence and grief. And nothing else.

The moon hung low above the treetops. Liva didn’t sleep again that night.

Chapter Text

Waas Forest, Year X791, Two months until the Grand Magic Games

The sun had barely crested the treetops when Liva excused herself to fetch water from the creek. Her voice was even. Too even.

Laxus noticed it immediately — the way her fingers trembled when she reached for the empty canteen, how she avoided their gaze as though afraid it might burn. Something had followed her out of sleep. A nightmare maybe. Or a memory. She hadn’t said a word about it. Now she was gone, swallowed by the forest trail, her cloak trailing behind her like smoke.

Silence settled in her absence.

Laxus sat by the fire, elbows on his knees, jaw tense, staring far too intently into the flickering flames. His cup of tea steamed in his hands, untouched. Fried stood beside him, pouring another round of tea with the kind of elegance that made everything feel ritualistic — precise, graceful, perfectly timed.

Evergreen sat opposite, braiding a few strands of her hair. She pretended not to watch Laxus. But her sharp eyes flicked toward him every few seconds, always catching his jaw clench or his knuckles flex.

Bickslow was the first to break the silence. Naturally.
“So…” he began, stretching the word into at least three syllables, “I noticed you followed Liva into the woods yesterday.”

“So you did, didn’t you?”, Laxus hummed, unbothered.

“Did anything happen last night?” The masked man grinned. “You know — anything worth reporting back to the team?”

Laxus didn’t bat an eye. “No.”

Bickslow gave him a look. “That’s all I get? Just ‘no’?”

Evergreen smirked, finally setting down her braid. “Please, Bickslow. Look how broody and tense he is. That’s practically a confession in itself.”

“I’m not tense,” Laxus muttered into his tea.

“Mm-hmm,” Fried hummed, dry as ever. “You’re glowering at your tea like it’s the enemy.”

Bickslow leaned closer, grinning. “How long since she revealed her past to you? A few weeks?” Laxus said nothing. “And you still didn’t kiss her. What. A. Shame.”

Evergreen opened her fan, using it dramatically. “Let me guess. You had the perfect moment and you froze, didn’t you? That’s typical for you men.”

Laxus ignored her insult. “What do you want from me? Jump at her in the woods and—”

“Devour her? Yes, why not?”

“Okay, that’s it”, Laxus said gruffly and stood. “Stop it.”

“What, you’re going to check the perimeters again?” Evergreen chuckled. 

“No need, checked them a few hours ago”, Fried interfered.
With a grunt, Laxus fell back onto the log.

“You really are slow, mate”, Bickslow grinned. 

“Can you please shut up?” Laxus growled, glaring into the fire.

Evergreen tilted her head, clearly enjoying herself. “So let me guess… Yesterday you got close, you stared at her. She stared back. You both panicked. Then you did the noble idiot thing and backed off like a gentleman.”

“She’d had a rough day,” Laxus muttered.

Bickslow rolled his eyes. “You both had a rough day. We’re in a monster-infested forest, for god’s sake. She almost died, she threw her heart at you and — what — you just let her go?”

“I didn’t let her go. She just … I don’t know …” His voice was low now. Why is he making excuses for his behaviour towards these dorks?

“Oh no,” Evergreen said, mock-gasping. “Feelings.”

“I will throw you into the creek, Ever,” Laxus warned. Cricket, who had been perched quietly nearby on a mossy stump, chewing on a piece of meat, perked up at the word, thinking he was calling his name.

“See,” Bickslow said suddenly, pointing at the owl-griffin. “Even Cricket ships you two.”

Cricket blinked. “What is ship?”

There was a beat of silence. Fried, without missing a beat, answered evenly, “A ship is a large boat that sails the ocean.”

Cricket tilted his feathery head, clearly confused. “But I don’t have ship. I fly.” Evergreen laughed first. Then Bickslow. Even Fried’s mouth twitched. Laxus tried not to smile. He failed — just a little.
Cricket fluttered over to Fried and whispered, “Do I always need a boat to ship people?”

“No, little one,” Fried said gently, setting down his teacup. “Some ships stay on land.”

“Strange,” Cricket said, obviously confused. “Humans are strange.”

“You have no idea,” Laxus muttered.

From the forest path came the soft crunch of leaves. Liva was returning, canteen sloshing in one hand, a subtle crease between her brows. Her expression shifted when she saw them laughing. And for a moment, she watched them, her eyes misted. Then she stepped back into the circle.

Laxus glanced at her and their eyes really met for the first time that morning. No words. Just a glance, long, weighted, quiet.

Fried poured her tea as if nothing had happened. But Evergreen and Bickslow were suddenly very still. Watching everything. Even Cricket tilted his head and whispered to no one in particular: “…I think they are a boat.”

🌙

The clearing pulsed with magical energy. Dust and golden light drifted between the trees, disturbed by heavy steps and the occasional crack of lightning against earth. Magic sparked in the air like static before a storm.

Liva stood at the edge of the clearing, one hand resting lightly against a tree. She was supposed to be observing for tactics, evaluating the synergy between Laxus and his team, but her eyes had long since stopped analyzing.

She wasn’t watching for technique. She was watching him.

Laxus was sparring with Fried now. The two moved in a fluid, practiced rhythm, not just testing strength, but trust. They circled each other like wolves who had known both peace and war, exchanging precise strikes and graceful feints.

Lightning danced along Laxus’ forearms, arcing in short bursts whenever his fists connected with Fried’s blade or the air around it. His movements were effortless. Controlled. Focused. And gods — he looked happy.

Liva’s chest ached at the sight.

It was subtle, a curve to his lips when Fried countered him, a huffed breath of amusement when he was forced back a step. But it was real. He enjoyed this. Not just the fight. The company. The ease. The sense of belonging.

He wasn’t carrying a war on his shoulders. He wasn’t bleeding from a past that wouldn’t let go. He wasn’t… Kairos. And that was what scared her.
She leaned harder against the tree, forcing her breaths to stay even. Her fingers curled into the bark. 

Because she knew now. She knew. She liked him. No, not only liked him.
She was falling hard for him. Again, in another lifetime, under completely different circumstances. But still falling.

Of course, she felt something since the beginning — he looked like Kairos, that alone gave him 100 points. But beside his looks, he held himself different. Laxus was no war captain, he was not fighting and killing dragons, losing comrades every day. He was a mage, living in peaceful times and was surrounded by friends. Laxus was Laxus — in his own broody way, with his sudden dry jokes.

Liva had sworn to stay away from Laxus. She had sworn to grief Kairos’ love and enjoy Laxus’ happiness, watching from the background.

But the feelings had crept in quietly, through shared glances and stolen moments. Through the way he had held her gaze in silence, when she hadn’t had the strength to speak. Through his patience. His ridiculous, stubborn kindness. The way he saw her — not as fragile, not as broken, but whole and beautiful and worth waiting for. And it terrified her.

Because what if her love — this twisted, aching thing inside her — woke something in him? What if it pulled Kairos back to the surface? What if it made Laxus remember who he once was — and in doing so, made him change?

She bit the inside of her cheek, hard.

Kairos had been fierce. Brilliant. But also brutal, cunning and in the end — as the dragon madness got ahold of all of them — he even was evil and power hungry. Kairos had burned like a wildfire through her short life and then vanished into ash. His love had been something silent, unspeakable, caught between orders and battlefield glances. It had never bloomed fully. But it still had consumed her.

And this man — Laxus — was lighter. Warmer. Not without pain, but… softer. More whole.
He laughed with his team. He let them tease him. He listened. He didn’t lead with power, he led with presence. Quiet certainty. He didn’t need to dominate. He just was.

He was the best version of Kairos she had ever seen. And she was scared, that loving him would ruin that.

Because what if, in giving her heart again, she planted a memory that never should have returned? What if he remembered the blood? The hate? The vengeance? What if her love became a mirror and all he saw was the shadow he used to be?

She couldn’t bear it. Not after seeing this man. Not after falling for this version.

In the center of the clearing, Fried ducked under a sweeping strike and twirled back, breathing hard, sweat glinting on his brow. Laxus only grinned and charged again, energy crackling at his fingertips.

His shirt clung to him, damp from the effort, defining every line of strength beneath. His short hair grew a bit during the last weeks, falling into his eyes now. His expression was fierce, but not cold. Not like Kairos’ had been before a battle. There was no death drive here. No desperate edge. 
Just fire. Just focus. Just life.

Liva felt something crumble inside her. Her heart — again — caught between then and now. She loved both of them. And that was the worst part.

Because Kairos had never stopped living inside her. She had mourned him, wept for him, cursed the way fate had stolen him — and now here he was, returned and yet not. Better. Changed. Alive in a way he had never been before. And it wasn’t her doing. It wasn’t because of her. He did it himself.
And if she dared to step closer — dared to speak what her heart had begun to scream — she might be the very thing that pulled him backwards.

Her fingers trembled where they touched the bark. “Get it together,” she whispered under her breath.

Across the clearing, the match ended. Fried stepped back, nodding with respect. Laxus rubbed a sore spot on his shoulder, then glanced around — searching. His gaze found hers almost immediately. Their eyes locked.

He blinked — and for a heartbeat, something softened behind his expression. A flicker of awareness. Of recognition.

She looked away. Not fast. But enough.
She couldn’t let him see all of it. Not yet. Not until she knew — really knew — that her love wouldn’t unravel him.

That it wouldn’t wake Kairos in the wrong way. That it wouldn’t cost her this man she had come to care for — quietly, completely and far too deeply.

She took a deep breath, steadied herself and stepped into the clearing.

🌙

After their own sparring, the Thunder God Tribe had offered casual excuses and drifted away. Fried with a knowing smile, Evergreen dragging Bickslow and Cricket by the necks, before one of them could say something really inappropriate.
They’d left the field with winks and subtle glances, muttering something about “needing to check the perimeter”, which made Laxus’ ears red like a tomato. She had the feeling, that there was a joke she didn’t understand.

Only the two blonde mages remained now on the clearing, the late morning light spilling between the trees, painting the world in heat. She watched him roll out his shoulders and turn to face her.

“We don’t have to keep going,” she said quickly, unsure if he’d noticed how often her eyes had lingered on him earlier. “You’ve trained more than enough today.”

He tilted his head, looking at her with half-closed eyes, lips twitching. “You saying I’m too drained for a second round?”

She blinked, a blush began to creep up. “Wha—?! No! I didn’t—!”

He laughed, a real, warm sound that reached his eyes and disarmed her instantly. “I’m messing with you,” he said, stepping closer and tapping his fingers lightly against her forehead. “But I do want another round. Just you and me.”

Those words didn’t help clearing her mind either. Damn him.

Liva cleared her throat and shifted in her stance, arms crossing instinctively in front of her chest. “Why?”

“You hold back when the others are around,” Laxus replied without missing a beat. “You move sharper when it’s just me. Freer.”

Her heart stumbled. “That’s not—”

“You don’t have to explain.” His voice softened. “I’ve known that kind of… restraint. Makes you flinch when you don’t mean to. Like your body’s waiting to be punished for stepping out of line.”
Something in her gut twisted. She stared at him. He didn’t look away. “It’s not weakness, Liva,” he added, quieter now. “It’s survival. But I want you to know… you don’t have to survive here. You can be. We all are friends.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. So instead, she nodded slowly. “All right,” she murmured. “One more round.”

They faced off again, but this time, the tension was different.

Laxus didn’t come at her with brute strength. He let her lead. Mirrored her rhythm. Teased out her movements with feints and flourishes, never overwhelming her. It wasn’t a test of dominance — it was a dance. They moved in tandem, their shadows flickering across the mossy ground.

Liva let her magic flicker briefly, enough to spark silver light at her fingertips, just to feel it hum through her veins.

Laxus grinned. “There she is.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”

“You sure? I’ve got a whole list of compliments ready, if that’s firing you up.” She aimed a lazy kick at his shin. He dodged it easily, laughing again.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” she muttered, breathless despite herself.

He feigned a hurt expression. “Cricket said I was the funniest in the group.”

“Cricket also thinks ‘ship’ means boat.”

“Boats can be very romantic,” he said, catching her wrist mid-spin. “Ever been on one?”

She raised an eyebrow, managing not to blush. “Trying to impress me with seafaring metaphors now?”

“Only if it’s working.”

She elbowed him — softly — and he let go. Something uncoiled in her chest then. A laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
And to her surprise… it didn’t feel dangerous. It felt good. Freeing.

They trained for another ten minutes or so — nothing serious, more like playing now. Mock blows. Exaggerated moves. At one point, Laxus ducked a magical swipe by flopping to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Liva actually snorted.
“Wow,” she said between breaths. “So graceful. Truly.”

Laxus smirked up at her from the grass. “You just jealous, because I’m stealing your spotlight.”

She extended a hand. “You’re lucky I’m merciful.” He took it, letting her haul him up — their palms warm against each other, neither of them letting go immediately.

Their eyes met. This time, she didn’t look away. And she didn’t want to.

Later they sat together beneath the towering pine at the clearing’s edge, its bark rough against their backs, its branches filtering the sun into dappled patches on the forest floor.

For a moment, they simply breathed. The kind of silence that didn’t beg to be filled. But silence, Liva quickly learned, was something Laxus didn’t always believe in.
“You know,” he said, tossing a twig toward her boot with casual precision, “you could’ve told me you’ve been holding back.”

She glanced at him sidelong. “What makes you think I was?”

“You didn’t use any of the scary moon stuff today. Not even the sparkle chains.” He stretched his legs out in front of him, arms braced behind him, the very image of casual smugness.

“They’re not ‘sparkle chains’,” she replied with dry disdain. “They’re lunar restraints, forged from celestial light—”

“Oh, my bad. Sparkle restraints.”

Her lips twitched before she could help it. Damn him.
“You weren’t exactly at full power either,” she countered. “You flopped like a sack of laundry after my last strike.”

“That was a tactical collapse,” he said, feigning offense. “I was luring you in.”

“Into what, a nap?”

He gave her a slow look. “Careful. Keep talking and I might challenge you to a rematch.”

Liva arched a brow. “To get flattened again?”

“You wish, moon girl.”

“Oh, moon girl? Is that my official Thunder God Tribe nickname now?”

Laxus leaned toward her with a conspiratorial smirk. “You should hear what Bickslow calls you when you’re not around.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“‘Sparkling menace’ is a popular one.”

She groaned, letting her head drop back against the bark. “Why do I feel like this entire team is just a traveling circus disguised as a combat unit?”

“Because that’s exactly what we are,” he said, grinning. “Except Fried. Fried’s the ringmaster. Keeps us from setting ourselves on fire.”

“I can see that.”

Their banter faded into chuckles, easy and unforced. Liva let her eyes drift to the canopy above, catching glimpses of sky between the rustling needles. She felt light. No shadows clawing at her thoughts, no invisible hands tugging her toward old pain.
Just this: Laxus’ ridiculous jokes and the warmth still lingering from their training. And him.

He glanced her way again. “You’re different when you laugh.”

She turned her head, mock-exasperated. “Are you starting another sentimental speech?”

“I’m just saying.” He gave a slight shrug. “It’s nice to see.”

Her smile faded, but not in a bad way. More like it softened into something genuine. “You’re different too,” she said. “Less broody than usual.”

“I am broody.”

“Not lately.”

“I’m making an exception,” he muttered. “For you.” The weight of that lingered between them. Unspoken meaning in the lull.

Liva was the first to break it — in typical Laxus style. “Also,” she added lightly, “you sweat way more than I thought you would.”

He snorted. “You try training with three maniacs and a moon mage before lunch.”

“Oh, so now I’m the problem?”

“You’ve always been the problem,” he said, flashing her a grin. “Just a really pretty one.”

She froze. It was the first time, he complimented her so boldly. It slipped through her guard so easily, warm and quiet and disarming. It made her heart beat so fast and loudly, she feared he could hear it.
“…That was smooth,” she said finally.

He leaned back with a smug glint. “I’ve been practicing.”

“Practicing what? Flirting with combat partners?”

“Only the ones who almost murder me in training and still look good doing it.”

She blinked. Then rolled her eyes and threw a pinecone at his head.
He caught it one-handed, tossed it aside and said with complete seriousness: “You missed.”

Liva shook her head, but she was laughing again. Really laughing. Her stomach hurt, her ribs ached and the sound wasn’t careful or stifled — it burst free, unfiltered and bright.

And Laxus looked at her, like she’d just cast a spell.
There it was again. That something in his expression, which she couldn’t truly decipher. As if he was seeing something that lit up the forest better than the afternoon sun ever could.

“You’re really not as terrible as I thought,” she said, brushing dirt off her trousers.

He glanced at her, pretending to be deeply offended. “Terrible? I brought you tea yesterday. I carried your gear for three whole minutes last week. I even complimented your moon sparkles—”

“Chains.”

“—and didn’t call you scary, when you were threatening me daily with your holy, shiny magic tricks.”

“You poor, poor man.”

“Oh, shut it,” he said and his smile turned quiet. 

She looked at him then, really looked and felt that slow, steady ache in her chest again, the one that whispered: You’re allowed to want this. Not just safety. Not just strength. This.
Silly banter. Soft smiles. Someone, who met her with patience, who laughed with her, who didn’t flinch when she broke.

Gods help her, she really liked him.

She liked the way he grinned like a troublemaker, but only for her and nobody else and how he fought like a thunderstorm. She liked that he cared about his team and drank his tea too hot and noticed when she held back. She liked all of it. And maybe, just maybe… She could let herself like him more.

Maybe her fears were unfounded?

🌙

The night wrapped around her like wet silk. Exhausted from the sparring she bid good night and vanished into her tent with Cricket nestled at her feet, the baby griffin’s tiny snores rising in uneven puffs.

Laxus hadn’t said goodnight. He didn’t have to.

She felt his presence even now, outside the tent, near the fire. Felt it in her bones, like the low hum of a storm gathering far off.
And then… sleep claimed her. But it was no ordinary sleep.

She stood barefoot on cold stone. The world around her shimmered, like candlelight behind thin gauze and yet she knew instantly where she was.
Not when, but where. The dream was not hers. It belonged to Calomene. And Kairos.

She recognized them instantly, though her dream-self didn’t seem to be Calomene this time. She stood apart, invisible, watching as if through a thin veil. Not interfering. Just remembering.

Kairos was laughing. Not smirking. Not taunting. Laughing.

Genuine, belly-deep laughter that echoed off cavern walls as he doubled over, breathless, his blond hair wild and unbound. His armor half-removed, shirt open, bandages loose around his ribs. Calomene sat beside him on a crooked stone ledge, grinning like she’d just bested a king in a game of dice.

“You cheated,” Kairos accused, wiping tears from his eyes.

“I survived,” Calomene shot back. “That’s not cheating. That’s strategy.”

“You rigged the cards with magic again—”

“Prove it.”

“I can’t, because you burned the deck!”

“And now you’ll never know,” she said smugly.

Liva watched them like a ghost in the corner. The air here felt different, lighter. These two, these broken creatures who’d run from war and fire and betrayal, were… alive. Not just surviving. They were happy.

Not all the time. She saw flashes. Days where they were hunted. Nights where they held each other, shaking. Times when Kairos looked over his shoulder too often and Calomene clenched her eyes shut and said nothing at all.

But in between?

They danced. They laughed until dawn. They found ridiculous, stolen joy, like children who’d carved out a kingdom inside ruin.

And Liva realized, slowly, painfully, how wrong she’d been. Kairos hadn’t always been dark. He’d been light once, too.

He’d been sharp and brilliant and funny in ways that reminded her so much of Laxus that it hurt. That same dry wit. That same quiet protectiveness disguised in gruffness. That same fire, always burning just behind the eyes.

She remembered how Kairos had looked at Calomene. How he had loved at her.
Back then, when her name was still young Calomene and not the mess of shadow and moonlight she’d become, after the dragon madness had claimed her.
She’d felt it. She knew he had. But she had never spoken it aloud.

And in this dream-memory, in this faded golden flicker of what could have been, Liva saw the terrible “what if” emerge like a wound: What if he turned, because I didn’t choose him? What if my silence carved the shape of his ruin?

She trembled.

She wanted to scream at her past self. Wanted to run to that laughing version of Kairos and tell him everything she’d buried. That she’d loved him too. That maybe, just maybe, they could’ve outrun fate together.

But it was too late.

And the dream shifted.
She saw Laxus then. Not as he was now, but almost. He was laughing, too.

The same posture, same shoulders, same tilt of his grin. Barefoot, ankle-deep in river water, tossing a dripping Cricket into the air while the tiny griffin chirped in wild joy. The laughter pulled something deep from her chest, something old and scared and hopeful.

Kairos and Laxus. Past and present.

So different and yet, not. And her voice came softly, not aloud, not spoken, but felt: If I give him my love… if I don’t hold back this time…

Maybe Laxus won’t break. Maybe he’ll never become what Kairos did, even if he remembers. Maybe love is the thing that saves him.

She reached out to the vision of Laxus, hand trembling. Not to touch him, but to choose him. Even in the dream, her fingers shook. And just as the water glinted gold around him, she woke.

Her heart surged into her throat. Breath shallow, chest tight. The ghost of the river clung to her skin, though she was cocooned in linen and shadows. She blinked slowly, disoriented, watching the ceiling of the tent sway ever so slightly in the moonlight’s hush.

For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t dare.

Cricket and Ever were still curled next to her, the soft rhythm of their breaths brushing over her like feathers. Cricket made a sound, half purr, half hiccup and nestled closer, unaware of the storm that had passed through her in sleep.

She pressed a hand to her chest. It ached.
Not from magic. Not from fatigue. From memory. From love.

From the terrible understanding that maybe the thing she’d withheld from Kairos — honesty, clarity, her heart in full — had seeded his undoing. That he’d fallen, not because he was destined to, but because he had been waiting for her to reach for him and she… never had. She had failed him.

Tears slipped down her temples, silent, unbidden. She didn’t wipe them away.

The dream’s final image still hovered behind her eyes: Laxus, bathed in light, laughing in the river. Cricket soaring above him, clumsy and proud. That rare, golden moment suspended in time. A mirror to a life she’d already lost once.

She couldn’t lose it again. Not to silence. Not to fear. Not to fate.

I will not watch him fall. Not like Kairos. Not again.

And so, still barely breathing, she whispered into the dark: “I choose you.”
No one heard her. No one had to. Because this time… she would show it.

Outside, the forest was still. Only the leaves moved, rustling soft secrets to the stars.
And somewhere close, just out of reach, a familiar hum lingered on the air. A flicker of thunder, sleeping in human form.

🌙

A few days later, the morning air was already thick enough to chew. It clung to the skin, heavy with moisture, dragging even the most seasoned fighters into a kind of collective lethargy. Fried had abandoned his usual tea-brewing ritual halfway through and was now fanning himself with a half-folded map. Bickslow was sprawled across a log like a cat too warm to care and even Evergreen had traded her usual poised posture for something closer to a regal slouch.

“By the gods,” she muttered, pulling her hair into a messy knot, “if I sweat through another silk blouse, I will torch this entire forest.”

“I vote river,” Bickslow mumbled without lifting his head. “Today’s a river day.”

“No training?” Liva asked, cautiously hopeful.

“No anything,” Fried answered. “The humidity’s eating my bones.”

Laxus stood at the edge of camp, shirtless, hair damp from the heat. He wasn’t panting like the rest of them, but even he looked mildly annoyed by the heat.
“Good. We’ll take a break,” he said. “Swim. Cool down. Then see what the day brings.”

He didn’t look at her when he said it. Didn’t need to.
Liva had already noticed how his voice softened when speaking to the group, but especially when she was in it. How his orders came with room for choice. How his gaze lingered, not always, but often enough to be something she felt like a pulse just beneath her skin. And gods, she was tired of pretending she didn’t like it.

She crouched by her travel bag, all clothes borrowed from Evergreen, rummaging halfheartedly for something suitable to swim in. It wasn’t just the heat that made her feel sluggish. It was him.

Laxus had been quieter lately. Not withdrawn, exactly. More like… watching. Observing her with an intensity he didn’t bother to hide. And not in a predatory, Kairos-at-the-edge-of-war way. No, this was different. Softer. Safer.

She’d always thought love must feel like a battlefield. But with Laxus… it was like waiting for a storm that hadn’t decided whether it wanted to rage or rain gently. She didn’t know which would break her more.

She found her usual underthings and a thin tunic to wear over them, but paused. Her hand hesitated.

“Try this,” Evergreen said suddenly, appearing at her side like a summoning spell.

In her hands was a deep green, almost-black bikini. Elegant but… daring. Very daring. Small panties. A masterfully designed top that pushed the chest. Tasteful. Feminine. And very dangerous.

“I—” Liva blinked. “That’s not mine.”

“I brought spares,” Evergreen said sweetly. “You’re welcome.”

“But Ever—”

“What?”, Ever snapped, but not without a sisterly glowing in her eyes. “If you are waiting for him, then you can wait an eternity. That idiot tries too hard to be a gentleman.”

“Wha— Really?”

Ever rolled her eyes. “With this, you definitely will give the real message. Or at least show him, what he missing out.” Doubting Liva looked at her.
“Laxus will pass out, honey. Trust me and wear it,” Ever added with a wink and walked away.

Liva stared at the suit for a long, quiet moment. Then sighed, a fire in her eyes.
Maybe Ever was right. She wanted to be seen as a woman and this was the perfect chance to do so.

🌙

Laxus was trying — yes, really trying — to be chill. Normal. Unbothered. A good friend. A decent guy. But he could feel her.

Even from across the camp, where he was helping Fried pack some towels into a satchel, he could sense the shape of her shifting emotions. That delicate push-pull she always carried. Fear and longing. Guardedness and hope.

He didn’t know what exactly she’d been through, there were still untold stories — but he’d lived under a man like Ivan. And that was all he needed to know.

So he kept his distance, physically. Let her set the pace. Made dumb jokes and easy openings. He was building something here. Something fragile. Something that could shatter if he rushed it.

Still… Gods, it was hard not to stare.

Not because of how she looked, though she was fucking radiant when she smiled. But because of how she looked at him. Like she didn’t know whether to run or reach out. He wasn’t sure which one would break his heart more.

He sighed and muttered, mostly to himself, “She’s gonna ruin me.”

Fried raised a brow. “What?”

“Nothing.”

As the team gathered their things and began heading toward the river trail, Liva walked ahead, her pack slung over one shoulder, the mystery swimsuit carefully tucked inside.
Laxus watched her go. His hand twitched at his side. He didn’t follow yet. Not right away. Because if he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to look at her without wanting something he wasn’t sure she could give yet.

But gods, was he already falling. Hard.

And this swim?

This swim was going to be hell.

Chapter Text

Waas Forest, Year X791, Two months until the Grand Magic Games

They reached the river by midday — a winding stretch of glimmering water hidden between moss-covered stones and half-toppled trees. Shafts of sunlight broke through the dense canopy above, turning the clearing into something golden and enchanted. Even the cicadas had gone silent, like the heat had coaxed them into stillness.

Bickslow was the first to cannonball in with a screech, soaking Evergreen’s legs in the process — which earned him a shriek and a thrown sandal. Fried followed, far more gracefully, muttering about chaos and spiritual centers. Evergreen claimed a smooth stone like it was a throne and perched with regal poise, her legs dipped in the water.

Laxus wasn’t paying attention to any of them. His eyes were on her.

Liva stood by the edge of the river, wrapped in a towel, back turned as she looked out at the shimmering water. She hadn’t said much since they arrived. But he could feel the way her energy shifted — how she stood a little taller, took a breath a little deeper, like she was preparing for something.

And then the towel dropped. Laxus almost swallowed his own tongue.

Her swimsuit was nearly black. Daring. High cut. Hugging every curve like it was painted on. His brain, usually sharp and precise, lagged in real-time trying to process what he was seeing — especially when she turned, slowly, and caught him looking. His eyes snapped down so fast — staring at a rock that absolutely did not need inspecting. His jaw tightened.

“What is it?”

“You look…” he said, voice low and gritty.

She raised a brow, unsure. “Yes?”

“…like summer could kill a man,” he muttered. In the same second he wanted to throw himself into the river. What the hell was that answer?

Liva blinked, then laughed. It was bright and full and completely unfair. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He still wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Whatever the opposite of an insult is.” That made her laugh harder. And while she laughed, he looked up again — helpless. Because how the hell was he supposed to fight off that smile?

“Too much?” she asked, glancing down at herself, tugging slightly at the strap on her hip. As if she didn’t know exactly what she was doing. His gaze tracked the motion before snapping back up. It took everything in him not to step forward. Or groan. Or combust.

“You asking me to lie?” he rasped.

She flushed slightly, but didn’t back down. Her chin lifted in challenge. “So… it’s okay?”

He stepped closer, not quite touching her, but close enough that the air between them vibrated. Every muscle in his body was locked under control, but barely. “It’s more than okay,” he said, lower now. “Just don’t blame me if I drown.”

She grinned over his joke, biting her lip. “I’ll save you.”

“You would?”

“Maybe.”

His smirk returned, crooked, amused, a little bit dangerous. “Maybe?”

“Depends on how hard you’re staring.”

“Oh, I’m already gone,” he said under his breath. And then he walked past her into the river — without tripping. But only barely.

They’d all settled near the water, Bickslow throwing water like a child, Evergreen sunning herself on a rock, Fried meditating in shallow waters with silent dignity. And Laxus… was trying very hard not to self-destruct.

He stood waist-deep, arms crossed like he wasn’t actively cataloguing every drop of water sliding down Liva’s skin. She moved through the river like it was her element — graceful, playful, unaware of just how much damage she was doing to his mental defenses.

Little did he know, she was absolutely aware of it.

Liva cupped water and poured it over her shoulder, arching slightly. Water trailed down her spine, caught the curve of her waist.
Laxus inhaled sharply through his nose and looked up at the sky like it could save him.

It could not.

“Are you okay?” she asked, turning toward him with a perfectly innocent look that made him want to both laugh and scream.

“I’m perfectly fine,” he answered, even though his voice came out hoarse.

She narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Hmm. You look like you’re sweating. In a river.”

“You’re dangerous,” he said, because it was the truth.

“To what?”

“To my sanity.”

She smiled. There was something wicked behind it now. Encouraged. She stepped closer — not much, just enough that the river no longer felt like a buffer zone.

“Oh, really?“ She inspected him from head to toe and he nearly melted into the river. „You’re doing great, though. Haven’t fainted once.”

He gave a strained smirk. “Don’t tempt me.”

She tilted her head, hair clinging to her cheek. “What if I want to?”

He was going to break. His whole body was wired tight, like the storm inside him was barely leashed. He wanted to grab her, kiss her, worship every inch she offered — but he was waiting. Letting her lead. Giving her time.

It was agony.

“Then I hope you’re a good swimmer,” he growled. She laughed — breathy, delighted — and flicked water in his face before turning and walking away like she hadn’t just set him on fire.

He lunged.

A shriek, a splash, laughter. He grabbed her from behind and pulled her in, half-wrestling her under the water, their bodies tangled and weightless in the current. They surfaced, laughing and breathless, and didn’t move. Both suddenly fully aware how close they were.

Her legs brushed his. His arms were still around her. Their mouths were inches apart. And just when he started leaning in—

“Don’t get too lost in the current, lovebirds!” Evergreen called from her rock.

They jumped apart like kids caught sneaking out. But even as they turned away, both were smiling. Because this was happening. And they were both so damn doomed. 

⚡️

Laxus wasn’t sure when the river had turned into a battlefield.

First it was Bickslow and his chaos-bombs, sneak attacks with double-handed splashes and underwater grabs that made even Fried scream. Then Ever had retaliated with a controlled wave, knocking Bickslow onto his ass mid-cackle. Even he had laughed at that one.

Liva was near the edge again, helping Cricket float on a flat, mossy wood like it was some sort of makeshift raft. The little owl-griffin flapped wildly at first — indignant, wet, chirping like he was being wronged by the elements — but quickly began to enjoy himself, bobbing up and down like royalty on a parade float.

“There you go, little guy,” she murmured, steadying the wooden board with one hand. “Captain Cricket conquers the Riverlands.” Cricket gave a proud, squeaky trill.

Laxus leaned on a half-submerged rock, watching from a distance. Watching her.
Gods, she was light around him today. Loose. Unburdened. Beautiful. He didn’t know how to process that kind of grace. Or maybe he did, but only in the form of wanting to touch her again. Pull her close again. Hear her laugh that same breathless laugh right against his neck.

She’d smiled at him like he was safe. And he would tear this whole forest apart to stay that for her.

She waded toward the center again, water glinting off her shoulders, droplets racing down the soft curve of her back. He tried not to notice the sway of her hips, the way the dark green bikini hugged her like a second skin, how the fabric clung lower after getting wet. He tried not to imagine the taste of her mouth or how her breath might hitch if he kissed just below her ear.

He tried. But he was failing so hard it should be illegal.
Evergreen flung water in his direction suddenly. “Laxus, you’re staring again.”

“I’m watching Cricket,” he grumbled, which was technically true. Cricket, who was now being held aloft like some trophy by Bickslow, wings flapping in disoriented triumph.

“He’s clearly ascending,” Bickslow declared loudly. “Today, the water! Tomorrow, the skies!”

Cricket responded with a high-pitched screech and promptly dove off, flapping his little wings in earnest and belly-flopping with a plop so small it barely made a ripple.

Liva burst out laughing again. And Laxus, gods help him, felt something tighten in his chest.
Not lust. Something quieter. Something closer.

He glanced around at the others. Bickslow doing a ridiculous triumph dance, Evergreen pretending she wasn’t smiling, Fried eyeing them all like he was somehow both annoyed and proud — and felt a strange, sharp pang in his gut.

This was the kind of day he’d never known he needed. His friends. Laughter. Peace. And her. Especially her.

Soon the sun started to dip lower behind the trees, bleeding amber into the green. Fireflies were already beginning to blink to life at the edge of the riverbank. Fried was laying out dry cloths while Evergreen brushed Cricket’s downy wings with careful fingers, murmuring praise like he was some elite warrior and not a half-puffed feather ball.

Liva stood at the edge of the water again, wringing out her hair, her eyes finding his. Smiling. Like she felt it too — this soft pull, this fragile thread between them, this question neither of them was quite ready to ask out loud.

He didn’t look away this time. Didn’t move either. Because if he did — if he stepped forward, if he touched her, if he let everything he was feeling bleed into action — he wouldn’t be able to stop.

🌙

Waas Forest, Year X791, One and half month until the Grand Magic Games

“Everyone on board with this?” Laxus asked, glancing around the small camp clearing. The answers came in a mix of thoughtful expressions and barely contained grins.

“Finally,” Bickslow said with a crooked smile. “About damn time we stirred up some real action.”

Liva leaned back against a log, arms crossed, her expression unreadable but alert. “I won’t deny I could use a distraction,” she said slowly. “But we need to be careful. This forest doesn’t exactly play fair.”

Just a few minutes earlier, Laxus had shared his plan: to test the results of their training on the monsters lurking in Waas Forest. Sure, they weren’t as vicious as the spider-woman they’d fought at the start of their stay, but they were still dangerous enough to keep anyone on their toes.

Fried nodded in agreement. “If we go deeper, we’ll have to stay sharp. This part of the forest isn’t mapped very well and getting lost is a real risk.” He unrolled a worn parchment and tapped at its center. “We’ve charted some of it already, but as you’ve all noticed, the terrain doesn’t stay put. Creatures underground shift the earth when they move.”

He was talking about the earthquakes — like the one they’d felt their very first night in the forest. It had taken them a while to piece it together, but by now, the group was fairly certain those tremors weren’t natural. Something huge was moving down there.

Something that reshaped the land as it crawled beneath it.

“We’ll manage,” Evergreen chimed in, waving a folded fan at her flushed face. The early summer heat was becoming more unbearable by the day. “We’ve faced worse than shifting rocks and stompy beasts.”

Laxus looked over the group again. His team and Liva among them and nodded slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching into something between pride and anticipation. “All right then. We head out at first light.”

🌙

Laxus’ plan had worked.
They had pushed deeper into Waas Forest and just as expected, the monsters came.

One after another, grotesque, hulking creatures emerged from the shadows of the trees, testing the strength of their group and the group delivered. Their training showed. Every strike hit harder, every dodge was sharper. They moved with synergy, each mage proving how far they’d come in the past few weeks.

Liva had just taken down a rhinoceros-like beast with glowing tusks and bark-covered armor, landing gracefully in the churned-up dirt as it slumped to the ground, when something changed.

At first, it was subtle, just a faint tremor, like a heartbeat in the earth. Barely noticeable. But it didn’t stay that way.

Within seconds, the vibrations intensified into a full quake. The trees shuddered. The sky itself seemed to pulse. And then—
The ground split open. A deafening crack split the air as the earth ruptured like broken glass. Screams tore through the clearing, not of fear, but of instinct. Chaos ignited.

“Move!” someone shouted.

Cricket screeched, clinging to Liva’s hair as she stumbled back, scanning for her team.
Mages scattered in every direction, some vaulting into the trees with practiced agility, others diving into the underbrush. Dust and roots erupted skyward.

And then it came.
A massive, serpentine creature exploded from beneath the forest floor, hurling stones and earth in every direction. Its body was long and thick, covered in glistening green and brown scales that mimicked the forest floor, perfect camouflage, until it moved. Its head was wedge-shaped, jaws lined with curved fangs and its eyes — gods, its eyes — burned with malevolence.

It wasn’t defending territory. It was hunting.

Liva gritted her teeth, already moving as the beast lunged. “First a spider woman, now a giant snake?” she muttered through clenched teeth. “Seriously?”

The serpent struck and she dove aside just in time, a breath from being swallowed whole. Its head slammed into the dirt where she’d been, sending soil and bark flying. Somewhere behind her, someone shouted her name, but she couldn’t focus on that now. Survival took over.

Her body moved before her mind could catch up. Trained reflexes honed by years of fleeing dragons and worse. She ducked beneath low-hanging branches, sprinting through the forest as the creature crashed after her, each movement reshaping the world around them.

Trees cracked and fell in its wake. The ground rippled unnaturally, lifting into hills or collapsing into sudden ravines. The forest became a war zone, shifting with every breath the monster took.

She could hear her team somewhere behind. Evergreen’s voice yelling a spell, Fried’s chanting, Bickslow’s cackle of defiance. But she knew they’d be fine. They were strong. A glorified reptile wasn’t going to take them down.

What worried her was what came next.

The ground beneath her suddenly gave way. There was no warning, no rumble, no quake. Just a violent collapse. Earth and roots ripped free and Liva was swallowed by the landslide. Cricket chirped in panic, clinging to her as she fell, tumbling with dirt and debris into the dark.

She barely had time to scream.

“LIVA!” His voice roared above her like thunder.

Laxus.
And then she saw him. His silhouette against the failing light as he dove in after her, without hesitation.

Not thinking. Not planning. Just falling.
Straight toward her.

🌙

He didn’t think. He just jumped.
The edge crumbled under his boots and gravity swallowed him whole. Wind roared in his ears, dirt scraped against his skin and all he could see was her: Liva, tumbling through the dust and roots like a falling star.

“Damn it,” he hissed through his teeth, twisting midair, aiming for her.

She hit first, he saw her body jolt, the sound of it muffled by the roar of earth around them. She rolled into the darkness below.
Then he landed. Hard. Shoulder-first. The pain shot through him like lightning, but he didn’t care. He grunted, skidded down a slope of crumbling earth and slammed straight into her.

Bodies collided.

His arm locked around her instinctively, pulling her close. Her breath hitched as they spun together, tangled in roots and torn-up moss, until the slope evened out into a rocky floor and they came to a full, bone-jarring stop.

For a second, there was nothing but silence.
Then: breathing. Her breath. His breath. Rapid, unsteady.

She was on top of him. Literally.

Chest pressed to his. Her thigh slotted over his hip. One hand clenched in the fabric near his collarbone. His arm still cradled her waist, his other hand splayed across her lower back. Skin, warm and bare where her tunic had ridden up during the fall.

He stared at her face. Dirt streaked. Hair wild. Lips parted. And gods help him, she was beautiful like this. Raw. Real. Alive. Too close.

He could feel every line of her, the curve of her thigh against his leg, the flutter of her chest rising against his ribs. And her scent, earth and sweat and magic, wrapped around him like a noose.

Laxus swallowed hard, trying to breathe past the spike of arousal that slammed into him.

Shit. Now was not the time.
But his body didn’t care. Neither did the fire clawing at his ribs.

She hadn’t moved yet. And neither had he.
“Y-You okay?” Her voice was a whisper. Shaky.

He almost groaned at the sound. Gods, did she know what she was doing to him? But of course she didn’t. How would she?
“Yeah,” he managed, his voice rougher than he intended. “You?”

She nodded. Slowly. But didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.
Her hand was still on his chest, fingers curled over his heartbeat. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, just for a second. And it nearly wrecked him.

He wanted to kiss her. Right here. Right now. He wanted to feel her against him without the excuse of falling through a damn forest.
But he didn’t. Because he had the feeling, she wasn’t ready.

He could feel it in the tension of her shoulders. The way her breath still stuttered when she looked at him too long. The shadows flickering in her eyes, even now. How she gazed away, when she caught him staring.
And so, he stayed still. Let her choose. Let her stay as close as she needed for as long as she wanted. Even if it killed him.

“You landed on me,” he said, tone dry, trying to break the tension without shattering the moment.

A smile ghosted over her lips. “You caught me.”

“I always will.”

Her blue eyes met his again. And that, that silence, was louder than the crash of the earth above.
She shifted slightly, her thigh brushing his again and he swore inwardly as heat surged through him. His muscles tensed, breath catching low in his throat.

Don’t move. Don’t react. She needs time.

But fuck, if she stayed on him like this for another thirty seconds, he was going to lose every shred of self-control he’d earned since he’d met her.
And then, as if the universe took pity on him, she sat up. Slowly. Hesitantly. Like her body didn’t fully agree with the decision.

Laxus exhaled once she was off him, shoving a hand through his hair, trying to center himself before standing.

She didn’t say anything else, but her fingers lingered on his shoulder a second longer than they needed to. And that alone was enough to send a new wave of ache through his body.

He wanted her. But he wasn’t going to ruin this. Not with her. Not when he was already falling so damn hard and long, he didn’t even remember what it felt like to hit the ground.

🌙

Liva needed every ounce of strength in her body to stay calm. The fall had hurt, but the pain had vanished the moment she realized what exactly she’d landed on.
Or rather… who.

First came the warmth. Then that ever-present crackle of static that clung to him like a second skin. And then — his body.

Gods.

Her fingers had fisted in his clothes before she even registered it and suddenly she could feel everything. The press of his thighs, the heat of his breath, the tension in his chest, every line of muscle beneath her hands and then his eyes.

That look.
Like she was a mouse and he was the tiger, perfectly still, perfectly poised, ready to devour her whole.

And gods help her, part of her wanted to be devoured.

She didn’t want to move. That shameless, secret part of her, the one she barely knew herself, wanted to stay there, right on top of him. She wanted to lean down, cup his face, kiss his brow, his cheek… his jaw… trail down to his throat — and then his mouth.

She wanted him. So badly it scared her.

But as quickly as the fantasy came, she shoved it aside with a violent, invisible force. Wrong place. Wrong time. And then she remembered Cricket.

The tiny griffin had witnessed everything, curled at her side, chirping with worry. The heat in her face bloomed with embarrassment.
She pushed herself off Laxus, slowly, reluctantly, as if peeling herself away from a warm dream.

Now they stood side by side. Each looking anywhere but at the other.

“We should look for the others,” Liva muttered, trying to steady her voice.

“Good idea,” Laxus replied, his tone just as low. Tightly wound. Like he was one wrong word away from unraveling.

Cricket chirped in agreement. “Big worm. Bad worm.”

Liva smirked, grateful for the distraction. “That wasn’t a worm. That was a monster snake.”

“Sssssnaaaaaake.”

“Exactly.”

“Bad.”

“Right again.”

And so they set off.

Chapter Text

Waas Forest, Year X791, One and a half month until the Grand Magic Games

The forest, if it could still be called that, was nearly unrecognisable. Trees were twisted or uprooted entirely. Rocks jutted from the ground at impossible angles. Paths that once made sense were gone. Fried’s carefully drawn map was now as useless as parchment in a fire.

They wandered through the wreckage long after the sun began to set, navigating by fading twilight and instinct. When true darkness came, Liva let her magic bloom, her hands casting pale moonlight that danced along the shattered landscape.

The silence between them grew thicker with every step. But it wasn’t cold. It was charged. Like the air before a storm. Or the heartbeat before a kiss.
And Laxus, he stayed close. Always just near enough to touch her if she needed. Never pushing. But never pulling away either.

Eventually, as the first stars pierced the night sky, they found a save place for the night.

An ancient, massive tree, fallen, hollow, its trunk split like an open cavern. Its roots curled like sleeping giants. The entrance was low and narrow and Laxus grumbled as he ducked to squeeze through, broad shoulders scraping bark.

Liva lit the inside gently, illuminating the space. The hollow was dry, wide enough for all three of them to settle. The bark glowed silver under her magic, the light catching in the curves of her cheeks, the arch of her throat, the gentle tremble in her fingers.

Laxus tried not to look. Tried not to want. But it was getting harder.
Because every time she brushed her hair behind her ear or knelt to comfort Cricket or turned toward him with that quiet, searching gaze, he felt it.

That same ache from earlier. Only deeper within his heart. He wasn’t sure what would happen next.
But as they settled into the hollow, backs against the rough curve of bark, the scent of crushed moss and quiet pine filling the air… He knew one thing.

He was already too far gone to turn back now. He prayed to whoever was listening that they would have mercy with his heart.

And mercy they had.

🌙

The night air was warm inside the hollow of the ancient tree, rich with the earthy scent of moss and damp wood. Outside, the forest spoke its midnight tongue — branches swaying, crickets chirping, leaves whispering. But inside, it was quiet. Almost sacred. The silence felt suspended, like the space between heartbeats.

Liva drew a breath and sank further into herself. The air shimmered with the faint glow of moonlight that leaked through a crack in the bark. The silvery threads kissed her hair, making it glow faintly. To anyone looking, she might have appeared serene. But inside, every nerve was strung tight, every breath quivering.

Because after what happened today, everything felt different. Closer. Gods, she felt it. The weight of the quiet between them. The closeness. The promise of something more, if she’d only reach for it.

Liva fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, stealing glances at Laxus when she thought he wasn’t looking. But of course, he was. His gaze, like silver and sharp as a blade, hadn’t left her face for a long while now. Not in the silence, nor when Cricket — exhausted from their long journey — had wheezed himself to sleep between the roots. Not when the forest itself felt like it was holding its breath.

With her heart hammering wildly, she tore her gaze away. The emotions from the fall still felt so vivid — the ache of wishing she could have stayed right there, pressed against him. To feel his warmth, to kiss him, to wrap herself in his arms and forget the rest of the world.

What was she supposed to do?

She got her answer immediately.
With a faint, almost desperate sigh, she tilted her head back, gazing up through the tiny openings in the bark. The faint shimmer of moonlight, which moments ago had only kissed her hair, suddenly engulfed her completely. It felt like a dream — a luminous veil wrapping around her, filling her chest with something rare and sacred. Courage. Clarity. The whisper of a phrase echoing in her mind: “A second chance.”

Then, as quickly as it came, the glow dissipated. Liva was herself again, tucked within the hollow of the great fallen tree, Cricket close, Laxus beside her. The brilliant light had been only in her thoughts, yet she knew the feeling well. She had felt holy magic enough times before to recognize the voice and wisdom of her Moon Lady when it came.

Liva pressed a palm to her chest, felt the thrum of her heart. This had to be the moment. Not tomorrow, not the day after. Not after one more glance at him that made her knees weaker than she liked to admit.

“Laxus?” she said, voice almost breaking on that single word.

He blinked, like she’d pulled him from some deep, dark thought. His voice came low and soft. “Yeah?”

Her fingers twisted harder into the fabric of her shirt. Gods, she felt like a girl trying to find words for a boy for the first time. But this was Laxus. Strong, sharp, commanding… and heartbreakingly soft when he talked to her.

“I… I have to tell you something,” she started, voice shaking despite herself. Somehow she pulled her gaze from the floor and made herself look at him. Straight on. No hesitation. Not anymore. Not tonight.

She drew in a breath that felt like swallowing stones.

“I like you, Laxus,” she said. The words came tumbling out before she could rethink any of them, too strong and too tender to be held back. She saw his eyes growing wide, his mouth open. “Not just as a comrade. Not just as a teammate or a guildmate. Not as… whatever this is supposed to be.” She pressed a hand to her chest, voice rising as emotion bubbled forth.

“I like your strength. Your warmth. The way you can silence a room with a glance and the way you can make that same room feel safe when you’re in it. I like your voice and your laugh when you don’t bury it. I like the scar over your eye and every line and edge of your stupid, handsome face. Gods, Laxus… I-I don’t know when it started, but it’s like falling for you became as natural as breathing.”

She stopped, suddenly breathless. Suddenly very aware of how long he’d been silent.

Laxus was still staring at her. Not blinking. Not saying a word. Just looking like she’d hurled a thunderbolt right between his ribs. The longer the silence drew out, the harder her heart slammed against the walls of her chest.

Maybe she’d said too much.
Maybe this was too much.

Heat bubbled under her skin — a sting of panic, sharp and bitter. Suddenly she felt exposed. Foolish. Too hopeful. The sting rose to her eyes and mortified she pushed herself up to her knees, brushing the moss from her pants like it could somehow erase this whole mess. “Forget I said any of this,” she stammered. “I… I shouldn’t have. This was stupid. I’m sorry—”

And she turned. Tried to crawl away, to disappear into the darkness before the ache in her chest split her apart.

But then — warm fingers circled her wrist. Strong. Gentle. Certain.

“Liva,” Laxus said, low and rough and that voice shook through her like a crack of lightning. Not with anger, not with scorn, but with the sound of a man holding on for dear life.

She froze, swallowing hard as he tugged her closer, guiding her down until she was kneeling between his legs, pressed closer than she’d ever been. Suddenly, she was wrapped in the heat of him, hands shaking as she braced herself on the breadth of his chest.

Her breath caught. Not from fear. Not anymore. Not when she finally dared to lift her gaze and found herself looking into him, truly looking and seeing something she hadn’t dared imagine.

Joy.

A deep, unguarded joy that shimmered like sparks in the dark. The hard lines of Laxus’ face softened, warmth chasing away the tension in his jaw. Slowly, achingly slow, he brought a hand up, brushing the pad of his thumb along the inside of her wrist. The simplest touch and it felt like the world itself had stopped turning.

“Run? After saying all that?” he said quietly, voice deep and impossibly soft. Her breath hitched.
“Nah. You don’t get to run from this.” He drew a breath like he was hauling in the night itself, brushing the rough edge of a smile across the line of his mouth, leaning his head onto her shoulder. “Gods, Liva… Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

“W-What?” Her heart stuttered. Suddenly it felt like too much and not enough all at once. “I-I thought… I thought you didn’t feel the same,” she confessed, voice breaking.

His head jolted up. “Didn’t feel the same?” Laxus breathed out, caressing the line of her jaw with his knuckles. “You have no idea.” 

He gave a silent laugh, pushing a strand of hair from her temple like it was sacred. “I’ve been falling for you harder than a lightning strike. Been trying to hold it together like some proud, stubborn idiot, because I’ve thought you weren’t ready for any of this. Not after everything that has happened to you. Not after what my …” He stopped, eyes full of fury again. “Not after you finally had the chance to heal and live your own life.“

“Laxus …”

“But you… Liva, when you said it first?” He shook his head slowly, voice rough just enough to make her knees quiver. “I froze. Not because I didn’t want this. But because I couldn’t believe how lucky I just got. That there is a possibility I get to have this. To have you.”

“You have me, if you want.” Her breath hitched as the sting of a very different kind of warmth rose in her chest. 

“Gods.” He pulled her closer, leaning in until their foreheads pressed together, until the whisper of their breath felt like a prayer between them.
“If we’re doing this,” he said roughly, brushing the tip of his nose along hers, “then we’re really doing this. No hesitation. No holding back. Not anymore. Are you sure you want this?”

Her smile rose like the dawn itself, soft and luminous. He was so considerate, it was too cute. “Then I’m in. All of it, Laxus. Whatever this is… whatever we can be. All of it.”

“Thank the gods,” he rasped, brushing the pad of his thumb across the curve of her lower lip and her whole body swayed closer like a flame leaning into the wind. “Because I’m tired of trying to pretend this doesn’t drive me completely out of my gods-damned mind.”

Liva drew in a sharp breath and felt the world tilt.

For a heartbeat, she was nowhere and everywhere. The space between them shimmered like threads of light — threads that felt older than this night, older than this moment. They felt like threads spun across the veil of time itself, pulled tight between who she had been and who she was now.

In another lifetime, she had watched this man vanish in front of her. In another lifetime, she had buried words she longed to say and passions she longed to show. In another lifetime, their love had lived only in the ache of silence.

But here, now, in the heart of this monster forest, she felt every shard of that old grief dissolve into warmth. 
It was like breathing after nearly drowning. It was like finding a flame you thought long extinguished. It was like coming home.

Her hands rose, trembling, brushing the sharp line of his jaw until her fingers sank into the warmth of the hair at the base of his neck. When she rose to close the gap, it was with a breath that felt like a prayer and a sob and a song all at once.

And then their lips met.

It was soft at first, impossibly soft. The kind of kiss that promised no pain, no more restraint, no more loss. Just belonging. The kind of kiss that made the world fall quiet, except for the beating of their hearts and the faint sigh of the night wind.

And in that kiss — gods, in that kiss — every piece of herself that had been lost felt found. Every scar felt soothed. Every silence felt heard.

A sound bubbled from her throat, half laugh, half gasp and she sank closer, leaning against him fully until her knees pressed into the soft earth and every breath came flavoured with the crackle of lightning and the sweetness of moss. Laxus pulled her closer still, one strong hand brushing down her spine like he would memorise every inch of her.

Liva gave herself to it fully — to the warmth of the kiss, to the sting of long-sought release, to the ache that felt like a lifetime melting into a single moment. In that kiss, she felt herself whole for the first time, as if the threads that had been torn apart long ago had just found their way home.

A soft, breathless sound fell from her as she tilted closer, brushing her nose along the edge of his and brushing another kiss, shy and burning, across the edge of his mouth. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he breathed, eyes half-hooded, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Believe me, I've wanted this for much longer”, she whispered, voice shaking as she pulled back just enough to look into the silver of his eyes.

He grinned stupidly. “Oh, that long already?”

“You have no idea,” she said and stroked his cheek gently. “It feels like a lifetime.”

Cricket, completely oblivious to their world-shifting moment, let out a particularly loud snore and flopped against Liva’s boot.
They both laughed quietly. Laxus shook his head, amused. “Our first real moment and the ball of feathers gotta make an entrance.”

Liva chuckled, leaning back just enough to look him in the eyes, her gaze bright and teasing. “He’s our chaperone. Making sure we don’t get too distracted.”

“Oh, I’m already plenty distracted,” Laxus said, voice dropping low with warmth and mischief. He took her hand, lifted it and pressed a tender kiss to the inside of her wrist. His smirk turned devilish. “You’re kneeling between my legs, moon girl. I’m trying really hard to be a gentleman right now.”

Her cheeks flamed, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she let her hands slide up to his shoulders, feeling the strength there, the heat that always seemed to hum just beneath his skin. “And you’re doing a great job. So far.”

“So far?” His brow arched, amused. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“Maybe it is,” she said, soft but daring, her eyes sparkling with promise.

He grinned, brushing his nose lightly against hers. “You’re gonna make it impossible to sleep tonight, you know that?”

“Good,” she said, breathless, her heart full. “I don’t want to sleep. Not when I finally have this.” And with that, she closed the distance again, giving him a deep kiss. 

They stayed like that, wrapped in the embrace of new promises, of shared hope, of a future that, for once, felt like it might really belong to them. The first night of something real. Something they’d chosen.

⚡️

The first thing Laxus noticed was the warmth. Not just the summer morning light filtering through the cracks of the old hollow tree. No — it was her. Liva.
Pressed halfway across him as if in the night she’d abandoned every cautious barrier she used to have. Her hand rested loosely on his chest, fingers brushing the rise and fall of every breath, her hair a golden tumble that caught the faint morning glow.

And gods help him, he didn’t dare move.

His heart was beating too hard. So hard, he was sure she’d feel it if she stirred. Every point of contact — her thigh brushing across his, the warmth of her breath teasing the skin of his throat — felt like sparks down to the marrow. The memory of last night was still vivid. The way her lips felt molded to his, soft and yielding, as if every moment across countless lives had been leading to that one kiss.

He clenched his jaw, trying desperately to stay still. To draw this moment out, slow and languid. To sink into it like the summer air. But the longer he lay like this, the harder it became to ignore the slow burn rising in him. The ache for more. Not just the desperate press of a kiss, but the longing that came with it.

And then she sighed, soft and languid, brushing the tip of her nose along the line of his jaw like she had every right to claim that space. He nearly swore aloud.

“Morning,” came her voice, low and hazy with sleep, brushing across his skin like a whisper.
Laxus glanced down, swallowing hard as her lashes fluttered open, her gaze still soft and dreamy — and very aware. 

“Morning,” he replied, voice rougher than intended.

A slow smile curved her mouth as she rose slightly, brushing hair out of her eyes. 
“You didn’t move all night, did you?” she asked, brushing a lazy finger down the ridge of his chest like she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Not a chance,” he said, stroking the back of his hand down the line of her jaw. “I was afraid if I did, you’d disappear.”

Her smile widened, warm and teasing and she rose just enough to press a kiss to his mouth. The unexpected softness sank deep into him, burning like a spark. The sound that rose in his throat was low, half growl, half plea and she pulled back just enough for their noses to brush.

“Then maybe you deserve a proper ‘good morning’,” she said, voice lilting like a tease.

Before he could reply, her hand cupped the side of his jaw, tugging him down until their mouths met. It was slower this time. Not the fevered kiss of the night before, but deep and languid, rich as the summer air. The kind of kiss that promised a lifetime and felt like eternity. Laxus sank into it, one hand rising to cup the back of her neck, brushing the silken strands of her hair as he deepened the kiss until a quiet sound bubbled from her throat — one that made every nerve in his body hum.

He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead to hers, brushing the tip of his nose across her skin. “If you keep looking at me like that, moon girl,” he said roughly, voice dropping low, “we won’t be making it out of this forest any time soon.”

Liva smiled like the rising sun, brushing her thumb across the scar by his eye. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Careful,” he warned, stroking a hand down the curve of her spine until it rested at the small of her back, pulling her closer. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. You have no idea how hard it is to stop.”

Her breath hitched and that faint sound made him drop a quick, teasing kiss to the tip of her nose before leaning back just enough for air. He grinned, when he looked at her flushed cheeks. “But for now… we have a camp to get back to, people to worry about and probably a very nosy Bickslow, who’s gonna have too many questions.”

Liva chuckled and sank into him for a moment longer, giving him one more soft, languid kiss, making sure it lingered long enough to tease every frayed edge of restraint. “Then I guess we’ll save ‘the rest’ for later. We have time,” she said, brushing a hand down the line of his chest as she pulled herself to her feet.

Laxus dragged a hand down his face, letting a breathless laugh from his mouth as he rose. “You’re trouble, moon girl,” he said, voice low and fond.

“And you love it,” she replied, pushing hair out of her eyes as she glanced back, grinning like she held every star in the night sky.

He tightened the hand he offered her, kissing the inside of her wrist as she stood. “Yeah,” he said quietly, giving one more glance down her form. “I really do.”

And as they stepped out of the hollow tree, hand in hand, the morning felt brighter somehow — warmer. The forest shimmered with soft mist and faint gold and for the first time in a long, long while, Laxus felt like this was where he belonged. Not just in the guild, not just with the Thunder God Tribe, but right here. With her.

⚡️

The forest felt more alive than ever. The morning sun spilled in golden threads between the trees and every birdcall and whisper of wind felt brighter somehow.
Laxus and Liva walked side by side, hands brushing as often as they weren’t, sometimes finding each other for a beat longer, sometimes falling apart only to gravitate closer moments later. Whatever tension had once existed between them felt transformed — no longer sharp or wary, but soft and warm, a quiet hum of belonging that shimmered in every glance exchanged.

Laxus was very aware of it. The way her hand felt brushing his, the way the light kissed the edges of her hair, the warmth in her smile when she glanced his way. Even after that kiss — that long‑awaited, breath‑stealing kiss that felt like a vow — every new glance felt like falling for her all over again. Gods help him, he was falling harder with every step.

“Stop staring at me, lightning boy,” Liva said suddenly, voice teasing, not looking his way.

He chuckled low, brushing the back of his hand across hers as a reply. “Can’t help it, when I found myself a beautiful woman.”

Her cheeks grew red and the smile, that curved her lips, was brighter than the morning sun. It pulled at something deep in him, making him want to lean closer, brushing shoulders, touching her hands. Making him want more.

Ahead of them, Cricket trotted along the trail, feathers fluffed, tail swishing like the happiest little scout in the world. Every so often, the tiny griffin glanced back, chirping approvingly as if making sure both of his humans were still following.

“Looks like the little guy’s in a better mood than I’ve seen in days,” Liva said, brushing hair out of her eyes as she watched Cricket.

“Probably picking up on yours,” Laxus replied, voice low, brushing the pad of his thumb over the inside of her palm. The way her fingers twitched, brushing shyly over his, nearly undid him.

Liva bumped her shoulder into his, laughing quietly. “Maybe. Thank’s to you.”

He shrugged, grinning down at her. “I’m trying my best.”

They walked like that for a while — slow, easy, comfortable — until the sound of crashing underbrush pulled both of them up short. In an instant, lightning shimmered faintly along Laxus’s skin as he stepped slightly in front of Liva, one hand out in a wordless shield.

Then came a voice. Not a beast, not a threat. Just —

“Finally!” Bickslow exploded from the undergrowth like a man possessed, hair matted with leaves and helmet long gone, shirt torn and streaked with mud. His dolls swooped wildly around him, chattering as he waved wildly like he’d spotted the holy grail.

“Holy shit, I thought you were both dead! Or eaten! Or dead and eaten!” he announced, hauling both Laxus and Liva into a bear hug before either had a chance to protest. 

Laxus snorted and clapped him on the back. “We’re fine, Bix. We were about to come looking for you.”

“Liar! I was lost — the whole night!” He gesticulated wildly. “Do you have any idea how awful it is to stay in this fucking monster forest? Alone? No camp? I nearly died six times yesterday!” Bickslow pulled back, brushing leaves out of his hair as he gave them both an exaggerated scowl… then stopped.

Slowly. Very slowly. His gaze darted between the two of them. Their interlinked hands, Laxus brushing a stray leaf from Liva’s shoulder, she smiling like the sun at him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Then came the infamous Bickslow-smirk. “Ooooohhhh,” he drawled, stepping closer. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Liva tried — and failed — to school her expression. “What?”

Bickslow waggled a finger between them, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. “Don’t ‘what’ me. Why do I feel like, I just walked into a romance novel? Come on. You’re both glowing. You can’t hide that.”

Laxus rolled his eyes, but he didn’t move away from Liva. In fact, as soon as Bickslow drew breath for another tease, Laxus pulled her closer until their shoulders bumped. “Maybe we are. So what?”

Bickslow froze, blinked, then exploded into bright laughter. “About. Damn. Time.” He stemmed his hands into his hips, grinning like a madman. “I’ve been putting up with you two pining like lovesick puppies for longer than I can remember. The fact that you’ve finally figured this out? Miraculous. You have no idea.”

Liva covered her face with one hand, laughing shyly. “Gods, Bickslow…”

But he only waved her off as he started walking, brushing more leaves from his torn shirt. “Hey, don’t ‘Gods, Bickslow’ me. This is worth a goddamn parade. Or at least a drink. You two have been making eyes at each other for so long, I thought I’d have to draw a picture for you.”

Laxus sighed like a man defeated, stroking a hand down Liva’s spine until she peeked out from between her fingers, smiling shyly. “He’s not going to let this go for a long time, is he?”

“Never,” Bickslow announced, grinning wildly over his shoulder as the trio started making their way back towards the camp. “But hey, somebody’s got to bear witness when history is made. Might as well be me.”

“History?” Liva asked, glancing questioning towards Laxus.

Bickslow winked. “Yep. I mean, you tamed the broody, infamous Laxus Dreyar. You’re going to be talked about for years. Might as well give the rest of us something worth gossiping about.”

Laxus groaned, massaging his nose, while pulling Liva closer, voice low. “Just ignore him. He’s exaggerating.”

Liva glanced up, caressing the length of his arm until their fingers twined. “Well, even if it is true and people are gossiping … I don’t care.” Her voice softened, brushing warmth across every word. “It’s worth it.”

And it was. As long as she was there beside him, brushing his hand with hers every few steps, sharing shy kisses and quiet grins between them, this was worth it.

All of it.

Chapter Text

The air felt brighter somehow as they wandered deeper into the forest. The teasing banter between Bickslow and Laxus still floated like mist between the trees and Liva felt herself smiling, intertwining her fingers with Laxus’, when she thought Bickslow wasn’t looking. The warmth of belonging surged quietly in her chest. After so long fearing her place in the world, this felt right — this felt like home.

Cricket jumped ahead, feathers fluffed, chirping approvingly. The little griffin had no idea of the trials they’d faced, only that his tiny world felt safe. And for the first time in years, Liva felt the same.

Until the air shifted.

It was subtle — a faint vibration through the moss under her boots, the sound of branches quivering for no reason. Liva drew a breath and slowed, blowing hair out of her eyes as the sensation surged down her spine like a warning. Not fear. Readiness.

“Something’s coming,” she said quietly, readying herself. “Watch the ground.”

„Yeah.“ Laxus glanced down sharply, lightning sparking faintly across the surface of his skin. “Felt that too.”

Bickslow came to a halt with a dramatic grunt. “Of course. Just when I was starting to think we were going to make it back in one piece.”

A moment later, the earth exploded. With a sound like splitting stone, the massive snake surged forth — moss and midnight scales glinting in the sparse light. Its hiss shook the canopy and its tail crashed down, shaking the ground like a drum. But this time, there was no panic, no hesitation. Not from any of them.

Liva changed into her combat stance, fingers glowing with her magic. Laxus surged forward with a growl, sparks crawling down his arms until his fists blazed with lightning. Bickslow’s dolls rose like a dark flock of ravens, whirring and screeching as he yelled, “Go, babies!”

The beast rose higher, monstrous and sharp-fanged and for a heartbeat its gaze fell squarely on Liva. But she didn’t flinch. Instead, she glanced towards the two men at her side.

“We’ve taken down worse,” she said, voice low and confident, like steel tempered in flame. “We’ve got this.”

Laxus smirked, brushing the back of a hand down the length of her arm as he stepped closer, sparks popping faintly between their skin. “That’s my girl.”

Then the beast surged down.
Bickslow’s dolls crashed into its snout like a screeching cloud, sending the beast thrashing backward as Liva sank to one knee and pressed a hand to the earth. 

“Moonlit Chains!” she commanded, voice rising like a mantra. Chains of cold moonlight surged forth, winding and twisting like living silk. They coiled around the beast’s head, binding it tight, then wrapped its tail and midsection, anchoring the thrashing beast down until it shook the forest with its roars.
“Laxus, now!” Liva yelled, straining to hold the beast still.

A crack, like the heavens splitting, ripped through the air. Laxus surged forward like a lightning god unleashed, muscles tensing as he brought a devastating blow down upon the beast’s jaw. The sound was like a drum beating the earth itself and the snake screeched, crashing down in a wave of moss and dust, shaking the forest one final time before going still.

With a satisfied glow in her eyes, Liva sank back on her heels and smiled, brushing hair from her forehead. “Apparently, we’re getting better at working together,” she said, voice teasing.

Laxus offered a hand, hauling her to her feet. “Yeah, looks like we make a pretty solid team.”

Bickslow swooped closer with a laugh. “More like a couple that’s just dying to impress each other.” Liva rolled her eyes but refused to rise to the bait. Instead, she glanced at Laxus and smiled.

Laxus shrugged his massive shoulders. “If he starts to annoy you, tell me and I’ll throw him into the next river.”

“Okay, I will. Thank you,” she said with a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, smirking down at her.

Bickslow groaned. “Right, right. You lovey-dovey idiots.” He glanced down at the massive beast and shook his head. “So, what are we doing with this big guy?”

“Meat,” Liva said simply. “Enough to feed the whole camp for days.”

“Good idea,” Laxus said approvingly. They beamed at each other happily.

Bickslow grinned, as only he noticed their happy aura. “Yep,” he announced more to himself, “you two are making this ‘falling in love in the middle of a monster attack’ thing work. Just don’t forget to warn us when you finally get a tent tonight.”

“Bickslow!” Liva yelled, flushing crimson, ripped out of her little, lovely world. “How dare you!”

Laxus grumbled, hauling a massive chunk of the beast’s flank over one shoulder. “Shut it, Bix, or you’ll be carrying this thing by yourself. Or worse.”

Bickslow’s laugh rang wildly as he waved for his dolls to help, brushing moss and viscera from the beast. “What? It’s only natural.”

“Please, just shut up,” Liva said dryly, taking a piece of monster meat. And with that, the three of them — tired, bloody and laughing — started the long walk back to camp.

🌙

It was already night, when the group finally found themselves back in familiar parts of the Waas Forest. The forest opened up to the glow of the campfire and as soon as the group emerged — hauling the massive snake carcass between them — the rest of the Thunder God Tribe surged forward, a mix of relief and worry crossing their faces.

“Finally! You’re back!” Evergreen was the first to speak, her voice sharp and scolding as she approached Laxus. Without hesitation, she pulled him into a sisterly but fierce hug, her eyes running over him and the others, checking for wounds. “We thought something terrible had happened! You were gone too long…”

Laxus gave a low chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Just a little rough out there, but we’re fine.”

Fried appeared beside her, arms crossed, voice measured but tight. “A full night and day. We feared the worst.”

Liva felt herself shrink a little under the weight of those words. Not guilt exactly, but the sting of knowing how worried the group must have been. Before she could say anything, Bickslow stepped closer, smoothing his shirt and resting a hand on the massive beast laid out before them. His voice was softer than usual — still teasing, but with that underlying warmth of a long-time comrade.

“Feared the worst? These two?” he said, shaking his head with a faint smile. “Nah. They came back with dinner for the whole camp. And worked together like a pair that’s done this a hundred times before.”

Evergreen’s sharp eyes narrowed knowingly. “Worked together like a pair, huh?” she said slowly, opening and using her fan. “Closer than usual, too. You acting like some couple sneaking off for ‘secret missions’?”

Liva felt herself flush crimson, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her torn shirt as she glanced quickly toward Laxus. She wasn’t sure if he had planned to tell them all about them. So she replied, “It was… teamwork,” she offered quietly. “That’s all…”

But Laxus didn’t miss a beat. He stepped closer, his fingers lightly tracing down her spine, finding her fingers and wrapping his own around hers, holding their hands up for everybody to see. The smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth was confident — certain. “More than teamwork,” he said clearly, his voice carrying across the space between the trees. “A lot more.”

Liva stiffened slightly and glanced toward him — a mixture of surprise and alarm — then quickly toward the rest of the group. What would they say?

Fried’s brows rose sharply. Evergreen tilted her head like a cat assessing a new piece of treasure, while Bickslow, already knowing about them, smiled faintly and nodded, eyes gleaming with quiet approval.

“About time,” Evergreen said quietly after a while, her voice warm, smiling behind her fan. “We’ve watched you both dance around this for too long. Never thought you’d have the guts to say it out loud, Laxus.”

“Well, it wasn’t me who did the first step.” Laxus glanced down at Liva, his thumb gently brushing her hand, as he caught the hint of a shy smile at the corner of her mouth. “Trust goes both ways. Might as well be honest about that too.”

Liva felt herself flush deeper under the combined gazes of the group. Not from shame, not from doubt, but from the sheer overwhelm of being seen — truly seen — by the people who had become her family. Fried’s rare, faint smile spoke volumes as he inclined his head slowly, folding his arms with quiet ease.

“As long as you watch out for each other, that’s what matters,” he said quietly, his voice as deep and steady as the forest around them. His approval was something Liva treasured the most. Fried was one of Laxus’ most loyal friends and definitely had feelings and admiration for the lightning mage beyond mere friendship. That he rooted for them gave Liva confirmation that their new relationship was approved and supported.

“I’m happy for you both. Truly.” Evergreen stepped closer, her gaze softening as she threw her arms around Liva. “It was the hot bikini, I told you,” she whispered loudly. Liva chuckled.

“Oh?,” Laxus grumbled dryly. “So that piece of fabric right out of hell was your idea?”

Evergreen grinned devilishly. “You liked it, so shut up.”

Liva glanced up at Laxus, running her fingers along his arm. The warmth in her chest felt brighter than any flame, stronger than any lightning.

The shy gaze she offered was met with a confident one from him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close until their bodies pressed together just enough to steady each other.

Amid the crackle of the fire and the hum of the forest, the Thunder God Tribe felt like home. Not because things had gone perfectly, but because somehow every glance and every word promised, that whatever came next, they’d face it together.

🌙

The Thunder God Tribe stood shoulder to shoulder on one side of the clearing — ready, focused and maybe just a little bit nervous.
Fried gripped his sword, his stance sharp, dark runes already flickering across the ground beneath his boots. Bickslow’s dolls hovered like a small demonic swarm, twitching and chittering in anticipation. Evergreen gave her glasses one final push up her nose, her eyes gleaming behind the lenses.

“Remember,” she said, voice crisp, “this is training, not a war.”
Bickslow grinned wickedly. “Speak for yourself. I’m aiming for blood.”
“You’re always aiming for chaos,” Fried muttered.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the field stood Liva and Laxus — side by side, casual, relaxed… dangerously at ease.

Laxus rolled his shoulders with a lazy smirk. “You ready, moon girl?”

Liva glanced at him, lips twitching into a smile. “They look tense.”

“They should be.”

A small blur of feathers and fur zipped between them — Cricket, who was hopping in frantic circles on the grass, wings fluttering like he was warming up for a sporting event. “Let’s goooo!” he squeaked, eyes wide with excitement. He looked absolutely thrilled to be alive.

Evergreen narrowed her gaze. “Why is the griffin so hyped?”

“Not a griffin,” Liva said sweetly. “That’s our flying cheerleader.”

“Begin!” Fried called, slashing his sword in the air. And the battle exploded into motion.

Bickslow was the first to strike — his dolls shrieking like banshees as they shot toward Liva in a spiral of chaos.
But Liva merely raised one glowing hand. “Nope.”

A pulse of moonlight rippled out from her palm — not aggressive, not loud — but perfectly calculated. The dolls suddenly spun like confused crows in a crosswind, screeching in all directions and nearly crashing into one another.
“HEY!” Bickslow shouted. “Not cool!”

“They’re disoriented,” Liva said helpfully. “Try recalibrating your murder toys.”

Meanwhile, Fried’s runes sparked to life on the forest floor, spreading toward Laxus in intricate patterns — glowing, humming, charged with paralysis.

Laxus didn’t even look.
With a flick of two fingers, a current of lightning arced across the clearing — snapping directly into Fried’s runic trap. The entire web short-circuited with a satisfying sizzle, the lines fizzling out like dying fireflies.
Fried blinked. “…You didn’t even look.”

Laxus shrugged. “Didn’t need to.”

Evergreen made her move next — eyes gleaming gold as her petrification spell burst from her lashes, targeting Liva. But she didn’t see it coming — the spark behind her boots. One misstep, and Laxus‘ leg smashed against her own, only to send her straight to her butt.
“Agh— Laxus!” she snapped, indignant.

“Watch your back next time,” he called casually.

In the chaos, Liva and Laxus moved like light and thunder, darting through the clearing with eerie precision. She ducked under a whip of magical thread while he launched over a tree stump. Every movement was clean, practiced, and fun. And the worst part was — as per the Thunder God Tribe’s opinion — they had too much fun, sending their friends onto their asses.

“You left your flank open again,” Liva called.
Laxus smirked as he passed her. “I knew you’d cover it.”

Just as Cricket launched himself from a branch above with a fierce chirp, aiming for a sneak attack—
And he missed.

Instead, he crashed straight into Bickslow’s head, helmet flying away, wings flailing, talons tangled in wild hair.
“WHO BROUGHT THE FEATHERBALL?!” Bickslow howled, trying to peel him off.

“AH!!” Cricket squeaked in distress, his tiny claws stuck.

Liva tried not to laugh. “He’s our secret weapon.”

“He was on our side!” Bickslow snapped, spinning in circles. “Traitor!”

Fried groaned. “This is a disaster.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Evergreen muttered, brushing herself off from the ground.

Liva’s hands rose to the sky. Her eyes glowed like moons behind a curtain of wind-swept hair. “Moonlit Chains.” Silver-white strands of light shot from her fingertips, wrapping Fried and Evergreen mid-air in elegant glowing bindings. They tried to struggle — but the magic tightened.
“Laxus!” she called.

In a blink, he was above them — a shimmer of lightning streaking through the sky.
He held up his right hand, once. The boom echoed across the trees — not enough to injure, but more than enough to send a jolt through the two caught in Liva’s snare.
With twin cries of “Ugh!” they crashed into a soft patch of bush, leaves flying everywhere.

Silence. The clearing settled. Birds chirped once more. Cricket fluttered down from Bickslow’s head, ruffled but triumphant.

Laxus and Liva met in the middle, totally untouched. He held up his hand, she slapped it with a smirk.

“Too easy,” she said.

“Too fun,” he corrected.

The rest of the Thunder God Tribe groaned from their respective crash sites.
Evergreen crawled out of the bush, leaves in her hair, coughing. “That was cheating, you two.”

Laxus grinned. “Nah. You’re just too slow.”

Liva offered her hand to help her up. “Want a rematch after lunch?”

Bickslow staggered to his feet, brushing off his vest. “Not unless you promise to fight separately next time.”

“Never,” Liva said sweetly, wrapping her arm around Laxus’ waist.

“Chirp!” Cricket called from Bicklow‘s tangled hair, still upside down and victorious.

Fried let his head fall back with a sigh. “Next time… we bring explosives.”

Laxus chuckled. “Bring whatever you want.“

„Actually, bring snacks for when you lose“, Liva suggested.

Laughter still rang through the clearing as Cricket disentangled himself from Bickslow and fluttered triumphantly to Laxus’s shoulder. The clouds overhead drifted lazily, and the scent of moss and broken wood lingered in the warm midday air.

“Alright, you lot,” Laxus called, stretching. “Lunch break.”

“Finally,” Evergreen declared, brushing leaves from her hair. The group hurried away, everyone aiming for their respective tasks. Fried gathering fresh water, Evergreen looking for freshly herbs, Bickslow vanishing into the forest hunting for wild greens and Cricket cheering each discovery. Laxus turned to Liva, whose cheeks still glowed with exertion and triumph.

“Come on, moon girl,” he said, offering her his arm. She looped hers through his, together they strolled toward the camp.

🌙

A while later Liva busied herself at the firepit, skewering strips of snake-meat over the coals, carefully rotating each skewer to coax a perfect sizzle. She hummed softly, an old melody of her childhood — and nearly jumped out of her skin when a bundle of firewood thumped onto the log beside her.

“Kyaaaaa!” she screamed, with the knife in the air, she turned to find a grinning Laxus, standing behind her, arms full of kindling and a teasing smile on his lips.

“Didn‘t knew you could scream like Cricket,” he teased, setting down the wood and kneeling to arrange it. “Sorry. I thought you might like a hand.”

Liva exhaled, cheeks pink. “I was… focused.” She tucked another stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Thank you.”
He struck a flint, and sparks danced to life. As he arranged the kindling into a perfect teepee, Liva watched the flickering glow light his profile — strong, patient, entirely himself.

Gods, he looked utterly attractive while being concentrated.

When the fire caught, he leaned back again. For a moment they simply watched the flames.
“I realized something today,” Laxus said finally, voice quiet.

Liva tilted her head. “What’s that?”

He paused, picking at a stick. “I don’t know the basics about you yet.”

She blinked, surprised. “Basics?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Your favorite color… favourite food… whether you’d rather be soaked in rain or scorched in sun.” He grinned sheepishly. “Important stuff.”

Liva laughed, soft and warm. “That’s what’s been bothering you?”

He shrugged, eyes honest in the firelight. “Gotta know what I’m protecting.”

She shook her head, amusement sparkling in her eyes. “Okay. Blue,” she began, turning the skewer so it caught the light. “Favorite color is blue, like the sky today. Favorite food… I love a fresh seafood salad, with lemon and herbs. And season? Well, I guess Spring. When the flowers wake up again.” She grinned.

He watched her, head tilted, as though memorizing every word. A soft smile tugged at his mouth, but there was something thoughtful behind his eyes — something still unsaid.

Liva blinked at him. “Your turn.”

Laxus blinked back. “What?”

“You asked me all that, so now I get to ask you.”

But instead of answering, he gave her a look — almost… puzzled. Like he didn‘t expect her to ask.
“I mean…” he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really wanna know?”

Liva tilted her head. “Of course. But I guess I don‘t even have to ask, because I‘m pretty sure I already know everything.“

He looked at her intrigued, a challenging glint in his eyes. „Oh, you think you know me so well after the past few months?“
No, I already know you for years, Liva thought. But she couldn‘t say this, because Laxus still wasn‘t aware of Kairos.

“Yes, I think, I know you very well. I know your fighting patterns, your rhythm… I‘m a mindreader.” She winked.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He smirked. “Then enlighten me, o mighty mindreader, and tell me about myself.“

Liva smiled faintly, brushing her fingers against the edge of the firepit. “A mindreader lesson is very expensive, dear.”

Laxus narrowed his eyes, playfully suspicious. “Expensive, really? How much does it cost?”

She paused, thinking — or pretending to think. „Well, for someone like you it is very expensive. I fear one kiss for each answer it will be.“

„Hm.“ He chin landed on his hand. „Worth it, I guess.“ He grinned. „What is my favourite colour?“

“Colour?” she began, watching him carefully, as gazing through his mind. “I see a full colour of green. But not bright green. Something quieter. Like a forest.”

He gave a small grunt. “I see. Go on. What is my favourite dish?“

“Food…” Her fingertips landed on her temple, as if thinking very hard about his question, then her eyes lit up. “You’re not picky. You’ll eat whatever’s in front of you, unless it’s too sweet. Then you’ll make a face like someone just punched you.”

Laxus huffed — half-amused, half-impressed. “Okay.”

“And season…” She pretended to ponder for a beat. “A feel a warm Summer‘s day. You like the heat. The sound of thunder. You like when things are alive and buzzing.”

„What the hell.“ Laxus stared at her, jaw slowly tightening. “…You got all of that right.”

Liva blinked innocently. “I did?”

“Seriously, are you a witch?”

She laughed, the sound bright and unguarded. “Maybe. My grandma always loved the occult.”

He leaned in slightly. “You never asked me. Not once. How do you know all that?”

Her smile faltered for just a moment. “I pay attention.”
But there was more in her eyes — something deeper. A flicker of recognition that ran further than this lifetime, something unspoken that pressed like a fingerprint against fate.
Of course, Laxus couldn’t read that part. For him, her uncanny knowledge was just another mystery.

He tilted his head, expression softening. “Still feels unfair,” he muttered.

Liva’s brows lifted. “What does?”

“You know me that well. And I’m still learning how you like your tea.”

She reached out and gently brushed his hair back. “Then ask.”

He glanced at her sidelong. “Okay… Tea?”

She grinned. “Fruity. With fresh pressed lemon.”

“Damn. Should’ve guessed.” A small silence stretched between them. The fire crackled. The shadows flickered. And then Laxus turned fully toward her, gaze warm but sly.
“Alright,” he said. “Three right answers.”

She blinked. “Yeah?”

He leaned forward, one arm lazily bracing against his knee. “That’s three kisses.” Liva’s eyes widened slightly — not from reluctance, but from how easily he remembered her words.
“Payment, right?” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “One for each answer.”

Before she could respond, he reached out, catching her gently by the jaw. His thumb brushed along her cheek and he kissed her once — soft and slow, like thunder that rumbles instead of cracks. Her breath caught.
Then he leaned back, only to press a second kiss to the corner of her lips — playful this time, a smile against her skin. She barely had time to grin before he leaned in again, kissing her forehead last. Reverent.

“There,” he said, sitting back with the faintest smugness in his eyes. “Debt settled.”

Liva touched her face with both hands, blushing like a girl in the middle of spring. “That… was very professional of you.”

He smirked. “I take contracts seriously.”

She chuckled, then leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him into a warm embrace, her chin resting on his shoulder. And for a short while, they simply sat like that, wrapped in the golden light of the forest — until Laxus spoke again. “Alright. One more question.”

She smiled. “Yeah?”

He looked at her seriously. “Do you always hum when you’re happy?”

Liva blinked, surprised — then flushed. “I… I didn’t even realize I was doing that.”

He smiled. “You were. Right before I scared you half to death.”

“Well,” she muttered, bumping him back. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people. Especially not a woman with sharp reflexes and knives in her hand.”

Laxus chuckled — low, warm, the kind that made her insides flutter. “Next time I’ll bring snacks as a peace offering instead of firewood.”

She nodded, mock serious. “You better.”

He grinned. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Huh?”

“Do you always hum when you’re happy?”

Liva’s teasing faltered a little. She looked down, playing with the edge of his sleeve. “…Yeah,” she said softly. “The longer I think about it, I guess I do. I hum when I’m happy. Or when I feel comfortable enough.”

Laxus turned slightly, resting his chin on her arm where it wrapped around his shoulder. “So that means… right now?”

She smiled into his skin. “Right now, I’m both.” Then he noticed a shift in her demeanour. “When I was little, I always had to sing.”

Laxus tilted his head slightly, watching her clouded expression. „Why?“

“I was raised to perform,” she said, eyes flickering to the fire.

„To perform? I thought you were a noble‘s daughter?“ She smiled at his innocence. This man really had no ties to the aristocracy and their ways of thinking didn’t even gross his mind.

“Yes, that‘s exactly the reason. We are nobles. During my childhood, tutors came in and out of the house every week. Etiquette, fencing, history, math, foreign languages. And music lessons. Violin. Piano. Harp. Singing. A lady should know how to entertain her husband, how to impress their guests and how to smile while doing it.”

His gaze darkened. „Sounds very old fashioned.“

“Yes, it is. The aristocracy in Fiore is changing, but only slowly. And if the nobility like something, that it is to make stupid rules to undermine others.“
There was no bitterness in her voice. But something distant. A little sad. “I was good at it music. I even liked it at times. But it never felt like I was doing it out of love. It was always for show.”

He stayed quiet, letting her speak, fingers brushing light patterns against her knee.
“But now,” she continued smiling, “I only sing when I want to. During walks, in the shower. When no one’s listening. When it’s just me. Or Cricket.”

“Poor Cricket,” Laxus muttered under his breath, trying to lift the mood.

Liva let out a laugh, grateful for it. “He likes it, thank you very much.”

“I’m sure he does.” He reached up with a crooked grin and laced his fingers through hers where they hung loosely around his chest. “So. What you’re saying is… you can sing.”

She hesitated. “…I guess.”

“And you won’t sing for me?”

Her nose wrinkled. “I’m not performing in front of you.”

“Why not?” he asked, clearly amused. “I already told you you’re cute when you scream. You really think I’d judge your singing?”

“It’s different,” she said, hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder. “It’s… intimate.”
Laxus blinked at that. He hadn’t expected the honesty — the vulnerability. “When I sing now, it’s just for myself. It feels like showing someone a piece of my soul.”

He was silent for a moment. Then, softly, “So?”
She pulled back slightly to meet his gaze. “Isn’t that the point?” he asked.

Her lips parted, but no words came. Not right away. Then she smiled, a small, nervous thing. “Maybe. One day.”

“Promise?”

She nodded. “Promise.”

“Good,” he said satisfied. “I’ll hold you to it.”

She squinted at him. “Only if you promise something too.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Name it.”

“You sing first.”

Laxus blinked. “Absolutely not.”

She grinned, teasing. “Aw. Scared?”

“I can bring down a mountain,” he said flatly. “But I’m not howling at the moon like some lovesick bard.”

Liva chuckled, warm and content, then leaned in again, letting her forehead rest against his temple.
“Then we’ll hum together,” she whispered.

And in the quiet moments that followed — with fire crackling, sunlight filtering through the trees and their fingers still tangled — Laxus realized something.
He might not know every piece of her past. But somehow, with her tucked against his side and her heartbeat steady under his hand… He already knew the parts that mattered most.

And maybe, just maybe, one day she would sing. For him.

Chapter Text

Waas Forest, Year X791, Less than five weeks until the Grand Magic Games

The morning sun spilled warm and golden across the camp, gilding the edges of the clearing and setting the mist to shimmer. The Thunder God Tribe was gathered around the breakfast fire, a jumble of dirty clothes and training gear scattered behind them. Liva sank down onto a moss-slick log beside Laxus, brushing the back of her hand against his as she settled in. It was almost absentminded now — this shy reaching for him, this quiet claim of touch.
Laxus didn’t flinch. In fact, he leaned just enough so their knees bumped, like it was the most natural thing in the world. A quiet hum of belonging bubbled in Liva’s chest. Not so long ago, she would’ve felt like an outsider here. Now she felt like one of them.

“Morning, lovebirds,” Bickslow announced with a crooked grin, dropping down across from them with an overfilled plate. His babies floated overhead, making soft clicking noises. “Try not to melt into each other too much. We’ve still got training to do today.”

Liva rolled her eyes as she waved him off. “And good morning to you too, Bickslow. Do you ever run out of things to tease about?”

“Not when it’s this easy,” he winked, tearing into a piece of eggs like it was a prize. “At least you give me new stuff, not like someone else here …“

Liva tilted her head, now curious. “Oh? Who?” 

The hint of an opening was enough for the Seith mage to glance away, grinning. „Our friend and her sweetheart. Right, Ever?”

The woman shrieked, suddenly red. Liva wasn’t sure, because she was flustered or veeeery angry — maybe both. „Shut up, Bickslow. Don‘t start again!“

Bickslow winked wildly, leaning closer as if letting the campfire witness a sacred secret. “How can you say that, Ever? You will break his heart.“

„This big idiot doesn‘t have a heart. He doesn‘t even have a mind!“
Liva started to laugh. Yes, now Ever was definitely flustered. It seemed, she had a crush on someone, who wasn‘t aware of it, yet. „Who is it?“ 

Bickslow sing-sang, his babies flying around like a whirlwind: „Someone big. Someone strong. Someone named—” 

“Bickslow!” Evergreen’s voice rose sharply, sharp as her glasses as she fixed him with a death stare.

But Liva was already grinning wildly, enjoying the teasing. Oh, sweet revenge. “Wait. Evergreen? You’ve got your sights set on someone big and strong?” She pressed a hand to her temple, trying very hard to remember the Fairy Tail mages. She only met them once, but most of them were easy to remember.
Then Liva halted and held her chest like the snobbish nobles back home, lowering her voice down into a whisper. “Please don’t tell me you’re talking about… Elfman?”

Evergreen froze like a statue. Then her hand shot out, throwing Liva and Bickslow off the log. “That’s ridiculous! Absolutely not! That guy? No. No, no, no! Never!” But the rest of the group wasn’t letting her off that easily. They laughed and the teasing only had started.

Even Laxus tilted an eyebrow, giving a faint smirk down towards Liva, as he helped her back onto the log. „Look, we’re not the only victims of teasing.“

Bickslow roared with laughter, falling backward again as he waved wildly between Evergreen and Liva. “Ha! This is gold. Evergreen, get some grip! You can‘t wait forever, didn‘t you tell Liva the same thing about Laxus?“

The blonde mage halted. „Come again?“
„Don‘t ask“, Liva whispered back. „Just the bikini and all.“

Evergreen swatted a hand at Bickslow, pulling her glasses further up, her cheeks flushed. “Shut up! You don’t get to tease. You can’t even walk in a straight line after a glass of beer. Because in every tavern you drink too much, because you fell for the waitress again. And not once did you succeed.“

“Yeah well, that’s true.” He shrugged, brushing the sting off with a wink. „Can‘t help, that the barmaids have always have such nice—“ Ever shoved him off again.

Liva was grinning now as she glanced toward Evergreen with a teasing wink. “Well, I think it’s cute that you have a crush. Might be worth dropping him a hint before the Grand Magic Games. You deserve a little happiness too, Ever.”

Evergreen stopped, brushing hair out of her face like she was brushing away an inconvenient thought and for a moment, the sharp edges of her demeanour softened. “Forget it,” she said quietly. “That man is too dumb.”

„Not on my shift“, Liva smiled. „I don‘t look like it, but back in the day, when I walked among high aristocracy“, she stood up, posing like a holy figure. „I was called the Queen of Coupling!“

The three men clapped approvingly. „Ohhh!“

Ever didn‘t look convinced. „Oh, no.“

„Oh, yes!“

“Thank‘s the effort, Liva, but don‘t trouble yourself.“

„Your happiness isn‘t troubling me, Ever.“

The brunette halted and suddenly hugged her tightly. „Thank you.“

Liva smiled and hugged her back. „No problem, Ever.“

Around the fire, the banter rose and fell, switching between moments of sharp teasing and soft understanding. Liva felt herself relax deeper into the circle, tugging the warmth of belonging closer to her heart. This was more than a team now. They were friends. Like family.

Laxus moved beside her and stroked a hand down her spine, giving her goosebumps until she looked up, just in time to see the soft curve of his smile before he kissed her. “Looks like you're going to make friends for life, huh?”

Liva smiled, throwing her arm around his waist. “Looks like I already have.”

And as the morning sun brushed its threads across the forest floor, Liva knew this was where she belonged. Not because of a mission, or a promise, or a looming threat, but because of this — moments like this. Sitting together, banters filled with trust, tempered by trials and rooted in belonging.

The Grand Magic Games were only five weeks away. But for the first time in a long time, that didn’t matter. Not right now.

🌙

Waas Forest, Year X791, Four weeks until the Grand Magic Games

The afternoon sun shimmered through the leaves as Liva, Fried and Cricket traced the perimeter of the camp, checking the protection runes. The quiet felt different from the banter that usually bubbled within the Thunder God Tribe. Deeper somehow.

Cricket trotted ahead, tail feathers rustling as Liva glanced at the tall, reserved man beside her. “Fried?” she asked softly. “You’re quieter than usual. Is it about the upcoming Games?”

He shook his head, pushing long green hair out of his sharp, serene face. “No.”

“Then what is it?”

He stopped, resting a hand against the rough bark of a nearby tree, voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s about … feelings.”

“Feelings?” Liva tilted her head, slowing until she came to a halt beside him.

Fried drew a slow breath, choosing his words with care. “It’s strange… to walk with people, who accept every part of you. Not as a fighter. Not as a protector. But as… yourself.”

Liva watched him quietly. This was Fried — sharp when needed, loyal beyond measure and soft as silk when it came to those he cherished. She sank down on a fallen tree and patted the spot beside her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Fried hesitated for a beat, then sank down beside her. Ahead, Cricket pounced on a mouse, chirping proudly.
For a long moment, the mage said nothing. Then, voice low, he confessed, “I have deep admiration for Laxus. He shaped all of us. He shaped… me. But my loyalty and admiration… they run deeper than friendship.” He faltered, eyes dropping as if afraid to meet her gaze.

Liva tilted her head, as she smiled softly. Not with suspicion. Not with judgment. But with understanding. “That doesn’t trouble me, Fried,” she said quietly, running a finger along the worn wood beside her. “If that’s what you fear.”

“What?” He looked sharply at her, voice rising. “Why not?”

“Why would it?” she replied simply. “To love someone — in any way — is a gift. You don’t owe apologies for that.”

Fried lifted a brow sharply, faint surprise crossing his normally unreadable features. “It doesn’t make you jealous? Not even a little?”

Liva smiled, twisting a fallen leaf between her fingers. “Why would it? What you feel doesn’t diminish what he feels for me. Or what I feel for him. The heart has room for many kinds of love and belonging.”

For a moment, silence wrapped itself around them. Then Fried offered the faintest, rare smile. “That’s… unexpectedly profound.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged, brushing a glance towards the trees. “But belonging is like that. It doesn’t ask for permission or limitation. It just… is.”
A long silence passed between them, broken only by the sound of Cricket hopping down the path, tail feathers bobbing as he announced his victory over a mouse. Liva watched the little beast and spoke quietly.

“You’d have liked Fynn,” she said.
Liva clearly rememered Kairos‘ younger brother. He was born in an era, where loving the same gender could‘ve been a death sentence. He always had struggled with those feelings and only finally felt free, after they ran from the kingdom.

Fried glanced down sharply. “Fynn?”

“An old friend,” she said softly. “Calm, sharp, loyal — someone who knew belonging like you do. Someone who would have valued the quiet strength you carry.” A faint, sad smile curved her mouth. “He would’ve liked you too.”

Fried gave a sharp, surprised laugh, brushing a hand down the length of his long coat. “Why tell me this now?”

“Because I would’ve introduced you,” she replied with a tilt of her head. “You would’ve made a cute couple. And I think you would’ve found him very attractive.” Or so she assumed, as he looked very much like Kairos.

He frowned slightly. “Why are you talking about him in the past tense?”

Liva drew a slow breath, stroking Cricket’s soft feathers as he bumped affectionately into her palm. “He’s gone,” she said quietly.

Fried fell silent for a long moment, narrowing his eyes as if searching the forest for that lost figure. When he spoke, it was with a faint, hoarse edge. “Well… not helpful, but thank you for sharing.” He offered a faint nod. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Liva smiled softly, touching Cricket’s tiny beak with her finger. “That’s love too, isn’t it? To remember. To honor. To walk beside those still here.”

Fried glanced towards her, voice softening. “Then, for that, I’m grateful. To walk beside those still here… and for this quiet understanding between us.”

“Always,” Liva promised. „We‘re friends, Fried.“

They sank into silence as they rose and pressed on. Again, the forest felt different. Not a wilderness, nor a trial, but a witness — to belonging that came from knowing, accepting and sharing.

🌙

Waas Forest, Year X791, Three weeks until the Grand Magic Games

The sound of the river bubbled through the quiet morning, winding its way between moss-clad boulders and sun-dappled trees. Liva knelt by the water’s edge, fashioning an impromptu fishing rod. Beside her, Bickslow was already rigging a proper line, humming to himself as he winked down at Cricket, perched on a mossy rock.

“So,” Bickslow said suddenly, voice calm as he glanced over. “I heard you had an interesting conversation with Fried?”

Liva smiled faintly as she looped a piece of line around the end of her stick. “Yes, it was interesting, but not surprising. I was already expecting these feelings.“

„Really?“ Bickslow tilted his head. “Well. That’s why he likes you, y’know. You don’t make a fuss. You just accept him as he is.”

A shy warmth bubbled in Liva’s chest. “That’s how friends should be, right?”

“Exactly.” He smiled warmly, rare for him when he dropped the bravado. “That’s why we like having you around. You just… fit. No demands. No judgment.”

Liva smiled down at the water. “That means a lot, Bickslow. Thank you.”

He winked, tossing a line into the river. “Means a lot to us too, Princess.”

“Watch it, Puppeteer,” she said with a smirk, as she sank her own line into the water.

For a moment, the scene felt serene. The hum of the river, the sound of leaves whispering overhead, the warmth of belonging threading itself between them.

“Y’know,” Bickslow said after a moment, “you’re one of us now. Not because you can throw a fist or a powerful spell. Not because you can stand beside Laxus. But because you fit where it counts.” He tapped a hand to his chest. “Right here. The belonging thing. You get it.”

Liva glanced at him, she smiled. “That means more than you know, Bickslow. Thank you.”

He shrugged, trying to mask the faint warmth in his chest. “Hey, don’t make it weird, okay? Just saying, you’re one of us. Always will be.”

A quiet settled between them then, wrapped in the sound of water rushing and the forest whispering. Liva smiled, stroking Cricket as he started to doze in the sun. “Then I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,” she said quietly.

Bickslow glanced at her from the corner of his eye and smirked. “Yep. Right where you belong, Princess.”

🌙

Waas Forest, Year X791, Two weeks until the Grand Magic Games

Liva was amazed how fast the last weeks had flown by. Only two weeks remained until the Grand Magic Games and soon they would be out of this monster-infested forest. The days still passed in a blur of training, banter and stolen kisses when no one was looking. But the old tension between them had changed, shifted from awkward sparks to an electric charge that thrummed under every glance, every word, every faint brushing of skin and left the want for … more.

It didn’t help that Laxus felt the need to do his warm‑ups shirtless every morning. The sight of the sun carving lines across toned muscle was enough to make Liva forget herself. Nor was she any better when she was sparring with Ever in nothing more than a cropped top and shorts, or stretching out in the sun in her bikini. Laxus would grow silent, rubbing a hand down the length of his neck and suddenly that smug, confident exterior would crack just enough for her to glimpse at the ember burning beneath.

That night, after sharing a quiet dinner by the dwindling campfire, Laxus and Liva lingered a little longer than usual. The rest of the Thunder God Tribe had already retreated to their tents, leaving the clearing still and serene. They spoke in low voices — teasing, laughing, the air between them full with shy glances and soft banter. 

Laxus watched her closely, a serious look resting on his sharp features. “Mind if I ask you something about your past?”

Liva tensed for a moment, then scolded herself inwardly. In all this time, he’d never pushed, never pried, never tried to force her to tell more than she was ready to give. And after the weeks they’d spent together — after all he’d proved — he had every right to ask.

“Of course,” she said quietly. “What is it?”

He furrowed his brow, stroking a hand down the side of his arm as if choosing his words carefully. “What we have… it’s serious, right?”

She blinked, surprised. “Of course it is.”

He gave a slow nod. “Then… what about your fiancé?”

For a moment, silence passed between them and then a mischievous smile curved Liva’s lips. “Oh? Are you jealous?”

“Wha–? No, of course not,” he grumbled, looking sharply to the side, a faint hint of color rising in his cheeks. “I just don’t play that game. I don’t cheat and I sure as hell don’t share.”

Liva giggled softly and hooked a finger under his chin, coaxing him to look at her. His brows knitted and that stormy scowl he wore felt so very him — strong, protective, a hint of vulnerability burning deep. “I’m only teasing, Laxus,” she said, breathing a soft kiss to his lips. “I ended my engagement before I joined Raven Tail. And when I ran from Ivan, I made sure my family and Anthony knew — I wouldn’t be going back. Not to Anthony, not to any old promises. Whatever we had is long gone.”

For a moment, Laxus was quiet, searching her eyes and then something sharp and satisfied sparked in those blue-flecked irises. A low hum rumbled in his chest as he straightened slightly, brushing a hand down the line of her spine. “Good,” he said, voice deep and rich with approval.

Liva smiled, nudging her nose playfully against his. “That makes you happy?”

“Just a little,” he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth — one that spoke volumes. It was more than a little and they both and his ego knew it.

Laughing, she wrapped her arms around him, burying herself in the warmth and strength of him. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

He pulled back just enough to give her a sharp, narrowed stare, voice dropping to a growl. “I am not adorable.”

She kissed him again, soft and slow. “Sure, lighting boy. Whatever you say.” 

He tried to shoot her an angry look, but he failed — badly.
Deep down, Laxus felt it. A flame burning brighter than any lightning, a quiet victory thrumming through every beat of his heart. Anthony was a ghost, a relic of a past long buried and Liva was here. In his arms. Not because she had to be, but because she chose to be. And for him, that was worth every scar he carried.

Liva laughed at his face and gave him a crooked smile. “Better get some rest. Big day tomorrow,” she said, caressing his jaw as she rose.

He grinned, giving her knuckles a soft kiss. “Same goes for you, moon girl. Don’t stay up too late plotting how to beat me in training.”

She winked as she pulled herself into her tent, brushing the canvas door shut. “That depends on how well you behave.”

Laxus smiled to himself, like an idiot in love and went into his tent. Then he froze.
“Evergreen,” he said slowly, pushing the tent flap aside like a man brushing cobwebs from an unwanted corner. “Why the hell are you in my bed?”

Ever smiled, throwing her hair back like a spoiled princess. “Because I’ve decided to sleep here tonight, obviously.”

Laxus levelled a flat stare at her. “Move.”

“Make me,” she said, patting the bedroll, making herself very comfortable and pulling out a pack of playing cards.

“Poor luck,” Bickslow chuckled, taking the cards and shuffling them, both completely unbothered by the tall man in the entrance.

„What the hell, guys? There is no room for four people here!“, he gestured to Fried and apparently Cricket, sleeping serenely in the back of the tent. „And a griffin.“

“Yes, you’re right. Looks like someone’s sleeping elsewhere tonight,” Bickslow announced, pointing to the entrance. “Try Liva’s tent, big guy.”

Laxus froze, crossing his arms in defense. “What?”
A beat passed. Then another. The soft sound of Fried’s and Cricket’s snores floated out from their bedrolls. Somehow, it clicked, this wasn’t an accident. This was a setup. Laxus pressed a palm to his red face and drew a deep, annoyed breath. “Are you serious?”

“Yep“, Bickslow said and threw the first card.

Ever shoved him out. „Now, go, you‘re out,” she called from inside the tent, zipping the entrance door. “She doesn’t bite… unless you want her to.”

A chorus of laughter rose as Laxus, the mighty lightning mage of Fairy Tail, stood there like a man standing at the edge of the cliff of doom. Cursing he turned with a burning face.

🌙

Laxus felt like an idiot. The longer he circled the campsite, the more ridiculous he felt — a powerful S‑Class mage pacing like a boy too shy to walk through a door. The flames of the campfire crackled low and the rest of the Thunder God Tribe had long ago settled into their bedrolls. He’d heard their giggles earlier and now they snored, deep in sleep.

He glanced toward the tent, where Liva was resting, rubbing a hand down the back of his neck as if he could wipe away the tension.
Should he just crash by the fire? Probably.

But Ever’s smug smirk and Bickslow’s teasing voice kept repeating in his head. Somehow, he knew that if he gave up and sank down here tonight, he’d never hear the end of it.
But knocking on her door and asking to be let in like a stray dog? No. He refused to cause trouble. And he didn‘t want to pester her. He just earned her trust.

“Fuck it.” With a gloomy expression, he sank down onto the cold ground, trying to make himself comfortable.

Then a tent’s flap shifted.

“Laxus?”

He froze. Liva stood in the opening, wearing a thin, nightshirt. Her hair falling loosely over her shoulders, blinking in the faint glow of the campfire. “Why are you still awake?”

He glanced down, brushing a palm over the fabric of his shirt as if it could banish the awkwardness. “I’ve been thrown out of my tent.”

“What? Why?”

Stubbornly, he gazed into the fire. “Lost a bet.”

Liva’s eyebrows rose. She watched him closely, slumped in front of the flames and looking uncharacteristically nervous. “You already know you can’t lie to me, Laxus Dreyar,” she scolded. He pouted. “What happened?”

He sighed. “Well, apparently Ever and the rest decided I need to crash with you tonight.”

Her eyes widened. “They didn’t.”

A crooked smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “They absolutely did.”

For a moment she just stood there, breathless, searching for words. “And you’re sitting out here… why?”

He turned to her, disbelieving. “I’m not about to run to your tent and ruin your night because of our stupid friends.” As he spoke, the tips of his ears grew red and Liva’s knowing smirk widened. “Stop. That. Smirk,” he said darkly.

But Liva already laughed. “You know, sometimes you’re really a gentleman.” He rolled his eyes.
“Well, lightning boy… you can’t be thinking about sleeping out here like some wounded beast, can you?”

He shrugged. “Seemed like the safest solution.”

“Laxus,” she said softly, closing the space between them with a voice that promised warmth, “we’re both adults. And we’ve been boyfriend and girlfriend for… what? A few weeks?”

He eyed her. “Exactly.”

She held out her hand to him. “So why not just crash in with me?” For a beat, silence settled between them. Not a shy silence, but one charged with quiet knowing.

“Alright,” he said finally, destroying the tension with a faint smirk. He took her hand. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She smiled shyly and pulled the tent flap wider, making room for him. “Come in. It’s just a tent. Just a bedroll.”

🌙

The tent felt smaller tonight.

Liva sank down on her bedroll, tucking hair away from her cheeks as she settled onto her side. Laxus sank down beside her. They stayed like that for a moment, surrounded by an awkward silence that felt almost fragile.

“Uh… aren’t you going to, you know, change?” she asked, tugging slightly at the edge of his shirt.

He glanced down. “You mean… to my underwear?”

Her breath hitched. “What?” She shook her head quickly, pushing the thought from her mind. “Wait — you really only wear boxers to sleep?”

A crooked smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as the tension lifted. “Well, it is very hot in the forest.” His gaze settled on her, teasing. “Especially tonight.”

“Smooth,” she said with a shy laugh, only for it to dissolve into a sharp inhale as he stripped down to just his boxers. In the faint light, the lines of his body were defined by shadow and glow and she felt warmth rise in her cheeks.

“Don’t forget to breathe, sweetheart,” he teased softly.

They sank down beside each other, noses nearly touching, breathing the faint feminine air of the tent. The shy smile tugging at the corner of both their mouths felt like a quiet agreement.

“I can’t help it,” she said breathlessly. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”

That made him hesitate. Suddenly flustered, he rolled to his back, tucking an arm behind his head to mask the warmth rising in his chest. “That’s a bold thing to say.”

“But it’s true.” The words came soft and certain.

A silence settled between them, expectant and charged. After a beat, he glanced at her from the side and murmured, “You’re beautiful too.”

A quiet laugh bubbled from Liva as she sank closer, resting on one elbow. “Isn’t it strange?” she asked, voice soft. “That we can fall asleep pressed together under the stars like it’s nothing… but a tent suddenly feels like too much?”

Laxus tilted closer until their noses nearly touched. “Maybe that’s because this tent means privacy. Whatever we say, whatever we do… doesn’t just disappear into the night anymore.”

A faint flush rose in Liva’s cheeks and she leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “That makes it tempting, doesn’t it?”

A slow smirk curved across Laxus’ mouth as he closed the space between them until their breath mixed. “Temptation doesn’t scare me, Liva. Not when it’s you.”

“Then why does this feel like standing on the edge?” she asked quietly.

“Because we are,” he replied, voice deep as it shimmered between them. “But it feels right for me.“

Then she smiled, soft and sure. “Then tonight… it’s you and me.”

The first kiss came like a spark in dry tinder.

Laxus pulled her closer until their mouths moulded, slow and languid, soft gasps melting into deeper sighs. His hand sank to the small of her back, pulling her closer until every inch pressed warm and firm. Liva sank into it with a low hum, winding a hand into his short, blonde hair, tugging just enough for a quiet growl to rise from deep in his chest.

He pressed her down into the bedroll with a slow, burning intent, knees brushing hers apart until their bodies aligned. The tent became a world of its own, the crackle of the campfire far beyond, the air charged with electric warmth. Her leg rose to hook over his hip, her breath stuttering as he pressed closer, brushing the line of her thigh with a palm that promised more.

“Liva,” he rasped, voice a low, molten sound pressed to the curve of her throat. “If this is too much… tell me to stop.”

Her hands sank down the broad line of his chest, tracing every rise and fall of muscle until she pulled him closer still. “It’s not too much,” she whispered, brushing a kiss along the sharp line of his jaw, “but I‘d appreciate a bed and more privacy, if I‘m being honest.“ He smirked and look down at her, brushing a hand down the line of her hip until it came to rest like an anchor. His voice was deep, hoarse with want. “Then tonight is only this.”

“This?” she asked breathlessly.

“Touching.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, whispering words down the line of her throat. “Learning each other. Making promises we can keep when the time is right.”

Then he kissed her like that — slow, deep, languid, a kiss that promised belonging more than conquest. His hand roamed down the long line of her spine, touching bare skin when her shirt rose, leaving sparks across every place their bodies molded together.

Her hands sank down the planes of his chest, stroking over skin that felt like burning silk. Every shift, every whisper felt charged, sacred — a surrender that didn’t consume, only promised. They pressed closer, gasping across each other’s mouths, hands roaming down until every surge and every edge was explored.

Through tangled breath and slow strokes of hands and mouths, one thing became clear: tonight wasn’t about urgency. It was about trust. About belonging. About destroying walls until only warmth remained.

And when he pulled back, stroking a hand down the line of her spine one last time, noses touching with a low hum, he smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

“Soon,” he promised quietly. “We’ll make it a night worth remembering.”

Liva flushed, her hand resting on his chest, feeling the wild beating of his heart. “Yes,” she whispered. “When have more than a tent and a bedroll.”

Then he sank closer, nudging his nose to the line of her jaw, breathing a last, promising kiss across her skin. In that quiet space between heartbeats and whispers, wrapped in the warmth and safety of one another, they fell into a deep, serene sleep.

Chapter Text

Waas Forest, Year X791, One week until the Grand Magic Games

The forest was alive with the first low grumbles of thunder as Laxus and Liva gathered fallen branches along the edge of the camp. The sky darkened swiftly, heavy clouds rolling over the treetops, like a storm had finally decided to break free. The air thickened, carrying the scent of rain and earth.

Laxus moved deliberately, stacking wood with practiced hands, his eyes flicking toward the horizon, where flashes of lightning danced in the gathering gloom. Liva’s hair clung damply to her neck as she bent down to gather smaller twigs.

“Looks like we’re in for a rough one,” Laxus said, his voice low and steady despite the quickening wind.

Liva glanced up, the edges of her mouth curling into a small, nervous smile. “Yeah… better get back before it hits.”

No sooner had she spoken, the sky split with a jagged bolt of lightning and the heavens opened in a roaring downpour. They barely made it to a rocky overhang just beyond the trees, completely soaked, bodies pressed close as Laxus pulled his mantle tight around both of them.

The storm pounded overhead — a wild symphony of thunder, rain drumming on stone and the sharp crackle of distant lightning. Yet beneath the tempest’s chaos, a quiet warmth blossomed between them. The heat of Laxus’ body against hers seeped through the wet fabric of their clothes, grounding her amid the storm’s fury.

Liva leaned into him instinctively, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath the heavy mantle. She raised her eyes, meeting his gaze as lightning flashed again, illuminating the sharp planes of his face. The usual armor of his confidence was softened tonight, vulnerability flickering behind his steady eyes.

“Storms always make me think,” Laxus murmured, voice almost drowned by the rain. “About what we’re fighting for. What we’re protecting.”

Liva’s fingers curled around the fabric of his cloak, seeking reassurance in the rough weave. “Is it out of fear?” she asked softly. “Or out of hope?”

He shook his head slowly, thunder rolling like a sigh. “Both. I’m scared, Liva. Scared of failing the guild again, failing you. And yet, there’s this… this feeling of belonging. Something worth fighting for no matter what.”

She smiled, tracing gentle patterns on his chest. “I feel that too. The Grand Magic Games aren’t just a test of strength. They’re a test of what we’re willing to risk and who we’re willing to become. You must be prepared.“

His hand found hers, fingers curling around hers like a promise. “We will win.”

„Yes, we will.“

A lightning struck on the sky and mere seconds later a loud thunder echoed. „You know“, Liva winked at him. „I always loved thunderstorms.“
His breath caught as her thumb brushed across the back of his hand, sending a shiver down his spine. Lightning cracked again, bright and electric and their eyes locked with an intensity that made the rain seem to hush in reverence.

“Liva,” he whispered, voice rough and urgent.

„Yes?“

The space between them shrank until there was nothing but shared breath and pounding hearts. His other hand slid up to cup her cheek, thumb tracing the curve of her jaw, rough with a mix of sweat and rain. She tilted her face into his touch, eyes fluttering as the storm’s wild energy found a mirror in the fierce heat building between them.

When their lips met, it was a slow burn — soft at first, a careful exploration that deepened with every touch. The rain and thunder faded into the background, the world shrinking to the press of bodies, the taste of wet skin, the sharp inhale of desire.

Laxus’ hands moved with intent, tracing the contours of her back beneath the soaked fabric, drawing her impossibly close. Liva’s fingers tangled in his damp hair, nails grazing tender skin, a silent plea for more.

The mantle slipped from her shoulders as he pressed closer, hands wandering down the curve of her waist, finding every curve and plane with reverence and hunger. Her breath hitched, heat pooling low in her belly as the storm outside echoed the fire between them.

“Laxus,” she breathed, lips parting beneath his, “not here. Not like this.”

He paused, forehead resting against hers, the storm’s wild roar seeping back into their awareness. “I know,” he rasped. “Sorry.”

„Don’t be.“ She smiled against his lips, fingers splaying across his chest. “Soon we will leave this forest behind.”

He nodded, voice thick with longing. “Only a week left.”

Their kisses deepened once more, slower now, savouring the connection and the fierce tenderness wrapping around them like the storm itself. Outside, lightning cracked and thunder rolled, but beneath the rocky shelter, two souls found their refuge — belonging, desire and hope wrapped in each other’s arms. When the rain finally eased, they lingered in the quiet aftermath, hearts still racing, lips still tingling with the promise of the future.

🌙

Magnolia, Year X791 — Two Days Until the Grand Magic Games

And just like that, three months had passed. They had entered the Waas Forest weighed down by doubt, mistrust and fear. They returned as a stronger, tighter team — a bond of friendship, trust, understanding and love now thrumming between them.

For the trip home, they had hired a wagon to get back faster. Laxus and Liva were both leaning their heads out of opposite windows, looking positively green.
“Stupid motion sickness,” Liva groaned.

“Your fault,” Laxus grumbled. “Who was it that wanted to shop in Clover? We’re late as hell because of that.”

Evergreen scoffed. “Hey, Liva’s been living in my clothes for months. Can you really blame her for wanting to pick up something new now that we’ve got a payday? Try having some understanding for your girlfriend.”

Laxus just sank his head into his hands with a low groan. “I don’t remember it being this bad.”

Liva pressed a hand to her mouth. “The stronger a Dragon Slayer gets, the worse the motion sickness becomes.”

“Fucking great…”

By mid-afternoon, the wagon finally stopped at the gates of Magnolia. They paid the driver and started toward the guild. As soon as they stepped closer, Liva noticed a shift in Laxus — shoulders squared, chin lifted, a faint smirk brushing across the sharp lines of his jaw. Not cold or unfriendly, but as if he were putting on that ‘cool guy’ mask of his.

Liva stifled a laugh. “You seeing this, Cricket?”

“Cool Laxus,” the griffin echoed with a impressed nod.

Laxus glanced back sharply. “I can hear you both.”

“Good.” Liva stuck out her tongue, grinning.

As the guild came into view, her stomach fluttered for reasons far beyond motion sickness. She’d been part of the guild for three months, yet still hadn’t properly met many of the members. What would the rest of the guild be like? What would they expect from her?

Laxus pushed open the door to the slightly run‑down guild hall. The Thunder God Tribe lined up behind him like a hero’s entourage, grins plastered across their faces. “We’re back, people!“ they announced.

The bustling room fell quiet for a beat, countless pairs of eyes falling upon the newcomers… then erupted into smiles and greetings.
“Welcome back!” Mirajane called, beaming from across the room, Lisanna and Elfman standing beside her. Her siblings winked happily.

Bickslow nudged Evergreen with an elbow. “Hey, look who’s here.”

“Shut up,” she hissed, hiding her face behind her fan.

Meanwhile, Liva cradled Cricket and glanced around, taking in both familiar and unfamiliar faces. She counted more people than before, but there still were not many.
Suddenly, Laxus was beside her, smiling down to her. “Want names?”

She nodded eagerly. Laxus let his eyes roam over them room. “That one — blue hair, long coat — that’s Juvia. Strong water mage.“ Juvia had cool, blue eyes, but as she spotted Liva, she gave her a friendly smile.

„And the trio over there are a team called Shadow Gear — Levy, Jet and Droy.” He watched as Liva mentally noted their faces. 

“And last, seeing that grumpy guy with the cat? Gajeel. And that’s his partner Pantherlily.”

Gajeel’s sharp gaze suddenly cut across the room. Even from a distance, he’d heard them talking about him. “Grumpy one, huh?” he growled, narrowing his eyes on Liva. “And just who’s this chick?”

Liva felt is burning gaze, like she was prey and he was a terrible, terrible predator. But Liva met dozens of men, who tried to make her small with just one look. This was found treasure for her.
“This chick?” Liva said dryly and showed him a challenging grin. “Why don’t you come here and ask politely, if you dare, boy?”

Gajeel scoffed, but didn‘t seem offended. „Where did you find that one, Laxus?“ But the lightning mage only smirked at Liva, never answering that question.

Then Makarov emerged from the crowd. Without any words and his presence alone, his commanded the room. He hopped onto the bar counter. “Well, nice to see you brats made it home safe and sound.” His gaze softened as he spotted Liva and Cricket. “And you’re still here. Good to have you both with us.”

„Thank you, master“, Liva said. 

Cricket nodded politely. „Thank you.“

Makarov laughed. „Looks like someone learned a few words.“

He then glanced at the others — those Liva didn’t recognize — and spoke clearly. “For those who don’t know, these are Liva and Cricket. They joined Fairy Tail three months ago and she trained with Laxus and his team for the past three months.”

“Laxus’ team?” Levy said, sounding genuinely impressed. “Then you must be strong.” Her teammates nodded and Levy’s gaze landed on Cricket. “And you tamed an owl‑griffin? Incredible.”

Liva felt herself flush. “Uh, I guess so?”

Laxus shrugged, mantle hanging nonchalantly over his shoulders. “We tied more than once during training.”

“WHAT?” The word exploded from the room and suddenly every gaze was fixed on Liva as if she were some moon goddess descending from the heavens.

Even Makarov gave an approving nod. “I had a feeling you were strong. As a Dragon Slayer you have big potential.”

Gajeel gave her a surprised look. “Wait… you’re a Dragon Slayer too?”

“Yep.” Liva winked. “Looks like you’re not that special after all, big guy.” He grumbled under his breath, but she spotted a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth nonetheless.

Laxus glanced around. “Where are Erza and Natsu? I thought we were the last ones.”

Makarov cleared his throat. “Uh… well, you are. Natsu’s team was already sent to Crocus.”

“What?!” Evergreen surged forward. “You picked the team for the Grand Magic Games and didn’t even wait for us?” She jabbed wildly toward Laxus, Gajeel and Mirajane. “And ignored these three?!”

“Ever,” Laxus sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Uh‑oh, she’s worked up,” Mira said with a laugh. Gajeel just rolled his eyes.

Makarov didn’t flinch. “I understand your frustration, Evergreen, but I didn’t do this for no reason.” His voice rose, sharp and confident. “We’re entering a second team to improve our odds of victory!” He gave a self‑satisfied chuckle.

“What?” The room erupted into confusion.

Liva furrowed her brows and stepped forward. “A second team? Master, that’s not allowed.”

“Actually, it is.” He waved a thick rulebook in her face and she spotted the line at the bottom corner: Edition X791. “Since this year,” Makarov said with a wink.

Liva read the passage quickly, grinning as she looked up. “Well, I’ll be damned. That’s impressive, Master.”

Makarov froze mid‑movement, staring at Liva as if she were an entirely different person. Three months ago, she’d been cold and wary, a girl weighed down by suspicion and mistrust. Now, her eyes shimmered with warmth and happiness. Whatever trials she’d suffered, it was clear Laxus and the Thunder God Tribe had embraced her fully and showed her their love and friendship. After all she’d been through, she deserved every moment of happiness.

“So, you’re sending a second team into the Games, old man?” Laxus pulled the conversation back to the looming challenge, crossing his arms. “Then who’s going?”

“Of course,” Makarov said, letting his gaze sweep across the room. “With so many talented mages and three months of challenging training behind you, it wasn’t an easy decision. But for Fairy Tail Team B, we will send … Laxus.”

The lightning mage gave a sharp nod, a satisfied glint lighting in those blue eyes. Liva smiled proudly at him.

“Gajeel,” the old man announced.

“About time,” Gajeel grumbled, arms crossing like a barricade.

“Mirajane.”

“Oh, really?” Mira giggled, folding her hands.

“Juvia.”

“Juvia too?” Juvia blinked, surprised, finger pointing to herself.

“And… our fifth member.” Suddenly, the room felt charged — a dark, tense shift in the air. “Mystogan.”

“What?” Laxus’ voice cut like a whip. Liva spun to him, alarm rising in her chest. “That’s impossible. Are you going senile, old man?”

“Watch your tongue, brat,” Makarov snapped, but the long, deep sigh that followed spoke of weariness. He sank down onto the bar counter and brushed a hand down the length of his beard. “Erza and the others ran into Jellal Fernandez during their training.”

The name ripped through Liva like an arrow. The room blurred for a heartbeat — was it anger? Or grief? Suddenly she was seeing her brother’s face, hearing the words that he was gone… only to later discover he was still alive, lost somewhere alongside Jellal Fernandez. The ache rose sharp and bitter in her chest, stealing her breath.

A firm, warm hand pressed to the small of her back, anchoring her. Laxus.
She drew a shaking breath, swallowing hard.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly. Liva just nodded, unable to find words.

“Jellal Fernandez is a criminal, Master,” Fried said sharply, voice as cold as steel. The Thunder God Tribe knew Liva’s history well — every mention of that man set them on edge.

“I’m well aware,” Makarov replied, crossing his arms. “Normally, I wouldn’t give a criminal the time of day. But it seems in the last seven years, Jellal has changed. He came to me himself. He said that every year during the Grand Magic Games, he can sense Zeref’s presence.”

A ripple of unease passed through the room.

“He wants to get to the bottom of it. So he asked to compete under the guise of Mystogan, gaining access to the arena.”

Gajeel clicked his tongue, narrowing skeptical eyes on the guild master. “So you gave him the okay?”

“Exactly.” Makarov tightened his crossed arms, voice dropping to a low, serious register. “I’m asking for absolute discretion. If this slips out, the Magic Council will have a field day with us.” A tense silence gripped the room.

Laxus growled low. “Wouldn’t be Fairy Tail if we weren’t bending a rule or ten, huh?”

Makarov grinned sharply, satisfied. “Precisely. But that also means I expect silence from every one of you about Team B.”

“Master?” Juvia spoke up, puzzlement colouring her voice. “Why the secrecy?”

The old man started chuckling like a mischievous imp, rambling about “motivating Natsu’s team” and “keeping the element of surprise” and “winning the money” until Liva stopped listening altogether. The guild master had clearly gone mad — or he was a genius. Probably both.

Gajeel clenched a fist, scowl deepening as he stepped forward. “What the hell? What’s the point of putting ourselves through this circus?!”

Laxus sighed, brushing a hand down the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Whatever. I’m in. But ‘Team B’? That’s a stupid name.”

Evergreen frowned at him. “That’s what you’re stuck on?”

Makarov raised a finger, clearly expecting this reaction. “All right, here’s the deal. The losing team will have to grant the winning team any request for an entire day — no questions asked.”

“Any request?” The words rippled through Team B like an electric shock. Liva didn’t have to read their minds — the expressions said it all. Whatever the winners wanted, the losers would have to give. And Team B was already plotting ways to make Team A’s life a living hell.

She leaned closer to Evergreen, voice dropping to a whisper. “Is Team A really that bad?”

Evergreen waved a hand, fanning herself as if exhausted just thinking about it. “Trust me. You have no idea.” But this time, the sharpness in her voice was nowhere to be found.

Liva drew in a long breath and glanced toward the guild doors. Whatever came next, one thing was certain — this was going to be one hell of a fight. Against the other guilds… and maybe even within their own.

Makarov raised a clenched fist, a sharp gleam of determination in his old eyes. “We’ll show them all!” The guild erupted with a roar of agreement, fists and drinks thrown into the air as the sound shook the walls.

“Make sure you arrive in Crocus by tomorrow morning and settle into your quarters at The Dancing Lily,” he announced, distributing information sheets and a rulebook to each mage.

“Of course, Master,” Mirajane said with a warm nod, tucking the papers under her arm.

For Makarov, the matter was settled. Suddenly, as if by magic, a drink appeared in his hand and he sank down to perch on the bar, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And now,” he said, brushing a hand down the length of his beard, “get some rest while you can. From tomorrow on… things get serious.”

With that, he winked, raised the drink and took a long, satisfied swallow — the picture of a guild master confident in his misfit family and in the trials that lay ahead.

🌙

Makarov was leaning lazily on the bar, a drink in hand, allowing himself a rare moment of quiet satisfaction. The guild was buzzing with laughter and chatter, the kind of sound that felt like home. He smiled faintly to himself — for once, things felt almost… right.

Then he noticed Liva making her way toward him. There was a certain weight in her step, a quiet resolve in the way she held herself. And suddenly the warmth drained from him. In an instant, he remembered the letter he’d read weeks ago — the one that spoke of her years of mistreatment at the hands of Ivan. The one that revealed scars he hadn’t been able to comprehend until that moment.

Guilt surged within him like a rising tide. The old man felt himself sink inward, ashamed. The drink felt bitter now.

“Master?” she spoke softly and those blue eyes of hers met his. Not with anger, but with an openness that only deepened the ache lodged in his chest. “May I have a word with you?”

He offered a faint nod and pushed himself away from the bar, brushing down the front of his shirt as if to steel himself. “Of course,” he said quietly, voice lined with guilt and fatigue. “Come with me.”

He led her out to the garden where the summer air embraced them both, crisp and faintly fragrant with the smell of grass. The clouds overhead, silent witnesses to the quiet tension that settled between them.
He felt the words stick in his throat, felt the sting of the knowledge he bore. What Ivan had done… what she had suffered… He hated fate, that he couldn’t help the girl at that time. The thought twisted like a knife.

Then Liva drew a slow breath and met his gaze, as she spoke. “Master,” she said quietly, voice firm but soft, “I have to ask you… where is Jellal?”

Makarov flinched, just slightly, surprise flashing across tired eyes. “Jellal?” he echoed, brushing a hand down the front of his chin as if to compose himself. “He’s… in Crocus. Waiting.”

A tense beat passed. The silence felt like it was swallowing the space between them.
“Why?” he asked quietly, searching her face. “Why do you ask?”

Liva clenched and unclenched her hands, swallowing down the sting that rose in the back of her throat. “Because… I have reason to believe he knows where my brother is. Leander.”

Her voice shook as she spoke the name and for a moment she felt herself hovering at the edge of a precipice — one she hadn’t stood upon in years. The weight of that name pressed down upon her chest and the world felt too quiet except for the sound of her own heart beating wildly.

But she refused to look away. Not from him. Not from this moment. Not when too much depended on it.

As Liva spoke, Makarov felt every word sink into him like a thorn. At first, it was just pieces — the name Leander, a childhood ripped apart, the terror and desperation that had shaped her into who she was. But soon the words came faster, rising like a storm. They weren’t calculated or rehearsed anymore, just spilling forth, carrying threads of betrayal and heartbreak. The old man felt himself being pulled into the depth of her pain.

Then came the quiet hammer blow — “I was with… Raven Tail.” The words fell from her lips like a curse and the air snapped tight.

For a moment, she froze, horrified at herself and he felt the sting of it deep in his chest. Yet he didn’t flinch, didn’t scowl, didn’t draw away. He still felt anger. And a burning fury. The path she had walked hadn’t been a choice, but a scar laid down by cruelty and circumstance. What Ivan had done… what he had condemned this girl to… it was beyond forgiveness.

As she spoke, as she sank inward with shame, Makarov pressed a shaking hand to his heart. The thought rose like bile — how could he let his own son become so cruel? What had he done?

„Why are you silent, master?“, Liva sobbed.

Footsteps came from behind, breaking the silence. Suddenly, Laxus and the Thunder God Tribe rounded the corner. His grandson’s voice was sharp, demanding. “Because he already knew. Didn’t you, old man?”

Makarov didn’t hesitate. He lifted his gaze, voice shaking with guilt. “Yes. I’ve been looking into it, after you left for training.“

Liva’s watched him horrified.

„Please, don’t think I wanted to trick or manipulate you, child. But I sensed a dark story in your past and I assumed you once were a part of a dark guild. In order to protect you, I needed to know, who harmed you.” His voice faltered and he pressed a hand harder to his chest. “I am… I am so sorry.”

The old man sank down to his knees, grief breaking the barrier he’d held for too long. Tears streamed down into his face. The sound of quiet sobbing came from Liva and before he could lift his gaze, she sank down too, reducing the space between them until she wrapped her arms around the old man, shaking as she sobbed openly.

Through the sound of her cries came words he would never forget. “Thank you,” she whispered, voice thick and breaking. “Thank you for being good. Thank you for carrying that big heart… You aren’t responsible for the sins of your son.”

„Please, forgive our family. Forgive me.“

„Don’t ask me to forgive you, because there‘s nothing to forgive. It‘s not your fault, master.“
Makarov felt the world blur, felt years of guilt and doubt and pain sink into that one moment, replaced by a fragile, hopeful warmth.

Laxus stopped where he stood, rooted to the spot as he watched the scene unfurl. Never in his life had he seen the old man brought down like this. Never had he witnessed a moment when guilt shook the Guild Master to the core. It was as if years of regret and silence had suddenly broken open, pouring forth from deep within.

He felt something rise within him — a sting at the corner of his eyes, a quiet ache deep in his chest. Liva’s voice shook with emotion as she embraced Makarov and every word felt like a hammer blow, reshaping the air between them.

He watched as the girl he cherished so much sank to her knees, shaking and broken, yet strong enough to grant the old man the mercy he sought. Strong enough to acknowledge forgiveness.

Laxus tightened a hand at his side, swallowing down tears and the sting rising in his throat. For a moment, words failed him. All he could do was stand there, motionless, surrounded by the quiet grief of the moment — a witness to the strange beauty of belonging. To the kind of belonging that came only after scars had been laid bare, after guilt had been confessed and after forgiveness had been offered.

For the first time in a long while, the lightning mage felt something new settle deep within the marrow of his bones — pride. Not for strength, not for glory, but for this broken, stubborn, loving family. And as he watched Liva and the old man cling to one another, the thought came like a whisper in the silence: This is what it means to be Fairy Tail.

🌙

The air felt light again when they stepped back into the guild. The heaviness of the garden had dissipated, replaced by a warmth that felt almost like a quiet promise hanging between the three of them. The silence was broken when Makarov, brushing a hand down the length of his beard, glanced sharply at his grandson.

“So,” he said with a casual tilt of the head, “you lot make it through training in one piece?”

Laxus sank down onto a barstool, touching a faint scratch on his forearm. “More or less. The monsters weren’t too bad.” He shrugged like he was talking about the weather. “Bickslow almost gotten eating by a giant snake. Evergreen nearly blew up our camp one evening. And Fried taught Cricket more words, than could be found in a dictionary. But beside the schenanigans, we trained really hard.”

Makarov gave a barking laugh. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least.” He patted the bar and waved for a drink, grinning like an old man proud of a rowdy brood.

“And what about you?” he pressed, lifting an eyebrow upward. “Anything worth mentioning?”

“Uh.” Laxus shrugged, brushing imaginary dust from the bar top. “Same old routine. Kept ‘em sharp. Kept ‘em moving. Trained until we bled. Didn’t break too many trees. End of story.”

That was when the Thunder God Tribe trio noticed how sharp and deliberate the silence of Laxus was. Not a word about the smiling girl perched just beside him, brushing hair from her red cheeks, looking like the happiest person in the room. They gave each other knowing looks.

In the meantime, Liva watched Laxus with a faint smirk. Not out of anger or annoyance — no, she was too genuinely pleased for that — but because she could practically see the effort Laxus was putting into concealing the truth. It was almost comical, how hard he tried to keep his blank pokerface and she pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh.

Apparently, Mr. Lightning Mage had no intention of telling his grandfather about the fact that those brutal training days weren’t just about killing monsters and sparring rounds — but about long conversations under the stars, hands touching hands by the campfire, quiet moments where trust sank its roots deep. And kisses, so much kisses.

And she didn’t mind at all. It was like watching some great beast try to balance itself on a tightrope: shy, gruff, determined… and ridiculously endearing.

Makarov, unsuspecting, turned to her next. “And you, Liva?” The old man offered a warm smile. “How have you been doing? What have you learned?”

Her expression lit up like a morning sun. “More than I can put into words, Master! The training pushed me harder than I thought I could bear. I can move faster. Hit harder. Control my magic better. But best of all,“ her voice softened slightly as she glanced towards the Thunder God Tribe lounging nearby, “I found a team. No, not just teammates… friends. Family.”

Makarov smiled and patted her hand across the bar. “That’s worth more than any victory you can win in the Games. I’m proud of you, Liva.”

She smiled shyly at that. “Thank you, Master. That means a lot.”

The old man nodded, brushing a hand down his chin. “Good. And now that you’re back from Training, I assume you’ll be looking for a place to stay? We have rooms in Fairy Hills, if you’d like one. Or, if you prefer, I can point you towards some very nice apartments in town.”

Liva tilted her head, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s very kind of you, Master. Thank you.”

Makarov waved a hand. “If you need somewhere to crash until then, the infirmary here at the guild is open to you. You’re one of ours now, Liva. Never forget that.”

Her voice softened, brushing the sting of emotion that came with belonging. “Thank you. Truly.”

That was when the Thunder God Tribe — those three troublemakers, lounging like cats in the sun — exchanged another series of quick, knowing looks. It was the sort of glance that promised mischief and the room felt charged in an instant.

Evergreen spoke first, brushing her long hair over one shoulder and batting her lashes as if she were an innocent schoolgirl. “Master, you’re being too modest. Surely a beautiful, young woman like Liva doesn’t need the infirmary when she can have… better accommodation?”

Laxus stiffened, already feeling the upcoming storm of teasing.

Bickslow picked up the thread instantly, grinning like a madman. “Yeah! Surely someone as nice as her wouldn’t mind sharing space… say… with a certain lightning mage?”

Fried pressed a hand to his chest, voice dripping with feigned sincerity. “Why, I’m certain Laxus wouldn’t mind. After all, he knows where she likes to put her… things. And how she likes her morning coffee. And where she likes to rest after long, exhausting training sessions…”

Liva choked on spit, using her hand to cover the rising warmth in her cheeks. “I– Wh– What are you three doing?”

Laxus, for the first time that night, looked like a man about to explode. His gaze snapped towards the trio like a lightning bolt, voice dropping to a warning growl. “What the hell are you three trying to say?”

“Just that she doesn’t have to go too far for a bed tonight.” Bickslow winked, making an obscene gesture with his hands that earned a collective groan and a thrown beer coaster from Liva.

Makarov slammed down his drink, very angry. “That’s enough! What are you implying? Do you three think this is some sort of joke?!”

Silence fell. Makarov turned to apologise to Liva, but then he noticed the way the blonde mage refused to meet his gaze, stroking the tip of her finger against her palm like she was searching for words. He noticed the dark red blush across the sharp lines of Laxus’ jaw as he refused to look anywhere except his grandpa. Noticed how, despite their silence, despite the gruff exterior of the lightning dragon slayer and the shy tilt of the woman at his side, an unmistakable warmth shimmered between the two. And how close they sat.

Then it sank in. Makarov froze.

“Wait.” The old man’s voice rose, a mixture of shock and wonder. “Are you… are you saying…?”

Bickslow gave a slow, smug nod. Evergreen giggled wildly, brushing the tip of her fan across crimson lips.
Fried shrugged like a man declaring the obvious. “Master, isn‘t it obvious?”

The room fell into silence for a beat, the other mages stopped in their conversations. Every set of eyes swinging between the old guild master and the blushed couple. 

Laxus, stubborn as ever, refused to say a word — rubbing a hand down the back of his neck, scowling like a scolded schoolboy. Liva pressed her hands together, the tips of her fingers brushing shyly as she glanced towards the floor.
Then came the sound — a long, sharp intake of breath — and suddenly the old man slapped both hands down on the bar and surged to his feet, voice shaking with a mixture of fury, alarm and absolute disbelief.

“YOU MEAN TO TELL ME — MY GRANDSON, THE ICEBERG, THE ARROGANT LIGHTNING MAGE, THE ‘NEVER BRINGS ANYONE HOME’-BRUTE — ACTUALLY GOT HIMSELF A WOMAN?!”

The mages gasped.

“Gramps—” Laxus started, voice low and warning. Liva wanted to sink into the floor. Gods, that was so embarrassing.

“AND NOT JUST ANY WOMAN! THIS WOMAN?! LIVA?! THE WOMAN IVAN NEARLY DESTROYED?! THE WOMAN WHO KNEELED IN THE GARDEN JUST NOW?!”

“Old man—” Laxus growled again, covering his burning face with his hand.

But Makarov didn’t care. Suddenly, it was like ten festivals had started inside his tiny old body. He surged across the floor, reaching for Liva’s hand as if she were a long‑lost treasure, cradling it for a moment with a reverence that spoke volumes. Then he spun to grab a very scowling, very crimson‑faced Laxus by the ear.

“YOU DOG! YOU ABSOLUTE BRUTE! DID I RAISE A CASANOVA?! DID YOU BRING HER HOME JUST TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK?!”

Liva pressed both hands over her mouth to stifle a laugh as Laxus swore under his breath, trying to shrug away from the tiny man’s grip.
“G-Grandpa— this isn’t—”

“DON’T YOU ‘GRANDPA’ ME! You were supposed to protect her, boy! Not corrupt her!”

Behind him, the Thunder God Tribe was openly wheezing with laughter, nearly falling from their seats. Bickslow was slapping the bar with a hand, Fried was doubled over and Ever was laughing so hard she wiped away a tear.

Liva felt herself shaking with silent giggles as she stepped closer, taking Laxus’ massive arm. “Master… I can assure you, your grandson has been… very respectful. Truly. He always was a gentleman.”

Laxus shot her a sharp glance that said ‚Really?!‘ but she shrugged, grinning wildly.

“Very respectful, huh?” Makarov asked, pulling down one long eyebrow, voice dripping suspicion as he eyed the towering dragon slayer.

Laxus sighed, closing his eyes, praying for patience. “Gramps … we’re adults. Whatever this is, it’s ours. Not a joke. Not a game.” He glanced down at Liva then, interlacing his fingers with her own. “I’m serious about her. So unless you’re about to scold us for finding a bit of happiness… I’d say this is none of your business.”

A long silence followed. The mages, all pale or flushed because of the news, held their breaths. The old man glanced between the two, thinking deeply about their relationship and then — like a summer storm breaking — the tiniest, proudest smile surfaced.

“About damned time, boy,” he said, voice shaking, patting Liva‘s hand he said, “And you, girl… if this brute gives you any trouble, you come to me. I will teach him a lesson.“

„Hey, hey, gramps …“

Liva only laughed. This was so surreal. „Thank you, Master.“

Makarov coughed. „I think, you can call me „Grandpa“ now. I mean, we are family.“

Liva openly grinned at Laxus, who looked so embarrassed. „Thank you … Grandpa.“ Laxus only groaned silently.

Makarov nodded approvingly. „You’re part of this guild now. Part of this family. Whatever Ivan tried to take from you, whatever scars he left… this place will stand with you. Always.”

Liva felt the sting of fresh tears rise. “That mean‘s a lot, Makarov, really.”

Laxus pulled her closer then, caressing her back with his hand, while trying to look into the other direction. The rest of the guild roared into laughter and applause, Evergreen swooning, Bickslow hooting like a madman and Laxus tried his best, so keep his blood out of his cheeks. But he failed — miserably.

Chapter Text

Magnolia, Year X791, The same day

A little later, Liva was strolling down the hustling streets of Magnolia. Above her, Cricket swooped from roof to roof, a faint screech of a rat in the distance telling her he was on the hunt.
It felt like the first moment she’d had to truly take in her new home. So far, she’d only run from shop to shop for essentials, never slowing down long enough to admire how beautiful this city really was. Peaceful. Welcoming. Safe.

She had meant to walk alone, enjoy everything in peace, but somehow she’d gained an entourage. Ahead of her, the Thunder God Tribe ambled down the lane, laughing and teasing each other, buying some silly stuff and food for each other, while beside her, Laxus walked in silence. He kept slowing down or quickening his pace just enough to match her steps, falling into the same easy rhythm. It was such a quiet, thoughtful thing for a man like him to do and it made her smile inwardly.

“Are you mad?” she asked softly, breaking the silence.

Surprised Laxus glanced down, pulled from his thoughts. “What? Why would I be?”

She offered him a gentle smile. “Well… back in the guild. That was… a lot. The master was … not really discreet. I know you didn’t want to make a big deal out of this … of us,” she said quietly. “You probably wanted to keep it a secret and keep your privacy and it was probably embarrassing—”

“Liva.” He stopped suddenly and when she turned to look, she found herself staring into eyes that held no hesitation. Laxus reached for her hands, cradling them as if they were the most precious thing he possessed. “It’s true, I’m not the best when it comes to feelings. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend you aren’t important to me.”

Liva fell silent, her heart beating harder. The sincerity in those sharp blue‑gray eyes was enough to make the world melt away for a moment.

He tilted his head slightly, closing the space between them. “I told you already… if we’re doing this, then we’re doing it right. You matter to me, Liva. You matter more than you think.”

A warmth bubbled in her chest, rising until it overflowed. Slowly, she smiled and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against the solid warmth of his chest. “And you matter to me too, Laxus. More than I can put into words. I’m so grateful you feel this way.”

Laxus tightened the hug, brushing a hand down her back before leaning down closer, voice dropping low with a teasing edge. “Then we’ve only got one problem left.”

Liva pulled back just enough to look up at him, a hint of confusion in her voice. “What problem?”

A slow, crooked smirk curved across Laxus’ lips. “Where are you really sleeping tonight?”

Her eyes widened, colour rushing to her cheeks as she stammered. “W–What?!”

Laxus only chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from her flustered face. “Just saying, Liva… I’ve got room for one more tonight, if you don‘t want to sleep in the infirmary alone.”

For a moment she stood there, blinking, completely flustered. Then a shy laugh bubbled out of her and she gave him a playful swat on the chest. “Oh. You’re such a tease.”

“Yeah,” he said with a wink as he pulled her closer. “But you like it.”

„Yes, I do“, she smirked and gave him a kiss. „And now, thunder god, show me your city.“

They walked through the streets while Laxus showed her impressive buildings, the cathedral in particular was breathtaking. However, it seemed to make Laxus very thoughtful, so they quickly left the structure behind them. He led her through the large park with its tall tree and told her stories of places where he had liked to hide as a child.
It was the best afternoon Liva had had in a long time. It gave her the chance to finally see more behind the facade of Laxus Dreyar. And she liked what she saw.

As they slowly made their way towards the market to grab a bite to eat, they heard it. The unmistakable sound of sneaky laughter and jeering.
Suddenly the Thunder God Tribe rounded the corner like a trio of smug cats. Bickslow waved wildly, Ever grinned like she knew far too much and Fried held Cricket — the tiny owl‑griffin — like some sort of prize.

“Hey! We’re just gonna… borrow the little guy until tomorrow!” Bickslow announced, winking wildly. The little beast gave an indignant screech, pawing desperately at the air as if to say, „Help!“

Liva stopped short. “What?”

“Yeah, no babysitting tonight,” Ever said sweetly, pushing her glasses up her nose with a suggestive smile. "It'll give you two some... Privacy."

Laxus froze, a hint of colour rising across the bridge of his nose. “That’s not necessary.”

“Sure it’s not,” Bickslow drawled, shrugging like it was already decided. “But we insist. You deserve some rest… together.”

Fried gave a faint smile. “Sleep well, my friends.”

Bickslow snorted. “Yeah, right. ‘Sleep’ is definitely what they’ll be doing tonight.”

“BICKSLOW!” Liva shrieked, crimson flushing her cheeks.
The trio only roared with laughter, waved as if they’d announced the best joke in the world and disappeared down the lane with a very confused Cricket still pawing for rescue.

Left standing with only the whisper of the evening breeze, Liva felt her ears burning crimson. She glanced at Laxus, swallowing the shy sting rising in her throat and found him scowling down the lane like he was plotting murder.

He looked at her and slowly those sharp blue eyes softened and he dragged a hand down the back of his neck. Oh. He was nervous.

Liva smiled shyly and bumped her shoulder into his. “Well… I guess that settles the sleeping arrangements tonight, doesn’t it?”

Laxus glanced down at her, swallowing hard before a tiny, crooked smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” he said low, voice a deep rumble. “I guess it does.”

🌙

The door clicked shut behind them, muffling the sound of the bustling street outside. Laxus set their things and some shopping bags down, brushing a hand across the back of his head, as if trying to rid himself of the awkward tension hanging between them. 

His apartment was quiet. Small, but orderly. The air smelled faintly of dust, but unmistakable like Laxus. It was a space that hadn’t been used much, but was still kept with care.

Liva stepped inside, putting aside her own bag and looked around curiously. The entrance and living room was neat — almost too neat — and sparsely decorated. A couch, a low table, a couple of shelves lined with a few books. The faint layer of dust across one shelf caught the afternoon light, making her smile.

“Looks like you weren’t here much, even before the three months training,” she said softly, brushing a finger along the shelf and holding it up for him to see.

Laxus shrugged, suddenly looking shy in a way she hadn’t expected. “I just rented it after coming back from Tenrou Island, but still didn’t spend much time here. We went on missions immediately.” His voice was low, almost apologetic.

Liva smiled, touched the couch with her palm and glanced towards the small kitchen area. “That makes sense. But still, I can smell your scent everywhere. It feels… like you. Calm, solid. I like it.”

He looked at her like he wasn’t sure she meant it, like he was almost embarrassed by how bare and utilitarian the space felt. “It’s not much,” he said quietly, taking her bags and carrying them to the table. “It’s… just a place. Never really thought I’d be bringing anyone here.”

Liva stepped closer, hugging him from behind. “Then I’m honored to be the first,” she said softly. “It’s perfect. Because it’s yours.”

For a moment, Laxus didn’t speak. He felt her, while his heart nearly bursted and when the faint hint of a smile crossed the sharp lines of his face, it felt like he was saying far more than words ever could.

Liva glanced down at her own bag she’d been hauling from the training camp and gave a soft sigh. “Mind if I wash some of this?” she asked, holding up a shirt with a sheepish smile. “It’s seen better days after three months in the forest and they still belong to Ever.”

“Of course.” Laxus waved toward a small washing lacrima tucked into the bathroom. “Help yourself.”

They unpacked together, a quiet, oddly intimate ritual. Training gear, a couple of worn shirts, socks that had lost their shape, some of them with more holes than fabric. 

Liva felt herself relax as she shook out the fabrics and sorted the laundry. Somehow, doing this side by side felt more significant than any words. Laxus passed her detergent with one hand and held a laundry basket with the other, hovering like he didn’t want to intrude, but also didn’t want to leave.

He watched her.
The sight of a woman doing laundry in his house was unusual. He couldn't remember any of his former lovers coming anywhere near his bathroom. Then again, those former relationships had never been more than casual sex. No commitments, no deep feelings. Just the opposite as it was with Liva.

The sight of her standing here washing her things, so naturally, in perfect harmony with herself, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, filled him with warmth.

“Thanks,” she said quietly and smiled when she felt him glance down at her from the side.

“Yeah,” he said, putting one broad hand down the side of his pants, like he didn’t know what to do with it. “If you need anything, just say.”

Once the laundry was done, Laxus waved her down the short hallway and opened the door to the bedroom. The space was as orderly as the rest of the apartment. A bed — obviously smelling of Laxus, it nearly drove her crazy — a nightstand, a closet and very little else. What surprised her was how sparse it felt. Not unfriendly, but temporary. Liva tilted her head and glanced at him.

“This must be the only bedroom, huh?” she asked softly. “I thought you said you had a guest room?”

Laxus froze for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to wipe away a sting. “Uh… yeah,” he replied, voice a shade too low. “About that… I meant the couch.” He pointed vaguely towards the living room. “That can be a guest room, right?”

Liva smiled, unable to hide the warmth rising in her chest. The man, who could kill monsters with a mere twitch of his fingers was standing there looking like a shy boy. 

“So you were going to give me the bed and banish yourself to the couch?” she asked, stepping closer until she could tilt her head and look up into those dark, suddenly very flustered eyes. „I thought we‘re past those formalities?“

Laxus gave a low growl, swallowing hard. “I didn’t want to rush… or make you feel like I was crossing a line.”

“Crossing a line?” Liva tilted her head, a light laugh bubbling up from her throat. “I remember a man a week ago, who would have thrown me down the forest floor and kissed me until I forgot how to breathe. Did that man disappear somewhere?”

Laxus flinched as he caught the sting of vulnerability in her voice and shook his head sharply. “No. Never. But… I just don’t want to make you feel like you owe me anything.”

Liva gave him a smile that felt like the warmth of the sun breaking through mist. „You‘re a good man, one of the best, you know that?“

He hummed. „If you say so.“

Liva chuckled. How cute. „I don‘t want to impose too. I‘ll sleep on the couch.“

A gruff sound bubbled from deep in Laxus’ chest as he scowled down at her. „You’re the guest. You deserve a bed.”

Her smile widened, softening as she placed a hand over his chest. “That’s very sweet of you, Laxus.” She rose slightly on tiptoe, giving a quick, but soft kiss to the strong line of his jaw and felt him tense just for an instant, before a quiet sigh sank out of him.

“Still,” she said, stroking over his hair, she glanced towards the bed, “you don’t have to give up your space for me. We can figure this out together, okay?”

He watched her for a long beat, pulling her closer, then offered a crooked, shy smirk. “Alright, alright. Together it is, then.”

She winked at him, throwing her arms around his strong neck. “Good. That way no one has to banish themselves to the couch.”
Laxus gave a low chuckle, brushing the tips of his fingers down the length of her hand until their fingers laced together. Somehow now the awkward tension vanished and made space for something new.

🌙

The sun had nearly dipped beneath the horizon when Laxus glanced toward the kitchen, hand sweeping a lazy trail across the dusty counter. “Hungry?” he asked.

She turned to him with a smile that did something dangerous to his chest and pulled a few vegetables from the shopping bag. “Starving. Do you like to cook?”

He shrugged, pretending to be more casual than he felt. Watching her tie her hair, roll up her sleeves like she belonged here — like this wasn’t the first time she‘d been in his home — did things to his focus.
“Been fending for myself long enough. I can whip something up that won’t kill you.”

She let out a musical little laugh as she set a pan on the stove. “Wow. High praise, chef. I guess that’s my cue to surrender.”

Gods, he thought, that laugh. It wasn’t fair.

The moment Laxus moved toward the stove, Liva felt it.
The shift. The air thickened, not with spice or heat from the stove, but from the slow, rolling energy between them. She handed him peppers and onions, fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary. Their hands met. Warm. Firm. His skin against hers felt like a spark sliding across her nerves.

Every time their fingers touched — trading the knife, sliding past each other in the tight kitchen — it was like an unspoken dare. And gods, she was tempted.
Laxus moved like a man used to control — confident, efficient, powerful. But there was something intimate in the way he focused on the food, like he wanted this to be good for her. She leaned on the counter, watching the way his muscles flexed under the tight sleeves of his shirt as he worked the knife with precision.

He flipped the meat and vegetables into the pan, letting the sizzle cover the thunder of his heartbeat. The way she moved beside him — fluid, graceful, so damn close — kept his skin hot. The brush of her arm against his. The way her shirt rode up just enough when she reached for a spoon.
He shifted, adjusting the front of his pants with a casual motion, trying to will his body to calm the hell down. But every breath she took pulled the scent of her closer.
Something soft. Something feminine. Something that made his restraint ache.

“I’ve had to cook for myself for years,” he said suddenly, wiping his hands. “Never thought I’d actually enjoy doing it with someone.”

Her smile was radiant. “Lucky for me then,” she said, sliding the onions into the pan. “Hopefully, I’m not just mere eye candy, but helping too,” she joked.

He glanced at her then and there was nothing shy about it. His gaze skimmed down her body and back up like he’d already undressed her in his mind. Her thighs clenched on instinct.
“You’re more than eye candy,” he said, voice low, almost dark. “Though, can’t say I mind the view.”

Heat curled low in her belly. Hell, that man could flirt, sure. But it was the way he looked at her — like he wanted to taste every inch — that made her legs weak.

The sizzle of the pan was almost drowned out by the tension crackling between them. He wiped his hands on the cloth again, less for cleanliness and more because he needed something to do besides grabbing her and pulling her into his arms.

She leaned in, inhaling the scent rising from the skillet. “Smells good,” she murmured, her hand resting lightly on his forearm.

The contact nearly undid him. Her fingers on his skin, warm and soft. His gaze dropped to where her hand rested — and lingered. After weeks with only kissing and light touches, this closeness felt like a flame near a hayfield. One wrong movement and the whole thing will burn.

His jaw clenched.
“Yeah,” he said, voice rougher than he meant. “Almost done.”

Their bodies were closer now, the small kitchen shrinking around them like fate was conspiring. Her heart pounded wildly, her skin buzzing with awareness of every inch of him. The way his biceps flexed. The sweat just beginning to glisten at the base of his neck. The thought of his body over hers sent a sharp, needy pulse through her core.

And he smelled so good — electric, earthy, male. She inhaled quietly.

He leaned across her to grab a plate from the cupboard and her body shifted to make room — except it didn’t. Her hip pressed against his. Her chest against his arm. He didn’t move. He couldn’t.

“Sorry,” he muttered, not sorry at all. His hand ghosted down her waist as he passed. A test. A touch. Her sharp inhale told him everything.

Not sorry, no. She didn’t want space. And gods, she wanted to kiss him. Hard. Long. Until the food burned and the kitchen exploded.
But she smiled instead. “Should we eat before we set something on fire?”

He raised a brow. “Depends … on what we’re burning.”
She chuckled, while her knees grew weak.

They sat down, finally, but the tension didn’t leave. It followed them to the table like a shadow — thick, electric. Each bite was an excuse to look. Each sip of wine made the room tilt toward something dangerous.

They laughed. Talked. Shared stories. But neither could focus.
Every glance held too much meaning. Every smile felt like an invitation. And neither of them wanted to say it yet — but they knew.

Tonight wouldn’t end with just dinner.

Chapter Text

Magnolia, Year X791, The same day

The last bits of dinner disappeared between them and Laxus poured them another deep red wine, the rich aroma filling the room. With a small, teasing grin, he handed Liva her glass and settled beside her on the couch. The soft glow of the lamp painted their faces gold, making the room feel warmer than it already was.

„We totally forgot to toast“, Liva noted.

„Oh?“ Laxus hummed thoughtfully. Then with a smooth smirk he said: „Well, to us?“

She giggled. „To us.“ Glasses clinked.

“So, you want guild stories or embarrassing guild stories?” Laxus asked grinning, swirling the wine in his glass like a seasoned sommelier.

Liva laughed. “Let’s start with normal stories, please. I‘m not ready yet, for the dark, shameful secrets.”

He smirked, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Oh, you have no idea what I could tell you.“ He took a sip. „Long ago, when we where still tiny brats, Natsu tried to ‘help’ by using his fire magic to cook breakfast. Ended up setting Erza‘s laundry on fire. You should have seen her face, she looked like a volcano shortly before eruption.”

Liva giggled. „I heard rumours about Titania seven years ago. I can only imagine how terrifying she must be. Poor Natsu.”

„Terrifying indeed.“

Liva leaned closer, body touching, face inches apart. „Tell me the next one.“ He threw his arm around her shoulder, the smell of wine, food and her filled his nose. 

“Levy,” Laxus continued, shaking his head. “Her reaction, when Happy stole her favorite book without asking was… theatrical, to say the least. She declared it a ‘literary kidnapping’ and organized a ‘rescue mission’ that involved way too many paper cranes and a ransom note written in glitter.”

“What, Levy? But she is so mature” Liva said, eyes sparkling. 

He grinned. „Well, we were only kids.“

“I can see her turning into a detective over a missing book.”

„You have no idea.“ Laxus nudged her gently with his nose.
“Many years ago, we were all around twelve or so years old. The younger ones were such brats and broke into the guild‘s wine cellar. Gramps found them an hour later, drunk and passed out.” Suddenly he laughed. „He screamed at them and punished them with scrubbing the whole floor.“

Liva leaned closer, her hand finding his on the couch. “Sounds like a circus.”

“A very chaotic circus,” Laxus agreed, squeezing her fingers lightly. “But it’s home.”

Their eyes met, the easy warmth between them growing thicker with every glance. Liva’s heart skipped when Laxus’ thumb traced small, slow circles on the back of her hand.
She caught her breath, teasing a smile. “I’m surprised you have any energy left after all that guild drama.”

“For you, I‘ll always have energy,” he said, voice low and a little rough.

“Charming, aren‘t we?” she teased back.

“Always,” he whispered, fingers now brushing lightly up her wrist, sending shivers up her arm.

Liva’s laugh faded into a soft sigh as she leaned a little closer, their bodies pressing together. The playful banter slowed, giving way to a charged silence filled with lingering touches and warm glances.

She hadn’t expected the wine to taste like summer. Sweet, warm, almost fizzy against her tongue — like a secret just waiting to be told. And maybe he was the secret she wanted to spill.

“Wine’s to your tasting?” Laxus’s voice was low, soft and warm against her cheek — like velvet with a growl tucked underneath.

She turned to look at him, heart fluttering at how close he was. His golden hair caught the light and his eyes, sharp and hungry, were all on her.
“It’s delicious,” she whispered, the words catching slightly in her throat.

His gaze dipped to her lips. And then… then his hand slid from hers — that rough, warm palm that had held her so steady all evening — and came to rest against her cheek. Gentle. Reverent.

Everything stopped.
Her heart, the world, the flicker of the light. All of it paused as his thumb brushed across her skin like she might break beneath it.

Their eyes locked and in that space between them, questions rose like smoke. Are we really doing this? Are you feeling this too?
She didn’t answer out loud. She didn’t have to.

Because then he kissed her.

It was soft — so soft — like he wasn’t sure if she’d vanish. Just the barest press of lips, tentative, asking. But oh, it was perfect. Warm and slow and new. Her stomach flipped, her heart tumbled into her throat and she leaned into him like her body already knew the answer.

Then he deepened it.
And gods — the way he kissed. As if she were something he’d been aching for. As if he was trying to memorize the taste of her mouth.

Liva sighed into him, melting, her fingers slipping into his hair, feeling the short softness at the back of his neck. She tugged him closer, kissed him back like she had nothing left to lose.
When they finally broke apart, breathless and smiling like fools, the room felt different. Charged. Quiet. Waiting.

And Liva… she didn’t want to wait anymore. She shifted, slowly, slipping into his lap — one knee on each side, settling herself against him with a soft breath. Their noses bumped. Their foreheads brushed. She was so close she could feel every exhale against her lips.

“Are you always this good at kissing,” she whispered, “or is it just because it’s me?”

He smirked — a slow, lazy curve of his mouth that made her insides twist in the best way. “Definitely just you.”
Their mouths met again, messier this time. Hotter. Less gentle. His hands found her waist, broad palms skimming beneath the fabric of her shirt, and she gasped — because gods, his touch was like fire.

This is happening.

Every second, every inch of skin was new. Every brush of his fingers, every tug of her hips, felt like discovering herself again — but through him.

She rocked down against him — not even thinking, just feeling — and the sound he made? Low and wrecked and his. It was the kind of sound that curled down her spine and settled between her thighs.

“That noise,” she murmured against his mouth, kissing the corner of it, “might be my new favorite thing.”

“Yeah?” he rasped. His voice was rougher now, held tight with tension. “Then don’t stop doing what you’re doing.”

She laughed, breathless, delighted by the pull between them — the heat, the humour, the rightness of it. Her hands slid down his chest, slowly undoing his buttons one by one.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice playful.

“Admiring the view,” she whispered, biting her lip. “You hiding anything under this shirt, lightning boy?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” The last button popped open and her fingers met hard muscles. Firm, taut, real. She swallowed.

Oh. Oh gods.

She couldn’t stop touching him. Her hands roamed across his chest like it was forbidden territory. Her own shirt and bra followed next — tugged over her head and tossed aside, leaving her bare in the golden light.

Laxus stilled.

His eyes swept over her — slowly, reverently — and when he looked back up at her face, something in his expression had changed.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re… you’re killing me, moon girl.”

“Good,” she said, voice softer now. And then, shyly, more serious: “You make me feel like I could burn.”

He leaned in and kissed the swell of her breast, lips brushing over sensitive skin until she whimpered. His breath hitched against her throat as his hands slid down to cup her hips, holding her steady, grounding her.

“Say it,” he murmured, voice rough and tender all at once. “Tell me you’re mine tonight.”

She met his eyes, every nerve in her body sparking to life. Her thighs tightened around him, and she leaned in to whisper into his ear.
“I’m yours,” she said. “I’ve been yours since the moment you looked at me. For tonight… and for every night after.”

And gods, the look in his eyes. Like she’d just said the one thing he hadn’t known he needed to hear. He kissed her again — hard, hungry — and her hips moved of their own accord, rocking down until she could feel him, hard and straining beneath her. Her body sparked like lightning. His hands gripped her waist, guiding her into slow, punishing rolls that made both of them gasp.

“You feel that?” he growled, lips brushing her cheek. “That’s how bad I want you.”

“Yes,” she gasped, then reached between them and pressed her palm against him. His hips bucked, a broken sound slipping from his lips.

“Gods, Liva.” His hand slipped down, fingers tracing the seam of her pants, brushing lightly over the heat building there. She shuddered. “Already wet for me?” he teased, voice dark and full of wonder. “Damn. You really have been thinking about this, huh?”

“Every night,” she confessed, voice trembling as his fingers pushed beneath her waistband. “Every time you smirk. Every time you fight. Every time you call me ‘moon girl’ like it’s the only name I have.” His mouth crashed into hers again, and the kiss felt like a storm.

“Say it again,” he groaned, rocking her down against him. “Say you want this.”

“I want this,” she gasped. “I want you.”

He stood suddenly, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. Her legs locked around his waist, arms around his shoulders, breath stolen from the sudden closeness. “Hold on, sweetheart,” he whispered against her skin. “Because once I have you… I’m never letting go.”

🌙

The door slammed shut behind them with a soft thud, the sound echoing like a secret locked away from the world. Laxus’s hands cradled her gently as he laid her down on the bed, like she was made of glass, like she was something sacred — something he’d been dreaming of but never thought he could have.

Moonlight spilled through the window, soft and silver, wrapping around Liva’s bare skin like a whispered promise. She felt the cool glow mingle with the flush heating her cheeks and the rapid beat of her heart.

Laxus stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at her like she was a miracle — equal parts heaven and sin. His golden hair caught the light, framing his face with wild shadows, and his eyes burned with a hunger that made her breath catch.

“Fuck, Liva,” he murmured, voice rough and low. He dragged one hand through his hair, like he needed to steady himself, like he was trying to keep from falling apart. “Look at you. You’re going to ruin me.”

She smiled slyly, one brow quirked. “Ruining you? That sounds like a challenge I’m happy to accept.”

His grin was wicked. “You always have a way with words… and with me.”

A slow smile curved her lips. She reached out a trembling hand to brush his cheek, the touch featherlight, teasing. “Come to me,” she whispered. 

He climbed onto the bed like gravity finally took mercy on him, mouth claiming hers in a kiss that was nothing like before — no hesitation, no testing. This kiss was hungry, full of fire and heat and all the need they’d both been holding back. Her body arched instinctively into his, desperate to melt into him, to fuse into one.

Their limbs tangled as he slid down, lips leaving a trail of fire from her collarbone to the swell of her breasts. His mouth lingered there, suckling just enough to steal a breathless gasp from her throat. His tongue flicked expertly over her nipple, teasing until it hardened beneath his touch.

“Gods,” she breathed, fingers threading into the thick waves at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, urging him deeper.

He didn’t stop.

His mouth worshipped every inch he could reach — lips and teeth and tongue exploring the curve of her stomach, the swell of her hips, the soft skin at the inside of her thighs. When her legs parted willingly, like an unspoken invitation, his eyes lifted to hers, dark and reverent.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered, voice thick with need.

Liva’s breath hitched, voice trembling as she teased back, “If you stop now … I might just kill you.”

That wicked grin that spread across his face made her shiver all over.

He lowered his head.

His mouth was slow at first — teasing, exploring — a single lick tracing her folds that made her shudder, a touch that was electric and new. Then his tongue circled her clit with deliberate, expert strokes — slow and teasing, precise and demanding. Her hands clenched the sheets as a helpless moan escaped her lips.

“Laxus,” she gasped, voice thick with need. „W-Wait—“

But he didn’t stop. He devoured her with a patience that made her want to scream, every flick and press of his tongue sending shivers that rolled through her like thunder. Every time she gasped, he hummed low and deep — the vibration setting her skin on fire.

“Fuck— right there,” she panted, hips jerking when he sealed his mouth around her clit and sucked — one sharp, perfect motion that made her body tremble. Her thighs shook as he held them open like she was the most precious thing in the world.

“You taste like moonlight,” he murmured, breath hot and ragged. “Sweet and dangerous.”

She was spiraling fast now, waves of pleasure crashing over her, and one hand gripped the back of his head like a lifeline.

“I’m—Laxus, I’m—”

“Come for me,” he growled, relentless and worshipful. “Let me hear it.”

And gods, she did.

The orgasm ripped through her like lightning — sudden, fierce, breathtaking. Her body writhed beneath him, legs trembling, voice breaking as she cried his name over and over. He stayed with her through every trembling wave, every shudder, every whispered moan — until she was shaking, twitching, too sensitive to bear more.

When he finally pulled back, his mouth slick and eyes dark with lust, she was breathless and glowing like a star ready to burn.
He crawled back up her body, capturing her lips in a deep, messy kiss — letting her taste herself on his tongue, hear herself in his low groan.

“Are you okay?” he murmured against her mouth.

“Better than okay,” she whispered back, voice soft and full. Her hand slid down, brushing over the bulge straining against his pants. “Now take these off before I lose my mind,” she breathed.

Laxus didn’t need telling twice. He shed his pants in seconds, and when she finally saw him — exposed and aching — her breath hitched.
“Oh,” she whispered, eyes wide and heart pounding. “You’re…”

He chuckled, low and wicked. “Too much?”

“Perfect.” Her fingers traced the length of him, reverently, shy but hungry. She watched his eyes flutter closed and his jaw clench at the gentle touch.

“You’re really killing me,” he rasped, hips twitching at her touch.

“Good,” she smiled, spreading her legs wider, inviting him in.

But then, with a careful gentleness that made her heart melt, Laxus rolled to the side and reached for the nightstand. “Wait, gotta do this first,” he said, holding up a small foil packet.

Liva’s cheeks flushed, but the smile on his face was so tender, so respectful, it made her pulse flutter. “Oh, yeah. Right.”

“Better safe than sorry,” he said softly, tearing the packet open. She reached out, fingers brushing his as he rolled the condom on with careful precision, the slow, intimate act making the anticipation twist deliciously tighter.

“Gods,” she whispered. “You think of everything.”

“Always,” he murmured, eyes never leaving hers. “You deserve that.” And then he was back — his hand sliding beneath her, fingers tracing lazy patterns over the heat gathering there. His gaze locked with hers, fierce and full of promise.
“Ready?” he asked softly.

Liva nodded, breath hitching. “More than ever.”

He lined himself up slowly, the heat of his body pressing close as if to say he was right where he wanted to be — with her. Every inch he pressed in was a delicious tease, a silent question. She gasped softly, feeling the stretch and fullness, her body learning the rhythm of newness.

“You’re so tight,” he breathed, voice rough with awe and something like worship.

“Only for you,” she teased back, biting her lip as she slid her hands over his shoulders. “Don’t you dare move too fast, lightning boy. I want to remember every second.”

He chuckled, low and full of promise. “Oh, you will remember. Every damn second.”

They stayed like that for a moment — connected, hearts racing, foreheads touching — until Liva rolled her hips once, a slow movement that made them both shiver. Control snapped.

Laxus set a fierce rhythm, every thrust deep and claiming, like he was marking her as his own. The headboard slammed against the wall in time with his hips, but neither of them cared.
“Harder,” she begged, nails digging into his back. “I can take it.”

“Yeah?” he growled, slamming into her so hard she gasped. “You want it rough, moon girl?”

“Yes,” she hissed, voice thick with need. “Claim me. Ruin me.”
Their sounds filled the room — breathless gasps, moans, whispered names — every movement feeding the fire that burned between them.

“You’re mine,” he snarled, voice gravelly and fierce. “Every fucking part of you.”

“Yours,” she choked out. “Always. Fuck, Laxus, don’t stop—”

Suddenly, he flipped them, pulling her on top with a rough command. “Ride me, sweetheart,” he breathed, voice ragged with want. “Show me how you want it.”

She didn’t hesitate. Slowly, deliberately, she sank down on him, hands pressing against his chest, feeling the steady, thunderous beat of his heart beneath her palms. The angle was fierce — perfect — every roll of her hips dragging a low, ragged moan from his throat and filling the space between them with raw, urgent hunger.

“Gods, look at you,” he rasped, thumbs teasing her nipples through her skin. “Fucking divine.”

“Oh, fuck me,” she cursed breathlessly, grinding harder, feeling the exquisite ache of being so full, so taken. “You’re so deep—”

His answer was a guttural growl that trembled into a shuddered moan as she clenched around him, pulling him deeper with every muscle of her body.
Their rhythm built like a storm gathering strength — faster, harder, hotter. His hands gripped her hips, steadying and guiding, urging her on, deeper into a fevered dance of flesh and soul.

“Say it,” he demanded between ragged breaths, eyes dark and burning. “Say who you belong to.”

“You,” she moaned, voice raw and trembling with want. “I’m yours, Laxus. Always.”

His grip tightened, one hand tangling in her hair, the other cupping her ass as he pushed up into her with a fierce, possessive thrust.
“Good,” he growled, chest pressing against hers, his voice low and rough with promise. “Because I’m fucking yours too.”

The final surge crashed over them like a tidal wave — sweat and breath tangled, limbs entwined in a perfect storm. Their climaxes collided, loud and wild — Liva crying out his name as her body clenched and trembled around him and Laxus groaning a broken, reverent, “Fuck—Liva—.”

They clung to each other, hearts hammering in unison, riding the waves of release until the storm passed and left only the soft, golden stillness behind. She collapsed against him, trembling, her pulse a frantic melody beneath his palm.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, breath hot against his throat.

He chuckled softly, stroking slow, soothing circles down her back. “You okay?”

“Better than okay,” she breathed, voice thick with the sweetness of satisfaction and something deeper — connection, belonging. A long pause settled between them.
“You meant it?” she asked, lifting her head just enough to meet his gaze. “That you‘re mine too?”

He tilted her chin upward, eyes blazing with a fierce tenderness that made her feel like the most precious thing in the world. “I’ve always been yours.” Then softer, almost like a confession: “I think, I’ve been waiting for you longer than I realized.”

She blinked and hugged him, giving a sad and yet hopeful smile, while warmth blooming in her chest, a quiet happiness that filled every part of her. If only he knew the truth of his words.
She kissed him slow, tender — curling into his arms as the moonlight wrapped them both in silver, sealing this night, this moment, as theirs forever.

⚡️

They sat like that for a while — Liva curled into his lap, skin flush against skin, the quiet heat between them simmering just beneath the surface. It wasn’t just the physical closeness. There was something else now, something delicate and fierce all at once — a tether, a claim, a promise without words.

Her fingers trailed softly over his chest, lips brushing a featherlight kiss just above his heart.
“I love the way you touch me,” she murmured, voice so soft it made his chest ache. “Like you already know every part of me.”

Laxus didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tightened his arm around her and kissed the top of her head, savoring the rare calm settling over the storm that was him — at least for now.
But then, her fingers slid lower, teasing. Slow and deliberate, nails tracing the ridges of muscle until her hand curled possessively around him — already half-hard again, warm and heavy.

He exhaled low and rough, eyes fluttering open, dark with lust and amusement. “You’re insatiable.”

“Only for you,” she whispered, lips twitching with mischief as she slid down, eyes locked on his as her mouth dipped lower.

His breath hitched the second her tongue flicked over his tip — teasing, slow, maddening. She didn’t rush. She wrapped her lips around the head of him and sucked gently, tongue swirling in lazy circles, tasting him like she was savoring something decadent.

Her hand pumped the base in time with her mouth, steady and sure. Then she dipped lower, taking more of him in, hollowing her cheeks around him. Every movement was slow and deliberate, each bob of her head driving him closer to the edge.

His fingers tangled in her hair, holding — not forcing — just grounding as she worked her magic. The low moan escaping him. “Holy shit—”
She swallowed him deeper, tongue swirling with wicked skill, drawing out every shiver from his thighs, every jerk from his hips.

She didn’t just take him in — she worshipped him, lips moving with slow reverence, teasing the tip with her tongue, flicking lightly over the sensitive slit again and again until he was trembling beneath her. Her hand stroked the base steadily, never breaking the rhythm, fingers tightening just enough to send a delicious squeeze through him.

Her mouth slid down a little, sucking gently before swirling her tongue around the underside, dragging it out long and slow in maddening strokes that made his breath hitch and his hips jerk involuntarily. Every flick and glide was a promise, a silent confession of hunger.

She hollowed her cheeks and bobbed her head just enough to keep him on edge — slow and deliberate — then teased him with sudden flicks of her tongue that sent shivers shooting through his body. The low moan vibrating around him was like fire and he groaned back, fingers tangling in her hair to hold her closer, needing more.

“Fuck, Liva— just like that. You’re driving me crazy,” he rasped, voice thick and ragged with want. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up.“

“Then stop me,” she teased. But he didn‘t, because he never wanted this sweet torture to end. His voice became raw, his head spinning and every limb in his body tingled.
She looked up at him with mischievous eyes, lips wet and swollen, and whispered, “Tell me what you want.”

His hand tightened in her hair and he growled, “What I want? You really asking me that when your mouth’s wrapped around my cock like it belongs to you?”

With flushed cheeks, she answered, „Yes.“

With a growl, he flipped them, moving so fast she barely had time to yelp before she was flat on her back and he was between her thighs again.
“I want to taste you.” His voice was a promise — dark, reverent, wicked all at once. „It‘s my turn now.“

Then he was between her thighs — kissing, licking, claiming. She moaned.

“Fuck, you taste like moonlight and sin,” he murmured against her folds, tongue dragging slowly up her slit. “So fucking sweet.”

Liva gasped, legs already trembling as he flattened his tongue and licked her long and slow, over and over, until she was panting and bucking into his mouth. One of his hands slid up to pin her hip, while the other pushed two fingers inside her, curling just right — slow thrusts that matched the rhythm of his tongue.

His mouth found her clit again, sucking gently, then flicking it with slow, precise circles that built her higher with every second. She writhed under him, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted in a breathless moan.

“Laxus— fuck— I’m—”

“I know,” he rasped, voice low and hungry. “I want to feel it. Fall apart for me.” She did.

Her orgasm hit hard — a sharp, searing wave that tore through her and had her gasping his name like a prayer. He didn’t stop. He kept sucking, licking, until she was trembling and twitching beneath his mouth, overstimulated and shaking.
When he finally rose up, his mouth glistened, eyes dark and blown wide. He wiped his jaw with the back of his hand and looked down at her like she was art and war and salvation all at once.

“Now,” he said roughly, voice shaking with restraint, “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t remember your name.”

She didn’t even get a reply out before he was kissing her again — deep, filthy, still tasting of her. She clawed at his shoulders, needing him, desperate and unashamed.

This time, he didn’t ease in.
He thrust into her hard and deep, her legs wrapping around his waist instantly, hips lifting to meet him with every stroke. The pace was brutal, relentless. Every thrust drove into her like he was trying to imprint himself inside her.

“You love this,” he panted, dragging her closer, fucking her harder. “Me fucking you so deep it ruins you for anyone else.”

“Yes,” she cried out, nails digging into his back. “Gods, yes, harder—”

He gritted his teeth and shifted her leg up higher on his shoulder, changing the angle. The new position had her crying out, body jerking with each perfect hit.

Then he flipped her.
Pulled her onto all fours, her ass high, chest sinking into the mattress. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her back toward him before he slammed into her again.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “This view… this fucking angle…”

He pounded into her from behind, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her hip so hard she’d probably feel it tomorrow. Her moans filled the room, high and wild.

“Harder,” she begged, pushing back to meet him. “Fuck me like I’m yours.”

“You are mine,” he growled. “Every inch of this tight, perfect body.”

He grabbed both her arms and pulled her upright, back flush against his chest. His cock still buried deep, he thrust up into her with bruising precision while his other hand snaked between her legs.
He rubbed her clit in slow, tight circles — not rushed, not sloppy, but focused, teasing her with that maddening friction. His fingers worked her exactly how she needed, speeding up just enough to send her closer and closer.

“You gonna come again, moon girl?” he breathed into her ear. “Come while I’m buried deep inside you? Can you do it?”
She whimpered — nodding, gasping — but it wasn’t enough. He bit down lightly on her shoulder, whispered filth against her skin.
“Then come for me. Squeeze my cock. Let me feel you lose yourself.”

She shattered again — this time harder. Her body seized around him, clenching tight, her cry raw and wrecked. The squeeze of her pulsing walls dragged him over the edge with her. He groaned her name, deep and broken, gripping her so tight she couldn’t breathe.

They collapsed together in a tangled mess of limbs and sweat and breath. The silence afterward wasn’t empty. It was full — full of everything that had passed between them. Everything that didn’t need to be said.

„What have you done?“ Liva turned to him slowly, her lips brushing his jaw. “I think I might be ruined for anyone else.”

Laxus chuckled, voice still rough and low. “Good,” he murmured, dragging her tighter into his arms. “Because I have no intention of sharing you.”

Chapter Text

The bathroom was thick with steam, the air laced with the scent of soap and skin and something deeper — spent magic, spent desire. Water drummed steadily from the showerhead, cascading over tile and bodies alike.

Liva leaned against the wall, lashes lowered, her breathing slow and lazy, a small smile tugging at her lips. Her body still thrummed with aftershocks, but it was no longer fire — it was warmth now. Deep. Glowing. Lingering.

Then a familiar presence slid in behind her.

Large, warm hands circled her waist, and she melted back against the solid wall of Laxus’ chest. His skin was slick with water, his mouth brushing the curve of her neck, teeth grazing lightly. She sighed — content, wrecked, already wanting again.

“You’re clingy after sex,” she mumbled, teasing.

“You’re not exactly pushing me away,” he rumbled, his voice a soft rasp against her ear. The length of him pressed against her lower back — unmistakable, unapologetic.

She smirked. “Seriously?”

His hand slid up to cup one breast, slow and possessive. “Can you blame me?”

She bit her lip, hips arching involuntarily. “No fair,” she whispered.

“I never claimed to fight fair.”

The water poured over them, a warm cocoon as his hands explored her again — this time slow, reverent. There was no urgency now, just lazy, claiming touches. His fingers skimmed the insides of her thighs, brushing over her still-sensitive core. She shivered.

“Still greedy,” he murmured against her wet skin, fingers circling in slow, maddening strokes. “Still soft. Still mine.”

A breathy sound escaped her throat. “Laxus…”

“I know,” he said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “I won’t push. Let me help you.” She nodded wordlessly.

For long minutes, they just… stayed. Skin to skin. He washed her hair, careful and thorough, massaging shampoo into her scalp with strong, gentle hands. She returned the favor, running soap-slicked fingers over every inch of his chest, his arms, tracing the lightning bolt tattoo carved into his side with a fond, teasing touch. He kissed her like it was the first time all over again — slow, wet, adoring — until the air began to cool and the water lost its heat.

Steam still curled lazily from the bathroom door as Liva padded barefoot across the floor, wrapped in one of Laxus’ oversized shirts — the hem brushing her thighs, the fabric clinging to damp skin in places. Her hair was towel-dried and wild, her cheeks pink from heat and something deeper.

Before her, Laxus stood at the small kitchen counter, wearing only loose sweatpants that hung dangerously low. His hair was damp, pushed back, a few drops still clinging to his jaw.
He placed a tea pot on the stove and chuckled, as she hugged him from behind. „Want some tea?“

Liva noticed to different bags with herbs. One smelled distinctly of peppermint and lemon, the other had the unmistakable scent of …
„Wistaberry?“, Liva guessed astonished.

Laxus nodded. „I bought it a few hours ago in the apothecary. Fucking expensive.“

„That‘s why you went in there“, Liva hummed. „Hm,“ She winked. She meant it playfully — cheeky, flirtatious — when she murmured, “I’ll have to visit the apothecary too if nights like this become a habit.”

And Laxus, spoon halfway to a mug, smirked. “Oh?” he drawled, casting her a sidelong glance. “Already planning for a repeat performance?”

Liva lifted her chin with a mock-haughty air. “I like to be prepared.”

She padded over, barefoot and wrapped in his oversized shirt and reached into the side pocket of her bag hanging off a chair. From it, she pulled out a small cloth pouch with a familiar herbal scent — sharp, earthy and bitter.

“This,” she said with a proud little grin, “is my last bit contraception tea. Been drinking it for weeks, so that it really works.”

Laxus blinked. “Wait, really?”

She nodded. “Ever since I realized I wanted you. I went to that old herbalist on the edge of the village. You remember him? Told him I needed something strong. Reliable. For… situations like this.”
Her voice dropped slightly on the last words, sultry and amused.

Laxus raised both brows, clearly impressed. “You planned for this?”

“Of course I did,” she said, poking him lightly in the chest. “I don’t just fall into bed with lightning mages on a whim.”

He let out a low chuckle, rubbing a hand down his face. “Gods, you really had everything under control.”

„You too” she teased. “I thought, you would black out the second I take off my clothes, but you still thought of a condom. 100 points, darling, 100 points.”

He grinned, slow and dangerous. “I have to admit, I blacked out the second you walked in with my shirt on. You look divine.”

She laughed, then reached for her mug, pouring hot water over the blend. The scent filled the room — grounded and bitter. She stirred it slowly before handing him his wistaberry tea.
They stood side by side, steam curling from their cups, a quiet peace wrapping around them. Outside the night had fallen over Magnolia.

Laxus glanced at her over the rim of his mug. “So you’ve been prepping for this night for weeks?”

Liva sipped her tea with a wicked smile. “A girl likes to be ready.”

His gaze darkened. “That‘s kinda hot.”

“You think so?“ she chuckled and leaned against his side. Silence fell again, warm and full — not awkward, but intimate. The kind of silence that didn’t need filling.

After a beat, he said, “Y’know… I never really pictured what it’d be like. You. Here. After.”

She tilted her head. “And?”

He smirked. “You steal my shirt, drink weird tea and tease the hell out of me.”

She took another sip, her tone innocent. “Sounds like you’re halfway in love already.”

He choked slightly on his wistaberry tea, coughing and spilling the hot tea it on his chest. “Oh, shit.”

She patted his back. “Don’t die. You’ll miss round three.”

He wheezed a laugh, still coughing. “You’re gonna be the death of me, moon girl.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

His eyes slid over her slowly, gaze flaring again — lazy, heated, full of something softer too. “No,” he said roughly. “It’s a fucking privilege.”

She stepped closer, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Tea first,” she whispered, “then you can worship me some more.”

“Oh, gladly,” he muttered, knocking back his tea.

⚡️

When Laxus opened his eyes, he only found blackness. Thick and endless. No sound. No light. Not even the feel of his own breath. It felt ominous. Watching. Waiting.

Then came the voice. Rough. Mocking. Familiar. “Finally. Took you long enough, bastard.”

Laxus turned sharply.
He shouldn’t have been able to move in this nothingness and yet he did. His eyes landed on the one who had spoken — and his body went cold.

It was him. Or someone who looked just like him.

Older. Wilder. No scar over the eye. Long blond hair tied in a braid that brushed over one shoulder. His eyes were cold, their usual light gone, marred by some heavy burden. And between there lingered fury and madness.

The stranger stepped forward, grabbed Laxus by the front of his shirt, and yanked him forward. His breath was hot. His grip unshakable.
“Now remember, idiot,” the lookalike hissed — like it was a curse, or a command he’d waited too long to speak. And then — he shoved him.

Darkness roared open below. Laxus screamed. He fell, weightless and spiraling. The black broke apart.

Suddenly: light. Golden. Warm. Blinding.

A field of wheat swayed in the wind, stretching far under an amber sky. The scent of summer, sweet grass and the heat of the sun. The hum of bees drifting lazily through the air. Children’s laughter echoing through the air like music from a life long lost.

Small feet pounded across the field. A boy — maybe eight — ran with arms outstretched, grinning. Sunlight caught in golden braids as he stumbled over the ground. “Brother! Wait for me!” 

Another boy — older, but not by much. A strange feeling settled over Laxus like a crown. The older brother laughed, voice bright and impatient. “You’re slow as always, Fynn!”

Laxus felt his heart lurch as the name Fynn echoed in his chest. He felt pain. Sadness. Grief. Why?

In the distance, a woman sang softly, while painting on a canvas. A lullaby carried on the wind. 

„Kairos, Fynn, come here.“ A figure stood tall in the golden haze — a man’s silhouette, backlit by the sun, distant but proud. One strong hand reached down, ruffling Kairos’ hair as the boys rushed past.

Their faces — the mother, the father — were hazy. Blurred by memory or time. But the feelings… gods, the feelings were vivid.

Love. Belonging. Joy.

Laxus watched, motionless, throat thick. This isn‘t a dream, he thought. This felt like a memory. A long forgotten one.

The wind carried the children’s laughter far and wide. Then — all at once — the light dimmed. The field began to fade. A shadow stretched over the sun. The warmth slipped from the air like water through cupped hands.

And just before the dream dissolved into dark—

“Fynn!”

The name fell from somewhere inside him. Not spoken aloud. Just felt, like a breath drawn from somewhere far too deep.

Laxus jolted upright in bed, his hand clutching at the sheets. His breathing came hard, but there was no fear. No panic.

Just… longing.

A strange ache bloomed in his chest, sharp and familiar, though he couldn’t name why. He rubbed his face slowly, jaw clenched, as he stared into the shadows of the early morning light.

That name. Fynn. It didn’t leave him. He knew that name, but he didn‘t understand why it was so familiar. But something had begun. And there was no stopping it now.

⚡️

Laxus had been awake for hours.

The dream — so vivid and sharp thanks to the Wistaberry tea — hadn’t faded at all. Every detail remained etched in his mind like old scars reopened. But the meaning? That part escaped him. Too much was blurred. The adults. The boys. He knew in his gut that it had been a family — parents and sons — but he couldn’t say why that certainty clung so hard to his chest.

He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his face with a tired groan. “And here I thought this tea would make everything easier.”

But if there was one upside… it was the way his body felt. Rested. Warm. Whole in a way he hadn’t experienced in weeks. Whether it was the tea or the fact that the most beautiful woman in the damn world was sleeping beside him — well, he had a guess. And he was pretty sure it wasn’t the tea.

He turned on his side, gaze settling on Liva.
Gods.

Bare legs tangled in the sheets, hair a golden halo on the pillow, her cheek pressed into his arm like she’d claimed him in her sleep. One hand curled by her face. The other rested against his stomach, soft and trusting.

She was wearing his shirt — barely. The hem had ridden up, exposing the curve of her ass and one long, smooth thigh. The neckline was askew, revealing the swell of one perfect breast and the slope of her collarbone.

Laxus swallowed hard.

His cock was already hard — thick, aching, pinned against his thigh like a loaded weapon. Every inch of him throbbed with the memory of last night. The way she moaned. The way she screamed. The way she came apart in his hands.

And now, here she was — sleeping like an angel after sinning like the devil.

He let out a soft groan, barely moving as he reached out, brushing a golden strand from her cheek. Her lashes fluttered. And then, slowly, her eyes opened.
Still fogged with sleep, they landed on him — and her lips curved in that smile that made his heart skip a beat and his cock twitch.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, voice raspy and warm.

“Can you blame me?” he murmured back, low and reverent. “You look like something out of a damn dream.”

Liva stretched like a cat — slow, sensuous — the hem of the shirt riding higher, teasing him with the flash of more skin. “And you look like you’re about to do something indecent.”

He smirked. “Only if you ask nicely.”

She glanced down — and saw what the sheet wasn’t hiding. Her eyes widened slightly and a flush rose to her cheeks… but she didn’t look away. “Oh dear. Do you have plans this morning?”

He growled softly, hand sliding beneath the sheet to rest on her thigh. “You know the answer to that.”

Her fingers traced along his chest, slow and light, nails leaving goosebumps in their wake. “So what are you waiting for?”

Laxus didn’t need to be told twice. He flipped the covers off them both, revealing the mess of bare skin and tangled limbs. Her shirt was bunched up around her waist and with a low groan, he pushed it up further, exposing her completely.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re not real.”

“Touch me and find out.”

He did. His mouth found her breast, lips closing around her nipple as his hand slid between her thighs, already finding her warm and slick and ready for him. She gasped, arching into him, fingers twisting in his hair.

“Laxus, yes …”

“I didn’t get enough of you last night,” he rasped against her skin. “Not even close.”
He moved lower, trailing kisses down her stomach until he reached the sweet heat of her. She was already trembling before his tongue even touched her.

And when it did?

She cried out, hips lifting off the bed as he licked into her with slow, devastating precision. One hand braced against the sheets, the other tangled in his hair as he worked her open again, soft and wet and perfect beneath his mouth.

“Yes— Laxus—”

He didn’t stop. He wanted her shaking. Wanted her mindless. Wanted to remind her that no dream, no memory, no goddamn tea could make him feel the way she did.

And before she shattered on his tongue, he stopped. „What are you doing?!“ she hissed frustrated.

„My, my. So insatiable,“ he teased, by the time he crawled back up her body, she was panting, eyes glassy with pleasure.

„That was not nice of you,“ she whimpered. 

“You bring out the worst in me.” His grin was devilish.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Then take me.”

He kissed her, slow and deep, before positioning himself at her entrance. He pushed in with one long thrust and they both groaned — not just from pleasure, but from the feeling of coming home.

“Shit, Liva,” he muttered, burying himself to the hilt. “You feel like fucking heaven.”

She met his thrust with a roll of her hips. “Then don’t stop ‘til I’m screaming your name again.”

And he didn’t.

He moved inside her with hard, relentless strokes — fucking her like she belonged to him. Her nails raked down his back. Her cries filled the room. The bed rocked beneath them, wood creaking with every thrust.

She came, hard, pulsing around him so tightly it dragged him right over the edge. He groaned her name, spilling into the condom, trembling above her as they came undone together.

And afterward? They lay there, tangled and breathless, his forehead pressed to hers, their hearts still racing in sync.

“Morning sex,” Liva whispered. “Highly underrated.”

Laxus laughed, rough and low, and kissed her shoulder. “With you? It’s going on the daily schedule.”

She smirked, still flushed and glowing. “We‘re going to need more stamina, then.”

He rolled them, tucking her against his chest with a grin. “Challenge accepted.”

🌙

As much as they didn’t want to, Laxus and Liva eventually had to leave the warmth of the bed — and of each other. The morning was advancing quickly and the rest of the mages would soon gather at the guild to travel to Crocos.
Running far later than planned, the two of them got dressed, grabbed a quick breakfast and hurried toward the guild with their bags slung over their shoulders.

“Wait for me!” Liva called, struggling to keep up with Laxus’ long strides.

“Faster, moon girl,” Laxus shouted over his shoulder, not slowing.

“That’s my line,” Liva huffed, out of breath. He just shot her a dirty grin in return.

By the time they reached the guild, they were the last to arrive — and unfortunately, very noticed. Waiting at the entrance, with far too much energy for this hour, stood the Thunder God Tribe.

“Oh no,” Liva whispered under her breath, slowing as if preparing for battle.

“Morning, lovebirds,” Bickslow greeted, hands behind his head and grin too wide to be innocent. “Slept well?”

Liva’s cheeks warmed immediately. “Where’s Cricket?” she asked far too quickly.

“Over there,” Fried said politely, gesturing to where the little creature was bouncing around near Pantherlily and an annoyed Gajeel.

“I’ll just … go get him.” She disappeared in a flash of embarrassment.
Fried turned back to Laxus, expression unreadable — though the slight arch of his brow said plenty.

“You’re late,” Evergreen stated simply, arms crossed.

“We’re here, aren’t we?” Laxus muttered.

Bickslow elbowed him lightly. “You’re really here, huh?”

Laxus shot him a warning glance. “Don’t.”

Bickslow raised both hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just glad someone’s finally smiling like that again.” Laxus didn’t answer. But his gaze briefly flicked toward where Liva was crouched with Cricket, soft and content, and he didn’t argue either.

Bickslow’s mouth twitched. “Let’s just hope you didn’t forget to pack the… essentials.”

“Like what?” Laxus feigned ignorance.

Evergreen flipped her hair. “A good shirt for example. That one’s a little… ripped. What did you do to that fabric?”

„I think, I know what they did.“

Laxus sighed. “I hate all of you.”

“Sure you do,” Bickslow grinned. “But you’re glowing. Like a light bulb.”

Laxus gave him a shove toward the cart. “Move before I fry your eyebrows off.”

Their laughter faded as the group moved forward, but Fried leaned toward Laxus one last time. “You seem different,” he said quietly. “Not bad different.”

Laxus glanced ahead, toward the road, where Liva had just turned to smile at him. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”
Fried only smiled. If Laxus was happy, then he would be too. No matter how much it hurt.

🌙

They arrived in Crocos faster than expected — and the capital was huge.

Even for mages used to traveling, the sheer size of the city was overwhelming. Towering spires stretched toward the sky, banners of guilds and noble families fluttered from balconies and the streets pulsed with a kind of bustling, refined energy unlike anything back in Magnolia.

The Thunder God Tribe wandered through the marketplace with wide eyes and sparkling awe, their excitement nearly contagious. Laxus, despite himself, found a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched them. He wasn’t much of a sightseeing type, but even he had to admit — the city was impressive.

But then he glanced at Liva.

“You don’t look too thrilled,” he whispered, leaning closer. Liva didn’t turn to him. Her gaze remained fixed on the cobblestones as they walked, her expression tight. 

“The capital isn’t new to me,” she murmured back. “It just … brings back old memories.“

Laxus slowed, his brows furrowing. “You okay?” There was something soft in his voice — rare, warm, entirely meant for her.

She nodded, her lips pressing into a grateful smile. “Of course. Thanks.”

Team Fairy Tail B settled into their lodgings not long after. The building was old but well-kept, with dark wood panels and polished floors. The game’s organisers had made arrangements for every team … though those arrangements were not exactly what anyone had expected.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Laxus grumbled as they stepped into their assigned room — and were met with six small beds lined up in close quarters.

“There are six beds?” Gajeel muttered, looking around with a scowl. “Are we seriously all sharing one room?”

Mira glanced at the sheet posted on the door. “Apparently, yes.”

“Those are the rules,” a voice chimed in from behind. Master Makarov had appeared silently, arms crossed and looking all too pleased with himself. “Teams are to share one room and must be inside by midnight. At least for Day One. Breaking curfew counts as a violation of tournament protocol.”

“Strict place,” Evergreen mumbled, adjusting her earring with a frown.

“But there are six beds,” Juvia said, puzzled. “A team only has five members.”

Makarov nodded sagely. “The sixth is for our reserve member.” The room fell silent, curiosity buzzing in the air.

„I had originally planned to assign Cana,” the Master continued, then turned to look directly at Liva. “But I’ve changed my mind. I’d like you to be our reserve member.”

Liva blinked. “Wait— me?” She pointed to herself in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Makarov confirmed.

“What?!” she burst out, eyes wide. “Why me?! You don’t even know how strong I really am!”

Makarov stroked his chin thoughtfully. “According to Laxus’ reports, you’re not only strong — you’re resilient, quick to learn and have magical potential we haven’t even tapped into yet. I think you’d be a valuable addition.”

Liva shifted back, uncertainty flickering in her gaze. “I… I don’t know, Master.”

Because she did know what this meant.

The Grand Magic Games were broadcast nationwide. Nobles gathered in salons and high halls to place bets and sip wine while watching mages from across Fiore fight for glory. If she stepped into that arena — even for a second — her family would know. Anthony would know. There would be no more hiding. No more running.

Was she ready for that?
Could she face everything she’d left behind?

“And?” Makarov asked gently, watching her with a patience that surprised her.

Liva looked at him, then slowly turned to face the others.
The expressions of Team B were calm. Open. None of them looked resentful that she snatched Cana‘s spot. But Laxus and the Thunder God Tribe showed more. In fact… in their eyes, she saw something else. Understanding. Encouragement. Even excitement?

Then Evergreen stepped forward and took her hands. “Liva,” she said, quiet but firm. “If you do this, they’ll find out. Your family. Your ex-fiancé. All of them. But that doesn’t matter anymore.”

Liva froze.

Ever squeezed her fingers gently. “Because you’re not alone now. Whatever happens… we’re with you.”

A lump formed in Liva’s throat. She tried not to cry — gods, she really tried. But Ever’s words struck something deep inside. And when she turned to Laxus, the way he looked at her — calm, warm, protective — it only made it worse. His hand brushed lightly against her back, grounding her with that familiar touch.

I promised myself I’d stop running, she thought bitterly. That I’d face my past and live with it. And now that I finally have the chance… I almost turned it down again.

She swallowed hard.

“Thank you,” she said, looking around at them all. “All of you.” Then she turned to the Master, her voice stronger than it had been since entering the room. “Okay, Master. I’m ready. Make me the reserve member of Team B.”

Makarov smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun was warm, casting long shadows between the towering spires and narrow streets. The city buzzed with the usual blend of merchants calling out their wares, nobles drifting past in silk and velvet and the occasional clang of smiths hammering away in a nearby alley.

Laxus and Liva walked side by side, their pace unhurried, fingers occasionally touching as if testing the warmth lingering there. Laxus, ever the stoic one, stole glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking — at the way her blond hair caught the sunlight and at the soft curve of her smile when a street performer caught her attention.

“You know,” he said with a rough chuckle, “I never thought I’d say this, but this whole sightseeing-thing … it’s not half bad.”

Liva smirked, nudging his side with her elbow. “See? Even the Thunder God can appreciate a little culture.”

He shrugged, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Don’t get used to it.”

They passed a vendor selling sweet pastries, the scent of honey and cinnamon tempting. Liva’s eyes lit up. “Want to try some?”

“Sure.” Hands entwined, they sampled the sticky treats, laughing softly when Laxus struggled with the drips clinging to his fingers.

As they turned down a quiet street, Liva paused, resting her head against him. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Being here, together. I never thought I’d feel… safe like this.”

Laxus tightened his hold around her waist. “You’re safe with me.” His voice dropped low, almost a growl. “Always.”

🌙

Crocos was awesome. The streets were packed with food stalls, the air smelled like grilled meat and sugar. Natsu Dragneel had already eaten five meat skewers and three suspiciously spicy rice balls. Life was good.

“Hey, Luce! They’ve got deep-fried octopus balls here!”
Lucy groaned. “You just ate ten minutes ago!”

Happy fluttered above them, holding his own fishy snack. “Aye, but his second stomach just kicked in!”

Natsu grinned, mouth already full, when something caught his eye down the street — a tall, familiar silhouette. “Hey… is that Laxus?”

Lucy turned toward the crowd, squinting. “Huh?”
There he was. Big, blond, muscles doing muscle things. Classic Laxus. Except— wait a minute. He wasn’t alone.

“Is that a girl?” Happy gasped, his wings faltering.

Lucy’s eyes widened. “It is a girl!” And not just any girl. A beautiful girl, dressed in an elegant summer dress. She was holding his hand. Smiling. Leaning into him like they were… dare she say it… affectionate.
“Is he dating someone?!” Lucy whispered.

“LAXUS HAS A GIRLFRIEND?!” Natsu half-shouted and Lucy immediately slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Would you shut up?! We’re in public!”

Happy’s eyes sparkled. “Do we follow them? I say we follow them.”

“Yes,” Lucy said flatly. “We absolutely follow them.” And so began Operation: Spy on Laxus Dreyar Without Getting Electrocuted.

Lucy didn’t even know why she was so invested — maybe it was, because Laxus always acted like Mr. Lone Wolf Muscleman. He was all scowls and bad boy vibes. Seeing him walk hand-in-hand with a pretty blonde, smiling like … this? It was just… shocking. Okay, fine — it also was adorable.

They ducked behind a vegetable stall as Laxus and the woman stopped to sample pastries.
“They’re sharing food,” Lucy whispered, crouched behind a pile of cabbages. “He just wiped honey off her lip.”

Natsu was completely out of his depth. “I’ve never seen Laxus this soft. What is happening?”

“He looks… happy,” Lucy murmured. Then Laxus leaned down and whispered something in the woman’s earand she laughed. A real, head-thrown-back laugh.
Lucy clutched her cheeks. “They’re flirting!“

“I didn’t think he knew how,” Happy muttered, sounding personally betrayed.

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “We need better cover. Let’s move.”

⚡️

Laxus watched a blue cat, a pink-haired fire-lizard and a hooded woman crash into a street vendor’s tomato cart. He sighted. “…Idiots.”

Liva laughs softly. “Friends of yours?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Who are they?”

“Some of Team A. Natsu, Lucy and Happy.”

Liva’s eyes shone. Finally she met those infamous trio. “Oh! Should we call them over? I’d love to meet them.” Laxus looked over his shoulder, he clearly heard Lucy berate Natsu. Have they forgotten that Laxus' ears were as good as Natsu's?

„No, this is too much fun. Let‘s continue and shock them.“

“Oh, you want to create chaos?”, she grinned, “Tempting.” And with that, they kept walking, fingers entwined, faces warm in the sun, while three not-so-secret agents scrambled after them behind a barrel of pickles.

⚡️

They were the worst spies ever. Lucy wore a hood pulled low like a weird medieval librarian. Natsu had somehow found sunglasses and a fake mustache made of cotton candy. Happy had a hat. But it was a very convincing hat.

They were crouched behind a street musician, pretending to dance every time Laxus glanced their way.
“I think they’re going into the market square,” Lucy whispered.

“Should we split up?” Natsu asked.

“No!” Lucy hissed. “That’s how people die in horror stories!”

Happy floated closer to Lucy’s shoulder. “I bet they kissed already.”

“I bet they kissed last night,” Natsu grinning.

Lucy choked. “Focus! Look, they’re stopping at a jewelry cart. Is he… is he buying her something?” Everyone froze.

“Laxus. Is. Whipped,” Natsu whispered in horror. Honestly, he didn’t know how to process what he was seeing. Laxus — grumpy, brooding Laxus — was helping the woman adjust a necklace. And smiled while doing it. Natsu wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.
“Do we… do we confront him?” he asked Lucy, who looked about ten seconds away from short-circuiting.

“Are you crazy?! He’d fry us!”

“But this is so weird!”

“Not weird,” Happy said. “Just… new. 

“And kinda sweet,” Lucy agreed.

“Sweet?! What’s next? Pet names?! Matching outfits?!” Just then, the woman leaned up and whispered something to Laxus — and he blushed. Full-on. They nearly screamed.

“Shut up!”, Lucy hissed.

“But you screamed too.”

“We need to stay quiet or we have a problem.”

“Everything’s fine, Luce.” Nothing was fine. At first, their spying was top tier, but then Natsu Dragneel happened.

“Natsu,” Lucy hissed. “Don’t touch that.”

“But … it’s shiny.”

“It’s a glass sculpture of a peacock, not food!”

“Then why does it look so delicious?” He poked it anyway. And that was the moment everything went to hell.
He didn’t mean to break the statue. Really. He barely touched it. Maybe nudged it a little. But suddenly, there was a crack, a wobbleand then—

CRASH.

The glass peacock shattered into about eight thousand glittering pieces.

And somehow — somehow — that one statue was the centerpiece of the entire stall, because the stand’s supports gave out and half the table tilted violently, sending fruit baskets flying into the next booth. That booth? A spice stand. Cue a cloud of paprika and chili powder so thick it was practically a magical smoke bomb.

“MY EYES!” Lucy shrieked.

“I CAN’T BREATHE!” Happy wheezed.

Natsu, naturally, sneezed once — and accidentally fire-blasted a decorative curtain into full-on combustion. Which, in turn, spooked a nearby caravan camel, which took off running, dragging three carts behind it — right into a pile of garden gnomes.
Someone screamed. Someone else shouted, “THOSE GNOMES WERE IMPORTED!”

“Oh no,” Lucy gasped, coughing. “We are so dead.”

Happy peeked through the chili fog, coughing and fanning the air with his tiny paws. All he could see was red dust, overturned tables, terrified shoppersand the unmistakable sound of a camel sprinting into a pastry stand.

And in the middle of it all?

Lucy face-first in a basket of lemons. Natsu buried under an avalanche of tomato crates. He himself wearing a squashed melon like a helmet.
And just as they were trying to gather their dignity, a new shadow fell across them. Two, actually. Laxus. And that girl.

Happy looked up, blinking melon juice from his eyes. “…Oh crap.”

Lucy sat up groaning, lemon peel in her hair and looked up into the flat, unimpressed face of Laxus Dreyar. His arms were crossed. His eyebrow twitched. The woman beside him was stifling a laugh behind a very elegant hand.

Lucy’s brain short-circuited. “…Hi,” she squeaked.

Natsu popped up next to her, tomato dripping down his ear. “Hey, Laxus. Fancy seeing you here. What’s up?”

Happy waved weakly from behind a broken gnome. “We were just, uh… sightseeing.”

Laxus blinked. “Sightseeing.”

“Totally innocent!” Lucy said too quickly.

“Very casual,” Happy added. “Nothing to see here.”

Liva finally snorted. Laxus sighed. Loudly. “You were tailing us,” he deadpanned.

“We— were just going in the same direction,” Lucy tried.

“Coincidentally” Happy chimed in.

Laxus looked at the dragon slayer. “Natsu.”

The young man sighed. “We followed you.”

“NATSU!”

“We had a hunch,” he continued, pointing at the two of them. “That you might be… in love or something.”

Laxus stared for a long, agonizing moment. Then, with a sigh that carried the weight of a thousand bad decisions and zero patience for a tomato-covered dragon slayer and very angry merchants in the background, he crossed his arms and said flatly: “Yes. I’m seeing her.”

Lucy made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a squeal. Natsu’s jaw dropped. Happy let out a long, dramatic “Aaaaaaaye?!”

The blonde beside him — still elegant, still trying very hard not to laugh — raised a brow. “Aye?”

“You kissed, didn’t you?!” Happy shouted, pointing an accusatory paw at the woman.

Liva thought back to yesterday night and the morning.
“Oh, yes. We totally kissed”, she looked at Laxus, who tried very hard to suppress a smirk and stay as stoic as possible. “More than once,” Liva whispered to the cat, who gasped. 

Lucy made a noise that definitely wasn’t human. Natsu pointed wildly between the two of them. “Wait wait wait. So you’re together?! Like, together together?! Since when?!”

“Since before you idiots decided to follow us through half of Crocos,” Laxus muttered.

“And who even are you?” Lucy blurted out to Liva. “I mean — not to be rude! But like — are you a civilian?! Or a noble?! A goddess?! Because you’re really pretty — wait, ignore that part — I mean, what’s happening?!”

Liva chuckled. “Relax. I’m Liva. I joined Fairy Tail a little while ago.”

“You what?!” Natsu and Lucy shouted in perfect unison.

Laxus shoved his hands in his pockets, clearly over the drama. “Yeah. She’s one of us. Trained with me and the Thunder God Tribe.”

“Trained with—?” Lucy blinked. “You trained with Laxus and his team?”

Happy’s eyes went huge. “So she’s strong?”

“Very strong,” Laxus added proudly.

“Please, don’t exaggerate”, Liva laughed flustered.

“Holy crap,” Natsu muttered, visibly impressed.

Lucy rubbed her temples. “Okay. Hold on. I just need to process this. You are in a relationship. A real one. With her?”

Laxus lifted one eyebrow. “… yeah?”

Lucy pointed dramatically. “This is your character development arc, isn’t it?!”

„My what?“

Happy floated in front of Liva. “And you like him? Like really-really?”

Liva laughed. “I do.” Laxus glanced at her. And maybe — just maybe — there was a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

Happy clutched his cheeks. “They like each other. Laxus has a heart!”

Laxus groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Remind me why I didn’t fry you all in the spice cloud?” They grinned like idiots, but their happiness was cut short, as the angry merchants suddenly surrounded them. 

“Well,” Laxus said, tugging Liva closer. “I’ll tell Gramps that you destroyed something again. Have fun dealing with your chaos.” He turned. “See you tomorrow.”

“Laxus!”, Natus cried, while Lucy frantically apologized to the nearest merchant and Happy tried to dust paprika off a traumatized gnome. Behind them, Crocos tried to recover from the “Great Romantic Espionage Disaster.”

🌙

As night fell, Team A and Master Makarov gathered in their room.

“What do you mean Wendy hasn’t shown up yet?” Mira asked, clearly worried.

“She hasn’t returned from her solo round earlier this afternoon,” Makarov grumbled, his arms folded.

“Should we go look for her?” Juvia suggested.

“No,” Makarov shook his head. “According to the tournament rules, you must be in your rooms by midnight. Otherwise, the team is disqualified.” The mages all looked uneasy. “Don’t worry. Lisanna and the others are already searching for her.”

“You said all team members must be present,” Gajeel added with a frown, eyeing the room. “But… one of us is still missing too, isn’t he?”
Four participants stood in the room — Gajeel, Juvia, Mirajaneand Laxus. Liva stood slightly apart as the reserve member, hands folded, shoulders stiff.

Yes. Gajeel was right. One person was still missing.
But no sooner had the words left his mouth, the balcony doors creaked open — not from wind or footsteps, but with the quiet pressure of magic.

All heads turned. And Liva froze.
There he was. Jellal Fernandez.

One of the most wanted criminals in the country. A name that echoed in courtrooms and prison ledgers. A man who once betrayed the entire Magic Council — and the name she had burned into her soul as the reason her brother had vanished.

Her heartbeat slammed in her ears.

Jellal stepped forward, his expression calm — until his eyes found hers. Then he stopped. His breath caught. “…Liva?”
Her name in his mouth sounded wrong. Like he had no right to say it. She straightened slowly, something cold and sharp blooming in her chest. 

“So you do remember me,” she said. Her voice was quiet. Controlled. But her fingers curled into trembling fists.

“It‘s really you.” Jellal looked genuinely taken aback. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” she snapped, heat breaking through the chill in her tone. “Though I suppose hiding behind a fake name and playing hero is more your style.”

The others turned between them, confusion spreading.
Liva stepped closer, her voice dropping to a dark whisper. “My brother. Leander.”

Jellal stiffened. “Who—”

“Don’t lie to me!” she spat, louder now. “You knew him. He worked at the Council as an intern. He was there the night you escaped. And after that… he was gone.” She grabbed his shirt — more to keep herself upright than to threaten. But the room flinched all the same.
“So where is he?!” Her voice cracked. “Where is my brother?!”

Jellal’s eyes widened slightly. He grasped her hands gently, trying to loosen her grip. “Liva, please—”

“We have five minutes until midnight,” she hissed. “That’s more than enough time for the truth.” The room held its breath.
“Is he alive?” she asked and now her voice was barely audible. “Or did you kill him, too?” Her magic flared dark, heavy, murderous.

“Liva!” Makarov warned, sharp and commanding.

Laxus stepped forward, palm up, steady. “Liva. Let him go.”

But she didn’t hear them. Couldn’t. Her eyes were locked on Jellal and her grief was louder than any voice in the room.
“I trusted him,” she whispered. “He was everything to me. He promised he’d always be there and then… nothing. No letter. No grave. Just silence. Where is he?!”

Jellal swallowed hard. “Liva, he’s alive. I swear it.”

The tension snapped. She let go instantly. Her hands dropped, magic dispersing like mist. Her legs trembled. “…He is?” The words barely escaped her lips.

„Yes. And he is well.“ Jellal adjusted his collar. “I can’t believe it. Leander… he told me you’d vanished. Years ago. We thought you were dead.”

“Dead?” she echoed hollowly. “Yes. Somehow I was dead.” The quiet that followed was painful.

“If Leander knew you were alive,” Jellal said gently, “he’d want to see you. He… he always believed you’d come back one day.”

She flinched like he’d struck her. “Then why didn’t he look for me?” Because I did, she wanted to scream. But what followed was silence.

Jellal’s jaw tensed. “He had his reasons.”

Liva’s smile turned bitter. “Oh, I’m sure he did.” A long pause. Her voice trembled again, but it was rage now, barely leashed.
“Do you have any idea what I went through? I searched everywhere for him. I went to the darkest corners of the continent, begging, trading, breaking — anything for a whisper of him.”

She didn’t notice her hand had started to glow again — dim silver light, like a dying star. But Laxus did. He stepped closer, placed his hand on hers. Steady. Warm.
She inhaled shakily. Her magic faded. „He helped you.“

Jellal took another slow breath. “Liva… yes. Leander helped me escape. But he didn’t do it to disappear. He was protecting something. Someone.”

“And who? Because with his disappearance he pushed our family into a black hole,” she said, empty.

Jellal sighed. „Liva …“

She clenched her jaw, eyes burning. “So he let our family grieve. Let our mother sob at an empty table. Let father drown in guilt, because they departed in dispute — and I—,“ she inhaled shakily. „All the while, he was alive?”

“I’m not here to defend him,” Jellal said quietly. “But the guilt has been killing him every day.”

“I hope it does,” she whispered.

Jellal didn’t flinch. “He’s in Crocus. I’ll tell him you’re here, if you want to see him.”

Her eyes snapped to his. “You better mean that. And tell him… if he tries to run, he won’t get far. I’m not his clumsy and weakly sister anymore.” She hesitated — just a second — then added, softer, “I’m not the girl he left behind. I am a …”

When the word ‘Dragon Slayer’ rose in her throat, it caught like a thorn. She shuddered and for a heartbeat, the past wrapped around her like chains.
Laxus didn’t speak. Just stayed beside her, fingers pressing gently around her hand — anchoring her.

Jellal nodded solemnly. “I’ll tell him.”

Makarov then cleared his throat, stepping between the tension like stepping through fog. “That’s enough for now. These games are about unity. We can’t afford to turn on each other before the first match.”

Liva blinked hard, but her voice was composed when she said, “Of course, Master. I’m sorry.”

Jellal gave her one final nod. She turned away. But Laxus didn’t move from her side. Because he knew — this wasn’t just history.
This was a wound that had never truly closed. And tonight, it had begun to bleed again.

And as the room tried to settle, the clock struck midnight.

🌙

Liva had thought she knew how the Grand Magic Games worked by now. But this year, the organisers had outdone themselves — and surprised everyone.

“Now that’s what I call a labyrinth,” Gajeel grumbled.
Fairy Tail Team B stared wide-eyed at the massive construct hovering in the air above the city.

At the stroke of midnight, every inn housing the competitors had been lifted skyward by magic and overhead, the maze had formed — glowing, twisting, alive.
According to the tournament’s overenthusiastic mascot, Mato, the preliminary round of the Games had officially begun. Only the first eight teams to reach the end would qualify for the actual matches.

“That’s never happened before,” Liva murmured, glancing toward Laxus and the rest of Team B. “I wish you luck!”

“We don’t need luck,” Gajeel grunted — and took off running. The others followed behind him.
Laxus gave her one last glance — and a faint smirk curved his lips. “Wait for us at the goal.” And then he was gone.

Liva blinked after him. “And where exactly is the goal?”

Chapter Text

Crocos, Year X791, First game of the Grand Magic Games

Apparently, Liva found the goal, but not as she had expected.
She had sat perched on a high rooftop near the edge of the central plaza, legs pulled up, arms resting loosely on her knees, when suddenly the plaza below shone with light and magic and a group of mages had appeared. Liva acknowledged the guild mark of Sabertooth and she guessed, that they were the first to reach the goal.

Now the city below was eerily quiet, as if even the streets were holding their breath.

Beside her, Cricket jumped and flow over the tiles, hunting some nightly insects, tail twitching excitingly. His big owl eyes reflected the glow of the labyrinth above and he made a low chirping noise as another magical flare rippled through the maze.

They’d been watching for almost half an hour now, waiting for the next group.

Every so often, a bolt of light would surge across the construct above them — a trap triggered, a path revealed or a team forced into another dead end? Liva only could guess. But people constantly fell out of the labyrinth. The fights must be challenging.

Liva couldn’t tell who was who from down here, but her gut tugged toward the brightest points of movement. She liked to think that was Team B.
“You know,” she whispered to Cricket, “when we were kids, Leander, Anthony and I always ran through Crocos‘ streets.”

Cricket stopped and looked at her. „Really?“

„Yeah.“ Liva exhaled, slow and heavy. She could almost see them — the memory so clear it hurt.

Leander, full of fire and rebellion, dragging Anthony and her through the crowded streets of Crocos, pretending they were on a mission. They used to imagine themselves as a team of adventurers. The three of them. It was a time free from problems of adults.

“We are unstoppable,” Leander used to say, laughing. “A strategist, a protector and a bunny.”
„I‘m not a bunny!“ she had screamed at him, obviously embarrassed.

Liva remembered, that Anthony had chuckled and had scolded Leander for speaking like this to his sister. She fell in love with him at that moment. The boys grew to young men, well educated, a good name and wealth to call their own. Liva received an education befitting a young noblewoman from the House of Eleoria and enjoyed the privileges that a young noblewoman had. Everything was perfect.

And then, years later, Leander disappeared, Liva was full of grief and went out to her own suicide mission. She remembered her previous life and now the golden cage as a noble’s daughter and wife was not perfect anymore. Anthony was left behind — he lost his best friend and his fiancée too.

It was the first time this thought had occurred to her, and it embarrassed her. It had been a year since Liva had sent her former fiancé her last letter. She had told that he should not look for her and that their relationship was now finally over.

It was a letter she had written in a panic after regaining her memories. Her thoughts had been torn between the present and the past. There were days when she didn't know who she was — Liva or Calomene? It had taken almost a year before she could slowly distinguish reality from her memories.
Liva doubted that Anthony or her family had wanted to see her in this state — they would’ve probably considered it a disgrace and thought she was crazy. And even if they would’ve believed and wanted to help her, there was nothing they could’ve done to do so. This helplessness would‘ve probably hurt them even more.

Liva‘s fingers curled tightly into the fabric of her sleeve, gripping it until her knuckles went white. Maybe she should send a word to Anthony and her family to apologise. They didn‘t deserve this. They didn’t deserve a selfish daughter like her.

From above, a blast of flashy lightning streaked across the sky — brighter than the others.
Liva sat up straighter. “Is it them?,” she whispered. Cricket blinked, ears flicking.

Liva stood slowly, eyes fixed on the plaza far below where she suddenly sensed more magic than before. One by one, glowing lights descended. Figures appearing. Then she saw them.

Gajeel, stomping down like he owned the ground. Juvia cheering happily. Mirajane smiling with her usual grace. Jellal… quieter, hanging back. And Laxus.
He was the last to step forward — calm, composed, but the electric hum of his magic still noticeable around his shoulders. His gaze swept over the empty and silent plaza once and then —

He saw her. And smiled.

Liva’s heart fluttered like a little butterfly. She was already making her way down. By the time she reached the plaza, Team B stood near one of the fountains, bathed in moonlight.
“You made it!” she said cheerfully, while Cricket rushed towards the mages, already jumping from one head to the other, congratulating them. “Second place!”

“Could’ve been first,” Gajeel muttered, but his smirk betrayed no real complaint. Cricket was currently nestled into his hair. Strangely, the mage didn‘t say anything about it. It seemed, the serious iron dragon slayer liked the griffin.

“How was it up there?,” Liva asked curiously.

“Confusing,“ Juvia sighed.
Mira nodded smiling. “Everything changed every few seconds, but we stole some maps of the others and were able to find our way through.“
Laxus didn’t say anything right away. He just looked at her for a beat longer than necessary — like he was making sure she was still here, still real.

While the others already made their way back to the tavern, he stayed where he was. Cricket fluttering around him. „Great work. Well done.“

„Thank you.“ Laxus patted the griffin’s head and looked at his girlfriend again. “You waited.”

“Of course,” she replied.

He tugged her closer, following his friends. „Are you alright?“

„Why shouldn’t it be?“

„Because of your brother.“ He gave a special look. „You nearly killed Jellal.“

„I did not.“

„I sensed your aura and his was full of bloodlust“, his voice was quiet now. „Don‘t let these emotions consume you. Hate never ends well. Believe me, I learned this the hard way.“

Liva felt like he slapped her. Not because she was angry at him, but because he was right. And in this tiny second she noticed something else.
Yes, back then she had wanted to kill Jellal. The feeling and the motion came so natural. This thirst for killing and blood… Like she was mad … like she was Calomene again.

And Laxus’ words threw her back to the ground, remembering her, that she was Liva and that she never wanted to be as evil as Calomene ever again.

“You’re right,” she said quietly, reaching for his arm to stop him mid-step. Laxus turned toward her. The lights of the lantern caught in his eyes, casting gold over stormy blue. She searched his face, her own voice softening with the ache in her chest. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“That‘s why I‘m here,“ he smiled, but it was gone soon. „But are you really okay? It must have been a shock… To learn, that your brother … left willingly.“

Liva sighed. „I don‘t know. I‘m … so angry and disappointed. Jellal said, he had his reasons. What was so important for him, to fake his death for years and never reach out to us?!“ She shut her eyes to suppress the tears. Somewhere behind them the magic flared again — the next group had arrived, but it was far behind them and both didn‘t bother to notice.

“Your anger is okay. Your grief too.“ Laxus looked at the labyrinth. „But it is important to make peace with this emotions in the long run.“ Suddenly he looked pained. „I‘m sorry, I‘m not good with this.“

“With what,“ she asked confused.

He looked for the right words. „With … emotions and talking and everything else. I know, that you need more—“ Liva didn’t wait.
She rose to her toes, hands gently curling into the front of his coatand kissed him. It wasn’t fierce or rushed — not this time. It was slow. Heavy. Laden with everything she didn’t know how to say. Her grief, her fear, her relief, the storm in her blood — all of it pressed into that single moment.

Laxus responded in kind. His arms slid around her waist, firm but not possessive, grounding her like lightning grounding a storm. His mouth was warm against hers, his presence steady — anchoring.

For a brief heartbeat, the world shrank. No labyrinth. No ghosts of the past. No pain. Only them. Only this.

When they finally broke apart, Liva rested her forehead against his chest, drawing in his scent — earthy, electric, something unmistakable him. „I don‘t care. Your words were perfect. Thank you for listening to me.“

Laxus exhaled through his nose, content in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. Then, suddenly—

Her spine stiffened. A tremor ran through her. Liva pulled back sharply, eyes narrowing. Her body went still, too still — the kind of stillness animals get before a predator enters the field.
Cricket, who had been circling lazily overhead, dropped like a stone and clung to her shoulder. His brown-bluish feathers and the fur underneath bristled.

“What is it?” Laxus asked, instantly alert. He didn‘t see anyone.

“I… I don’t know.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Something’s wrong.” The air had changed. It wasn’t the maze overhead. This was something closer. Her pulse began to race.

From the direction of the plaza, from where they just came from, in the shadow, something watched. She couldn’t see it, but the weight of its stare pressed like fingers to her throat. Cold. Hateful.

Liva stepped half behind Laxus on instinct, breath catching in her chest. The lovely feelings from moments ago was gone. A cold fog had settled into her bones. She couldn’t explain what or who it was — not in words. But that aura… it was familiar. And it terrified her.

“Liva?” Laxus’s voice was low now, protective.

“I feel it,” she whispered. “Someone is watching us.”

Laxus turned, his own magic prickling faintly — less a threat, more a shield. “From where?”

“I don’t know.” Her eyes darted across the darkened rooftops, the alleys, the still-unsettled corners of Crocus. Nothing moved. There was no smell either. And yet, the feeling didn’t pass. It burrowed deeper.

She wrapped her arms around herself, shoulders tight. “I don’t like this.”

Laxus took her hand — firm, not forceful, but grounding. His thumb brushed across her knuckles, a quiet gesture that said I’ve got you.
Then his arm slid around her, pressing her gently against his chest. His eyes scanned the shadows like a hunter on high alert. The air around him shifted — his magic buzzed just beneath the surface, faint sparks crawling across his skin like fireflies held in check. A warning, in case anyone out there was stupid enough to come closer.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be,” he said, voice low and steady. His eyes met hers, filled with sincerity. “No one’s going to hurt you. Not while I’m still breathing.”
Cricket gave a low hoot and nestled deeper into Liva’s shoulder, feathers twitching.

Liva wanted to believe him. And for this moment — this quiet, stolen heartbeat of a moment — she had to force herself to really believe him. She looked at Laxus, this storm of a man, who had fought his own demons and still chose to stand at her side. Her pulse slowed. Her breath returned.
His presence was armour. She nodded. Barely. “Okay.”

Laxus didn’t let go of her hand as they turned away from the alley, away from the watching dark. His magic stayed live and crackling, tracing soft warmth along her skin in waves of quiet reassurance.
“We keep moving,” he muttered. “You stay close.”

“I’m not afraid, I‘m not,” she whispered like a mantra. “Not with you by my side.”

“I know.” His lips twitched — the ghost of a smirk. “But just because you’re fearless doesn’t mean I won’t protect you anyway.”

They crossed the empty street in sync, catching up to their teammates just ahead — Mira laughing softly with Juvia, Gajeel muttering complaints under his breath. Jellal had already vanished into the shadows.

Liva didn’t look back. But the presence behind her lingered — like breath on the back of her neck. Cold. Patient. Watching.
The night had shifted. And something inside it wanted her to remember.

🌙

She stood there in the moonlight — soft, open, unguarded. Too close to him. Too close to them.

From the shadows, he watched her — as he had done many times before, in the dark, where she belonged. His gaze traced her face, her posture, the way she leaned into the man beside her like she belonged at his side. As if she were one of them.

Ungrateful little thing.

He had taken her in. Raised her from the filth, taught her obedience, carved her into something useful. A scrap of potential, molded into a weapon. And when that wasn’t enough — when her body failed to meet the expectations placed on her narrow shoulders — he had gifted her power. The lacrima had been a mercy. Strength, purpose, identity. No one else would have given her that.

And how had she repaid him?

She fled. Ripped herself from their hands like a rabid dog slipping a chain. Ran like a coward the moment the fire woke in her blood. The magic was never meant to free her. It was meant to bind her.

But worst of all… she’d crawled to them.
To that guild.
To his son.

The sight of her now — smiling, alive, lips against the boy’s mouth — burned deeper than any scar.
He’d considered breaking her. But now, maybe… he’d do something far more clever.

There were still cracks in her — fear, grief, shame. The past had never left her; it clung to her spine like a parasite. And parasites could be fed.
He would remind her who made her. Remind her where her power came from. Remind her that even now, even dressed in another guild’s colors, she was his creation.

And if she was too weak to kneel again?
Then she would shatter. Either way, she would serve him. She just didn’t know it yet.

🌙

The alley behind the old chapel was quiet, shielded from the lights of Crocus. The hum of magic from the sky labyrinth still hung faintly in the air — soft echoes above a city that refused to sleep. But here, between worn stone and ivy-covered brick, the shadows clung like old regrets.

Jellal leaned against the wall, arms folded, eyes low. Ultear sat on a crumbling ledge nearby, silent. Meldy paced in slow, tight circles, arms folded against her chest.

Then, he arrived.

Leander stepped from the shadows without a sound, all smooth grace and sharp restraint. The lantern light caught in his pale blond hair, casting a faint halo around him — like frost under moonlight. He was tall, impossibly poised — a figure too still to be natural, too fine to be anything but sculpted. A man carved from marble and long-forgotten winters.

He stopped just inside the light. Nodded. Silent, as always.

“Leander,” Jellal said, pushing off the wall. “She’s alive.”

Leander halted. A breath. Then another. Too slow. Too shallow. “…What?“ he asked, confused.

“Liva,” Jellal clarified. “Your sister.”

Leander didn’t react at first. Just blinked, like the name hadn’t landed. Then — like ice under strain — the truth split him open.
His eyes widened, just slightly. But on a man like Leander, it was seismic. He staggered back half a step, one gloved hand curling faintly at his side.

“She— That’s not possible,” he murmured. “She vanished for a whole year. I thought, she after she left Raven—”

“You thought wrong,” Jellal said.

Leander blinked. Ever present poker face slowly crumbling. „Where … Where did you see her?“

“She confronted me tonight. At the inn where Fairy Tail is staying.”

Meldy and Ultear stopped. “Fairy Tail?”

“Yes. She screamed at me,” Jellal said. “Grabbed my collar. Asked if I killed you. Said you vanished, let them grieve. And then… then I told her, that you were alive.”

Leander turned away sharply, hand rising to his mouth — fist pressed against closed lips as if to hold something in. His shoulders locked tight.
“She’s alive,” he whispered. His voice cracked. “She’s really— I really thought—”

“Yes,” Jellal said. “Very much so. And very, very angry.” 

Leander let out a breath — half a laugh, half a wounded exhale. „Gods, I hope so.“

Meldy stepped closer. “You couldn’t have known, Anders. You didn’t mean for this.”

He looked at her after hearing the pet name, a name only this three people knew and used. They were his friends and since a while now — his family. His mask was slipping now — pale eyes flooded with guilt and something dangerously close to grief. “No, Meldy. I did. It was all my fault.”

“You did what you had to,” she said, voice rising. “That matters. She doesn’t understand, why you—”

“Meldy.” His sharp tone silenced her instantly. Ultear gave them a long glance but said nothing.

Jellal wasn’t as patient. “You might’ve had your reasons. We all know, but you should remember what the purpose of our guild is. I saw her eyes tonight. You broke her.”

“I guessed as much,” Leander murmured. His gaze dropped. “Believe me, I never wanted this.”

“Then why not write? Even one damn letter?” Jellal asked. “You let her believe you were dead. And from the way she spoke… she went looking for you — and ran straight into something that destroyed her.”

Leander stiffened.

“I don’t know what happened,” Jellal said, voice dark. “But her eyes told me enough. She’s been through hell.”

Leander lowered his gaze. “Yes,” he said quietly. “That was the plan.”

“The plan?” Ultear stood slowly. Arms crossed. “How cruel of you.”

“It was the only way,” Leander replied. And for a moment, he looked less like a statue — and more like a boy, who’d been running for far too long. “I had to disappear. And Liva… Liva had to go through hell.” He looked up at the moon, eyes searching. His voice was distant. „That was our fate.“

Meldy rested a hand on his arm — quiet, loyal.
Jellal scoffed. “Whether you think it was needed or not, she deserves the truth.”

A long silence.

“She hates me, doesn’t she?” Leander asked.

Jellal didn’t hesitate. “Right now? Yeah. She does.”

Leander nodded slowly. “Good.”

Ultear raised a brow. “You think that’s good?”

“She should hate me,” he said, calmer now. “I let her mourn me. I let our mother weep. I left our father in guilt. And I helped a fugitive run, while my little sister clawed her way through fire.”

„I won’t say that I’m glad you helped me escape,“ Jellal’s lips curled into a bitter smile, „But at least you’re self-aware.” A beat of quiet.

Then Meldy asked, gentler: “So what now?”

Leander sighed — not tired, just resolved. “If she wants to see me… I’ll meet her. Eventually.”

“She might punch you,” Jellal added flatly.

“She wants to hit him?!” Meldy gasped.

“Then I’ll let her,” Leander said. “That‘s the least thing I can do for her.”

Ultear smirked. “Don’t worry. You’re pretty enough to survive the first hit. But the second could be damaging.”

Leander exhaled a quiet chuckle. “If I’m going to die, let it at least be dramatic.”

Meldy rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told,” Leander replied, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips.

Jellal stepped back toward the alley entrance. “You should seek her out. Soon.”

“I will,” Leander said softly. “I will …” The wind stirred through the alley. The shadows held their breath. And somewhere above, the moon watched.

⚡️

With an uneasy feeling Laxus pushed Liva gently inside the tavern. Today was an day of extraordinary — even for him.

First he awoke to a strange dream, then he had the pleasure of the best morning sex of his life and having a stroll with her beside him, only to have this shattered. First, by Jellal and second, by the omnious presence in the shadows. 

Laxus didn’t notice anyone in the dark and maybe Liva imagined it, after everything today. But he still walked on tiptoes. If she felt scared, it didn’t matter if the threat was real or not — for her it was and that meant he had to protect her.

He closed the door behind their room. Some of their team were still below, eating something and others left for the bathroom. They were alone.
In the morning, this would have been a delightful situation, but now, he felt her exhaustion. He kissed her forehead softly. “We should prepare for sleep.”

Tired, she only nodded.
Later, they lay in their respectable beds, only a few steps away from each other, but it felt like a grand distance. “You okay?”

Cricket purred on her pillow. She looked at him, smiling. “Why are you asking me this always?”

“Because I care for you”, he answered immediately. “And I don’t want you, to keep your burdens for yourselves.”

Liva rolled to her side, facing him completely. “You’re adorable.”

He flushed. “I am NOT adorable.”

Liva chuckled. “Yes, you are.”

And while they bantered, in the dark room, both slowly slipped into sleep. Both dreaming of a past they couldn’t make sense of.

⚡️

The air was sharp with frost.

Not snow — just cold. The kind that settled in bones and never quite left. Iron-scented mist hung low across the barren field, curling between crooked training posts and battered targets. No wind. No birds. Just breath and echo. And the sound of a boy being beaten into something not quite human.

Laxus stood at the edge of the field — unmoving, unseen, unheard.

Across the open ground, a dozen men barked orders. Voices rough like gravel. A boy stumbled through drills: too small, too thin, ribs like shadows under his skin. Dirt streaked his jaw. Blood dripped from his knuckles. He got up again. Then again. And again.

Laxus’s breath hitched when he saw the boy’s face.

It was him.

No — not quite. Younger. Different. But gods, the resemblance was impossible to miss. That wasn’t Laxus Dreyar. But it might as well have been.

“Kairos!” someone barked. The boy flinched. Straightened.

That name hit like thunder in Laxus’s chest.

Kairos.

He watched the boy — Kairos — swing a training blade too wide, take a hit to the side, fall, scramble up with a snarl in his throat and tears burning in his eyes. His breath steamed in the cold.

Far off, a taller figure watched in silence. Arms crossed, unmoving. Commanding.

His father.

Laxus didn’t know how he knew that — only that he did. The man’s silhouette bled authority and apathy in equal measure. He never shouted. Never stepped forward. He just watched. Unblinking.

And the boy kept training.

Thirteen years old, the others had said. He’d joined the army to walk in his father’s shadow — to be strong, to be something worthy. Laxus didn’t hear those words, but they fell into his mind like echoes from a life he never lived.

Suddenly — a sound split the air. A guttural, thunderous roar.

The sky above the hills darkened. Screams followed. Distant. Feral. Everything reeked of blood, death and distraught.

Kairos didn’t stop training.

Then the scene shifted. Cold, but this time not from weather. From grief.

Laxus stood beneath a gray sky, before a stone bier draped in pale fabric. A woman’s body lay atop it, still and small. Her hands folded. Flowers in her hair.

A younger boy, Fynn, cried terribly. „Mother …“

Kairos knelt next him, trembling, silent — yet no tear left his eyes. He just looked hollow.
And the man — the father — stood behind him. No visible comfort, no warmth towards his sons. But Laxus saw the grief in the dark, shadowed eyes.

Laxus reached out before he realized it — tried to touch Kairos‘ shoulder — but his hand passed through, like smoke. A gust of ash blew past them. Everything turned to firelight and ash.

⚡️

Laxus jolted upright, breath ragged, drenched in sweat. His fists were clenched so tightly, the bones ached. His shoulders screamed with tension, like he’d been swinging a blade all night. And strangely, his fingers itched to take up a blade.

What the hell — he didn‘t even know how to swing a sword.

Laxus sat still, letting the dream bleed away in pieces. But one image clung to him harder than the rest: That boy’s face. It was him. But it wasn’t. And that coffin. That terrifying roar. A dragon‘s roar.

He touched his temple, brows furrowed. “…Who the hell are you, Kairos?” he muttered.
But suddenly the moon light shone brighter and a quiet voice in his head whispered: You already know.

Chapter Text

Crocos, Year X791, First Day of the Grand Magic Games

The sun hadn’t fully risen over Crocus yet, but the dining hall of the inn was already buzzing. Voices mingled with the clatter of cutlery and the warm scent of fresh bread, fried bacon and coffee. At first glance, it could’ve been any ordinary morning. An exciting one — but ordinary nonetheless.

The Thunder God Tribe and Liva sat with Team B at one of the long tables. Cricket sat with Pantherlily on the bench and was currently taught about table manners. It was funny, how the griffin tried to pick up a knife with his clumsy paws, obviously not used to such things.
Despite the short night, the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. Juvia was laughing at something Gajeel had grumbled, while Mirajane poured tea with her usual serenity. Jellal, of course, wasn’t there — he would join them later.

And Laxus… was there, but not really present.

He sat beside Liva, shoulders just a bit too stiff, his jaw clenched too tight. A slight frown shadowed his brow. She watched him chew mechanically on his breakfast, eyes unfocused — drifting between his plate, the far wall and somewhere distant entirely.

She knew him well enough now to see it: His mind was trapped in thoughts that wouldn’t let him go.

He’d been drinking Wistaberry tea for two nights now. She’d hoped it would help ease his unrest — bring clarity to whatever strange dreams haunted him since three months. But instead, he seemed even more distracted. More withdrawn.

Liva stirred her coffee slowly, then leaned closer to him. “Did you… dream again?” she asked quietly, shielding the question from the cheerful noise around them.

He blinked. Once. “Mhm.” That gruff tone surprised her. A simple answer, but quick and rough. 

“And? Is everything okay?”

He dismissed it immediately. “Doesn’t matter.”

She tilted her head, voice calm but worried. He kept chewing and didn’t say anything more. A few seconds passed in silence. Yes, he definitely was different this morning. Quieter. Restless. Then, gently, she tried again. You can talk to me, you know?”

Laxus set his bread down. His gaze remained fixed on the table. “It’s just… weird. Dreams, that’s all.”

“Dreams can be loud,” she said softly.

Finally, he looked at her — truly looked — and what she saw in his eyes was frustration. “I don’t know what they mean, okay? They are fucking strange.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. His hands had curled into fists. Liva placed her hand gently over one of them. “Then maybe it’s something you still need to understand. Do you want to talk about them?”

„No.“ He pulled his hand back. Not harshly — just firmly. Liva felt like he slapped her across the face. What the hell?
Then he stood up. “I need some air.”

She thought about following him… but was suddenly stopped by Fried. The mage looked at her and shook his head. “Give him a few minutes to cool down.”

Liva’s eyebrows furrowed. Apparently the Thunder God Tribe noticed their conversation. “Are you sure?”

“That‘s normal,“ Bickslow hummed. „When something is bothering him, his first reaction is to snort and growl like a grumpy bear, then he retreats.“ He laughs. „Like a wounded beast.“
Liva‘s eyebrows furrowed. That sounded absolutely childish and not healthy. It bothered her so much, that she voiced her concerns. 

“Of course you‘re right,“ Ever replied instead, drinking her tea. “It’s way better now, than before his exile from the guild.“ Laxus’ three friends looked at her. „He always tries to solve his problems alone, because he doesn’t want to be weak in front of us or the guild, but …“

Liva froze. „But?“

“He has you now,“ Fried murmured.

Ever nodded. „Let him simmer out there, so that he regrets his tone towards you. He trusts you enough to tell you eventually, but don't let a man get you down when he growls at you like that.“ She smiled. ”Growl back at him.“

Liva sat down again with this information, but it was like torture. Yes, she knew they were right, but she also knew, what dreams could do. They destroyed, they tired out the mind, they made grumpy. Laxus‘ wasn‘t one to snap at others. So she came to the conclusion, that a lot of things were troubling his mind. 

Her eyes always wandered to the door, but Laxus didn’t come back. After a few minutes, Ever set down her cup. “You can go now.”
As fast as she could, Liva rose from the table and slipped out into the small courtyard through the side door. She looked around and there he was.

Leaning against a wall, arms crossed, shoulders tight, staring up at the sky as if hoping it would answer him. His breathing was shallow, like something inside him was clawing for space.

Liva stepped up beside him, staying silent. Together they watched at the still violet-yellow morning sky.

“I’m sorry”, he quietly said after a while. He sounded so remorseful. „I shouldn‘t have snapped and ran out of there…“

She sighed. “It’s okay. I understand. Dreams can be confusing and cruel. They bring out the worst of us.”

“Mhm.”

“Laxus.” He turned slightly toward her but said nothing. “I’m sorry too, I didn’t want to push you,” she said gently. “But I can tell something’s weighing on you. And I’d like to carry it with you. If you let me.”

Silence. Then he shook his head, voice low. “I don’t want to burden you with something I don’t even understand.” He sounded tired. So tired.

“You don’t have to carry everything alone,” she murmured. “You protect me, I protect you. Trust goes both ways. It was you who told me that, remember?”

He stared at her and then suddenly, he chuckled. “Using my own words against me, hm?”

“But they are true”, she smiled and took his fingers. “As you know, I have things I haven’t told you either,” she admitted quietly. “And I know how hard it is, speaking about dreams, nightmares and fears. If you aren’t ready yet, I respect that. I’ll wait. Until you want to talk about it.”

Laxus closed his eyes. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly. Then he turned to look at her — really look — and there it was: gratitude and guilt, tangled in his expression.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “Really.”

She gave a soft smile, then reached out — placing her hand gently over his heart. “I’m here.”

He caught her hand and held it for a moment, just like that — fingers laced loosely together. Then he leaned forward and kissed her.

It was unhurried. Quiet. Deep. The kind of kiss that didn’t need words — the kind that said I see you, I need you, I trust you, all at once.

His lips were warm, familiar and yet there was something fragile in the way he held her — as if afraid she’d shatter if he let go too soon. She kissed him back just as gently, pressing her fingers into his shirt as if to remind him that she wasn’t going anywhere.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads touched. A soft quiet moment of understanding passed between them. They stood like that a while longer, letting the silence and warmth stretch, before walking back inside — together.

The Thunder God Tribe only smiled smugly at them.

🌙

The arena throbbed with raw energy.

Cheers, laughter, magic crackling in the air — a kaleidoscope of flags and colours rippled over the tribunes of Domus Flau.

Liva stood among Makarov and the rest of the Fairy Tail mages. From their vantage, she had a sweeping view of the grand arena below, the participant lodges and the sprawling sea of thousands of spectators. The Grand Magic Games had officially begun.

And yet beneath the bustling excitement, a tight knot twisted inside her — a mix of unease from the lingering dark aura, Laxus’ strange silence and the heavy weight of unspoken truths. She pressed him too much for the truth, while she had her own secrets. She should’ve been more understanding.

Liva sighed and took in the scenery. Despite her worries, she couldn’t help but pause for a fleeting moment, caught in awe of the spectacle.

“Wow,” she murmured, half to Makarov. “It’s loud.”

The old man’s grin deepened, eyes twinkling. “If it were quiet, that’d be a bad omen. Your first time at the Games in person?”

Liva nodded. “Yes. I’ve only ever seen them through Lacrima projections before. The nobles of Fiore usually hide away in their salons, sipping tea, gambling and watching behind their crystal screens.”

“Boring,” Cricket grumbled from Fried’s shoulder.

“Yep. Truly boring,” Bickslow agreed with a nod. Liva chuckled softly. They were right. No Lacrima could capture this living, breathing thrill — the buzz, the roar, the palpable tension. Back then, trapped in stiff gowns and stale parlors, she had never truly felt it. This was way better.

Then came the opening ceremony.

Mato’s voice boomed across the arena — shrill, bright and impossibly cheerful, like a living firecracker trapped in a pumpkin suit. His exaggerated gestures punctuated every word as he announced the eight top teams who’d conquered the Sky Labyrinth. One by one, they strode in — bathed in light, surrounded by fanfare and thundering applause.

Fairy Tail Team A.

Quattro Cerberus.

Mermaid Heel.

Blue Pegasus.

Lamia Scale.

Liva watched them closely — some waved proudly, others struck poses with practiced flair. The crowd’s uproar swelled with each name, magic humming like a second heartbeat beneath the noise.

Then — a sudden chill. No sound accompanied it. No image. Just a cold breath skimming across her skin, invisible but unmistakable. Her neck hairs rose as a shiver raced down her spine. She turned her head slowly — and there she was.
A young girl, sunlight caught in her long blonde hair, wearing a simple white dress that fluttered like a wisp of smoke. Almost too fragile, too ethereal to be real. And yet, unmistakably present. The other Fairy Tail mages noticed too. Whispers and gasps broke out.

Liva’s breath hitched. “Who…?”

The girl met her gaze — eyes shining with calm and something ancient. Okay, that was definitely not a normal girl. A smile lifted her lips, warm and innocent all at once.

“First Master?!” Makarov’s voice cracked, disbelief and awe mingling. The Fairy Tail crowd erupted into chaos — some screaming, others murmuring excitedly, a few openly staring. Bisca grabbed her husband‘s arm, eyes wide; Cana spilled her drink; even the usually composed Fried was stunned.

Liva’s world slowed down, a surreal bubble amid the storm. “Who… are you?”

“I’m Mavis,” the girl said softly, voice like a breeze through leaves. “Fairy Tail’s First Master.”

The first master? 

Liva’s throat tightened. Mavis Vermillion. A name woven into the guild’s lore, a legend reborn. Laxus and the others had told her about Mavis and how she had saved them on Tenrou Island. But seeing her here, as a shimmering ghost — was something else entirely.

Liva watched the scene unfold. Apparently, the others were surprised too. As the first Guild Master, Mavis must have lived a long time ago. But the girl looked no older than a teenager and there was no way Liva would have thought this girl was a powerful mage. Yet even now, in the form of a ghost or astral projection, Liva unmistakably felt a strong magical power. Raw, untamed magic.

Liva swallowed. She wondered how powerful Fairy Tail and her mages actually were.
Before she could gather her thoughts, Mato’s voice sliced through the commotion again: “And in third place — RAAAVEN TAAAIL!”

The arena’s vibrant pulse was shattered. Liva froze, her breath caught in a sudden, crushing grip. She saw them.

Five figures emerging from the shadows, cloaked in black and gold. Masks hiding some faces, others bare but twisted with cruelty. Their very presence exuded madness, violence and cold merciless intent.

Raven Tail.

The guild that had haunted her darkest years — that had enslaved her, broken her spirit, used her without mercy. They stood here.
Untouched. Unhidden. In the glaring light of the arena. Exactly as Ivan had always wanted.

“No,” Liva whispered, voice trembling. Now she knew. That presence she felt at night — it had been them. They already knew of her whereabouts, of her joining Fairy Tail. They must be furious with her.

Liva‘s heart hammered, sweat prickling on her skin like icy needles. The raucous cheers faded into a muffled roar, as if she were submerged underwater beneath a suffocating veil.

Raven Tail.

How could this be? How could they parade here — before all these eyes — and no one knew who they really were? What monsters lurked beneath their gilded faces? What horrors they’d wrought?

Her gaze darted wildly from face to face, panic clawing at her chest. Her legs wobbled, betraying her strength. Her ears started ringing.
She wanted to scream. To shout. To run. But her knees betrayed her. She collapsed, the colours around her swirling, spinning.

Makarov’s distant voice reached her, distorted and distant, like sound traveling through water. And then — darkness.

⚡️

The air in the lodge was thick and heavy. Below, the arena floor shimmered with enchantments, the first game — Hidden — moments from beginning. Magic flickered to life, casting eerie glints of spectral light across the roaring crowd.

But Laxus didn’t care about any of it.

He sat at the edge of the bench, elbows on his knees, hands clenched so tightly his knuckles were bone-white. His eyes never left the line of ominous figures standing across the stadium — Raven Tail. They stood too still. Too smug. Too damn proud.

Every muscle in Laxus’ body was strung tight, barely restrained.

His magic simmered under his skin, a coiled storm aching to erupt. A faint crackle danced along his shoulders. He didn’t even try to suppress it. Let them feel it. Let them know he was watching.

Those bastards.

He didn’t need Liva to recount every detail of what they’d done to her — the glimpses he had gotten and the scars on her back, told him more than enough. He’d seen the flickers of fear in her eyes. The moments where she doubted herself, thought she was broken.
And now they stood here — in the open — like they belonged. A former dark guild parading like royalty. Cheered by fools. Legal by law.

Laxus’ jaw flexed, teeth grinding. “How the hell did they even get in?”
They must’ve cleaned up. Bribed the right people. Hidden behind Liva’s influential family name — the very one they had exploited, twisted and shamed. Raven Tail might legally be a guild now, but on the inside, they were still the same rotten filth.

And his father stood right there — front and center.

Laxus clenched his fists tighter. He thought of Liva. What was going through her mind right now? What had she felt when she saw Ivan again? When she saw the masks? She must be terrified. And furious.

“Oi,” Gajeel muttered beside him. “You gonna electrocute the whole bench or what?” Laxus didn’t reply.

Juvia looked at him with concern. “Apparently, they told Natsu and the others that they’d hurt Wendy. That’s why she disappeared yesterday.”

“First Liva and now Wendy.” Mira’s expression darkened. “They’ll pay for this.”

“You can bet,” Laxus growled, voice low and murderous. 

The game was about to begin. And then — he felt it.

A shift. A disturbance in the air. Not magic. Not sight. Just… wrong. A spark of dread crawling down his spine. His dragon senses flared — sharp, instinctive — warning him. Something happened.

His eyes snapped toward the upper tribunes — to where his grandfather and the others were seated. But something was off. Everyone up there had turned their backs to the arena. Movement. Tension. Panic.

What the hell was going on?

Then he heard it — heavy boots pounding up the steps. “Laxus!”

Fried.

The sound of his name tore Laxus from his seat. Fried rushed in, uncharacteristically breathless, his usually perfect hair damp and clinging to his face. Panic etched every line of his expression.

Laxus was already moving. “What happened?!”

“It’s Liva,” Fried gasped. “She— she fainted. Right after Raven Tail walked in. They brought her to the infirmary. I ran here as fast as I could—”

The rest didn’t land. Laxus was already gone.

He bolted down the corridor, coat whipping behind him, lightning crackling at his heels. The cheers of the stadium faded into nothing — drowned out by the thunder roaring in his chest.

Only one thought echoed in his mind: Please be okay.

🌙

The light was too bright. Not sunlight — that golden glow was long gone. This was sterile, white and cold. A lacrima lamp hummed faintly above her and its pulse seemed to echo the pounding in her skull.

Liva blinked, her throat dry, her breath shallow. She didn’t remember what had happened — only the feeling. That gut-wrenching, soul-splitting pull in her chest. Like something had cracked wide open. She turned her head and flinched. Her stomach twisted again.

The memory of Raven Tail came back — standing proud in the arena, masks and twisted smiles. It was enough to make her want to vomit. It wasn’t just fear. It was something deeper. Shame, like oil clinging to her skin. Dirt she couldn’t scrub off.

They had broken her once. Humiliated her. Made her beg. And now they were back — beneath the sunlight, glorified and applauded.

And she? She had fainted like a child. A small, weak child.

Her hands fumbled for the blanket. She pulled it tighter over her body as if she could hide inside it. Her heart still raced in her chest. Her limbs were cold. Her breath came in quick, uneven stutters. 

Get it together. Breathe. Don’t be weak again.

“You’re awake,” came a small voice.

Liva turned slightly. In the next bed, a girl with blue hair and a tiny exceed. Liva didn’t know her, but she was told a lot of tales of the tiny dragon slayer and her cat. So this were Wendy and Carla. 

Wendy‘s face was still pale. Liva had heard that the girl and the cat had been attacked yesterday night. Who was so gruesome and attacked a little girl?

Carla sat beside Wendy protectively, her small paws resting gently on the girl’s arm. The air smelled faintly of herbs and antiseptic. And beside them, scribbling something onto a chart, stood an old woman with pink hair and a perpetual scowl. Her name: Porlyusica, as Liva would later learn.

„What happened?“ Liva asked.

“You fainted right after Raven Tail was announced,” Porlyusica muttered. “Not that I’m surprised. They’re poison in human form.” Ashamed Liva lowered her gaze. Poison. Yes. That was the word. And she had been one of them.

Before she could answer, the door slammed open. Hard.

They all startled.

Heavy boots pounded against the floor — and then he was there.
Laxus. Breathless. Sweating. Eyes wild with something she couldn’t name at first.

No. She could. Fear. He was fucking scared.
Then he saw her — saw that she was awake — and something in his face broke open. A wave of relief, so stark and raw it nearly made her tear up.

“Liva.” He crossed the room in three long strides. “You’re okay. Thank the gods…”

His voice was rough, almost choked, as if he hadn’t spoken at all on his way here. Behind him, the Thunder God Tribe and Cricket entered the room. Pure relief and tears on their faces.

She blinked at him, stunned. He was supposed to be in his lodge and watching the games. “You… You came?”

He didn’t answer that. He was already beside her bed, crouching slightly, fingers twitching as if he wanted to grab her — pull her in — but didn’t dare.
“Are you hurt?“ He looked her up and down and then to Porlyusica, who only shook her head. „What happened? I— Fried said—” He broke off, his jaw tightening. His chest rose and fell fast.

Liva swallowed hard, unable to look away from him. She had never seen him like this. Undone. Terrified. Not for himself — for her.
Her voice came out small. “I’m… not hurt. I just… I saw them. And I—” She didn’t finish the sentence. Because suddenly his arms were around hers. Warm. Grounding. Real.

His body was warm. Strong. Steady. And for a moment, Liva forgot how to breathe.
Laxus was known for being fierce, proud, untouchable — lightning bottled into human form. But now, kneeling beside her, eyes tight with worry, he looked utterly human. It was a side he only showed to people close to him. And it warmed her heart.

“Laxus, are you okay?”, she asked. He nodded. 

“I heard you fainted and I thought—” he began, but stopped himself. His throat worked around words he couldn’t say.

Cricket fluttered onto the edge of the bed, wings trembling. “You scared us,” he whispered, his big owl-eyes glassy. Fried, Evergreen and Bickslow stood near the door, clearly trying to give them space, but their expressions were all the same. Concern. Shock. And relief.

Porlyusica muttered something under her breath and waved a hand. “This room’s too crowded. If you’re not dying, take your damn reunion elsewhere — or shut up and let her rest.” 

Nobody moved. Laxus still hadn’t let go of her.

“I’m sorry,” Liva whispered, eyes falling to the blanket.

“For what?” His voice was low, rough, while he looked at her.

“For being weak. For causing a scene. For—”

“Don’t.” Laxus cut her off. Not angry. Just… intense. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t ever say that again.” His thumbs brushed over her cheeks, barely a touch, but it quieted the storm in her chest faster than any words could.

“I should’ve known,” he muttered. “I should’ve gone to you the moment they walked into that arena.”

“Laxus,” she said, her voice steadier now despite the tremor beneath it, “it’s not your fault. You couldn’t just leave the team and run to me.” She smiled softly, reaching forward to rest her forehead gently against his. “Thank you for being here now.”

He exhaled through his nose, as if trying to push back everything burning behind his eyes. “I hate seeing you like this. You deserve better.”

“I’m already feeling better with you by my side” she admitted. A silence stretched between them, not awkward. It was a silence that didn’t need words.

Then, almost too softly to hear, he said, “I’m not going back to the lodge.”

She blinked, surprised. “What?”

“I’m staying,” he said, jaw tight. “Juvia’s the one playing ‘Hidden’. As long as they don’t call me for a one-on-one match, I’m staying here.” Behind him, the Thunder God Tribe nodded, almost proudly. Cricket chirped his approval.

Liva blinked. “But — the Games—”

“Can wait.”

And somehow, even though her heart still raced and shadows of the past still clung to the corners of the room… That one sentence made her feel safe. But she also knew how these tournaments worked — participants weren’t meant to be gone from the lodge too long. And she knew Laxus — knew how much he loved to watch a good fight.

“No. You don’t stay,” she said gently.

He blinked. “What?”

Liva leaned back into her pillow. “I’m fine here. You can go back.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not leaving you here after you just fainted.”

She laughed — a small, hoarse thing — at the look on his face. So stubborn. So him. “Then just until I fall asleep. But promise me you’ll go back after.”

Laxus hesitated, then huffed through his nose. “You’re so damn stubborn, moon girl.” He pulled the chair closer and sat beside her bed, still holding her hand. He didn’t let go. Not once.

“So I’ve been told,” she whispered.

Those two — living in their quiet, fragile little world — hands clasped, eyes only for each other, didn’t notice anyone else anymore. Not Wendy and Carla, who were utterly stunned by Laxus’ tender words. Not Porlyusica, who had known Laxus since childhood… and had never seen him this soft. They all were fucking speechless.

Chapter Text

Liva stood at the edge of a lake.

It was night. The full moon hung high above, casting its silver light over the still water, bathing the world in a quiet sort of magic. The forest around her was dark and no animal stirred — yet she felt no fear. Only calm. Here, she was safe.

She walked slowly along the shoreline, her bare toes sinking into the soft, sandy earth. A soft smile played on her lips as she crouched down, reaching out to touch the glimmering surface of the lake — drawn to the silver sheen of moonlight that shimmered across it.

But the moment she saw her reflection, she froze.

Gone was her long, blonde hair — it had been cut clumsily to her shoulders. A jagged scar ran from her jaw to her cheek. Her clothes were tattered, a threadbare blouse and a faded skirt clinging to her frame like remnants of another life.

Liva stared in disbelief at the image staring back at her.

Calomene.

“This expression doesn’t suit you, Calomene.” The voice was smooth and cool, carried across the lake like a breeze. Liva turned her head slowly. And if she had already been shocked, what she saw now filled her with awe-struck terror.

A white dragon sat upon the surface of the lake, bathed in moonlight. Its scales shimmered like diamonds laid over snow.

“Vega,” Liva whispered, her voice trembling as tears welled up in her eyes. The Lunar Dragon. Her teacher. Her mentor.

Vega had once taught Calomene everything she knew about Lunar Dragon Slayer Magic. But she had also been more than that — a guide, a source of comfort in a war-torn world. Vega had helped her mourn those lost in the Dragon Wars. In the end, she had become something sacred.

Without realizing, Liva had stepped onto the water, but instead of sinking, the surface held her. Solid beneath her feet. Like walking on frozen glass.
“Come here, child,” Vega said. Her voice was stern, but laced with a warmth few ever heard from her.

Liva stepped forward. Hesitant at first… then running. She collapsed before the dragon, falling to her knees and throwing her arms around one massive claw. “Vega— I—”

Vega lowered her enormous head, gently pressing her snout to Liva’s hair. “You have endured much, Calomene. In your past life… and in this one.”

Liva looked up through her tears, unable to find the words. A thousand questions burned in her mind. Where were they? How was Vega here? After everything…

“This doesn’t suit you,” Vega continued. “Letting yourself be broken.”

“W-What?” Liva leaned back, confused. “What do you mean?”

“That pathetic guild — Raven Tail. Why do you still let worms like them hold power over you?”

Liva flinched at her mentor’s accusing tone. “Because… they hurt me,” she admitted softly. They had used her. Humiliated her. Broken her down. How was she supposed to stay strong?

“Hmph!” Vega snorted and with a sudden roar she leapt upright, spreading her vast wings. The force of the wind sent a shockwave through the forest. The calm lake erupted into a spray of foam and Liva was thrown backward.

Ouch, she had totally forgotten how strong those wings were.

“Liva may break,” Vega thundered, her eyes blazing, “but Calomene does not!” She loomed above her, radiating power.
“It is allowed to fall. To cry. To grieve. But you do not stay down. You rise. That was the first lesson I ever taught you. Have you forgotten it?”

Her voice boomed across the trees, echoing in Liva’s chest. Liva stared up at the dragon, her face wet with tears.
“So get up,” Vega growled. “And show them they don’t control you. That you are stronger. You are a Dragon Slayer, you fought monster worse than them.”

And in that moment — with Vega towering above her, bathed in moonlight like some divine force — something within Liva shifted.
Where her invisible wounds had throbbed, scars remained — but they no longer hurt. Where grief and doubt had lived, strength and certainty bloomed. And where fear had curled tightly inside her chest, now burned the steady flame of rage. And the will to fight.

Where had these feelings come from?

“They’re my gift to you,” Vega said, answering the question she hadn’t spoken aloud. “My strength. My emotions. So that you have the power to get back on your feet… and keep walking. Your path is far from over, Liva.”

Liva pressed her hand against her abdomen, where the magic pulsed — new, heavy, radiant. Her eyes filled with tears again.
“Why?” she asked. Her voice cracked. “Why are you doing this?!” She fell forward, forehead pressed to the water’s surface — which didn’t yield. It was hard as ice.
“WHY?” Again and again, her fist struck the lake. “Why, Vega?!”

Vega tilted her head, almost gently. “Child. Stop.”

“No!” Liva looked up, her face twisted in anguish. “I don’t understand… this Lacrima inside me—” She sobbed. “It was forged from your heart, Vega.”

The dragon lowered its gaze.

“Your heart gave me this power. And Calomene’s memories. Because I—” her breath hitched— “because I killed you and ripped it from your chest.”

The memory was crystal clear. It had happened just weeks before Calomene’s own death. They’d encountered a royal unit — and with them, Vega. It would have been cowardice not to strike. Acnologia would have mocked her. But Vega… she had stood in their path. Once teacher and student — now enemies. Both twisted by the madness of war. If Calomene hadn’t done it, Acnologia would have. And he would have made it cruel.

So they fought. To the bitter, bloody end.

Suddenly, Liva’s hands were soaked in red. The lake had turned crimson. The night blackened. Moonlight vanished. A storm raged. Cold, dark und full of hate.
“I did that to you. And still, you help me. WHY?!” Liva screamed through the blowing wind.

Vega let out a slow sigh. “Because, my child, dwelling on past atrocities brings nothing.”
With regal calm, the dragon raised her head — and the world shifted again. The lake cleared. The moonlight returned. The forest grew quiet. Like nothing had happened.

Liva blinked dumbfounded.

“We lived in a time of war, death and despair. And I… I gave you the curse of Dragon Slayer magic. I was your teacher. That was my consequence.”

“How can you say that?” Liva whispered, hollow. “You gave me everything. Power, friendship, hope.”

“Yes,” Vega said, “but I also gave you madness. The dragon slayer magic was too powerful for the human mind. Even if you’d survived the war, darkness would’ve found you. You would’ve roamed this world — lost, vengeful, like Acnologia.”

The name alone made Liva sick and dizzy. And then, just like that — the world began to pull away. She felt weightless. As if floating.

“You’re waking up, child,” Vega said. “Go now. And remember what I’ve told you.”

“Vega, wait!”

“We will meet again.”

🌙

Liva bolted upright as the infirmary door slammed open. Still dazed, she watched as several men carried someone inside on a stretcher — blonde hair, pale skin. Lucy.

“Put her over there,” Porlyusica instructed. “Thank you.”

Liva’s eyes widened as she saw the state Lucy was in — a little bit bruised, barely conscious.
“What happened?” she whispered.

“She got defeated by that red-haired woman from Raven Tail,” Natsu growled, suddenly standing beside the bed. Lucy whimpered weakly in response.

Liva stared at the wall. Flare. Another victim of Raven Tail. First herself, then Wendy and now Lucy.
Her fists clenched. The fear she’d felt earlier was nearly gone — she remembered Vega’s gift. The strength and the lack of fear were now a constant companion of her, buried beneath the wildfire of her rage.

⚡️

Hours later, Day One of the Grand Magic Games had ended in nothing short of a disaster — thanks to Jellal’s humiliating performance.

“What the hell was that out there?” Gajeel growled, arms crossed, his voice still echoing with disbelief.

“That was damn uncool,” Laxus agreed beside him, jaw tight, his voice low with restrained frustration.

Jellal didn’t even try to defend himself. “I’ve got nothing to say,” he mumbled. His face, though half-covered by the Mystogan-mask, was visibly flushed — not from exertion, but from shame.

Mirajane, ever the peacekeeper, gave him a gentle smile. “You should rest.”

Laxus dragged a hand through his short hair with a weary sigh, his eyes flicking to the scoreboard like it had just spat on him. Team B — his team — one point. Team A? Zero. A joke. An absolute joke.

He hadn’t expected them to dominate right out the gate — Fairy Tail was still clawing its way back from the shadows of its own legacy — but this? This was rock bottom and they had landed hard. And what made it worse… was how much he cared.

He could feel it, a bitter heat smouldering under his skin. The old him might’ve shrugged it off, sneered even and mocked the weaklings. But now? Every failure felt like a crack in his own armour. A weight he couldn’t shake off. He was kinda angry — not at his friends. They’d tried. They’d fought. They gave everything.

No. He was angry at the whole damned situation. At the years of damage they were still dragging behind them. At the name Fairy Tail no longer being spoken with pride, but with pity. Laxus scowled at the glowing numbers like they’d insulted his very bloodline.

“Hey. Don’t look so grumpy, lightning boy.” The voice was soft — familiar. It reached him before he even realised what she’d said. His eyes dropped, heart skipping. And there she was. Liva.

She stood in the entrance of the lodge, the hallway lights behind her shining on her, like some strange miracle. Solid, safe and sound. The blonde looked up at him with impossibly clear blue eyes. They were bright. Steady. That crooked little smile on her lips… It hit him harder than any spell could have. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been holding himself together — until all that tension melted with this one look.

“Liva!” the others called out, voices filled with open relief.

“You okay?” Mira asked first, already stepping forward to fuss. Juvia stood beside her and studied the woman with a worried expression.

“Are you supposed to be up?” Gajeel added, eyeing her skeptically, like she might crumble any second.

“I’m fine,” she said, both hands lifting in mock surrender. “Lucy and I were discharged.”
She hesitated, then laughed lightly, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Porlyusica threw us out, actually. Said, if we had the strength to chit-chat with each other, we had the strength to walk.”

Laxus huffed a soft chuckle through his nose. Yeah… that sounded exactly like the old hag.

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Gajeel muttered. “She’s got the bedside manner of a pissed-off bear.”

“Yeah, totally.” Liva turned her head slightly. “What did I miss today?” Her question was simple, but her voice held something else — concern, curiosity, that earnest willingness to stand in the middle of whatever storm had blown through while she was knocked out. She listened closely as the others recounted the disaster of the day: Juvia’s match during Hidden, Jellal’s failure, the abysmal point count of both Fairy Tail teams, the crowd’s disappointment.

All while Laxus didn’t speak. He watched her instead. Watched the way her fingers laced together and unclenched. The way her body stayed upright, not swaying, not trembling — though he knew she must still be running on scraps of strength. Either she was truly stronger than she looked… or she was faking it for their sake.

He scanned her from head to toe, subtle but meticulous. No visible weakness. But he didn’t trust that. Not after seeing her exhausted form in the infirmary only some hours ago.

“Well, can’t be helped. The first day is over,” Liva sighed, her tone lighter than the weight around them. Then her eyes flicked to his — and something in Laxus stilled. “The Master said we’re meeting at Sunflower Tavern. After today, I think we all need a drink.”

A drink.

Yeah. That didn’t sound bad. But it wasn’t the alcohol that called to him. It was the idea of sitting beside her. Of hearing her laugh. Of seeing her in the dimly tavern’s light, surrounded by their friends, instead of that sterile, too-quiet healer’s room.

Laxus nodded swiftly. “Good idea. Let’s go.”

As the group started moving, he fell into step beside her, his hand instinctively reaching for hers before tugging her a little closer. With every step, that worry in his chest eased. Not gone. But lighter.

Soon they had left the arena and only then, he slowed their steps, walking in silence for a moment. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, voice low enough for her ears only.

Liva hummed softly. “Good.”

“Really?” His brows drew together as he looked down at her.

“Yeah.”

“You know, you don’t have to act strong,” he murmured. “You can tell me if you’re not feeling well.”

She gave him a sideways glance, a flicker of disapproval in her eyes. “Who was grumpy with me this morning, because he didn’t open his mouth and wanted to shoulder everything himself?”

Ouch. That landed like a punch straight to his gut.

Laxus pulled back slightly, rubbing the back of his neck as discomfort tightened his shoulders. “I… uh…”

“I know you try to be strong and don’t want to worry anybody,” she said, her voice gentler now, “but don’t give advice you wouldn’t follow yourself.”

He was at a loss for words. Liva caught him staring and sighed softly. “Sorry. I know we’ve talked about it before and I accept your decision. But you have to admit I’m telling the truth.”

Laxus clenched his jaw. “I know…”

“But?”

“But…” His words faltered, tangled in guilt. “I… I don’t know. It’s different. I don’t want you to bear it all alone, not after everything you went through.”

“I feel the same with you,” she said simply. “Burdens should be shared, so they aren’t as bad or as big as they first seem.”

“I feel responsible for your pain,” he said, the admission rough in his throat.

She halted, blinking in confusion. “What? Why?”

He sighed, low and heavy. “Liva, my father is at fault for this. How can I not ask you how you are? How can I not care? He did terrible things to you.”

She was quiet for a beat, the wind shifting around them as the others moved ahead. “Like I told Makarov,” she said softly, “you’re not responsible for the wrongdoings of your father. Hell, you’re a thousand times better than him.”

“It’s easier said than done,” he muttered. And she knew he was right. Some guilt wasn’t easily shaken. He glanced at her again, wary. “So… tell me the truth. How are you feeling now? After seeing Raven Tail?”

Liva looked down at the stone path, truly thinking about his question. How was she feeling? What did she feel?

She remembered the strange dream about Vega and couldn’t tell if it had been a figment of her subconscious or something more — a true visit from the dragon’s spirit, maybe? But whatever it was, the fear and pain she had carried yesterday had dulled. Strangely, it had been replaced by something hotter. Something that burned in her chest and throat like venom.

Rage.

“I think I’m starting to turn my fear into anger,” she said finally, her voice low but charged with that same fire building in her. “And that anger into strength. I had a dream earlier. It… opened my eyes.”

Her jaw tightened as her eyes lit with a new kind of resolve. “I won’t let them get me down. I will stand up to them, no matter what comes. I may be afraid, I may fall, but I’ll get back up. And I’ll come back stronger.” That‘s what Vega had taught her. After so long she‘d nearly forgotten her teachings, but now she remembered. Yes, Liva remembered clearly.

Laxus stared at her, something catching in his throat as his chest tightened. How? How did she do that? Where others faltered, she held her ground. Where others broke, she found a way to rise.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he said before he could stop himself.

“What? Why?”

He just gave her a crooked grin, voice low and honest. “Just because.”

🌙

From the shadow of a stone archway, Leander watched them approach the Sunflower Tavern.

Fairy Tail — loud, bruised, resilient. A tangle of mismatched voices and half-limping strides. They were laughing already, though it sounded more like defiance than celebration. And at the heart of it all, her. Liva.

His breath caught. It had been years since he’d last seen her. Only dreams of the past granted to him were his only reminder of his baby sister. But now — seeing her with his own eyes again — was different.

She and a griffin walked just a little ahead of the others, hair catching the final strands of sunlight. She was taller now. Definitely beautiful. A young woman shaped by hardship, no longer the girl who used to braid flower crowns and hum lullabies to her teddy bears. But her laughter reminded him of past days, days without the hardships of life.

Leander’s chest ached.

She’d been through her own private hell — and not once had he been allowed to stop it. Because this was how it had to be. The pain. The fall. The fire that would forge her, so that she was able to rise again like a phoenix.

He bowed his head deeply, the weight of silent knowing pressing behind his eyes. 

Forgive me, sister. 

He had watched every step from a distance. Powerless and yet complicit. But his lady‘s order had been clear. Liva’s path was not one he could walk beside her — not yet. She had to earn her power. Until she had disappeared a year ago and Leander had thought, that everything had been in vain and she’d died.

His lady had been silent and given him no answer. Typical.

Slowly, his eyes drifted up toward the silver moon hanging low above Crocus. It gleamed bright and full, just like it had the night Liva was born. And just like the night Calomene had died.

He pressed a hand briefly to the pendant beneath his robes. The seal of Lady Alyona was cool against his skin. Then, with a final glance toward the woman she had become, Leander turned and disappeared into the shadows.

⚡️

The door to the Sunflower Tavern swung open with a bang and all thoughts of scoreboards and losses vanished as a round of loud cheers erupted. “Drinks! We need drinks over here!”

“Hey! Cana already stole mine—”

“Not my fault you drink like a chicken!”

Laxus leaned against the bar, drink in hand, eyes half-lidded as he watched the chaos unfold. They hadn’t been here for a whole 15 minutes. His gramps held a short speech and now they behaved like wild animals.

The Strauss-sister‘s laughter rang out, followed by a loud thump as Elfman collapsed into a chair claiming something about true manly spirit. Some men of the guilds handed out glasses full of ale, beer or other liquor. Erza was happy with a strawberry cake. Juvia nursed a glass of water with the aura of someone who’d prefer to sink through the floorboards. She mumbled something about „Gray-sama“ and “love rival”.

Cricket and the Exceeds fooled around. Fried sat down, elegant as always, while Evergreen and Bickslow already ordered a tablet with six beer humps — for themselves. Cana was already making a game out of draining whatever she could grab, Natsu and Gajeel were now arm-wrestling each other, the table near before bursting and someone had upended an entire pitcher of ale across the table without even noticing.

And Laxus? He watched, with a small smile. He should’ve felt more annoyed. Day One had been a train wreck and the scoreboard still burned in his brain like a slap. But somehow — among his friends and with her standing next to him, with Liva reaching for her second drink and flipping her hair back like she owned the damn room — the sting didn’t cut as deep.

She caught him watching and smiled. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

No, you just look beautiful, he thought. But he only shrugged, eyes trailing a beat too long. “Just surprised you’re holding your liquor that well after crawling out of a hospital bed. You really think, you should drink already?”

Liva arched a brow, swirling the amber in her glass. “What, think I’m fragile?”

“No, definitely not.” His voice dropped, rough and certain. “I think you’re tempting, when you’re like this.”

Her lips curved. “Like what?”

“Confident. Sharp. Smirking like you already know what I’m thinking.” Laxus leaned closer.

She smirked wider. “Maybe I do.”

“Mindreading again?” he murmured.

“You paid for three answers, remember?” Liva tapped her glass with a nail. “And I’m not entirely sure I received full payment.” She winked. “Pretty sure you’re still indebted.”

Laxus knew, he definitely gave her three kisses back then in the forest, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t play along with whatever games she just started.
His grin turned smugly — the kind that made heat crawl under her skin. “Then I’d better settle my debts.”

Before she could reply, a blur of motion crashed into the bar beside them — Bickslow, grinning like a devil with three pints and a face already flushed from too many rounds. His tolerance really was low. Like … very low.

“Well, well, look at the happy couple,” he drawled.

“Bickslow…” Laxus warned, low.

But the Seith Mage only leaned in further, smirking wider. “You guys gonna rip each other’s clothes off right here, or wait until everyone’s too drunk to hear the headboard slam?”

Wow. That was bold. Even for him.

To her credit, Liva didn’t so much as blink. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her drink and then looked Bickslow dead in the eye. “Don’t worry, we’re considerate. We’ll use the second floor.”

Bickslow choked on his beer. “Damn.” He glanced between them, amused and mildly scandalized. “Man, you two are no fun to tease anymore.”

Liva tilted her head. “Nah. You’re just slacking, Bix. There’s Ever, practically in Elfman’s lap and you’re still over here talking to us?”

Laxus snorted into his drink as Bickslow raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m the fun one, not the third wheel.” He raised his mug lazily in their direction. “Don’t stay up too late, lovers. The big guy has work tomorrow.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Liva whispered, voice like silk. “We’ll be very tired by the end of the night.”

Bickslow sputtered, then stumbled away, laughing his way toward his next disaster.

Laxus exhaled, lips twitching. “Gods, you’re good,” he said, leaning down toward her.

“Good?” she asked innocently.

“You didn’t just beat him at his own game, you annihilated him.” His eyes glinted with delight. “You’ve got teeth, moon girl.”

Liva sipped her drink and met his gaze. “Maybe I meant what I said.”

He blinked. “…About the second floor?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Liva…” He hesitated, suddenly wary. “You fainted this morning. I’m not going to—”

She stepped closer, touching his shoulder with her hands, her voice low, teasing. “I feel fine. Better than fine, actually. But if you’re too scared…”

That pulled a low growl from him. “Scared? Try worried,” he muttered.

She tilted her head, all mock sweetness. “Then I guess you’ll just have to trust me.” Something in her gaze burned.

Laxus leaned in until his lips grazed the shell of her ear. “You keep talking like that and I’ll really carry you up there.”

Her pulse jumped. She looked up at him, breath catching in her throat. “I’m not stopping you,” she murmured, voice rich and low, velvet and smoke.

He looked down at her, blue eyes darkening like storm clouds. “Careful, moon girl. I don’t do halfway.”

She tilted her head toward him, their breath mingling and for a moment the world shrank to just the two of them — standing close, warm and electric. The press of his hand against the small of her back. The quiet burn in her stomach that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

“Good,” she whispered, voice shaking just slightly. “I don’t want halfway.” Their eyes locked.

Then — predictably — a chair crashed behind them, someone yelled about Natsu starting a food fight with Erza’s strawberry cake. The redhead roared, Lucy shrieked, Gray was naked again. Elfman hit the floor. Evergreen landed on top of him. Somewhere, Mira shouted, only to be knocked out by a flying bottle.

Liva blinked, straightened her blouse and cleared her throat. “This crowd’s about to get rowdy.”

Laxus drained the last of his drink and set the glass down with a thunk. “Perfect timing.”

“You think they have a bed available for us?”

Laxus didn’t even hesitate. He winked at the bartender, snagged a key off the counter and turned to her with a slow grin. Within a minute, Liva was heading for the staircase, the key brushing cool against her palm. He followed close behind, fingers brushing along her hip — casual, possessive.

They didn’t rush. No one dared stop them. A few eyes followed, but no one said a damn thing. And as they climbed the creaking stairs together, Liva’s heart beat steady and warm, wrapped in a delicious mix of anticipation and want.

Chapter Text

The door clicked shut behind them. The sounds of the tavern faded, muffled by wood and distance, until all that remained was the quiet between them — heavy, electric, expectant. The room was small. Neat. Intimate. A double bed, barely large enough for two. A window, cracked open to let in the night breeze and the pale light of the moon. Somewhere down the hall, someone laughed. But otherwise, only silence.

Liva leaned against the door, her chest rising and falling as her eyes met his. A spark passed between them and for a moment, neither moved. No need. The air already crackled, thick with everything unsaid.

Chuckling she tilted her head, a smile teasing the corners of her lips. “Can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Laxus arched a brow, amused. “You say that like I dragged you up here.”

“I’m just saying,” she pushed off the door, slow and graceful, “that you’ve been looking at me like that since we left Magnolia.”

“Like what?” His tone was low, playful. He crossed his arms, letting his eyes travel down, then up — slowly, shamelessly.

She gulped, a sweet shiver running down her spine. “Like you wanted to devour me.”

He smirked. “Not wrong.”
Then, after a beat: “Last chance to stop.” His voice softened, a thread of gravel running through it. “I would completely understand, after everything that happened today.”

Liva’s heart fluttered. She stepped into his space, tipping her chin up to meet his gaze. “Laxus… if I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have walked up those stairs with you.” A blush crept across her nose. “If I’m being honest, I’ve been waiting for this moment of privacy since we left Magnolia.”

His breath hitched — just slightly — and the look in his eyes changed. Darker. Looser. Like something coiled inside him had just snapped free.
“Thank the gods,” he murmured, closing the distance in one step. His hands found her hips, warm and grounding. “Because I’ve been thinking about you in my bed about thirty times a day.”

He dipped his head, brushing his lips just shy of hers. “Fucking shared bedroom,” he muttered against her mouth. “Whole damn team in one room? I nearly lost my mind yesterday night.”

“Is someone frustrated?” Liva giggled, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hands slid beneath his coat, easing it off his shoulders. Her fingertips traced the line of his arm, feeling the tension simmering under his skin.

His eyes were dark. “You’ve got no idea.”
He kissed her — softly at first. Testing. Then with more need, more pressure, as if he’d been holding himself back for far too long. Her fingers slipped into his hair as he deepened the kiss, one arm around her waist, the other tangling in her curls.

She let her hands wander. First over his shoulder, down his chest and then deeper. Slowly, but her touch was firm. His breath hitched. 
“You know, I like you like this,” she whispered, teasing between kisses, “a little breathless.”

“You’re not helping,” he growled, mouth trailing along her jaw.

„Not trying to.” She arched her neck, giving him more skin, more space to explore.

His teeth grazed that sensitive spot just below her ear and her knees nearly gave. Her fingers tightened in his shirt, dragging the fabric up and over his head. He helped, tugging it off in one rough movement. His chest was all heat and strength, the tattoo along his ribs catching in the silver moonlight.

Liva’s fingers ghosted over the ink, slow and reverent. “I really like your tattoo,” she murmured.

Laxus caught her wrist. His voice was a murmur, a grin tugging at his lips. “Careful. I might get ideas.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

He kissed her again — hungrier now, lips claiming hers as if they were the only thing anchoring him. His hands slid to her blouse, fumbling for the buttons. He gave up halfway and pulled it over her head in one smooth motion, baring her to the moonlight.

Liva shivered — from the chill or his gaze, she wasn’t sure. His hands skimmed up her sides, thumbs grazing the curve beneath her bra. She inhaled sharply, arching into him.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, hoarse and breathless. “Fucking radiant.”

“Keep saying that and I might start believing you.”

“I plan to.” He nipped at her bottom lip. “Now hold still.”

She raised her arms and let him unclasp her bra. It slipped from her shoulders and fell to the floor. He didn’t move — not yet. Just looked. As if seeing her was something sacred.

Liva felt her cheeks flush. “Touch me,” she whispered.

He did. Reverently. Like she was something rare, something he hadn’t believed he’d ever deserve. His hands roamed, slow and sure and his mouth followed — pressing kisses to her collarbone, then lower. Her fingers sank into his hair and a sigh escaped her lips.

“Still sure?” he asked, voice husky against her skin.

“Yes.” A shiver rolled through her. “Gods, yes.”

His hands went to her trousers waistband. “Then say it.”

“I want you, Laxus,” she said. “All of this. You.”

The look in his eyes turned molten. “That’s my girl.”

He kissed her again — possessive, insistent — and they stumbled toward the bed, leaving a trail of clothing behind like breadcrumbs. Liva pushed him down onto the mattress and climbed over him, knees sinking into the worn sheets, straddling him with the slow grace of someone who knew exactly what she wanted.

Laxus leaned on his elbows, golden hair tousled, muscles taut beneath her. His breath came heavy, matching hers. And gods, he was beautiful like this. Powerful. Bare. Wanting. All hers.

“You’re staring,” he muttered, voice thick with restraint.

“Mhm.” Liva’s fingers traced along his shoulders, her nails just grazing the surface of his skin, dancing over taut muscle. “Can you blame me? I’m sitting in the lap of a very beautiful man.”

His lips twitched into a grin, but the look in his eyes — dark and simmering — said he was hanging on by a thread. She leaned in, her lips brushing the sharp line of his jaw, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin between jaw and throat. He flinched. Just slightly. But his hands gripped her ass tighter. Still, he didn’t move. He waited, letting her lead. 

Liva’s mouth found his earlobe, biting gently. His breath hitched. Her fingers slid down the solid plane of his chest, following every dip and ridge of his abs, until they paused just above the waistband of his pants.

“Should I continue?” she asked, voice low, smoky with intent.

“Yes.“ A slow, almost reverent nod. “I’m yours.”

The way he said it … unguarded, like a vow. It made her heart stutter with desire. Tonight… she wanted to ruin him. Slowly.

“Then lie back.”

Laxus obeyed without a word, sinking into the pillows, arms falling loose at his sides in a gesture of pure surrender. His eyes never left hers.
Liva slid lower, popping open the button of his pants with unhurried fingers. The zipper followed—slow, deliberate. His cock strained against the fabric, thick and needy. When she freed him and ran her hand along the length, he groaned. Low and guttural.

She looked up. “You okay?”

His jaw clenched. “Barely.” That made her smile.

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to the firm plane of his lower belly. He twitched under her lips. Her hands roamed to the sharp cut of his hips, thumbs circling the tender spots she knew would make him shiver.

Then she kissed lower. His hand curled tight into the sheets.

“Liva…” Her name was a warning and a plea all at once. His hips rose instinctively, chasing her warmth.
She licked a slow stripe along the underside of his cock. Just once and the sound he made was pure sin. A moan cut with desperation.

Gods, he was trying so hard to behave. But she saw the way his abs clenched, the way his breath caught and stuttered. The way his fingers dug deeper into the bed as if anchoring himself.

With a hint of wickedness in her eyes, Liva met his gaze. Then took him into her mouth. Slow. Deep. His head fell back with a strangled curse. “Fuck—”

She sucked him with maddening rhythm, her hand wrapped around the base, her tongue swirling and flicking, her cheeks hollowed around him. Every movement deliberate. Every noise he made savored like a prize.

They had already shared one perfect night—just two days ago. And yet, even after weeks of anticipation and fantasies, nothing compared to this. Not the vivid memories. Not the fever-dreams of her lips, her moans, her body moving with his. Because now, with her on her knees and looking up at him like that—hungry, confident, completely in control—he realized something else: the first time hadn’t satisfied the ache. It had awakened it. Intensified it. And gods, the way she watched his every reaction, proud of the way he trembled under her touch … She was driving him insane.

“Gods, moon girl…” he groaned, one hand sliding into her hair, not to guide her, but to anchor himself. She hummed around him, sucking harder and he nearly came undone.
“You’re—” His voice broke. He gritted his teeth. “You’re gonna make me come, hon’. Slow down—”

But she didn’t slow. She deepened the rhythm, teasing the head of his cock with her tongue just enough to tip him toward the edge, again and again.
Laxus growled—actually growled—and tugged gently on her hair. “Liva—fuck, stop, if you don’t, I’ll—”

Only then did she pull back, lips flushed, chin slick, eyes gleaming. “You taste good,” she said sweetly and licked her lips.

He looked wrecked. Glorious. His chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, his hair tousled, pupils wide with need. “You’re fucking evil,” he rasped.

“Me?” She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “I just wanted to thank you for being so sweet today. You ran to the infirmary for me. That was adorable.”

She was a mess. Disheveled hair, swollen lips, smug smile. And he could not look away, even if he had wanted to.
“Fuck me, you’re beautiful.” His voice was low and thick and hungry. He reached for her, caught her by the waist. “Get up here. Now.”

She chuckled, crawling over him, but Laxus wasn’t waiting. He rolled her beneath him in one smooth, fluid motion. And just like that the predator was unleashed. Now she was the one pinned beneath him, heart racing, breath catching. His body caged hers, heat rolling off him in waves and his eyes had gone dark.

“Now,” he growled, voice dark as thunder. “It’s my turn.”

⚡️

Laxus rolled her beneath him like it was the most natural thing in the world — one smooth, commanding motion that stole her breath and pinned her against the mattress. He moved with the ease of a man who knew her body now. Who’d tasted her, held her, taken her apart and put her back together — and still wanted more.

His weight settled above her — not crushing, but grounding. A promise of strength. Of control. He didn’t kiss her. Not yet.

Instead, he hovered there, eyes drinking her in like he couldn’t get enough. He studied the flush rising in her cheeks, the damp strands of hair clinging to her temples, the soft part of her lips as she panted up at him, already undone and needing more. His gaze burned hotter than dragonfire.

“You look good under me,” he smirked. His voice was a drawl now, heavy and smooth, every syllable brushing over her skin like velvet. “Do you even know what you do to me?”

Liva’s lips curved, even as her chest rose and fell fast. “You gonna keep staring, or actually do something about it?”

He smirked, thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. “Oh, I will. But first—” His hand skimmed slowly down her side, over her ribs, her waist, until his palm rested low on her belly. “I like seeing you like this. Open. Wanting. Mine.”

The way he said it sent shivers down her spine. Possessive, reverent. Like it wasn’t just about control—it was about worship.

She gasped as his tongue followed, leaving a hot trail in its wake. He kissed his way down her chest, slow, methodical, until his mouth closed around her nipple with a firm, aching suck that made her arch into him.

“And the way you sound…” he added, leaning down to brush his teeth along her skin. “Fucking perfect.”

“Laxus, please …”

He looked up, lips curved wickedly. “Say that again.”

She laughed, breathless. “You cocky bastard.”

“Yeah,” he said without shame, mouth finding her again. “But you love it.” And gods, she did. He kissed lower, trailing heat down her stomach, his teeth grazing just enough to make her twitch. Every time she gasped, she could feel the damn smirk on his lips.

He was playing with her. Drawing it out. And she was already half mad with need. Reaching her hips, he hooked his thumbs under the edge of her black panties. “Ready, moon girl?”

“Yes,” she whispered, already writhing.

He raised a brow. “Didn’t catch that.”

She rolled her eyes, cheeks flushed. “Yes, please.”

“Better.” Smirking he peeled the fabric down excruciatingly slowly, watching her squirm beneath him. When she was bare, he sat back, gaze sweeping over her like she was a sunrise. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me.”

The words made something flutter in her chest. Even now — after all they’d shared, after the walls had come down — it still stunned her. That he could look at her like that. Like she was wanted. Chosen.

“You’re for real,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“Then show me.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Oh, I plan to.” But he didn’t rush. He leaned in, kissed her mound softly — reverently. Then again, lower. His hands slid beneath her thighs, spreading her gently as if she were something fragile and precious all at once.

“Every inch of you is mine tonight,” he said, voice quiet, almost tender. “And I’m going to take my time.”

The first kiss to her center was featherlight — a tease. The second lingered, his tongue brushing her folds, slow and maddening. She whimpered, hips tilting toward him, but he didn’t give her the pressure she craved.

“Laxus…” she moaned.

He just smiled against her. “That’s more like it.”

But still, he didn’t give in. He kissed her thighs, sucked her skin until it tingled, licked her gently just to pull another gasp from her throat — and gods, she gave it to him. Her hands fisted in the sheets, her legs trembling.

“You’re cruel,” she gasped.

“I’m patient.” His breath was warm, his tone wicked. “And I want you soaked for me.” She already was and he damn well knew it.

But when his tongue finally slid between her folds and stayed — when he finally gave her the firm, deep licks she needed — she cried out, loud and broken, her back arching clean off the bed. Her restraint shattered.

He devoured her like a man starved — soft at first, then rougher, deeper. Hands tight on her hips, he held her right where he wanted her. And she loved it. The control. The care. The fucking fire.

She came with his name on her lips, the sound torn from her throat like prayer. Her body locked up and shook and all she saw were stars behind her eyes.

Only when her tremors faded did he rise again, mouth trailing kisses up her body. He gathered her close, arms firm around her. 

„Gods, I‘m dizzy,“ she mumbled.

He halted, a little bit alarmed. “Do you wanna stop?”

„Not that kind of dizziness.“ She chuckled weakly. “Don’t you dare to stop.”

„If you’re unwell, tell me. Immediately.“

„Mhm.“

„Liva,“ his tone was firm. „For real now. Tell me.“

She blinked. His eyes were pleading. He really was worried about her. Her fainting had scared him deeply. „Okay, I will.“

Only then he kissed her again. Slow, hungry, tasting like her. He pressed the length of his cock against her slick heat. He stilled, eyes burning into hers. Giving her one last chance.

Her breath hitched.

Then he grinned — that reckless, ruinous grin — and leaned over to grab his pants. With one hand still on her thigh, he tore the foil open with his teeth, never looking away from her. That kind of focus made her pulse trip.

He rolled the condom on slowly, deliberately, letting her watch. “Then it’s good, that you‘re feeling so well,” he said, voice lower now. 

„Why?“

“Because I plan to ruin you tonight.” Liva swallowed hard. Gods, he looked so good like this — wild, golden, hungry for her.

And then he entered her. One smooth, claiming thrust that filled her to the brim. Her breath caught, a moan escaping her lips as her fingers gripped his shoulders.

“Fuck…” Laxus groaned, forehead pressed to hers. “You feel too damn good.” He moved slow, deliberate — every roll of his hips deep and sure. Like he wanted her to feel it. To remember it.

“Don’t hold back,” she whispered. He didn’t.

He pulled back and slammed into her again, setting a rhythm that was deep and possessive. His thrusts weren’t rushed. They were crafted. Focused. A slow, delicious destruction.

“Look at me,” he growled. She did — dazed and flushed — and something in his gaze went molten. He kissed her again — claiming and soft all at once — then fucked her harder, like the words unlocked something deeper. They moved together like a tide and the moon, pulled into the same rhythm.

When he shifted the angle, lifting her legs higher, she moaned louder. Sweet pleasure hit her like a wave breaking, loud and fierce and she cried out, arms clinging to him.

He didn’t stop. He chased his own edge, cursing and whispering her name until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Need you on top,” he rasped, breath ragged. “Wanna watch you ride it out.”

She barely nodded before he flipped them, her straddling him, their bodies still joined. His hands gripped her ass as she began to move — fast, grinding circles that had him groaning loud. “Fuck, yes — just like that.”

Her hair framed her flushed face, her hands planted on his chest and he watched her like she was something holy. His thumb found her clit, circling again.

“You’re close,” he said. “Aren’t you?” She bit her lip and nodded. “Come for me.”

She did. Hard. Her body convulsed above him, pleasure stealing her breath, her moans cracking in the air and her pulsing walls dragged him right over the edge. Laxus came with a growl, his voice raw, her name echoing in the sweat-slicked room as he thrust into her one last time.

They stayed tangled. Both wrecked, both quiet, the only sound their uneven breaths and pounding hearts. Liva collapsed onto his chest, her cheek against his collarbone. His arms came around her instantly, holding her tight.

Liva lay sprawled across his chest, their skin still flushed and damp, her ear resting just over the steady beat of his heart. His arms cradled her without hesitation, large hands splayed across her bare back like he never wanted to let go.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. There was only breath — slow and shared — and the occasional soft rustle of sheets as their bodies adjusted, anchoring closer.

Then Liva murmured, “You weren’t kidding.”

“About what?”

“Ruin.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”

“Barely.” She smiled against his skin. “Gods. What time is it?” He didn’t answer — just kissed the top of her head, slow and unhurried, like there was all the time in the world.
She let her eyes drift shut, heart still pounding softly in her chest. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me feel like I could fall apart… and be safe doing it.”

„I don’t know.“ He was quiet for a moment and when he answered, his voice was amused. “Because I’d never let you fall unless it was on me.”

Despite the joke, she noticed the deep meaning behind his words. Her throat tightened. She looked up at him, eyes glinting in the silver moonlight. His expression was open — raw in that way he rarely let anyone see. No bravado. No armour. Just the truth.

She cupped his cheek. “You’re so much more than you think you are.”

He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm like a vow. “I‘m just me.“

She smiled. “Yes, you are.” The words hung there for a moment, as real and quiet as their breathing.
But then his thumb started tracing slow, absent circles along her spine. Up. Down. Up. Down.

Her body stirred without meaning to — a gentle ache blooming low in her belly. “You’re doing that on purpose,” she whispered.

“I’m sitting here,” he said, far too innocently. “Just breathing.”

“Uh-huh.” Her eyes narrowed.

He tilted his head, lips curving. “Is that a complaint?” She didn’t answer. Just shifted, ever so slightly — enough for her breast to brush against him. And felt him hardening again. Her breath hitched. He smirked.

“You look tired,” he murmured, voice darkening. “But maybe I can convince you to stay awake just a little longer?”

Liva bit her lip, heart tripping all over again. “Convince me then.”

His grin turned wicked as he rolled them. “Gladly.”

⚡️

The dream began with fire. And screaming.

The sky was drowned in ash and smoke, devouring the sun completely. In what had once been a lively village, flames leapt and consumed buildings and people alike.

Laxus stood in the midst of the chaos. He watched in horror, unable to speak, unable to help the poor souls choking in the flames — a ghost in his own dream. The world was beyond his graspand yet everything felt too real. The heat seared his skin. The smoke filled his lungs. And still… he was only a witness.

But Kairos wasn’t.

The boy who looked so much like him knelt in the mud of ash and blood — no older than sixteen summers, his face smeared with soot and dirt. His hands and clothes were torn and battered from days of desperate fighting — nothing more than survival.

Behind him, more soldiers crouched and crawled. Most of them barely more than children. Many wept. Others just stared, unblinking, into the void.

Laxus felt the despair — and it gnawed at his insides like it was his own. No matter how hard he screamed, how hard he tried to help, his fingers passed through everything like it was made of mist.

Then he felt it. The shift. Air pressure dropped. His ears rang. Every hair on his body stood up. And then — the dragon came.

Kairos and Laxus stared at the beast together, both frozen. It was a monster with ash-grey wings and scales that gleamed mockingly in the firelight. Every step cracked the earth. Its teeth were bared, as if it were approaching a feast. And it was. These soldiers — these children — were nothing but a delicacy.

Kairos, however, raised his sword. And Laxus, against all reason, felt admiration for that foolish boy. Kairos stepped forward — alone — trembling with fear, yet he refused to show it. Refused to kneel. His eyes didn’t hold fear. Only grief… and burning rage.

“You killed my mother,” Kairos said hollowly.

But the dragon only laughed. “Did I? Perhaps. Was she tasty?” It raised its massive claw.

“Run!” Laxus shouted. “Run, dammit!”

But Kairos turned — and looked straight through him. “Fynn, run.”

And behind Laxus, barely noticeable, sat the younger brother. Thin. Dirty. Scraped and shaking. His eyes locked on his older brother, full of tears. “N-No. Brother—”

“RUN!” Kairos and Laxus screamed at once. The dragon’s claw came down — and the world vanished in dust and ash.

Suddenly Laxus felt himself being pulled away. Like a blind man tossed through fog, time rushed past him. Images of battle, of death, of despair spiraled in his mind. Each moment came with searing clarity.

Yes. He remembered. He had forgotten so much.

Then he was dangling over a cliff. Below him, nothing but open sky and a fatal drop. His stomach turned violently.

Next to him, Kairos climbed the jagged rocks — Fynn just behind him. Their fingers were bloodied, raw with effort. Somehow, miraculously, they had survived the dragon. But they carried deep scars — not all of them visible.

Laxus followed, scaling the rock like it was his own memory.
Ahead was a mountain. No, the mountain. The place where his— No, where Kairos’ life had changed. Laxus shook his head. Sweat poured down his body.

From below, he heard distant screams. Other soldiers — others seeking the same path — were falling to their deaths. It was hell.

When he finally pulled himself over the ridge, he felt it — that overwhelming magic in the air. It chilled his blood. Despite the biting wind, he was burning.
Dragons waited above them. But not as enemies. They didn’t roar. They didn’t attack. They simply watched.

Kairos stumbled forward, clothes torn, his young face carved by pain. And then, with visible reluctance, he dropped to his knees before the dragons.
“Our queen sent us,” he said, his voice shaking but loud enough to carry. “She said you’d help us.”

The others reached the peak and collapsed beside Kairos and Fynn. Kairos never looked away from the dragon in front. His eyes — tired, but fierce — never wavered. Laxus recognized that fire. It was his fire. Too familiar to deny.

The dragon stepped forward. Its scales were deep gold and with every shift of its wings, it stirred thunderclouds. Lightning flickered around it like a living storm. In Laxus’ mind, the word Master formed before he even registered it.

The voice of the lightning dragon was ancient. Thunderous. “You think you’re strong enough to bear our power?”

Kairos didn’t look away. “We don’t have a choice.”

“You want to become like us?”

Kairos’ face twisted in fury. “I want the power to kill dragons.”

“I see.” The dragon turned. “This is your idea, isn‘t it, Igneel?” Laxus knew that name — not just from old stories. Natsu’s father. Before he could even look toward the fire dragon, a bolt of lightning struck him — literally.

The scene blurred again. Memories of brutal training flooded his mind. He felt the unbearable force of dragon slayer magic flood through his veins. Unfamiliar. Overwhelming. Empowering. And suddenly — he stood before a wounded dragon. The ashen beast from before. The one who had killed his mother.

And it was begging.

Crying.

Laxus raised his fist for the final blow — and felt satisfaction unlike anything he’d ever known.

Chapter Text

Laxus jolted upright in bed — as if struck by lightning all over again. His hands sparked. Electricity buzzed beneath his skin. For a split second, he was ready to fight. Ready to kill.
But there was no dragon before him. No battlefield. No enemy. Just the dark room in Crocus. Distant drunken singing of his friends drifted up from the tavern below.

He sank slowly back onto the mattress, breath ragged. Sweat clung to him like a second skin. He tried to calm the storm inside him. Tried. 

The mage stared at his hands. They trembled. For a heartbeat, they looked blood-red. Then he blinked. Just calluses and shaking fingers. He clenched his fists. Tried to breathe. Tried to forget. But his body refused. Every muscle still burned. His heart raced. The emotions crashing down on him were too real. Fear. Rage. Despair. Guilt. Panic.

He turned his head. Liva lay beside him, wrapped loosely in thin sheets. Her face peaceful. Her breath soft and slow. She hadn’t noticed.

Good.

The last thing he wanted was to look her in the eyes. Not when he felt like an emotional wreck about to collapse. She didn’t deserve this. Not more pain. Not more fear. She deserved peace. Happiness.

Because now … Laxus knew. This hadn’t been just a dream. Images, names, emotions swam through his mind. People he’d never met in this life. Friends. Enemies. Family. Fynn.

He remembered how Kairos moved. How he felt about losing his mother and countless comrades to the dragons. The way he looked at his little brother. The fire in his eyes. The lightning in his blood. Kairos wasn’t a dream. He was the past. He was real.

Laxus felt the truth claw its way out from deep within. Kairos and Laxus — one and the same. Two men, two lives. One soul. Kairos was a former self. Forged in lightning and war. Too young for the weight he bore. Too broken to be free.

And that part of him was waking up again. Still burning with fury.

Laxus’ chest tightened. His breath turned shallow. Nausea rolled through him. Panic flooded his system like a tsunami after an earthquake.

He stumbled from the bed and staggered to the window. With one rough motion, he threw it open. The night air hit him like ice, stealing his breath and forcing him to breathe. He gripped the windowsill with shaking hands, muscles locked tight.

Tears burned behind his eyes — hot, bitter. He ran a hand through his hair, voice breaking into a hoarse whisper. He was scared. “Please, no…”

🌙

Liva woke just before dawn. With a contented sigh, she stretched like a cat basking in the sun. A sly smile played on her lips, ready to sweeten the morning for the man beside her. She rolled over and was greeted by nothing. The space beside her was empty and cold. Frowning, Liva sat up. There was no visible trace of Laxus. 

She looked around. No, his coat and shirt still lay on the floor, but the rest of his clothes were gone. Her gaze drifted to the open window, its curtains billowing gently in the night breeze.

Worried, Liva walked to the window and looked outside. It took all of her dragon senses to locate his magical signature above her, on the roof. Immediately, she smelled fear and despair. She heard the trembling in his breath.

Alarmed, Liva grabbed the first things next to her — her panties and his big shirt. Barely covered, she climbed out of the window and onto the roof. The night sky had already begun to change. At the edge of the horizon, the first light of dawn crept in.

And there he sat. Shirtless, barefoot, only wearing his trousers, leaning against a chimney.

Laxus’ back was to her. Shoulders hunched, arms resting on his knees. His breath came in ragged, uneven pulls. Like every inhale hurt. Liva’s heart broke at the sight.

He didn’t hear her. Not until she knelt beside him and whispered, “Laxus?”

He flinched — truly flinched — and turned to her. His eyes were red, almost hollow. “Shit,” he muttered, rubbing his face. “I didn’t hear you.”
Worried Liva sat next to him, pulling her knees up to her chest, keeping a careful distance. She didn’t want to startle him. He looked like a wounded animal.

“Are you okay?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
Silence. The wind picked up, tousling their hair. Laxus’ jaw was clenched, the muscles twitching visibly. For a long, unbearable moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he said hoarsely.

“That’s not what I asked.”

He exhaled sharply. “Just a dream.” His voice sounded rough and exhausted.

“Was it the same as yesterday?” Liva remembered clearly how restless he had been the day before.

Again, silence.

She bit down on her lower lip. What kind of dreams could shake a man like Laxus this deeply? What could disturb Laxus so much?
Her stomach twisted with uneasiness. Somehow, she had a hunch. A very bad one. “Laxus,” she said quietly. “Talk to me.”

“I… can’t.”

Her throat tightened. “Can’t or won’t?”

That made him look at her. Really look at her. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears and his expression gave her a glimpse into something raw and buried deep. Whatever he was dreaming about, it scared him. Deeply. And it was tearing him apart. Liva could see it. She could feel it.

“You don’t understand, Liva.”

“Don't be so sure about that, because you might be wrong.“ She sighed. “You don’t have to tell me everything, just … talk. Please.”

⚡

He exhaled again, but this time it sounded desperate. Helpless, like a child trying not to cry. Liva had to summon all her strength not to wrap her arms around him. He was trying to hold on to that image of strength, of pride, he didn’t want to show weakness. So she waited. Until he was ready.

“It’s not just some dream…” His voice was raw now. Angry.

How could he even begin to explain that he was dreaming of a past life? That he remembered being someone else? She’d think he was insane. Or worse — she’d believe him and feel sorry for him.

Liva studied him calmly, but behind her blue eyes he could see the storm brewing, the worry she tried so hard to hide. And that was exactly what he didn’t want, but he also knew, that she wouldn’t rest until he at least told her anything.

He stared at the horizon as if the rising light might burn the answers into the sky.
“I dreamt of a dragon,” he muttered finally. His voice sounded like gravel, like something had torn in his chest and hadn’t stopped bleeding since.

Liva’s breath caught. “A dragon …?” Wearily she looked at him. “Like … Acnologia or …?”

Humourless Laxus’ chuckled. Well, a dream about Acnologia wouldn’t be the truth, but an easier answer. “Yes, something like that.” Her eyes narrowed, while she studied the streets below, waiting for him to continue.
“I see things when I sleep,” he went on. “Places I’ve never been. People I’ve never met.” He turned his face away again, jaw clenched, while thinking of all those humans dying on the battlefields. “I dream of disturbing things.”

🌙

Liva swallowed hard, her hands gripping the roof tiles.

“Is he remembering?” she thought to herself. Or was he simply trying to process the last seven years, his exile and the battle against Acnologia? Were there other events from his past that were weighing heavily on him? Liva had never really thought about it before, but as Ivan's son, he must have witnessed some unpleasant things.

But regardless of the fear he was dealing with, whether from this life or the previous one, Liva would remain by his side and prevent him from following in Kairos' footsteps. 

Because she loved him. She had always loved him. Even more so as Laxus than as Kairos.

“How long has it been happening?” she asked gently.

“A few nights,” he said. “But this one… this one was different.” Laxus didn’t say more. He didn’t need to. His silence was thunderous. It rolled between them, filled with ghostly lightning.

“You are scared,” she whispered.

Laxus didn’t deny it. Didn’t flinch. Just stared forward, wind tugging at his blond hair. “Yes,” he said eventually. “I am.”

“I understand you,” Liva said softly. “Dreams can be nasty. Like I told you, they can bring out the worst of us. But no matter how terrible they are, no matter what they show you or what you … remember.” He looked at her then, an unspoken question in his eyes. “You are still you, okay?”

For a moment — just a moment — Liva saw it. The dangerous flicker of dragon-gold and silver-blue in his irises. The old soul pushing against the surface. Her throat tightened. 

Did he really remember? Was he remembering Calomene too?

“I don’t know,” Laxus murmured. “I’m not exactly a good person, if you remember my exile.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Laxus, look at me,” she reached for his jaw, pulling his head towards her. “I know this sounds strange, but I know you very well and far longer than you’re aware of.”

Again, she saw the questions pop up in his eyes. “Because of my father?”

Well, that wasn’t a lie, she thought. Ivan told her often about his “brat” and his “good-for-nothing-father“. So Liva nodded.
“When I look at you, I don’t see the man, who wanted to destroy his own guild or did other … terrible things. I see a man rushing to the infirmary because I am injured. I see a man swimming in the river with his friends and having a water fight. I see a man who is happy to be sitting in a tavern with his guild, celebrating, even though they lost badly. I see a wonderful and beautiful person.”

He stared at her. “That’s how you see me?”

“Yes.”

“I… I don’t understand.” He shook his head. “Why?”

She laughs. “Because.”

“No, you don’t understand.” He still shook his head. “I feel like a terrible person and you think of me as a saint,” Laxus murmured. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Laxus.” He didn’t look at her, but she felt, he was listening.

“Believe me. I know what it’s like,” she continued, voice barely above a whisper, every word chosen with care. “To feel lost in your own head. To remember things that don’t make sense — until they do. And when they do… it hurts more than you think it should.”

His eyes snapped to hers again, startled again. She held his gaze, unwavering.

“I’m not asking for you to tell me every detail of your dreams or your fears,” she whispered. “Because I understand that, whatever you’re dreaming about, is shattering the ground beneath your feet. I just want you to know… nobody must go through fear alone. Not me and especially not you.”

Laxus looked away again. “I don’t want your pity.”

“I don’t pity you.” Her voice steadied. “You have my truth. My patience. And …” She gulped, suddenly very shy. “You have my love.”
She reached out, slowly and let her fingers brush his. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t lean in, either. It seemed, he didn’t register her words and was too caught up in his thoughts. Liva could feel the tension humming in his skin like static before a storm.

“Do you think I’m going crazy?” he asked after a long moment, voice tiny and unsure.

“No.” A small smile touched her lips. “I think you’re starting to become a stronger person. Stronger than you already are.” He didn’t react to that. Not visibly. But she felt the pulse in his fingers stutter under her touch.

“Whatever it is you’re afraid of,” she added, “it doesn’t change the man sitting here beside me.” She didn’t say “yet“, but it hung in the air. The man waited for it to happen. “Laxus, do you understand me?”

He let out a shaky breath. “I need time.”

She sighed silently. “… Of course.”

⚡️

The sky turned from bruised blue to warm pink, the sunrise slow and uncaring. Liva left quietly, murmuring about getting dressed and giving him a moment alone. 

Laxus stayed there, seated on the cold roof tiles, the dawn stretching golden fingers across the horizon. Birds chirped somewhere far away. The wind had calmed. Still, his heart beat as if he’d run for miles.

He thought about her words. They calmed him in a very special way. His heart began to beat wildly and he felt warm when he remembered how heroically she thought of him. As if he were a knight in golden armour, when in fact he was the hideous dragon.

You have my truth. My patience. And my love.

Love. Love? Yes, she had said it. Just like that. Calm and steady, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Like love didn’t carry weight — like it wasn’t terrifying. And somehow, it hadn’t felt like pressure. It had felt… steadying.

She understood too well. Every word she said had reached into him, scraped out the places he didn’t want anyone to see and still offered warmth instead of judgment.

“Why does she get it? Why does she see through me like that?” His fingers tangled into his hair, while the sun slowly warmed his cold skin.

Liva remained a mystery. He had always known that. She was a girl who fought tooth and nail. She laughed with him, cried on his shoulder and trusted him. Her past had left her feeling broken at times, yet she persevered, never faltering. And now, she knew him. Not just the man he showed the world, but the parts he’d buried deep, the ones even he didn’t fully understand. She saw them. All of them.

That should’ve terrified him. But it didn’t. Instead, something warm unfurled behind his ribs. A quiet, steady heat that settled in his chest. Like lightning, curling in on itself, no longer wild and aimless but content. Home.

Why?

Because I love her.

The thought struck him like a whisper and a thunderclap all at once. He blinked, stunned by the sheer simplicity of it.

There it was. Raw. Undeniable. True.

And gods, a little fucking late. Because she had already told him — with every word, every breath and every look. Not only yesterday or the nights before, but just minutes ago. She had laid her heart bare for him in the only way she knew how.

And what had he done? Nothing. He’d sat there like a damn statue. Silent. Stupid. Letting it pass him by like it didn’t matter.

Laxus groaned softly and dragged both hands down his face, guilt prickling under his skin.

You idiot.

This wasn’t just anyone. This was Liva. The girl, who had trusted him when she had every reason not to. The girl, who made him feel like he could be more than what he told himself. The girl, who had wormed her way under his skin until she was part of his breath, his thoughts, his pulse.

He loved her. Fiercely. Messily. Completely. And the thought of her not knowing that, made something twist hard in his gut. He needed to tell her. Not with silence. Not with just sex. But with his own words.

Like a man on a important mission, he climbed down.

⚡️

The room and the inn itself was rather quiet, but still he heard her, before he saw her. The faint rustle of blankets, the creak of a floorboard, her sights.

And then there she was, still barefoot and hair windswept. She was fixing the bed, smoothing the sheets with practiced care. One hand held his coat, brushing off some dust with a tenderness he didn’t deserve.

He paused in the window frame. It was such a small thing. Barely worth noticing. And yet, the way she held his coat did something to him. Lit a fuse, right there in his chest.

That was love, wasn’t it?

Not just the big, dramatic moments. But the quiet ones. The thousand little threads that wove their lives together. Shared cups of tea in the morning, laughter during splash fights on summer days, silent walks through forests or busy streets, taking shelter from thunderstorms, crying and healing together. And, yes, brushing the dust off his coat.

Before he even realized it, he had crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her from behind. Liva shrieked, nearly dropping the coat. “OhmyfuckingGods! Laxus!”

“Sorry,” he murmured into her hair, lips brushing her temple. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re back already.” She relaxed in his arms. “I thought you wanted space.”

“I did. But…” He paused.

“But?”

“I don’t want distance.” His arms tightened slightly. “I guess I’m greedy.”

She chuckled. “What? You? No way.”

He smiled, just a little. “It’s just… I’m not good at this stuff.” His voice was low. “With the Games back in my mind and now those dreams, my … feelings …”

Liva turned her head slightly, catching a glimpse of him. “I know and it’s alright.”

“I heard what you said,” he continued. “Up there on the roof. About your love.” She blinked fast, already flushing.

“You have mine too.” He took a deep breath. “My love.”

Silence. And then she gasped softly, barely managing to hold back the sound that escaped her throat. He felt her body shudder once. “…Liva?” he asked, instantly alert. “Wait, are you crying?!”

She turned halfway, trying to hide her face. “No!”

“You are! Shit, what did I do?!” Panic entered his voice. “I knew I was screwing it up! Was I too late? Did I say it wrong? Did I—”

She gave a breathy laugh that sounded half like a sob. “No, no, you idiot! You said it perfect.”

“Then why—?”

“Because,” she tried, wiping at her eyes and laughing again, “I’m not crying because I’m sad, I’m just— Dammit, you can’t just say it like that. Not after I’ve already got my thoughts and emotions under control.”

He blinked. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

She sniffed and finally faced him fully, eyes shining. “Yes.”

“You’re sure sure?”

“…Mostly.”

He tilted his head. “What’s the other part?”

She hesitated, then grinned, teary-eyed and mischievous. “The other part is mad, because I’m standing here in your shirt and my underwear only, crying, while you look like some sexy, ancient god. That’s completely unfair.”

His lips twitched. “Well. It’s your fault. You did steal my shirt.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t steal the coat too.”

“That would’ve been a crime.”

She laughed again, leaning into his chest. “You big idiot.”

“I’m your big idiot,” he murmured against her temple. And just like that, the warmth returned.

“I love you.”

He smiled. “Love you too.”

“That’s strange, isn’t it?”

“Why?”

“Because three months ago we were strangers… and now I can’t imagine life without you.”

Laxus gently brushed her hair back behind her ear, eyes thoughtful. “That’s not strange. That’s life. And it’s perfect.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “It is.” Liva kissed him, soft and lingering. “Are you feeling better now?” she asked.

He took a long breath. “Yes. Talking to you helped. You were right.”

“Mhm. Told you so.” He rolled his eyes and in one smooth motion, he sent her flying, tossing her backwards onto the bed. Liva let out a loud shriek. “No! I just made the bed!”

He grinned, shrugging on his coat. Gods, it still amazed him — how easy it was with her. No matter how heavy his thoughts or chaotic his emotions, she always understood. Always saw him.

He pulled her into his arms once more, holding her like something precious. Yeah, he thought. I’m the lucky one.

🌙

The sun was already merciless when Liva took her place in the tribunes beside Makarov and the other non-participating members. The morning crowd hummed with excitement, heat rippling off stone, cheers echoing through the stadium like thunder. She stood still, hands clasped, blue eyes scanning the arena and lodges.

“Day two!” boomed Chapati Lola’s voice across the arena. “And we’re starting with a new game — Chariot!”

The crowd erupted. Liva blinked once, her brow knitting as Chapati explained the rules. “Each contestant must race across a long, unsteady line of moving vehicles! Balance, speed and guts will determine who makes it to the end!”

Moving vehicles? Liva rubbed her temple. “Oh no…” She leaned toward Makarov. “Why did we let Natsu and Gajeel participate during this round?”

Makarov sighed depressed. “Yeah … They’re not exactly built for transport…”

Sure enough, as the starting horn blared, Liva spotted Natsu — already wobbling. His face had turned an alarming shade of green. Gajeel was hunched over like he might vomit at any moment and Sting wasn’t doing much better, clutching his stomach with a grimace. 

„Even Sabertooth was stupid enough to send in a dragon slayer?“ Evergreen huffed. Her disappointment was visible.

Liva groaned, covering her face with her hands. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“They volunteered,” Makarov grunted, though he sounded just as concerned. “We’ll just have to endure this … dilemma.”

„It’s very embarrassing,“ Cricket chirped, nodding wildly, throwing salt into their wound. They all groaned. 

Then Liva‘s eyes narrowed when she saw Raven Tail’s Kurohebi slithering ahead with inhuman grace, far in the lead. Her expression darkened. “Snake bastard.”

On the screen above, Chapati’s commentary echoed. “In first place, it’s Kurohebi from Raven Tail! Followed by Blue Pegasus’ very own Ichiya — look at him sparkle, folks! Then Lamia Scale’s Yuka and Mermaid Heel’s Risley!”

Liva crossed her arms. “If he wins, I swear—” Suddenly, an explosion of movement shattered the rhythm of the race. A blur of motion: Bacchus. The man from Quattro Cerberus launched into a sprint so forceful that the vehicles beneath his feet shattered. He didn’t just run, he dominated the course, his steps pulverising steel. The audience roared as he flew ahead, overtaking every single participant.

“Incredible! Bacchus has destroyed the track, but made it to the finish line first! Ten points to Quattro Cerberus!” Liva whistled softly, impressed despite herself.

Not far behind, Kurohebi slithered across the line in second place, earning his team nine points. Then came Risley with eight, Yuka with seven and Ichiya stumbling dramatically into fifth place with six points.

All eyes turned to the back of the line, where the three Dragon Slayers were still struggling. Natsu, Gajeel and Sting staggered from vehicle to vehicle like drunken sailors.

Liva leaned forward, biting her lip. Natsu had curled up on a flatbed, groaning in pain. Gajeel was crawling. Sting, to his credit, was only slightly less miserable — though his smirk suggested he wasn’t suffering nearly as much.

“Ugh… pathetic,” Sting muttered. “Still trying?”

He turned to Natsu and Gajeel, arms crossed lazily. “Y’know, I could just forfeit. Let you have a sympathy point. Not like it’ll help in the end.”

Liva narrowed her eyes. What an ass.

But then Sting tilted his head and asked, too casually: “Why’d you even come back to compete? Fairy Tail never was one to show off.”

The air shifted. Natsu — pale, green and trembling — slowly pushed himself upright. “We’re not here to show off.” He forced his eyes open. “I’m doing this… for them.”
He looked weakly toward the stands, toward his guildmates. „For everything we lost. For those seven years. For how they suffered without us.”

The rest of Fairy Tail had gone silent, watching their teammate, broken but defiant, fight forward.
“And to show the world we’re still strong,” Natsu said, stumbling forward, one vehicle at a time. “That we’ve grown. That we’re still Fairy Tail.”

Gajeel grunted and forced himself upright. “Tch. Idiot. I’m not gonna let you finish first.”

They fought for every step, arms shaking, legs wobbling, refusing to quit. The crowd, who had booed at Fairy Tail yesterday, now sat in stunned silence. And then the applause began. Soft at first. Then louder. And louder. Thunderous.

The two reached the goal together — Natsu in sixth place, Gajeel in seventh. Two points. One point. That was all. But in that moment, Fairy Tail had won. Liva wiped her eyes with the back of her finger. „Such idiots.“

“Told you they had it in them,” Makarov said hoarsely. „See that, Cricket?“ The griffin nodded eagerly.

Natsu collapsed the moment he crossed the line. Medics rushed to him, carrying him toward the infirmary as the announcers transitioned to the next match.

“Up next! The first duel of the day: Toby of Blue Pegasus versus Kurohebi of Raven Tail!”

But Liva barely heard them. Her eyes were still on the finish line — on her guild. One step at a time, she thought. That’s how they would rise again.

⚡️

Laxus leaned back in the shadow of their lodge, arms folded, half watching the arena, half watching her.

Liva stood beside Mavis and the rest of the gang, laughing quietly at something Makarov said. Her hair shimmered in the sunlight and despite everything weighing on his mind — the dream, her lovely words, the gnawing familiarity that hadn’t left him since dawn — she grounded him.

Then the announcer’s voice boomed again, jarring him from his thoughts. “Next match! Toby of Blue Pegasus versus Kurohebi of Raven Tail!”

Laxus narrowed his eyes. Raven Tail. His father’s little circus of roaches.

Toby waved enthusiastically to the crowd, his energy comically innocent compared to the seething mass that was Kurohebi, who walked onto the field like a shadow had sprouted legs.

“Let’s make a deal,” Toby grinned, bouncing on his heels. “If I win, I get to know your real name! And if you win… I’ll tell you my super secret!”

Laxus sighed. “This is gonna be a mess.” And it was, but not the kind he expected.

The fight lasted barely longer than the opening bell. Kurohebi struck once, clean and sharp and Toby hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Chapati shouted, “Kurohebi wins!”

Liva let out a quiet breath beside Mavis, lips pressed thin. Laxus watched her expression shift — not just disappointment. Disgust.

“What’s your secret, little idiot?” Kurohebi asked, voice oozing.

Toby sat up, rubbing his head. “I… I’ve been searching for my missing sock for three months! It’s driven me mad!”

The arena fell into confused silence. Even Laxus blinked. Then Kurohebi pointed to Toby’s neck, where a sock had been tied like a necklace the entire time.

Toby gasped, tears in his eyes. “You found it! Thank you! You’re not such a bad guy after—”

Kurohebi held out his hand. The crowd softened for a second, thinking maybe there was a sliver of sportsmanship in him. Then, with a sneer, he ripped the sock from Toby’s neck and shredded it into ribbons, throwing the scraps in the dirt.

Toby’s scream of heartbreak echoed through the stadium. Raven Tail howled with laughter.

Liva bared her teeth, obviously angry. “That was cruel.”

Laxus clenched his jaw, eyes locked on Kurohebi. Next time, he thought, you won’t be laughing.

The announcer jumped in quickly to lighten the mood. “Aaaaand now for the match we’ve all been waiting for! Fairy Tail’s Elfman Strauss versus Bacchus of Quattro Cerberus!”

The mood shifted. Elfman strode into the arena like a mountain in motion, his jaw set and shoulders squared. Across from him, Bacchus strolled in with lazy confidence, his ever-present gourd of liquor swinging from his hip.

Before the bell could ring, Bacchus raised a hand. “Let’s make this interesting too.“ 

Laxus frowned. Another deal? Seriously?

Bacchus grinned. “If I win… I get to spend a night with both your sisters. Alone.” The crowd gasped. Elfman froze.

“That bastard,” Laxus muttered under his breath and looked at his old friend. Mirajane‘s head had snapped toward the arena, worry tightening her face.

Elfman cracked his neck, fire in his eyes. “I’m going to tear you apart.”

The bell rang. Elfman surged forward with a roar, transforming mid-sprint into his Beast Soul: Weretiger, all speed and muscle. But Bacchus danced around every hit, light on his feet, drinking lazily between dodges.

“You call that fast?” Bacchus taunted. Then he dropped into a low stance, fingers glowing.

“This magic,” Mirajane whispered next to him. “He focuses all his energy into his hands to make precise strikes.”

Laxus watched the first hit land. Then another. Elfman was thrown back, slammed to the ground. Reverted to his base form, panting hard.

Bacchus swaggered closer. “Still want to fight?”

Elfman rose, shaking. “If I win… you rename your team to Quattro Puppy.”

The crowd laughed. Bacchus blinked, then grinned. “Deal.”

He drained his gourd and launched forward, fast, too fast to follow. Seven strikes landed in an instant.

Elfman didn’t move. Until the dust settled. Then they saw it — his arms and chest were covered in razor-edged scales. “Beast Soul: Lizardman,” he announced.

Bacchus pulled back, his palms sliced open. “You…!”

Elfman smirked. “This is what a real man looks like.” Bacchus charged, his hits growing wild, furious. Lizardman form absorbed the brunt, but it was clear Elfman was hurting. Still, he didn’t fall. Didn’t even flinch.

It was obvious. The winner would be the one, who would last the longest.

Laxus leaned forward, respect blooming in his chest. The two fighters stood locked in a slugfest until Elfman fell, shortly after Bacchus staggered too, dropped to one knee, then collapsed. The stadium was quiet, all staring at the opponent’s. But suddenly Elfman rose again and the audience exploded.

“Elfman Strauss wins! Ten points to Fairy Tail!”

Elfman lifted a shaking fist toward the sky. “For my sisters,” he growled.

Laxus caught the look on Mira‘s face — he saw pride. Fierce and unashamed. He allowed himself a smirk. 

Well done, Elfman, well done.

Chapter Text

“Elfman was very brave.” Liva smiled at the arena as both opponents were carried off to the infirmary, one on a stretcher, the other mumbling about how he’d definitely won.

“You can say that again. Well done, Elfman!” Cana raised a mug in celebration so high that half the alcohol nearly sloshed onto the poor spectator in front of her. The strong smell of liquor hit Liva’s nose like a wave.

“Cana?”

“Hm?” She was already halfway to refilling her mug.

“You should probably drink less.”

The brunette gave her the kind of smile only Cana could manage, part charming, part completely shameless. “And you should probably drink more.“
Liva’s mouth twitched as if it couldn’t decide between a frown and a smile. Maybe she should. Just once. Maybe.

“Don’t let yourself be tempted into such inappropriate behaviour, Liva.” Evergreen flicked open her fan with a snap, fanning herself as if Cana’s mere presence was giving her hot flashes. Then she turned her sharp gaze toward the brunette. “And don’t even think about turning our Liva into your drinking buddy.”

Cana didn’t even blink at the warning. No, her grin stretched wider, like a cat that had just spotted a very pretty bird with ruffled feathers. “Oh? Who was it that drank too much with Bickslow yesterday and spent half the night sleeping in Elfman’s arms?”

Evergreen’s entire face went scarlet so fast, Liva was briefly concerned she might combust. “Wh–what? No, I didn’t sleep in Elfman’s arms!” She flailed around for backup and spotted — unfortunately, disastrously — not Fried’s calm support, but Bickslow leaning on the railing.

He tilted his head. Mischief practically radiated off him, like a demonic torch. “Ever, Ever,” he drawled, voice dripping with glee.

“No. Shut up.”

But Bickslow was constitutionally incapable of shutting up. “I agree with Cana. You must’ve slept very well last night.”

“I didn’t!”

He pressed on like a shark scenting blood. “Tell me, Ever, what did you think of Elfman’s fight just now? Very manly, wasn’t it? All those bulging muscles, the sweat glistening under the lights—”

“Aaah!” Evergreen screeched, fanning herself so hard it was a miracle she didn’t take flight.

Somewhere in the chaos, one of Bickslow’s floating dolls piped up with a perfect imitation of Evergreen’s voice: ‘Elfman, hold me tighter~’

“Shut up shut up shut up!” The scene swelled into shouting, laughter and more screeching.

Liva watched the chaos unfold with a dry expression as she clamped her hands firmly over Cricket’s ears. Bickslow had gone from suggestive remarks to full-blown innuendo and poor Evergreen looked ready to stab him with her fan. “So rowdy,” she muttered under her breath.

Cricket tilted his feathery head up at her with wide eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just… don’t listen,” she grumbled, glaring in Bickslow’s direction. Honestly. Didn’t these idiots realise Cricket was basically a child? He soaked up every new word like a sponge. The last thing she wanted was to raise a perverted griffin. One Bickslow in the guild was more than enough.

“Elfman fought well.” Liva blinked. Fried had appeared beside her, silent as a shadow. He didn’t even look at the others, his eyes were locked on the arena, expression carved in stone.

She softened. “He did.” But when her smile faltered at his stern expression, her brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

The man with the green hair shook his head once. “I’ll tell you later.” His voice was calm, but there was an edge in it that made Liva’s stomach twist.
Before she could press further, Fried’s gaze flicked to the squabbling trio. He opened his mouth and shouted: “Ever. Bickslow.”

The two words cracked like a whip. Instantly, the chaos froze. Cana actually snorted into her mug. Evergreen snapped upright as if she hadn’t just been shrieking, and Bickslow’s grin wavered.

“Come with me. The Master has a job for us.” And just like that, they trailed after him like chastised schoolchildren.

Everyone stared after them, blinking. Cana leaned back, muttering, “That’s creepy. I thought the Master was sitting next to us …”

Liva turned, startled. His place beside her was empty. “Huh? But he was right next to me earlier…” She scratched her head, completely baffled. Had she really been talking to empty space?

Before she could think too hard about it, the booming voice of the announcer echoed across the arena. “Next up: Jenny Realight from Blue Pegasus versus Mirajane Strauss of Fairy Tail Team B!”

The crowd erupted in cheers, whistles, and chants. Liva leaned forward instinctively.
A few seconds later, Mira appeared in the arena, her long white hair lifting gently in the breeze. She wore her serene smile as though chaos itself had never touched her. Even the sunlight seemed to bend just right around her, haloing her in soft light.

Liva exhaled slowly. She understood, now, why so many people thought Mirajane Strauss wasn’t just a mage, but something more. Angel. Goddess. Some impossible blend of both. And yet, beneath that beauty and kindness, Liva’s been told: the real Mira could be more terrifying than any demon when she wanted to be.

Jenny stood on the other side of the arena. This woman was just as beautiful as Mira. However, while Mira’s smile radiated warmth and gentleness, Jenny’s was sharp, challenging, and dripping with the confidence of someone who knew the crowd was eating it up.

“Oh man,” Max scratched his head nervously. “A fight between models… Why do I have such a strange feeling in my stomach?”

Liva tilted her head. “Models?”

“Didn’t you know?” Macao leaned closer, puffing himself up like he was delivering classified intel. “They both worked as pin-up models. Seven years ago, Mira was the most popular model in Sorcerer Weekly. When she went missing on Tenrou Island, Jenny picked up the crown.”

Cana rolled her eyes and drained half her mug in one go. “Why am I not surprised that you know that so well, you old fart?”

Macao’s face went red as a tomato. “What did you just call me, you drunken brat?!”

“Brat?!” Cana slammed her mug down with a bang. “I’ve out-drunk you since I was fifteen!”

Liva sighed and quickly covered Cricket’s ears again, muttering, “Not for children.” The griffin chirped curiously anyway, trying to peek out from under her hand.
She turned to Max with a questioning look. “So… why do you have a strange feeling? I thought Mira was an excellent fighter.”

The sand mage nodded gravely. “She is. But I’m not sure about this fight. You can’t trust those pin-up models…” He crossed his arms like he’d just delivered an ominous prophecy.

Liva blinked, baffled. “What bad experiences have you had with pin-up models?”

Next to him, Warren burst out laughing. “He was dumped by one two years ago!”

Max’s face turned purple. “Shut up!! Don’t bring that up in front of the whole guild!”

Too late. In seconds, half the guild had swarmed him with jeers, laughter, and way too many personal questions. Cana started chanting, “Name! Name! Name!” while Wakaba leaned over to loudly speculate about Max’s “type.” Chaos, as always, reigned supreme.

And in the middle of it, Liva calmly held Cricket tighter and whispered, “They really are impossible.” Liva breathed heavily, her patience running thin, as she watched the brawl spiral completely out of control. “Hey, calm down!” she shouted over the chaos.

Nobody listened.

“Hey!” she tried again, only to dodge at the last second when Jet’s fist came flying way too close to her face. Her eyes widened. How on earth had they gone from talking to all-out fistfight in less than thirty seconds? This was Fairy Tail, yes, but still! This was some kind of record.
Her temple twitched. Fine. Enough was enough. Pissed off, Liva clenched her fist, her voice booming louder than the arena crowd itself. “LISTEN TO ME, YOU IDIOTS!”

There was a collective thud a moment later.

When Makarov returned to his seat a few minutes later, the sight that greeted him was… peculiar, even by Fairy Tail standards. Nearly every guild member sat slumped with cartoonish bumps on their heads, groaning quietly. Only Liva and Cricket stood tall and perfectly composed, gazes fixed serenely on the arena as if nothing had happened.

“We should cheer for Mira,” Liva said calmly, though there was still steel in her tone. “Do you understand, guys?”

“Yes,” came the pitiful, unified response from the battered mages.
Someone whispered in the back, “She’s worse than Erza…” — “Shh, she’ll hear you!” another hissed, ducking in fear.

Makarov blinked several times, baffled. “What happened here?”

A chorus rose up instantly. “Nothing!” — “Nothing at all!” — “Don’t worry about it, Master!”

The old man squinted suspiciously, but before he could ask again, his eyes slid toward Mavis, who floated cheerfully at his side. “First Master?” he asked cautiously, searching for an answer.

The ghost only giggled, eyes twinkling with mischief. She lifted one delicate finger to her lips. “Fufufu… secret.”

Makarov groaned, rubbing his forehead. “Why is it always my guild…”

🌙

A few seconds later, the fight started, or… whatever you wanted to call that. Instead of fists, Jenny and Mira exchanged words and sly grins. Then came the shocking bet: the loser would have to pose naked for a photo shoot. The audience went wild. Cheers, whistles, and even a few fainting men thundered through the arena.

“Oh my god,” Liva said flatly. She clasped her hands together. “Anyway… good luck, Mira— holy shi—!” Her face dropped as the fight truly began.
“WHAT THE—?!” the entire guild roared, eyes bulging in disbelief.

Jenny and Mira weren’t fighting at all—they were posing. The most attractive, dazzling poses anyone had ever seen. The men in the crowd practically lost their minds, their faces going red as they howled like wild animals.

“Why does your gut feeling always have to be right?!” Warren shouted at Max.

“Is that my fault now?!” Max yelled back, gripping his head.

On the battlefield, Mira sighed gently, stretching with angelic poise. “Do you like that?” she teased.

Jenny blew a kiss, kneeling in the sand and winking at the audience. “Hi~!”

“Mi—Mira?!” Liva’s voice cracked as she covered Cricket’s eyes. “What are you doing?!” And then it got worse. Much worse.

One after another, more and more women in bikinis appeared out of nowhere, joining in the madness. It was like an impromptu swimsuit festival, and the arena crowd was seconds away from losing its collective sanity.

“How can you expose yourself like that?!” Liva spluttered, cheeks burning. “This is supposed to be a fight! How ridiculous!”

Beside her, Cana slammed her drink down so hard the stone broke. “No way. I’m not letting those chicks hog our spotlight. Come on, Liva!”

“W-what?!” Liva stammered. “E-Ever, help me!”

But Evergreen was already striding confidently into the arena, fan snapping open, eyes glittering. “We’ll show those chicks how Fairy Tail does it.”

Liva’s panic doubled when Cana hooked an arm around her and hauled her forward. “Wait—WAIT! I’m not taking part in something like this!”

Her boots scraped against the stone floor as she dug her heels in, to no avail. Her thoughts spiraled. My scars… my back scars! Everyone will see them!
But her protests were drowned out by the deafening cheers as more Fairy Tail women began to pour into the arena. The “fight” had officially devolved into the games most outrageous chaos yet.

⚡️

Laxus froze when he saw Cana gleefully shove Liva straight into the arena. A flash of light — Requip! — and suddenly the women were standing there in bikinis, soaking in the crowd’s thunderous cheers.
Cana basked in the attention like it was her second skin. Liva, however, immediately stepped back, her body stiff, eyes darting as though she’d rather be anywhere else.

Laxus’s gaze snapped to her back. He knew. Hidden under that waterfall of blonde hair were the scars. Cruel reminders carved into her skin. The audience couldn’t see them from this distance. But for Liva, those scars weren’t invisible. They were screaming at her. And worst of all… Raven Tail was here too. Watching. Smirking from their lodge seats like hyenas.

Laxus’s blood boiled. At Raven Tail. At his bastard of a father. And at Cana, his guildmate, his friend, for pushing Liva into this spectacle without a second thought. His fists clenched; lightning flickered across his skin. He was seconds away from vaulting the railing, when a sudden blur shot past him.

Whump!

Cricket barreled into Liva’s back like a feathery cannonball, making her stumble forward. The griffin chirped something, flapping wildly. Liva blinked back at him. Then, so faint, so fragile, her lips curved into a smile. Just a little one. But it was real.

Laxus’s shoulders eased. He let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.
Next to him, Gajeel’s voice cut in, flat and bored. “What’s wrong with you? I didn’t think you were the jealous type.”

Laxus scowled, heat rising in his chest. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Yet, he offered no other explanation. How could he? The truth wasn’t jealousy. It was rage, pain and the unbearable sight of woman he cared— No, the woman he loved about being forced to expose her wounds.
But he wouldn’t say that out loud. Not until Liva herself talked openly about her scars. So he bit down on the words, let them mistake his silence for jealousy, and accepted the picture they painted: the image of Liva’s jealous boyfriend.

🌙

Liva looked around, her cheeks burning as if she’d been roasted over Natsu’s flames. Why… why did she have to take part in this ridiculous contest? Every part of her wanted to bolt, but it was too late, the magic had pulled her in.

And she could feel him. Laxus’s gaze. Heavy, burning, fixed on her like lightning drawn to a storm rod. Was he angry? Embarrassed? Or — gods forbid — was he actually okay with this nonsense?

Her mind spun treacherously. Would I be happy if my boyfriend strutted around in his underwear in front of thousands of women? …
Probably not. Her blush deepened to the tips of her ears.

And then the moderator’s voice thundered: “THE NEXT THEME IS: SCHOOL SWIMSUITS!”
The arena erupted in cheers that nearly shook the stands.

Requip magic flashed, and suddenly, Liva found herself crammed shoulder to shoulder between Levy and Wendy in identical navy-blue swimsuits. None of the three looked particularly thrilled.

“Why do we have to wear such a weird outfit?!” Levy groaned, arms crossed as she tried (and failed) to adjust the too-snug fabric. The irony wasn’t lost on Liva. Levy had walked into this willingly earlier, but now she was pouting like a sulky child.

Wendy, meanwhile, stared down at the sand, face flaming, hands clutching the hem of her swimsuit. “I-I don’t like this… it’s embarrassing. I don’t wanna be here…”

Liva’s heart twisted. Wendy was just a kid, this wasn’t fair.

“You look cute, Wendy,” Lisanna called encouragingly from the sidelines.

“That’s right,” Liva added quickly, crouching to Wendy’s height and forcing a smile. “The little bunny print on yours is adorable.”

Wendy peeked up at her. “R-Really?”

“Of course.”

But the girl still shook her head furiously, blue pigtails whipping. “I don’t feel comfortable at all!” she blurted.

Up in the stands, Laxus nearly toppled out of his lodge. His heart didn’t calm while his gaze drifted back to Liva. A few minutes ago, all his worry had been on her scars, her shame. But now… now it was something else entirely.

The swimsuit covered her back, but the way it hugged her figure—tight in all the wrong places, or maybe the right ones—made his throat dry. His jaw clenched as he looked away, then snapped back again against his better judgment.

Damn it.

“Does it have to be so tight?” he thought grimly, tugging his jacket as if it might shield him from the sight.

Beside him, Gajeel gave a sharp snort. “Oi, Lightning Rod. You’re drooling.”

“Shut the hell up,” Laxus growled, ears burning red.

“NEXT UP: BIKINIS WITH HIGH STOCKINGS!”

“Nooo!” Liva growled, thrashing against the magic circle of Requip, but she couldn’t escape. A flash of light later, and there she was, in stockings that climbed up her thighs and a bikini that left little else to the imagination.

Her face went scarlet. As a noblewoman, stockings had always been part of her wardrobe, hidden under layers of silk and lace. They were supposed to be secret, elegant. Dignified. But now thousands of strangers were staring, and it was with stockings and a bikini. Not even she had ever seen herself in such a combination. How humiliating!

She stiffened. Cricket tilted his head at her, big curious eyes fixed on her back, making sure, nobody would see through her waves of hair. 

Beside them, Lucy tugged at her own outfit and groaned. “Somehow this is even more embarrassing than just bikinis…”

“NEXT UP: GIRLS WITH GLASSES!”

The audience erupted into cheers. Liva, however, ground her teeth, summoned her magic, and crushed her glasses in one fist. “Forget it!”

Mira, on the other hand, delicately adjusted hers on the bridge of her nose, flashing a serene, sultry smile. “Hi~!” she purred, winking at the crowd. The stands went berserk. Men fainted. Even women screamed.

“How can anyone do something like that voluntarily?!” Liva gasped in horror, her voice cracking.

“CAT EARS!”

The entire arena filled with fluffy headbands in a shimmer of magic.
“Nya, I’m a cat!” Mira meowed sweetly, pawing at the air. The crowd’s cheers doubled.

Cricket let out a triumphant chirp. “Nya, nya!”
Liva whipped around. “Not you too, Cricket!” She yanked the cat-ear headband off his feathered head, but he just pouted.

“BONDAGE!”

The lights flared. Liva blinked down at herself.

What. The. Fuck.

In place of her swimsuit was a short, form-fitting leather suit, calf-high boots, and straps that clung tightly around her body. As expected, her breasts were pushed to the absolute limit. For a second she just stared, mouth open. Then her lips curved into a dangerous grin. “…Okay. This outfit actually has something going for it.”

She snapped the whip taut, the crack echoing through the arena. “Who’s brave enough to be enslaved by me?” Her eyes slid upward, directly to Laxus’s lodge.

Up in the stands, Laxus’s throat went dry. His entire body locked up, the air around him buzzing faintly with sparks.
He wasn’t a fan of bondage. Not his thing. Definitely not. And yet, when her eyes met his, whip in hand, his hand wanted to twitch upward.

“Oi.” Gajeel smirked at him, fangs bared. “Careful, Sparky. She might actually take you up on it.”
Laxus swore under his breath. One more comment and he would yank the guy into oblivion.

🌙

“The themes are getting crazier and crazier…” Macao and Wakaba peered over the edge into the arena.

“The next theme is: WEDDING DRESS! Find a partner and then slip into your wedding attire!”

Liva marveled at the fabric. She was no stranger to extravagant dresses. And as if the magic knew how hard Liva was to impress, it dressed her in an elegant white silk dress embellished with fine silver threads. It was a dress Liva had often seen on statues of her Lady Alyona. It was a wedding dress worthy of a goddess. For a moment, Liva thought Alyona might be playing a trick on her.

Her fingers brushed over the embroidery, and for a heartbeat the silver shimmered like living moonlight. She could almost hear a whisper: You were always meant to wear this. The thought made her spine tighten. No. this was just some ridiculous contest, nothing more. She forced herself to exhale.

Next to her, Mira giggled. “I’m sorry I had to drag you into this, Master,” she said, smiling apologetically at the man.

The man nodded and cleared his throat. “Well… That’s part of a master’s job,” Makarov said, looking at the floor. His face was red clear to his ears, and Mira couldn’t help but giggle louder. How cute the old man looked in that suit!

Behind Liva, Jet and Droy were already arguing over who would be Levy’s groom. Their voices overlapped in a jumble of “Pick me!” and “No way, she’s mine!” The blue-haired girl sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her gaze slid over to Gajeel, sprawled out on the floor, bored to death.

Wait a minute… Gajeel? Standing next to him was… Laxus?

She stared at him with wide eyes. The white-and-gold suit with a red tie looked damn good on him. Too good. The cut of it made him look like someone who belonged at the altar, not in the middle of some chaotic guild event.
Liva’s chest tightened as though someone had pulled the air straight out of her lungs. She had seen him beaten, shirtless, moaning in lust, but never like this. Never as if he were meant to be waiting for her.

The blond man had his arms crossed and was looking at Gajeel disapprovingly. “Really? You didn‘t dare go down there alone and now you‘re doing what? Nothing!”

“Shut up,” Gajeel growled, tugging at the stiff collar around his neck.

“Don’t you dare call me jealous again if you’re not better.” Laxus grumbled. “Come on, get up. Do you want Levy to come over and get you?”
The black-haired man muttered in embarrassment.

“Laxus?”

“Hm?” He turned around, his eyes widening as he looked at her.

“Are you okay?” Her mischievous eyes sparkled, and his gaze darted back to them as if caught off guard.

He swallowed and stepped closer, his usual confidence faltering for a heartbeat. “That’s a sight a man could get used to.” He lifted her chin with surprising gentleness. “You look beautiful.”

Liva blushed, warmth rising to her cheeks as she smiled softly. “You look very good, too.”

Like two idiots in love — which they absolutely were — they leaned in toward each other, the world fading around them. The noise of the guild, the crowd, everything seemed to hush, leaving only the pull between their lips. But before they could close the gap, a croaking voice cut through the air like a knife.

“It’s time for my entrance!”

The two froze mid-motion, eyes flicking upward along with the entire arena. Perched dramatically on top of one of the arena’s statues stood the old master of Lamia Scale.

With exaggerated flourish, she wagged her finger. “Ooba Babasama of Lamia Scale…” She posed as though the crowd had been waiting their whole lives for this moment. “I will show you all…” She leapt into the air with surprising agility. “What the true virtues of a woman are!”

Her long crimson gown fluttered dramatically, until it hit the ground with a dusty thud. What remained was… an elderly woman in a scandalous red swimsuit, swaying her hips with far too much pride and flushed cheeks.

The arena fell utterly silent. Spectators gasped in horror. Laxus and Liva, still frozen in their almost-kiss, just stared. Wide eyes. Gaping mouths.
And in a single, horrifying instant, the heated, romantic atmosphere that had enveloped the arena dissolved into absolute shock.

“All the excitement has gone down the drain with a single blow,” the announcer groaned over the loudspeakers. The moderators slumped, hanging their heads in collective disappointment. “All the troublemakers have lost interest and are returning to their seats.”

Laxus exhaled through his nose. “Come on, Liva. I’ll take you back to your seat.”

Liva stumbled after him, cheeks warm. “That’s not necessary.”

“It is.” He slowed, glancing back at her with a frown. “Are you okay? You’re walking… weird.”

“What? Oh!” She flushed and, with a huff, lifted the hem of her dress just enough to show him her high heels.

Laxus blinked at them. Then blinked again. “You’re taller.”

She nodded.

He squinted. “How can you even stand in those killer shoes?!”

“I can’t,” Liva admitted, right before wobbling backward.

He caught her instantly, grabbing her hand before she could tip over. The two of them looked ridiculous: Liva leaning at an impossible angle, heels betraying her every step, while Laxus held her steady with both hands like she was a clumsy ballerina on stilts.

He let out a long-suffering sigh, then scooped her up without hesitation. Liva’s eyes widened. “Oh, you don’t have to carry me,” she murmured, embarrassed.

“I’m happy to,” he whispered near her ear. Her lips curved into a small, shy smile. “Finish her off, Mira!” he called over his shoulder.

Mirajane, who had been watching them with starry eyes, squealed and shot them a dramatic thumbs-up. “You bet!”

Laxus carried Liva all the way to the Fairy Tail tribune. He could’ve set her down a dozen times, but he didn’t. His arms were steady, his steps slow, as if he wanted to stretch out every second. And Liva, who could have easily Requipped into something more comfortable, didn’t either. Instead she nestled against his chest, pretending her heels were the only reason she stayed put.

Their guildmates noticed, of course. A few wolf-whistles rang out, and Liva tried to hide her blush against Laxus’ shoulder. He smirked, clearly enjoying himself.

By the time they reached the grandstand, chaos had already broken out. Cana was wrestling with Evergreen’s corset like it was a cursed artifact. “Strange,” she muttered, yanking at the laces. “It just keeps getting tighter and tighter…”

Evergreen’s face was already purple. She waved a shaky hand. “N-Need… air!”

“Hang on, hang on,” Cana said, squinting at the stubborn garment. Then her gaze flicked up and caught Laxus and Liva in their rather compromising position. A slow grin spread across her face.

“Oi, Liva! Want me to help you out of yours, too?” she called, mischief dripping from her voice.

Liva nearly jumped out of Laxus’ arms, her face turning crimson. “B-Better not…” she stammered, trying to hide her burning cheeks with a polite smile.

Laxus just snorted, tightening his hold on her like he had no intention of letting go. “Yeah,” he rumbled, casting Cana a warning look, “don’t even think about it.”

Cana only laughed, but Evergreen let out a strangled wheeze that reminded everyone she was still suffocating. “Air!”

Soon, the battle between Mirajane and Jenny ended in a victory for Team B of Fairy Tail, finally putting them at an equal point count with Team A.

The next match pitted Yukino of Sabertooth against Kagura of Mermaid Heel. It was a clash of resolve and skill, but in the end, Yukino fell short. The gap in power was undeniable, yet her performance still drew admiration from the crowd. When the 13th Stellar Spirit’s key appeared, gasps echoed through the stands — a treasure few had ever seen before.

The arena buzzed with excitement. Cheers thundered, banners waved, and for the spectators, the day felt far from over. The games were finished for the day. The crowd roared as the rankings were tallied, and for once, the voices of Fairy Tail rose above all others. Unlike yesterday’s crushing disappointment, today they left the arena laughing, cheering, and brimming with renewed confidence.

And so, with victories and grudges both carried into tomorrow, the second day of the Grand Magic Games drew to a close.

🌙

Hours and many celebratory drinks later, the sun had slipped behind Crocus’ towers, bathing the city in warm gold and rose-colored light. The rooftops glowed with the last light. Lanterns flickered to life one by one.

Liva walked in silence beside Laxus, her steps measured, her shoulders finally easing after a day of roaring crowds and relentless tension. Cricket sat perched on her shoulder, unusually still, his tiny wings folded close as though he, too, sensed the weight of dusk. The day had been loud, chaotic, overwhelming, but here, in the quiet, the pulse of the city softened, as though Crocus itself exhaled. The shadows of buildings stretched across the cobblestones like the limbs of ancient giants settling in for sleep.

“Still thinking about today?” Laxus asked, his voice rough but quiet, carrying more concern than the words themselves.

She nodded, her gaze lingering on the last streaks of rose in the sky. “The fights were amazing. I never knew the Grand Magic Games were so breathtaking when seen with your own eyes. And… participating in that model contest… it was strange at first, but I have to admit, I enjoyed it in the end.”

A faint smirk tugged at Laxus’ mouth. “I enjoyed it too.”

She elbowed him lightly, teasing, though her cheeks warmed. “I hope you only looked at me. And my butt.”

He grinned openly now. “If you only knew, my eyes were glued to you.”

Her laugh rang high and bright, cutting through the hush of twilight, and for a fleeting moment, everything was perfect. The banter, the warmth in the air, the quiet rhythm of their footsteps side by side. Perfect — until it wasn’t.

Liva’s laughter died abruptly, her body stiffening mid-step. Her spine straightened like a bow pulled taut. Something brushed against her mind — not sound, not touch, but magic. A pressureless ripple across her consciousness, subtle yet undeniable. A presence. One she recognized. One she could never forget.

Laxus slowed, his instincts flaring as he caught her change. His eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows. “You feel that?”

The air seemed to shiver, not colder, not heavier, but altered — like glass struck with a single note that lingered just beyond hearing. Lantern flames flickered, though no breeze touched them.

Liva’s breath caught. The familiarity of it rooted her in place. It wasn’t hostile, not exactly. But it wasn’t comforting either. It was like being watched from across a vast gulf — a gaze that was both tender and terrible, too large for a human heart to hold.

“Liva.” Laxus’ voice was sharper now, edged with warning.

Her eyes widened, her pulse racing. She couldn’t stop herself. She turned her head toward the direction it pulled her — a thread of silver in her chest tugging, insistent, inexorable. And then she ran.

Chapter Text

Warm. Gentle. Woven with light, threaded with darkness. Unrelenting. Raven Tail? No, definitely not. This was something else. Something older.

“Moonlight,” Liva whispered. Her heart skipped. “She’s here…” The moment she spoke, the presence snapped back, pulling away, fast. Her head jerked to the side. “Wait!” she cried, and took off running.

“Liva!” Laxus called, already chasing her. But she didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her entire being was locked onto the trace.

Her boots slammed against cobblestones. The city blurred past — shadows and lamplight, forgotten stalls and hanging laundry — none of it mattered. Only the trail. It pulled at her like a thread, tugging through the streets, weaving between alleys and rooftops like it wanted her to follow, yet feared her catching up.

She tore through an archway, ducked under a crumbling bridge. Behind her, a clap of thunder. Laxus was jumping between rooftops, using his lightning to keep up.

The presence shifted again. South. Toward the old market.
“They’re running from me,” she muttered under her breath, breathless, stunned. “Why would they—?” She didn’t know why she was chasing it. Only that she had to. The goddess never appeared without meaning. And Liva trusted her. Always had.

She darted left. The buildings closed in. She turned hard again, faster, sharper. Cricket chirped and gripped her shoulder fur with all four paws to stay on. The next alley was a crack in the stone — too narrow for Laxus. She didn’t hesitate.

A crate. A leap. A drainpipe. She scaled the wall like a memory of herself. Fast, fluid, silent. Rooftop. Sprint. She felt the presence spike again, closer.
Liva vaulted the last building, heart in her throat, landed hard right in front of the runner. The figure stumbled back, nearly crashing into her. Their hood fell. And her world froze.

Tall. Lean. Hair pale as moonlight now, braided back. Older, no longer a boy. But she knew him. Of course she did.
Her lips parted, and the name rose from somewhere deep in her soul. “Leander.”

A split second later, a crack of thunder lit the alley as Laxus arrived behind her, boots crunching on tile. He stopped cold, eyes narrowing.
Liva didn’t move. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Leander — her brother — didn’t speak. His mouth opened. Then shut. Then opened again. His eyes dropped.

Coward.

Liva’s voice cut the silence like a blade. “Did you just run from me?”

He flinched.

“After vanishing for years? After leaving us — leaving me?” Her voice was rising, brittle and furious and broken all at once.

Still nothing from him.

“Say something!” she barked. Then she didn’t wait. Her fist connected with his face in a clean, sharp punch — the kind that echoed between stone walls and carried the weight of years behind it.

Leander stumbled back, catching himself against the alley wall. He blinked, stunned, and actually… nodded. “I guess, I deserved that,” he said quietly, a hand to his cheek.

Laxus stepped forward, placing a hand on Liva’s shoulder, not to hold her back, just to ground her. “Who the hell is he?”

She didn’t look away from Leander. “My brother.”

“Oh.” The surprise was clear in Laxus’ voice. He eyed Leander again — and now that he looked closer, he saw it. The eyes. The mouth. The scent. The echoes of Liva in him. “I see.” Cricket gave a low, uneasy chirp.

Leander finally spoke. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shut up,” Liva snapped. Her voice had dropped into something colder. Deadly.

The silver fury in her eyes shimmered again — the same fury that once razed Raven Tail‘s enemy’s to ash. But now it wasn‘t gruelty. It was grief. A pain too sharp to scream. “You don’t get to talk. Not yet.”

Laxus brushed her back gently. A reminder: don’t let the rage consume you.

Leander’s gaze flicked to him, tense. He clearly recognized the dragon slayer. Knew he was outmatched.

But Liva didn’t move. “I should beat the shit out of you for what you did. For leaving. For abandoning our family.” Then, her voice dropped. “But I won’t.” Even Laxus looked sideways at her.
“Because if I do… I won’t get answers.” She took a shaky breath. “So talk. Why did you run and never look back?”

Leander looked like he wanted to bolt again. But he didn’t. He swallowed. His hands flexed uselessly at his sides. “Because I had to.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not an answer. That’s an excuse.”

“I didn’t leave because of you,” he said. “At first, I left our hometown because of him. Father.”

That made her freeze. “What?”

“He wanted me to marry that Althwyn girl. Become a Viscount. Play the noble puppet,” he said bitterly. “I wanted none of it. I wanted to study magic. Travel. Live my own damn life.” She stared at him, disbelieving.

“I joined the Magic Council, it was my own way of rebellion. I started in the archives. Sorting. Copying. But I enjoyed it, far away from those snobby aristocrats. Then I found… her.”

“Her?”

Leander looked up, reverence in his eyes. “Alyona.” Liva gasped and stiffened beside Laxus, which got her a strange look from the lightning mage.

“She’s a goddess. Forgotten, but not dead. Dreams. Moonlight. Memory Those are her domains.” His gaze met hers, and suddenly his eyes shone with knowledge. “But you know that already,” he said softly.

Suddenly Liva turned to Laxus, her voice firm. “Laxus… I need a minute with him. Alone.”

He looked between them, clearly not liking the idea. “What? Why?“

„I … need to speak with him alone.“

Laxus’ brows furrowed, while he was debating an answer.

„Please.“

He sighed. „Fine. But if anything happens, call for me, okay?“

„Sure.“

Laxus looked between the siblings. One very sad, the other ready for murder. „Just … don’t kill him, will you?”, he tried to joke.

“Can‘t guarantee anything” she muttered humourlessly.

He sighted. „The tavern isn’t far from here, we will wait there for you.“ Laxus whistled for Cricket and walked off, down the street, his shoulders tense.

Leander watched him go, then glanced back at Liva with a ghost of a smile. “An interesting guy.”

“He’s my boyfriend. So be careful what you say,” she snapped.

Leander blinked. “Your… boyfriend? What about Anthony?”

“Anthony’s my past,” she said, voice sharp as glass. “Now talk.”

„Uh, yes.“ He cleared his throat. “Alyona’s name was buried in the council archives. I found it. And when I did… she spoke to me.”

Liva inhaled sharply. “She did … what?”

“She called out for me,” Leander said softly. “Said I was her Chosen. That through me, she could grow stronger again. Her last Chosen and strongest believer had died centuries ago.”

Liva’s blood ran cold.

“Calomene,” he whispered. “She told me about you.” Her head snapped toward him. “She showed me who you were. Who you are. Who you’ve always been.”

⚡️

The crowd noise dulled behind him, swallowed by the winding streets of Crocus, but Laxus still heard it, the echo of her voice, the fragile note it had carried when she’d chosen to stay behind with that guy.

He glanced over his shoulder once, long enough to catch the faint glow of lantern-light where he’d left Liva standing. Her silhouette looked small against the stranger at her side, though Laxus supposed he wasn’t a stranger anymore. Leander. Her so-called brother.

Laxus ground his teeth and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. Every muscle in his body screamed to turn back, to yank her out of reach, to plant himself between her and the man who’d abandoned her in the first place. But Liva had looked him in the eye and told him to go. That look had been steady, stronger than she realized, and it left him no choice but to respect it.

Didn’t mean he had to like it.

Hell, he didn’t trust the guy. A brother who vanished when she was more child than adult, left her to crawl through Raven Tail’s hellhole, and then — what? — shows up years later in Crocus like nothing happened? Starts throwing around excuses about their father, like it could amend any faults he did? And that nonsense about that woman Alyona?

Laxus’ mouth twisted. “Some woman named Alyona,” he muttered under his breath. “Who the hell is that chick anyway?”

A goddess, apparently. Or so Leander claimed her to be. Laxus didn’t put much faith in gods. Not once in his lifetime had a god shown him mercy or helped him. And he’d met enough humans with power, who acted like gods, to know nobody was worth kneeling and praying to. And he sure as hell wasn’t about start now.

The street stretched ahead in gentle curves, lanterns swaying from poles like little drops of captured starlight. The Grand Magic Games were celebrated in the whole city. Hundreds of stands could be found on any street, musicians played, some danced, others drank.

Festival streamers clung to gutters, scraps of paper and confetti crunching under his boots. But he noticed, the raucous celebration that had flooded Crocus all day was winding down slowly. Only a few dozens of people wove through the streets, laughter spilling out of tavern doors before fading into the hush of night.

It was almost peaceful. Too peaceful for the storm clawing inside his chest.

“Grumpy… big… Laxus!” The words piped up from knee-height, warped and chirped, and Laxus stopped mid-step.

Cricket was waddling along the cobblestones beside him, chest puffed out, wings tucked primly to his sides as though he was trying to copy Laxus’ long-strided gait. Every few steps the little griffin gave a dramatic huff through his tiny beak, mimicking Laxus’ sighs. His golden-brown feathers caught the lantern-light, his tiny lion tail dragging slightly behind him.

Laxus turned his head slowly, glaring down at him. The griffin blinked up innocently. Tilted his head. And then he grinned.

“…Tch, shut it, before I send you flying,“ but despite the harsh words, his tone was soft and warm. The corner of Laxus’ mouth twitched before he could stop it. Dumb bird. He shoved his eyes forward again, refusing to give Cricket the satisfaction of a full smile.

But his shoulders eased just a little, the heaviness in his chest lifting.

They walked like that for a stretch, the man and the griffin, their shadows trailing long and crooked across the cobblestones. Laxus had never been the type for pets or sidekicks, like the Exceeds were, for that matter. But he will be damed, if the little thing wasn’t growing on him.

He was halfway through that reluctant admission when a blur of feathers shot toward a street stall. “Oi—” Laxus barked, too late.

Cricket’s claws scrabbled on the wood of the counter, his beak darting toward a row of skewered meat sizzling over a small brazier. The vendor let out a startled yell, swatting with a rag. Cricket flapped backward in a flurry of wings, clutching one half-chewed skewer triumphantly in his beak.

“Thief!” the vendor snapped, pointing at the griffin. “You pay for that!”

Cricket squeaked and darted behind Laxus’ leg, feathers ruffled, tail puffed. His big eyes peered out from the safe shadow of Laxus’ coat.

Laxus pinched the bridge of his nose. Perfect. Just what he needed. “Relax,” he muttered, digging into his pocket. He slapped a few jewels onto the counter, more than enough to cover the stolen meat. “He’s with me.”

The vendor grumbled but pocketed the coins.

Laxus shot a glare downward. “You’re worse than Bickslow,” he said flatly.

Cricket just chirped, utterly unrepentant, and chomped down on the skewer. Grease slicked his beak as he chewed noisily. After a few happy gulps, he looked up at Laxus and crooned, “Good Laxus.”

The big man sighed through his nose. Still, when Cricket fluttered up onto his shoulder a minute later, nestling into the crook of his neck with satisfied little burbles, Laxus didn’t shove him off. The griffin was warm, his tiny claws surprisingly gentle where they curled into the fabric of Laxus’ coat.

He’d never admit it out loud, but… he liked the company.

Better than walking alone with his thoughts, anyway. Thoughts that circled back to the same damn point no matter how far he tried to shove them. Liva, standing beside that brother who hadn’t been there when she needed him most. Liva, holding herself tall like she was fine, when Laxus knew she was still hurt and bleeding on the inside.

He couldn’t protect her from everything. He knew that. But leaving her tonight felt too much like failure.

The street narrowed as he turned the last corner. Ahead, the glow of lanterns spilled onto the cobblestones, warm and noisy compared to the quiet path he and Cricket had walked. The faint smell of ale and roasting meat clung to the air, and even before the inn came into view, Laxus could already hear raised voices. Half laughter, half shouting.

Cricket’s tufted ears perked up, golden eyes gleaming. He gave a little “Hoo!” and flapped his wings, like he already knew the source.

Laxus exhaled through his nose. “Figures.” 

🌙

Leander paused after his words, his sister stared at him with horror. „You know everything?“

„Yes, I do. She told me about your past life.“

The woman shook her head. „Wha— No …“

He stepped closer to her. “Liva, please, believe me. Hear me out.“ She looked at him. „I wanted to stop it,” he said. “Everything. Raven Tail. Your pain. The horror. But Alyona told me… it was the price.“

Her brows furrowed. „The price? For what?“

He searched for words. „You made a wish, didn’t you? And for it to come true, there was only one way. You had to suffer to regain that dragon lacrima, Liva. Or else you’d never awaken. Never regain your power. Or your memories.”

Liva shook her head slowly, disbelieving. “So you… and Lady Alyona … you both knew and let me walk through hell?”

His voice cracked. “So you could rise.” But it sounded hollow. Even to him. 

Liva stared at him, like he was a stranger. Or maybe, for the first time, like she truly saw him. She stood still. Too still. The wind caught her hair. Somewhere far away, some people laughed happily. “I see,” she said hollow.

Leander flinched. Not because of her words, but because there was no rage in it. No fire. Just tiredness. And this was worse.

“I thought I was cursed to die there,” she said. “When Raven Tail took me in. When they tortured me. When they buried me in chains and told me I was nothing.” Her eyes met his. „But it wasn’t a curse, was it?”

“No,” he said, voice breaking. “It was—”

“A choice.” Her voice cut him off, not cruel, not loud, but heavy. “Mine. Yours. Hers.”

⚡️

The Thunder God Tribe was waiting infront of the inn. And they hadn’t exactly been waiting quietly. Right in front of the door, the chaos was in full swing.

Evergreen had Bickslow by the collar, shaking him so violently his helmet rattled like a tambourine. “You absolute idiot! What part of ‘mind your own business’ did you not understand?!”

Bickslow, half-choking, half-cackling, waved his hands helplessly. “C’mon, Ever, lighten up! I was just trying to set you up with—”

Her glasses flashed. “Don’t. You. Finish that sentence.”

Fried stood nearby with arms crossed, expression tight but eyes betraying his annoyance. “Do you two have to make a spectacle every time we arrive somewhere?”

Evergreen snapped back without letting go of Bickslow. “If he kept his mouth shut for five minutes, I wouldn’t have to!”

Bickslow tried to wiggle free, still laughing. “You gotta admit, Ever, I’ve got good instincts—”

Cricket suddenly mimicked his raspy voice perfectly: “Good instincts!”

Both Evergreen and Bickslow froze. “…Did… did your weird dolls just talk?” Evergreen demanded, eyes narrowing.

Bickslow’s grin widened. “Nope. That was our little boy.”

They all turned to Cricket, who puffed up proudly on Laxus’s shoulder. “Bick-slow! Dumb!” he declared with glee.

Evergreen actually barked a laugh and, caught off guard, released Bickslow. He stumbled back, gasping for air, while Fried pinched the bridge of his nose. “We are going to get thrown out of this inn before we even set foot inside.”

Laxus finally strode up, towering over them. “You’re loud enough to wake the whole damn street.”

“Laxus!” Bickslow beamed, still laughing. “Did you hear that bird? He roasted me better than Ever could!” He took Cricket off Laxus‘ shoulder, holding him up high like a price. „I taught you so well!“

“Not a bird. Griffin,” Evergreen corrected automatically, adjusting her glasses.

“Griffin! Griffin!” Cricket echoed, his wings fluttering in Bickslow‘s hands.

Freed sighed. “Wonderful. Now Bickslow has trained himself a chaotic owl-griffin.”

Laxus ran a hand down his face, grumbling. “This is what I get for leaving you idiots unsupervised.”

“Aw, admit it,” Bickslow grinned. “You missed us.”

Cricket hooted mischievously, “Missed us!”

Laxus’s scowl didn’t fade, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Damn it, maybe he had. It had been a long day without his best friends. „Come on, you idiots, let‘s go inside.“

🌙

The silence stretched long. Then, after a while, Liva took a breath, sharp and unsteady. “Long ago, I prayed to Alyona. I was dying back then.“

Leander winced. The thought of his dying sister terrified him.

„I had lost the love of my life, Kairos, because a friend of ours had betrayed us. I had lost comrades, so many, I already had lost count. I begged Alyona to give me a second chance. Back then, I didn‘t know, what that would mean.” A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “She listened, but gods don’t grant wishes for free. Not even the goddess of wishes and dreams herself.”

Leander’s hands curled into fists. “If I could’ve taken your place—”

“But you didn’t,” she snapped. The first crack in her voice, the first showing of her rising fury. “You didn’t even try. You vanished. You let our family think you were dead. At what cost?!”

“Please, believe me. I only wanted to protect you.”

“No!” she snapped. “You wanted to believe you were doing the right thing. That letting me suffer meant something greater. That it would make you… noble.” She took a step back, and the hurt in her eyes cut deeper than any blade.
“And maybe you were right. Maybe I did need to break to become who I am today. But don’t you dare act like that makes it okay!”

Leander’s mouth opened, but no words came. His throat worked around something that refused to leave. Guilt. Sorrow. The kind of grief that rotted from the inside out.
But Liva had no patience left for his excuses or his reasons. She needed to calm-the-fuck-down or else Calomene’s fury would do something terrible to her own brother.

Her hands trembled at her sides, curled into fists. She turned on her heel, hair snapping like a whip and stalked down the alley.

“Liva, wait—”

“Don’t.” Her voice was sharp enough to cut. “You’ve said enough.”

The words hit him harder than her fist had. Leander’s chest caved around them, heavy and raw, but he didn’t move. Didn’t follow. He stood there, alone in the shadows, watching her leave.

Liva’s boots struck the stones in a harsh rhythm. One step. Two. Three—

She slammed face-first into something solid. The impact jolted her, and pain sparked across the bridge of her nose. She hissed, clutching it with both hands. “Ow! What the—?!” Her head snapped back toward him, fury reigniting. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Leander blinked, startled. “Me? I didn’t—”

But she didn’t let him finish. She pivoted and darted the other way, only to crash against the same invisible barrier. This time, the shock knocked her a step backward. Leander stood in alarm, eyes narrowing.

“What in the seven hells—?” Liva snarled, her palm pressed flat against the unseen wall. It hummed faintly under her touch, a ripple of energy pulsing like a heartbeat. And then: symbols. Lines of light crawled across the barrier, curling, looping, forming sigils that shimmered pale against the night. Dozens of them. Runes, linked together in an old text, climbing the alley walls, sealing the exits above and below.

Leander’s eyes widened. “Runes…”

Her breath hitched. Recognition flashed in her silver gaze. “This… this is like Fried’s enchantments.” Only stronger. More dangerous.

The runes flared again, casting their faces in ghostly glow.

Leander stepped closer, confusion twisting his features. “I swear to you, this isn’t my doing. I don’t know this magic.”

Liva stared at the wall of sigils, her chest rising and falling in short, furious bursts. She wanted to scream at him, hit him again, break through, but she couldn’t ignore what her instinct was whispering. This really wasn’t his doing.

Her voice came low, bitter. “Then who did it?!”

Silence pressed down on them both, the runes burning like watchful eyes. Neither sibling had an answer.

And then the devil himself came.

From the shadows, a slow, deliberate clap echoed. “Touching,” a voice drawled. “Truly touching. Little Liva, finally reunited with her long-lost brother. How… quaint.”

Liva’s breath caught in her throat. She froze where she stood, every muscle locking as though chains had snapped back into place. Her heart hammered so violently it hurt. That voice, she knew it too well. It crawled over her skin like poison.

Ivan Dreyar stepped out of the darkness, his grin a knife in the dim light. “Did you miss me, little girl?”

Chapter Text

Liva couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Her throat constricted. The walls seemed to close in, the night pressing down until her vision blurred. For a moment, she was back in Raven Tail’s hideout, back in the suffocating grip of his shadow. Her hands trembled at her sides, useless.

Leander’s voice cut through the haze. “Ivan.” His body shifted instinctively, stepping in front of her, shielding her from view. “So it was you. The invisible barrier was your work.”

Ivan gave a mock bow. “Guilty. I thought my little runaway deserved a proper welcome home.” His eyes flicked to Liva, sharp and predatory. “Though, judging by that pathetic shaking, I see she hasn’t changed much. Still weak. Still mine.”

Liva flinched. The word mine pierced like a brand pressed to old scars.

“Shut your mouth,” Leander snapped, his voice low and dangerous. “She isn’t yours. She never was.”

Ivan chuckled, slow and grating. “How endearing. The protective brother act. Where were you when she was begging for mercy, hmm? When she was clawing at the floor just for the privilege of breathing? You abandoned her. I owned her.”

“Stop!” The word burst from Liva, strangled, half-sob. She clutched her arms to her chest, nails digging into her skin. Her legs threatened to buckle.

Ivan’s gaze slid back to her, cold amusement curling his lips. “There it is. That pretty little voice I trained into obedience. Look at you, shaking like a leaf. And yet…” His grin widened, venomous. “…you still had time to whore yourself to my son.” Liva’s stomach lurched, bile rising. Her knees hit the cobblestone, but she bit back a cry.

“Don’t you dare,” Leander growled, fury bleeding into every word. “Don’t you dare speak about her like that.”

Ivan tilted his head, smirk never fading. “Oh, but it’s true. My boy always did have poor taste. Picking up strays. Broken things. Tools meant to be sharpened, used and not,” he sneered, “loved.”

Leander stepped forward, fists clenched, his presence radiating fury. “Say one more word. One more. And I swear, I will end you here and now.”

Ivan’s eyes glittered. “Such fire. But you forget, you’re standing on my ground.” The runes flickered ominous. “That girl belongs to me. She will always belong to me. And you can’t protect her from that.”

Behind Leander, Liva’s breath came in ragged gasps. Her body shook, but beneath the terror, something darker coiled. Hatred. A spark of Calomene’s fire, buried but not extinguished. For the first time, she lifted her gaze from the ground and looked at Ivan. Her lips parted. No words yet, just a trembling defiance that hadn’t been there before.

Ivan sneered. “What’s with that look?” Suddenly air thickened. Shadows curled along the walls like black serpents, the sigils of the invisible wall burning faintly with a sickly glow. Liva wasn’t sure, if those were real or one of Ivan’s illusions, but the pressure in her chest was real. She staggered, choking her breath, as if unseen hands had found her throat. She couldn‘t breathe.

Ivan chuckled low. “Oh, still so fragile, you weak girl. You remember, don’t you? What it means to obey. What it means to belong to me. So tell me, who is your Master?”

Liva’s eyes went wide, panic flooding her veins. She clutched her throat, gasping, the sound breaking out of her in short, frantic breaths. Even if she had wanted to answer him, she couldn't have.

Leander’s voice cut through, rough with fury. “Enough. You lay one more curse on her and I’ll carve you apart.”

Ivan tilted his head, amused. “Carve me apart? In my chamber? Look around, boy. The runes are mine. The air is mine. Even her breath is mine to give or take.”

The pressure tightened. Liva dropped to her knees, her fingers clawing at the stone as if digging for air. Her mind screamed to fight, to move, but terror froze her limbs.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Leander roared, stepping forward, hands blazing with magic.

Ivan’s grin spread like a blade. “Ah… so protective. Funny. Where was all this fire when you left her behind to rot in my care?”

Leander flinched, the words slicing deeper than any spell. His jaw clenched. “I will never abandon her again.”

“Liar.” Ivan’s voice was velvet and venom. “She’s nothing but a thing. A tool. A weapon. And you,” his eyes slithered toward Liva, who trembled under his gaze, “you dare to crawl to my son’s bed? Filthy, worthless little whore.”

Liva’s stomach dropped, nausea rising like bile. The insult sank into her like poisoned fangs and yet, underneath the panic, something else stirred again. The hot, old anger. Rage. The memory of chains, of blood, of vows whispered under moonlight. Her breath hitched and a faint glow began to shimmer along her skin.

Leander noticed. His eyes hardened. “She is not yours. She was never yours.”

Ivan’s smile sharpened. “Then let’s test that theory, shall we?”

He snapped his fingers and the rune chamber convulsed. The walls trembled, the sigils flared brighter and the air itself crushed down on them like an iron fist. Leander staggered, but threw up a magical barrier to hold the pressure back.

“Stay behind me, Liva!” he barked, but even as he said it, Liva’s magic cracked loose. 

A burst of silver light erupted from her chest — a half-formed Lunar Nova. It slammed against the walls, destabilising the runes, making them flicker. The suffocating grip slackened for a heartbeat.

Ivan’s head snapped toward her, grin twisting. “Ahhh. You think you have fire? But you’re still trembling, aren’t you?” He stepped forward, shrugging off the blast as if it were smoke. “You think power changes anything? You’ll always break for me.”

Leander lunged at him, fist glowing with moon light, but Ivan’s shadows met him, slamming him into the wall. The crack of bones echoed. Leander coughed blood, but he forced himself back up. 

Liva cried out, reaching toward her brother, but Ivan was faster. A wave of black energy lashed her aside, sending her sprawling across the cobblestones. Her silver light sputtered, fragile against the crushing dark. Blood dripped onto the street, like rain on a summer‘s day.

“Damn, we’re at disadvantage in this room,” Leander huffed.

His sister stood. “I don’t care,” she finally managed to mumble some words. “I don’t give up.”

Leander looked at her. “Then we’ll fight.” They both nodded at each other.

“Cute,” Ivan commented, obviously bored by them.

“Shut up!” They both jumped forward, attacking the older mage. The fight dragged on, brutal, but still unbalanced. Leander struck again and again, but the runes warped around Ivan’s will. Liva tried her best to join, her magic lashing out like the claws of a dragon, but every strike seemed swallowed by the shadows.

Since when was he a master of rune and shadow magic, she wondered. Yes, he was very strong, but he must’ve had backup from the sidelines. Someone assisted him from the dark. That fucking bastard.

No matter, how hard the siblings tried, they always clashed back onto the ground. Each hit making more damage on their body and their magic resources. Within minutes, Leander’s lip was split, blood soaking his collar, but the pain in his bones was worse. Liva’s side bled where she’d been hit by the shadow whip. Both were barely standing. The fight was so one-sided that Liva nearly felt embarrassed.

Ivan’s laughter filled the ally like a noose tightening. “Pathetic. Both of you.” His gaze locked on Liva. “But I didn’t come to kill you.” His eyes gleamed, cruel and hungry. “I came to take you back.”

A vertical magic circle appeared beside him. Liva knew exactly what that was. “A teleportation spell,” her own voice sounded so weak, even to her own ears. Pathetic, little weakling, she told herself.

“Teleportation?” Leander tried to stand up, but failed terribly. 

“The spell is bedded into on of his rings.” Fucking expensive stuff.

Suddenly, Ivan’s paper figures whipped forward, like tendrils, they grasped Liva’s legs. They dragged her towards Ivan.

“No—!” Liva screamed, her nails scraping the stones as she clawed for purchase, boots skidding uselessly. The paper figures’ pull were merciless. Her chest burned with panic, her vision blurring.

Ivan’s hand shot out, tangling in Liva’s hair. He yanked her toward the portal. His voice dripped like poison. “Come home, pet.” 

⚡️

Laxus leaned back in his chair, one last drink before him, a warm dish still steaming at his side. Evergreen, Bickslow, and Cricket were making their usual racket, but at least it wasn’t as bad as earlier out in front of the tavern. He let them be.

Instead, his gaze drifted to Fried, who was sipping coffee like a man clinging to the last shred of energy. “What happened to you? You look terrible.”

Fried set the cup down with deliberate care, his expression composed but lined with fatigue. “It’s been… a long day. We were assigned to watch over the infirmary during the Games.”

Laxus frowned. “Yeah. Gramps mentioned something about that mess.”

Apparently, during the first matches, a group of mercenaries had broken into the infirmary and tried to kidnap Wendy, Carla and Porlyusica. Natsu, still recovering from Chariot, had been asleep there, but when he woke and found the room empty, he instantly caught the unfamiliar scent. He’d managed to rescue the three, before the mercenaries escaped. When questioned, the mercenaries confessed they’d been hired by Raven Tail to abduct Lucy. But they‘d mixed her up with the others. It was sloppy work, strange even. Laxus wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Bickslow slid onto a chair next to Laxus, grinning crookedly. “Bunch of idiots, huh? Kidnapping the wrong girl.”

“Still, idiots with dangerous orders,” Freed cut in, voice sharper than usual, though exhaustion dulled the bite.

“Well,” Bickslow snorted, “Lucy would’ve screamed their ears off. Instead they nabbed Porlyusica? Bet the old hag would‘ve skinned ’em alive, if she had the chance.”

Laxus didn’t join in the laughter. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on his hands. “Something stinks,” he muttered.

It wasn’t unlike Raven Tail to go after their people, his father knew every weak spot Fairy Tail had. But the method was sloppy, too obvious. Ivan was usually more cunning than that. But the other problem was, if his father really was willing to target guildmates this directly, then… Liva could be next.

She was strong, yes. But he knew how much fear still lingered inside her, no matter how hard she tried to bury it. And that was fine. Fear was human. As her boyfriend — and her friend —, his job was to protect her. To make her feel safe. That was his self-proclaimed purpose.

“Did you tell Liva?” he asked, finally looking at Fried.

Fried shook his head. “Not yet. You?”

“No.” Laxus took a long sip from his glass. “Didn’t want to ruin her day. She was so damn happy watching the Games. Smiled the whole time.” A faint curve tugged at his mouth at the memory.

“Aw, look at that,” Bickslow teased, smirk creeping back. “Laxus Dreyar, the softie. Someone write that down.”

“Shut up,” Laxus muttered, but he didn’t deny it.

Evergreen leaned her chin into her palm, eyes glittering. “At this rate, we should start betting on who says it first. Liva or you.” Cricket chirped from the rafters, like he was casting his vote too.

“What do you mean?” Laxus growled, but there was no bite.

“Well, of course the holy three words,” Bickslow chuckled.

Fried, still nursing his tea, sighed. “If only you were half as honest with yourself as you are with us.”

Laxus blinked. The three words? Oh, they meant „I love you“? “Well …” He scratched at his neck. “…About that.” The table went dead quiet.

“No way,” Evergreen shot up, eyes wide. “You already told her?!”

Fried just nodded. “Progress at last. Good for you.”

Bickslow gawked. “What? When? How? Where the hell were we?!”

“Calm down,” Laxus said, rolling his eyes. “I get to have a private life, you know.”

“Tell us!” they barked in unison, practically ready to leap over the table.

He leaned back, caught off guard by their sudden attack. “Whoa, easy.”

“When, Laxus, when?” Evergreen’s glasses flashed, eyes gleaming like a threat. “Tell me or I’ll petrify you.”

“Really?” he deadpanned. “That’s our friendship to you?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

He sighed defeated. Since when have they become worse than a gossip magazine? “Yesterday. While you lot were too busy drinking yourselves under the table.”

Bickslow started to grin. “Oh, so when you both walked up to the second flo—” Laxus’ glare cut him off mid-sentence. “…Never mind.”

But Evergreen didn‘t step back. „And how did you tell her? What did you say?“

Laxus sighted. „She told me first and then I told her.“ The others blinked at him. “Happy now?” Laxus asked Evergreen.

“Hardly. You’re a terrible storyteller.“ The woman groaned dramatically. „I’ll just ask Liva later.” 

Their banter melted into light conversations, the kind of easy camaraderie that patched up every wound. They talked about the day, about the fights, about things happened in the past. It was comfortable, after the last few days were filled with their own everyday-disaster. They enjoyed the calm the silence. Then the air shifted. 

Cold. Heavy. Pressing in like a shadow with teeth.

Laxus’ spine stiffened instantly, instincts crackling to life. He was on his feet before he even realised, his eyes narrowing toward the door. Fried’s hand twitched toward his sword. Evergreen froze mid-adjustment of her glasses. Bickslow sat up, grin long gone.  Even Cricket went silent, feathers fluffed, golden eyes wide. The ominous aura pressed against the inn’s walls, sharp and suffocating.

Laxus’ magic sparked under his skin, muscles coiled, ready. Whoever, or whatever, it was, it wasn’t friendly.

“…You feel that?” His voice was low, dangerous.

No one had to answer. The silence spoke louder. Then, a high scream split the night.

🌙

Liva’s body froze. The fear hit her like ice, locking her limbs, making her breath vanish. Her heart pounded, but her body would not move.

No. No, she didn’t want to go with him. Not back to Raven Tail, not back to those terrible people and their torturing methods. No, no!
She wanted to scream Laxus’ name, to cry for help, but every word in her throat stuck. Weak, weak, fucking weak.

“Liva!” Leander’s voice cut through, ragged with desperation. He saw her slipping, the ominous aura of the portal swallowing her inch by inch. His chest heaved and in that second, his choice was made. “I won’t fail you again, sister,” he whispered.

He raised his hand — his last spell trembling with power. In the instant Ivan pulled her fully into the portal, Leander’s magic flared. A teleportation sigil seared under their feet and in a flash of blinding light, he suddenly switched places with her.

Ivan’s grip closed on Leander instead. The grin faltered, shock flashing across his features. “What—?” The portal snapped shut, swallowing them both.

Liva hit the ground, gasping, freed. Her trembling hands clawed at the empty air where her brother had been.

“NO!”

Her scream tore the silence apart, raw and shattering. She reached, but there was nothing left, only shadows closing, the rune chamber trembling as the last of Ivan’s magic dissolved. The alley fell quiet. Too quiet. And Liva collapsed to her knees on the cobblestones, then she screamed.

⚡️

The screaming tore through the night like a blade. Laxus froze for a heartbeat, every muscle coiling. Then recognition hit him, sharp and raw. That voice belonged to Liva.

No thought, no hesitation. The instincts kicked in. His chair toppled, his drink sloshed onto the floor, forgotten. His shoes pounded loudly on the wooden planks as he flung open the door, lightning crackling along his skin, awakening. He didn’t run; he surged, like a thunderstorm, a streak of raw energy, toward her screaming voice.

“Liva!” he called out for her, but even that was swallowed by the night.

Behind him, Fried, Evergreen, Bickslow, and Cricket followed, their faces etched with shock and fear, scrambling to keep up with the force of his speed. Cricket flapped furiously, feathers bristling, but didn’t dare speak, the urgency in Laxus’ movements silenced even him.

By the time they reached the scene, the last remnants of a rune wall shimmered and faded into the night air, the faint traces of magic dissolving as if scorched by some invisible flame. Fried’s eyes widened at the patterns, instinctively looking out for more rune traps. Evergreen’s hand hovered over her glasses, and even Bickslow stopped grinning long ago, now a dangerous expression on his face. 

They didn’t know the mage responsible for this, but the malevolence was undeniable. The stench of dark magic clung to the alley, bitter and choking.

And there she was. Kneeling, trembling, fresh blood covering her skin, her fists thundering on the cobblestones. Her screams and cries tore out into the darkness, raw and unbridled, each one splitting Laxus’ chest in two. She had clearly fought. She had clearly suffered.

As is ran to her, hundreds emotions rushed through him. Rage surged first, fiery and uncontrollable. His first instinct was to blame Leander, because who else was at fault here? He was the last person alone with Liva. How could a brother — any brother — do this to her? She was obviously hurt, the blood was her own. He would kill that bastard.

Then fear followed, cold and hollow. She was bleeding. She was broken. How bad was is? What if she didn’t survive and he‘d lose her? What if he had failed her forever?

Helplessness rose, a bitter ache that twisted in his gut. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been able to stop it. He should’ve stayed. The thought burned, searing through his chest.

His eyes focused on her trembling hands, clawing at the stones, the raw anguish in her voice. Another thought bloomed in him. She wasn’t just hurt. She wasn’t really shattered. She was angry. He detected anger in its rawest form in her voice.

Protective instinct became louder than his own fury. He had to be her anchor. He had to be the calm in the storm.

Every fiber of his body screamed to unleash his power, to tear the world apart in retaliation, but he forced it down. Another step, he moved closer, grounding himself, drawing in steady breaths. His storm raged beneath his skin, but his face remained composed, a shield for her, not a threat.

“Liva?” he said softly, voice low and rough, a tenderness he rarely allowed himself surfacing.

Her head jerked toward him, eyes wide, bloodied, terrified. Recognition flared, then relief, then something deeper. She didn’t wait. With a sob that cracked the night, she threw herself into his arms. He caught her without hesitation, holding her tight, feeling the tremors of fear and exhaustion run through her. His lightning hummed faintly, restrained, as if sensing her need for stability over destruction.

She clung to him, and for a brief, fragile moment, the world outside the alley ceased to exist. Laxus let her lean into him, his storm restrained, his protective presence everything she needed.

And in that silence, broken only by her ragged breathing, he promised himself: nothing would ever hurt her like that again.

Chapter Text

The silence in the dining room was suffocating, as though every sound in the world had been stolen away. Even the air seemed heavier, thick with dread. The entire Fairy Tail guild had gathered despite the late hour, and not a single face showed ease.

“Would you repeat that, old man?” Natsu’s voice was hollow, scraped raw, though his eyes already blazed with unbridled fury. Fury, that was mirrored in the faces of his comrades.
Master Makarov sat upon the bar, arms crossed tightly, his expression carved from stone. In a few curt words, he repeated what had happened to Liva and her brother.

“Where is she now?” Lucy’s voice trembled with anxious urgency.

“In a small room we’ve converted into a sick bay. Porlyusica is tending to her wounds.” Makarov’s frown deepened, shadow settling heavier on his face. “Ivan… that damn fool. He dares invite war?!” His voice cracked like thunder, but before the fire could spread, he forced himself back under control. His hard eyes turned to Erza. “Contact Jellal immediately. He must be informed about Leander.”

The redhead’s nod was sharp, her gaze grim, before she vanished into the darkness beyond the taproom door.

“Master, we should march on Raven Tail right now and finish them off!” Natsu’s roar broke the silence, his fists trembling with heat.
Cries of agreement erupted behind him, voices rising like sparks in dry tinder. “Yes, exactly! They’ve been dancing on our noses long enough!”

“Hold your horses.” Gray’s voice cut through, sharp and cold. “If we attack Raven Tail now, we can forget about the games.”

Natsu immediately seized Gray by the collar, dragging him close. “They‘ve hurt Wendy and Lucy, and now they’ve hurt Liva too! Are the games more important to you than your comrades?!”

The ice mage didn’t flinch. He pressed his forehead hard against the dragon slayer’s, cold meeting heat. “Of course not. But if we rush into this blindly, everything we’ve fought for will mean nothing!”

“I don’t give a damn about the games if it means abandoning our comrades!”

“Do you even know where Raven Tail is?!” Gray shot back, his voice sharp as ice.

That stopped Natsu in his tracks. His jaw worked furiously, but no words came. He bit back another retort as the truth hit: he didn’t know. None of them did. Unlike Sabertooth, whose insignia proudly adorned their hotel, Raven Tail had vanished into the city’s shadows. Their base was hidden, cloaked, a ghost within the games. Only the organizers might know where they lurked — and asking them would draw every eye straight to Fairy Tail.

“Gray’s right, Natsu,” Lucy said firmly, her voice cutting through the heated air. Somehow, impossibly, she managed to reel the fire mage back from the edge. “Just because we’re not storming Raven Tail this second doesn’t mean we don’t care. Look around you!”

Natsu’s glare flicked to the guild. Faces stared back at him, every one carved with fury. Levy, Jet, and Droy trembled with rage. Max’ and Warren’s expressions promised violence. Bisca and Alzack clutched their daughter close, their eyes cold and dangerous. Juvia’s calm façade couldn’t hide the storm seething beneath. The Strauss siblings looked like demons ready to be unleashed. Even Gajeel, usually aloof, radiated menace.

Every single one of them burned with the same fire. Anger. Not hotheaded, not fleeting. A deeper fury, patient and relentless, waiting only for a chance to be loosed.
Fairy Tail was angry. Very angry, indeed.

Finally, Makarov rose from his seat. The room fell into silence, the kind of silence that carried the weight of command. “As much as it pains me, I have to agree with Gray. We will not stoop to their level, nor will we give free rein to our anger.” His gaze swept across the guild, sharp and unwavering. “Our top priority is getting Leander out of there.”

A voice from the crowd broke the quiet. “How are we going to do that without getting disqualified?”

The master crossed his arms, his expression carved from stone. “That may be unavoidable.”

“But, Master—”

“I know, Gray.” His tone softened for a heartbeat before hardening again. “I said I agree with you — namely, that we mustn’t act recklessly. But the kidnapping, and Liva’s injuries…” His voice trembled, not with weakness but with fury, “…were the last straw.”

The tension in the guild thickened, as though every wall held its breath.

“We’ll try two approaches,” Makarov continued. “Everyone not competing tomorrow will split into groups. Search the entire city for Raven Tail’s hideout — and for Leander. If you find him, bring him back. By force, if necessary.” Every head nodded, grim determination flashing in their eyes.

“Gajeel,” the master said, his voice like a whip.

The Iron Dragon Slayer straightened. “Yeah?”

“Contact Ivan. He still believes you’re his informant. Use that. Maybe he’ll slip and reveal where they’re holding Leander.”

A sharp nod. “Got it.”

Then Makarov’s eyes shifted to Levy. “The second way will be diplomatic. Levy, draft a letter to the organizers. Liva’s family is influential and when they hear their son has been kidnapped and their daughter nearly broken, the organizers will be forced to act. They cannot afford to remain silent.”

“Yes, Master.” Levy was already scribbling, her hand steady despite the fury burning in her eyes.

“I have to disagree with you, Makarov.” The sudden voice cut through the murmur like a blade. Jellal stepped into the taproom, Erza and two of his companions close at his heels. His presence put a new weight in the room — calm, controlled, impossible to panic.

“What do you mean, Jellal?“

“Leander carefully crafted the story of his disappearance,” Jellal explained. “It would not be in his interest for his family or the Council to know he’s alive. They all believe him dead.”

“Are we supposed to leave him in Raven Tail’s clutches?” Natsu exploded, eyes blazing hot as coals.

Jellal didn’t flinch. If anything, his expression grew firmer. “Leander sacrificed himself to save Liva. I know him. He did it willingly, and he would do it again.” The words landed like ice. “No matter what Ivan is doing to him now.”

An involuntary hush swept the guild. Faces went pale; the earlier, raw anger bent under a harder, colder fear.

Makarov rubbed his chin, the old man’s jaw tightening as he balanced duty against fury. “I doubt the law will help us in this case — not tonight. It’ll take longer than we have. Officials won’t process a letter now, let alone act on it.”

Jellal’s eyes didn’t leave the Master’s. “Time’s exactly what we don’t have.”

Makarov exhaled, slow and heavy, and the sound held the weight of a difficult concession. “Well, fine, but only tonight. If we haven’t found anything by morning, we’ll send the letter.”

Jellal’s mouth tightened into a line; he sighed once, not entirely at ease. “All right.”

Makarov swept his gaze across the group, each face set with its own brand of determination. “Good. You know what you have to do.” It was the cue — the map of action unspoken but understood.

Like a tide answering a call, the mages moved out of the taproom: swift, inexorable, each team slotting into its role with the competence of people used to turning emotion into motion. The plans weren’t perfect. They were urgent. They were necessary. And beneath all of it, as they dispersed into Crocus’ night, ran the thin, aching hope that Leander could be brought back before the darkness swallowed him.

⚡️

The Thunder God Tribe and Cricket stood awkwardly at the edges of the room, pressed into corners as though the walls might swallow them. None of them dared come closer. Perhaps it was to give Porlyusica space to work. Or perhaps it was to keep their distance from Laxus.

The lightning mage was unnervingly quiet. His silence filled the small room heavier than any roar. He only moved when Porlyusica needed him — lifting, turning, steadying Liva’s unconscious body as the healer worked.
Her shredded clothes he discarded without hesitation, tossing each bloodstained scrap into the small fireplace. Flames licked at the fabric, devouring the remnants until nothing was left but ash. The fire crackled unnaturally loud in the summer night, the only sound against the strained quiet.

“Stop it,” Porlyusica said suddenly.

Laxus’ head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing. “No idea what you mean.” His voice was flat, toneless.

She pulled down the fresh nightgown she had dressed Liva in, then turned to her table of tinctures and salves. “Your gaze,” she said, as if diagnosing an ailment.

“My gaze?” he repeated, irritation sparking beneath the low rumble of his words.

“Yes.” She faced him fully now, eyes sharp as a scalpel. She had known him since he was small, yet her tone carried no affection — only the precision of truth. “Your gaze tells me you’re up to something. Something bad.”

Laxus rose slowly to his full height, his massive frame casting her in shadow. His jaw clenched hard, muscles twitching beneath his skin. “Something bad?” His words scraped low, dangerous.

“Yes.” Her voice didn’t waver, not even when the storm of him bore down over her. “Are you plotting something, Laxus?”

His teeth ground together, lightning whispering faintly across his shoulders. “You have no idea,” he growled.
It wasn’t rage in his voice. It was colder than that. Harder. It was hatred — pure, undiluted hatred — and it made even the fire in the hearth seem to shrink away.

Laxus felt the flinch of his friends behind him and didn’t bother to look back. “I’m thinking about how I can hunt down my father myself,” he hissed, holding Porlyusica’s gaze like a challenge. “And when I find him, I’ll kill him.“ Slowly. He would suffer like she did.

Porlyusica didn’t blink. She turned away from him with practiced calm and began to pack her things as if she were closing a kettle. “Do you think that’s the right thing to do?” she asked quietly.

Laxus’s jaw clenched until it ached. “It would be justice.”

“Perhaps.” She folded a bandage with precise fingers. “But what good will it do Liva if you end up in a cell for killing your father?”

His answer snapped out of him. “Oh, you think I should just ignore what he did to her?!”

“Don’t yell at me, boy.” Porlyusica’s voice cut through him sharper than any blow. It landed somewhere under the anger — a clean, merciless clarity. Laxus bared his teeth but stayed silent. Her face didn’t soften; she took his silence as permission to continue.

“I understand your anger toward your father. By the gods, I do. I’ve thought of that man the same way for decades. Many times I’ve wanted to bury him myself.”

For a heartbeat Laxus watched her, waiting for the green light to burn. “What stopped you?” he asked, voice rough.

She glanced up, and for a moment the old fierceness in her eyes tempered into something like grief. “Makarov.”

“Grandpa?” He half-laughed, disbelieving.

“Yes.” Porlyusica’s eyes flicked toward the door, as if imagining her old friend standing there in the doorway. “Ivan is still his son. No matter what monstrosities he commits, his death would break Makarov. It would break you too. Maybe not the way it breaks him, but it would leave a scar you carry forever.”

Laxus snorted, the sound full of contempt. “Hardly.”

Porlyusica neither confirmed nor argued. She laid three small bottles on the bedside table with the calm efficiency of someone who’d seen too much to be surprised by anything.

“When she wakes,” she said, “have her take the yellow one. It’ll dull the pain.” She tapped the stopper with a practiced finger. “The red one restores magic — she’s lost a lot of it today. Only give that with a proper meal, or it’ll turn her stomach inside out.” Her eyes lifted to his, steady and uncompromising. “Understood?”

Laxus nodded hard; the instructions burned themselves into his memory. “And the third?” He pointed to the larger glass bottle, the liquid inside a pale, almost watery blue that seemed to breathe calm. 

Porlyusica’s voice softened just enough that Laxus noticed it. “That one’s for her nerves. Nightmares.” She didn’t use the word sedative, but the meaning was there.

“A sleep aid, then?” His tone was wary.

“Something like that. Only if she needs it.” She folded her hands over the bottle as if protecting something fragile. “Give a teaspoon before bed. No more.”

Laxus turned the small spoon in his fingers, picturing the orders in his head. Yellow for pain, red with food, one teaspoon blue at night and the knot in his chest eased a fraction. “I’ll tell her. I’ll watch her.”

Porlyusica slung her pack over one shoulder and met his gaze. “I’ll be back in the morning. If anything goes wrong, you know where to find me.” Her look was a warning and a promise both. „And Laxus?“

“Yes?“

“Don‘t do anything stupid.“

He watched her go, the clack of her boots soft on the floorboards. The bottles gleamed in the dim light, tiny islands of hope on the bedside table. Laxus stayed where he was a long moment, thinking of promises and pain and the small, terrible cost of keeping someone safe. Then he swallowed and settled himself into a vigil he had no intention of abandoning.

⚡️

Less than ten minutes later, Laxus was sitting alone in the room.

“Are you sure?” Fried had asked when Laxus sent the others out.

“Yes,” he had replied. “Grandpa will need you.” When asked how he knew, Laxus simply had tapped his ear — the slight, involuntary motion of someone who’d learned to listen for danger. His dragon-eared instincts had picked up the commotion in the taproom long before anyone else.

Now the room was dark; the low fire in the fireplace threw a tired, amber glow that barely reached the far corners. It would have been cozy under other circumstances, a sanctuary against the night, but the unconscious woman on the bed made the space feel like a waiting room at the edge of a storm.

had collapsed on the way back from the alley. Before she lost consciousness, she’d used the last of herself to tell him what had happened: his father. A fight. Leander’s sacrifice. A kidnapping.

If he hadn’t been carrying her, Laxus thought bitterly, he would have punched the nearest wall until his knuckles split. Instead he had hauled her into the tavern, found Porlyusica, rounded up the others, and told them the truth with clipped, hoarse words.

Still, the anger didn’t leave him; it lay under his skin like a live wire, humming and dangerous. It would be so easy to let it go — to rip the restraint from his chest and become what he’d been in the worst of days. One misstep, and he could flip the switch, revert to the man who destroyed bridges and people alike. One wrong move, and he would show his father that cruelty run in the family. He would burn the city to ash, because she had been hurt. Because he’d failed to protect her.

The thought tasted like iron in his mouth. Laxus breathed once, trying to steady the tremor beneath his ribs, but the heat of it remained, a private fury he could not yet afford to unleash.

The door opened then, its hinges whispering. Master Makarov stepped into the room, his small frame somehow filling the doorway with the same gravity he always carried. He took in Liva on the bed, the scattered cups, the still-warm embers, and his face settled into that hard, tired look Laxus had learned to respect.

He didn’t seem surprised to find Laxus still at the bedside. Without a word, the old man settled into the chair on the other side of the bed. For a long moment the two of them simply listened — the crackle of the embers, the faint scrape of cloth as Liva shifted in her sleep, the distant murmur of the inn beyond the thin walls.

“I’m staying here,” Laxus said at last, voice flat, stubborn. “I don’t care what you told the others. I’m not going to bed.” The note in it was childish, furious — the voice of someone who refused to let the world move on while the thing he cared for lay broken.

Makarov watched him with an old, unreadable patience. “I know,” he said slowly, “though it wouldn’t hurt you.”

“One night without sleep won’t kill me, old man. I can still fight tomorrow.”

“You haven’t been sleeping well the last few nights.”

The words hit harder than Laxus expected. He flinched, reflexively defensive. Makarov didn’t press; he only folded his arms and watched. “Do you really think I haven’t noticed how tired you look? Fried told me you’ve been having bad dreams.”

Laxus’ jaw worked. He wanted to snap, to bury that whole conversation under a grunt and a glare. Instead something in Makarov’s tone — the careful, grandfatherly concern — unclenched him a fraction. He let out a breath that was little more than a rasp. 

Fried, you damn traitor, he thought, and didn’t bother to hide the annoyance in his eyes.

“Tell me, Laxus,” Makarov said, not unkind, “what are you dreaming about that robs you of sleep?”

The lightning mage leaned back, drawing a deep breath. Could he really tell the old man the truth? He himself barely understood the fragments forced upon him in the last days. He knew now that he had lived before. Long ago, when this land was anything but kind. Before guilds, before safety. Back when dragons still ruled the world.

Laxus knew he still didn’t remember everything. Kairos had lived through more — so much more. But to recover those memories, he needed sleep, and sleep was the last thing he wanted. He had to keep watch over Liva.

“Well?” Makarov finally asked when his grandson remained silent. “Are you going to tell me?”

Laxus struggled for words. Part of him longed to confide in his grandfather. The weight of the past grew heavier with each passing day, and Makarov was not only a powerful mage but a wise man. Perhaps he could help Laxus make sense of it all. Yet another part of him recoiled. The story sounded absurd, almost unbelievable. Would the old man even believe him? And worse — did he really want his grandfather to know what kind of man Kairos of Everglade had been?

“I…” Laxus began, voice low. “Ever since Tenrou Island, I’ve been dreaming about dragons.”

“Dragons?” Makarov tilted his head, studying him closely. “In what way?”

“I fight them. I win. But my comrades… they die around me. The dragons are too strong, and I can’t help them.” It was only half the truth, but even so, a measure of relief loosened the knot in his chest. Why hadn’t he told anyone before?

“Hm.” Makarov stroked his chin. “Does it have anything to do with Acnologia’s attack?”

Laxus almost said yes, almost dismissed it as nothing more than a scar left by that day, but the words stuck in his throat. That wasn’t the truth. “No.”

Makarov blinked. “No?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, my boy,” the master said gently, “but I don’t quite follow.”

The blond man sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead. “I don’t know how to explain it without sounding insane.” His gaze drifted away, heavy with thought. His eyes burned; it must have been well past midnight. Exhaustion gnawed at him, but still he refused to leave Liva’s side.

Makarov studied him quietly before offering, “Here’s a suggestion.”

Laxus shot him a wary glance.

“You take some rest, and when you’re ready, you tell me more about it — if you want. I don’t care how strange your story sounds. Go to sleep. I’ll stay here with Liva.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Makarov groaned. “Then you’ll sleep here, you stubborn fool.” The old man pointed to the sofa in the corner. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

Laxus grumbled and resisted, but after several minutes of heated back-and-forth, he finally gave in and dropped onto the sofa. It was far too small for his frame; his legs stuck out awkwardly past the edge. Yet the moment his head touched the too-hard decorative pillow, exhaustion claimed him, and he fell into dreams.

⚡️

At first, it had been unbearable. He was like a ghost, forced to watch one tragedy after another unfold before his eyes. But by now, Laxus had grown accustomed to the memories.
He knew he couldn’t stop death and destruction. All of it was long gone. Smoke and ashes of the past. That didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Each year of Kairos’s life slipped past him in a matter of moments. Each memory replayed in his mind like an open wound. He would never admit it, but more than once, those memories had driven him to his knees in tears.

Some of them blurred, rushing past too quickly to grasp. Others were painfully vivid, down to the smallest details: the scent in the air, the touch of the breeze, the voices of his comrades.

Just like now.

Laxus found himself sitting on a horse-drawn cart piled high with boxes. Behind him stretched endless rows of men and women marching. Kairos and Fynn, both high-ranking soldiers, rode alongside the wagon on their own horses.

At first glance, the caravan could have been mistaken for soldiers on their way to war. But the illusion didn’t hold. Everyone was too cheerful. The soldiers joked, laughed, and traded stories as they traveled, far too merry for soldiers marching toward battle.

“Look! There it is!” Fynn almost jumped up and down in his saddle. For a moment, he looked like the young man he was. “I can see the village of Emberfall.”

Laxus followed the soldier’s gaze. In the distance, on a small hill, he could see a large settlement. It was surrounded by olive groves, vineyards, and lush fields. The houses were made of white stone and decorated with colorful paintings. High above and visible from afar, a gigantic temple stood in the center of the village. It glowed silver, and Laxus could feel its magical power even from there. The Temple of Alyona.

Kairos snorted softly and gave his little brother a slight smile. “Calm down, brother.”

“Calm down?” With shining eyes, Fynn turned to him. “This is the festival in honor of Alyona, damn it! It’s the biggest party in the country! All the wine, the feast—” He looked around and whispered with a grin, “I’ve also heard that the village has beautiful men and women.”

Kairos just rolled his eyes. “All right, all right.” Then he smiled gently. “Go ahead and celebrate. You’ve all earned a few days of peace.”

“You too, brother.”

Kairos shrugged. “I heard General Krieger will be there too. We’ll use the time to discuss the next campaign.”

Fynn booed. “Don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud, brother.”

“I’m not a stick-in-the-mud,” Kairos replied irritably.

“Yes, you are. Who thinks about work on vacation?” Fynn looked toward Emberfall, his expression suddenly somber. “Who knows if we’ll live to see the next festival?”

Kairos paused, his hand tightening on the reins. “Fynn, we’re not going to die. I won’t let that happen.”

Fynn leaned back in the saddle, the youthful excitement fading into something older, sharper. A bitter smile touched his lips. “You don’t know that. The dragon war is getting worse and worse. Every month more names are added to the fallen. We’re only human, brother.”

“And that’s exactly why we’ll survive,” Kairos growled, voice firm. “Because we have to. Because giving in isn’t an option.”

The younger man studied him, searching his face as though weighing the truth of his words. “Still…” Fynn’s gaze softened. “I would be happy if you enjoyed the here and now. Even if only for one evening. What’s the point of surviving tomorrow if you never live today?”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, filled with the distant clatter of the caravan wheels and the laughter of marching soldiers. Kairos finally let out a low breath and nodded. “Fine. Tomorrow, I’ll join you.”

Fynn’s eyes lit up at once. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Kairos confirmed with the faintest smile.

The younger man immediately threw his arms in the air, startling his horse. “Yay!”
The soldiers around them burst into laughter at the sight, the heaviness breaking like a cloud parting for the sun.

Laxus couldn’t help but smile through the sting of tears. The sight of Fynn — full of life, brimming with hope despite the shadow of war — tore at something deep inside him. He missed his little brother. He missed him with every fiber of his being.

⚡️

If it were possible to be bored to death, Laxus was standing on the edge of the grave.

The cramped office was lit only by a few oil lamps, their smoke making the air heavy. Around the table, a group of men — most of them so old they probably hadn’t seen a battlefield in decades — droned on with their endless suggestions, strategies, and “what-if” scenarios for the next campaign.

Laxus leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, forehead rhythmically tapping against the stone. He had counted to a thousand five separate times. Outside, life roared. Music drifted in through the shutters, joined by the laughter of hundreds of people. The festival had turned Emberfall into something that felt less like a village and more like a sprawling metropolis, every street overflowing with food, wine, dancing, and firelight.

If this weren’t one of Kairos’s memories, he would’ve been out there already — drinking, fighting, or both. Instead, he was shackled to this dull little room, watching his past self drain the life out of the evening.

And Kairos, damn him, was in his element. Despite the long, dusty ride from the war camp, despite the fact that every man and woman in the army had been dreaming of this festival for weeks, General Kairos of Everglade had his eyes locked on the map before him. His voice was clipped, steady, entirely focused on troop movements. He listened to every tedious suggestion from the other officers, occasionally cutting in with his own concerns. Not even a flicker of interest for the celebration outside.

“Man, you really don’t have any hobbies, do you?” Laxus muttered, glaring at his double. “Not a lover, not a drink, not a single damn song? You were one boring bastard.”

The thought stung more than he liked. Had he really been such a stick-in-the-mud in his past life? All work, no play, no heat?

“Would you like to call it a day, Kairos?” asked General Krieger, an older man without magic but with a reputation for strategy.

Kairos didn’t even glance up. “No. Let’s keep going.”

Laxus groaned aloud and thumped the back of his head against the wall. “Yeah, sure. Keep going. Why have fun when you can die of boredom instead?”

The hours dragged on like chains. One by one, the oil lamps guttered low, their smoke thick in the stale room. Outside, the music had shifted from rowdy drums and laughter to the softer hum of midnight songs — but still, the festival raged on.

Inside, the generals argued, plotted, redrew the same damn map until even the ink stains looked exhausted. Laxus slumped deeper against the wall, arms folded so tight it felt like his chest might crack. He had sat through brawls that lasted less time than this meeting.

By the time the commanders finally reached their “satisfying conclusion,” it was well past midnight. They shook hands, clapped each other on the shoulders, voices heavy with the self-importance of men who thought themselves saviors. Kairos stood among them, straight-backed and grave, as though this had been time well spent.

Laxus could hardly believe it.

When Kairos left the office and made his way to his quarters, it wasn’t with the slump of a man who’d wasted an evening — no, he carried himself with quiet pride, as though the long hours bent over maps had been a feast of their own. The man was actually content.

“Unbelievable,” Laxus muttered, trailing after the memory. “Whole damn festival going on, and you’re smug about paperwork.”

Kairos washed up with the same methodical discipline, the water in the basin rippling as he scrubbed away dust and sweat. Not a thought spared for the laughter echoing in the streets below. Not a glance toward the silver-lit temple where people sang Alyona’s name.

Finally, he extinguished the lamp and lay down. Within minutes, the great General of Everglade was asleep — steady, controlled, satisfied with another “day’s work.”

Laxus sat on the edge of his patience, glaring at his past self through the veil of memory. “No wonder you burned out,” he muttered. “You never even lived.”

⚡️

True to his word, Kairos accompanied his brother to the festivities the next day. Laxus didn’t know who was more excited: Fynn, nearly bouncing at every new attraction, or himself, simply grateful to be free of the suffocating war council. After hours spent with old men buried in maps and theories, the fresh air felt like a blessing.

Kairos allowed himself to be dragged along, patient as ever, while Fynn darted from stall to stall with the restless energy of a youth who believed joy was its own form of rebellion. Laxus followed behind at a slower pace, hands shoved into his pockets, content to observe. And he was surprised. Most of Kairos’s memories had always struck him like lightning — sharp, overwhelming, entire years collapsing into flashes of blood and fire. But these… these unfolded slowly, like a book read line by line. Laxus couldn’t help but wonder what made this day, this festival, so different that he was forced to experience it moment for moment.

Was it because of Fynn? Because he missed the boy so deeply that even this ghost of him tugged at his heart? Laxus didn’t even bother to fight back the sting in his eyes. Nostalgia burned hot in his chest.

Fynn had always been the joker, the spark in the darkness. A gifted singer, a weaver of tales, he had a way of turning an ordinary night into something unforgettable. He carried a lightness that war itself could not crush.

The hours slipped by in laughter and song. The sun dipped below the horizon, and torches and towering bonfires roared to life. Music swelled, drums and flutes echoing through the hills, and the people of Emberfall moved as one — dancing, shouting, drinking, as if their homeland were not shadowed by war.

When the moon finally rose, silver and serene, it was as though Alyona herself looked down upon them. That was when the festival reached its peak.

Kairos and Fynn settled with their comrades at a long table near the great fire. The air was thick with roasted meat, spiced bread, and the sharp tang of wine. People laughed until their sides hurt, sang until their voices cracked. It was a moment suspended outside of fear and death — a fragile glimpse of peace.

Fynn, true to form, had claimed center stage. With a goblet of wine in hand, he raised his voice, laughing and bantering, flirting so outrageously it was impossible to tell who his target was. The blacksmith’s broad-shouldered apprentice? The innkeeper’s blushing daughter? Perhaps both. He thrived under the attention, basking in the laughter and cheers that answered him.

Kairos, ever the composed general, tried to look disapproving, but his lips betrayed the faintest twitch of a smile. Laxus, watching through the haze of memory, let out a quiet laugh, though his chest ached. He missed this. He missed him.

He stood behind Fynn, arms crossed, shaking his head with faint amusement. Some things never change. “See that, Kairos? Take a page from your brother’s book. At least he knows how to enjoy life.”

“Are you finally finished,” Kairos muttered without glancing up from his plate, “or still deciding who you want to bed tonight?”

Undeterred, Fynn grinned ear to ear. “Still guessing.”

“Careful, brother,” Kairos warned, his tone flat. “Not everyone accepts your… desires.”

Fynn raised his goblet in a mock toast, eyes glittering. “Life is too short to love only one gender. You only live once, brother.”

“Haven’t you had enough after yesterday?”

“After yesterday, I want more than ever.” He drank deeply, then wagged a finger at his brother. “And it wouldn’t hurt you either.”

Kairos sighed heavily and set his cutlery down with deliberate patience. “Don’t you have anything better to do than meddle in my love life?”

“Yes,” Fynn said with a flourish, “but my hopeless brother requires rescuing in his hour of need.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

Fynn chuckled, but his eyes were sharp as they swept across the crowd. “Not that you need my help. I count at least five women who’d happily kiss your boots.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Hopeless case,” Laxus muttered, shaking his head.

Fynn smirked. “Well, they wouldn’t be your type anyway.”

Kairos arched a brow. “And how exactly would you know what my type is?”

“I know you better than you know yourself,” Fynn declared dramatically, placing one hand over his heart. Both Kairos and Laxus gave him equally skeptical looks — though for entirely different reasons.

Laxus leaned across the table, glaring at his former self. “He wouldn’t even recognize his dream woman if she stood right in front of him,” he grumbled — though he knew the words cut more for himself than Kairos. Despite all the hardship Kairos had endured, Laxus couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Was his former self truly so numb that he’d forgotten how to live?

But Fynn wasn’t finished. His smirk deepened. “Well, maybe not. But I see someone who might just sweep you off your feet.”

Kairos gave up on bickering, staring instead into the massive fire, the picture of stoic disinterest.

His brother only leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. “To our right. By the birch trees. She’s been staring at you this whole time.”

Kairos snorted, but despite himself, his eyes drifted sideways. Then they froze — locked. His shoulders stiffened. His gaze sharpened.

Laxus blinked. He recognized that look instantly — fascination, wonder, disbelief. His former self, spellbound. Frowning, Laxus followed his line of sight, eyes narrowing as he scanned the edge of the clearing. For a moment he saw only shadows, villagers lingering at the margins of the firelight. And then—

He saw her.

The breath hitched in his lungs. His chest constricted. His heart thundered against his ribs.

Young. Innocent. Radiant. Beautiful.

His lips moved before he even realized it, the name breaking from him in a hoarse whisper.

“Liva…?”

Chapter Text

Kairos’ lips parted, but no sound came. He simply stared, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths, as though the slightest movement might scatter the vision before him. At that exact moment, the blonde girl looked up. Their eyes met, just for an instant and she froze, startled. A blush spread over her cheeks, and she quickly lowered her gaze to the ground.

Fynn arched a brow, clearly pleased with himself. “Told you,” he murmured, smug as ever.

“Shut up,” Kairos muttered, though his eyes never left her. Fynn hid his grin behind the rim of his goblet.

Beside them, Laxus didn’t hear their banter. His whole body had gone taut. That face… so achingly familiar. Younger than he remembered, more girl than woman. Her expression open, unguarded, almost fragile. She lingered half-hidden among the birch trees, curiosity drawing her toward the firelight. Like all priestesses of Alyona, she wore robes of silvery silk, a circlet of fine silver draped across her hair. Hands folded before her, she watched the revelers with a serene smile.

Liva.

The name lodged in Laxus’ throat like a blade. How could it be? Liva was still recovering in a tavern bed, she couldn’t be here. This was Kairos’ memory, a vision of the past. And yet there she stood, radiant, alive, part of the celebration.

He longed to shout her name, to cross the clearing, to take her hand and never let go. But he couldn’t. He was a ghost here, a shadow. This wasn’t real.

And still, without even noticing his former self, Laxus drifted forward through the crowd, drawn to her as if by gravity. The music, the laughter, the flames, everything blurred into background hum until there was only her. Every detail was Liva’s: her scent, her movements, the way her smile carried warmth enough to thaw the coldest night. Was he imagining it? Were his memories bleeding into Kairos’? Laxus couldn’t make sense of it.

She looked up again, searching the tables where only Fynn and a few soldiers remained. Kairos was gone. Disappointment flickered across her face. “Has he left?” she whispered, barely audible.

But Laxus saw what she could not: Kairos stood just behind her. The young man drew in a steadying breath, then leaned close to her ear. “What a beautiful party.”

The priestess startled, leaping aside with a small gasp. Kairos only smiled, amused by her reaction. She struggled for words, her lips parting uselessly before she managed a breathless, “Uh…”

To Laxus’ disbelief, Kairos was grinning. The same man who had sat brooding over maps and strategies only hours ago now looked utterly transformed, lit from within. Somewhere behind them, Fynn’s muffled laughter all but confirmed it.

Kairos extended a hand toward her. “Do you mind?”

She blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Would you dance with me?”

Her eyes widened. “Dance? With me?” She stared as though he’d grown another head.

Kairos glanced around the firelit crowd, feigning thoughtfulness. “Well, I don’t see anyone else here. Do you?”

Her blush deepened until it glowed as brightly as the flames. For a moment she looked ready to vanish into the earth—but then she whispered, “Yes. I’d love to.”

Something eased in Kairos’ expression, a spark of boyish light piercing through his battle-hardened exterior. He took her hand, steady and sure, and guided her toward the open clearing.

“I’m Kairos,” he said.

“I know.”

He laughed softly. “Is that good or bad?”

She ducked her head, shy yet smiling.

“And you are?”

At last she lifted her gaze, her voice quiet but clear.

“I’m Calomene.”

Calomene.

Laxus sat before the fire, staring into its golden heart as if it alone might explain what was happening. Around him the festival roared, music, laughter, the crackle of flames, but all of it seemed distant. His gaze kept drifting back to the two figures who moved together with unguarded joy.

Kairos and Calomene.

They danced and laughed as if the war, the world, and all its burdens had been stripped away for a single night. The hours blurred, and still Laxus could see it clearly, as though the memory had been carved into his soul. He remembered everything.

They danced until their feet grew heavy, until the moon wheeled high and silver above them. When at last they paused, they shared wine and a feast at the long tables, shoulders brushing, smiles lingering. Laxus remembered laughing with her, laughing more in one night than he had in all the years of blood and battle that weighed on Kairos’ heart.

He had told her about his campaigns, about his travels, about the little brother who kept watching them with a smug grin that spoke louder than words. And she had told him her story: how her mother, a priestess of Alyona, had died giving her life; how the temple had raised her with care and love; how she had always dreamed of serving the moon goddess. Tonight, in her festive robe of silver and blue, she shone with pride at the path she had chosen.

Through it all, Laxus never left her side. His eyes followed her, every gesture, every smile.

And then he felt it. The warmth blooming in his chest, filling him until it was hard to breathe. It wasn’t just that she looked like Liva. No, he remembered. He knew.

That night, Kairos had fallen for the young priestess. Completely. Irrevocably.

And Laxus… Laxus was not spared from that feeling.

⚡️

A moment later, Laxus was back on the horse transporter. Behind him trudged the weary soldiers, beside him rode the two brothers. The only difference was that they were now leaving Emberfall instead of riding toward it.

“How rude,” Fynn growled, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion. “Five days of vacation cut down to two? That’s ridiculous. Whoever ordered that, I’d love to punch him right in the face.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Kairos said calmly.

“Bullshit. Who’s dragging us back to the battlefield?”

“The queen.”

Fynn went silent. Then muttered, “What a bitch.”

“Fynn.”

“But it’s the truth.” Laxus had to admit, he agreed. The soldiers had been promised five days away from blood and steel, and now they had only two.
The brothers rode on in silence for a while. Finally Fynn smirked sideways. “So…”

Kairos exhaled. “So?”

“You were pretty busy last night, brother.” The older man’s look was warning enough, but Fynn pressed on. “Did you even sleep?”

Kairos ignored the grin. “No. Not at all, to be honest. But not for the reason you’re thinking.”

The grin vanished. Fynn blinked. “What? Don’t tell me you blew your chance?”

“Well, I’m not like you, brother.”

Fynn turned in his saddle, staring. “Damn it, Kai, don’t tell me you didn’t even kiss her?” His brother’s glare was all the answer he needed. Fynn groaned. “You’re a hopeless case.”

They passed through fields gilded by dawn, the air sweet with harvest. Kairos kept his eyes fixed ahead, his voice low when he finally spoke again. “I wrote her a farewell letter. Thanked her for the evening.”

Fynn’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“Fynn,” Kairos said, glancing at him with unusual gravity. “A woman like her isn’t dismissed with a quick night. She’s… very special.”

Fynn stared at him as if he’d just confessed to treason. “My gods. Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

Kairos rolled his eyes and urged his horse forward. “Just shut up.”

⚡️

The next memories rushed by as fast as a train. Laxus could barely catch half of it, but he knew that after leaving Emberfall Kairos had soon been sent north — to Aberfort, a frozen fort buried in the mountains — tasked with training young recruits.

For Kairos of Everglade, this had been nothing short of an insult. He was a warrior, forged by years of battle. The youngest captain in Her Majesty Queen Irene’s army and one of the most gifted Dragon Slayers in her ranks. He was used to standing on the battlefield, death breathing down his neck, danger lurking behind every shadow. And he was damn good at what he did. Yet now he was stuck in half-frozen Aberfort, wasting his time with green recruits, while his comrades bled and died fighting dragons.

Laxus hovered at his shoulder, unseen, unheard. It was strange — watching his own face in another life. The same sharp jaw, the same serious gaze… and yet the weight in Kairos’ eyes felt heavier than any mirror reflection Laxus had ever known.

With a scowl, Kairos studied the dozen figures gathered in the courtyard below. Humans bundled in cloaks, a few dragons looming behind them like guardians of old.

The heavy wooden door creaked open, and Fynn entered. “Kairos, your foul mood is poisoning the entire fort. People are getting nervous.”

“Let them,” Kairos grunted without turning.

“Kai, brother.” A hand settled gently on his back. Fynn’s voice carried warmth Laxus had nearly forgotten. “Stop brooding. In your position, you should care about the morale of your people.”

Kairos looked away, back to the falling snow dusting the courtyard. Soon the fort would be buried again under ice and silence.

“There are better men to greet the new ones,” he muttered. “Percival, for example. He’d love to fill their heads with tales of honor and patriotic devotion.”

Fynn stepped up beside him. “Which is exactly why it should be you. You don’t tell them lies. We don’t need boys playing war. We need soldiers who know what they’re risking.”

Kairos exhaled slowly. “They’ll die like the rest,” he said flatly. “How long have they been training with the dragons?”

Fynn flipped through the papers in his hand. “Three to six months.”

“That’s barely anything.”

“It’s all the time we have.”

The silence that followed felt colder than the snow. Laxus found himself holding his breath, as if the air itself braced for what was coming.

“What is it?” Kairos asked without looking.

Fynn shifted awkwardly. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

Kairos raised an eyebrow.

“Do you remember the village of Emberfall?”

Laxus’ stomach clenched. He knew what came next. He wanted to stop it, to shake his younger self, to scream a warning. But he was only a ghost here.

Kairos’ breath caught. Of course he remembered. Emberfall — the village nestled among endless fields, crowned by the sacred Temple of Alyona. He had visited six months ago, during the Great Festival. The air had smelled of flowers and spice, the wine had flowed freely, and the dancing had lasted until dawn.

And above all — a young priestess in silver and blue, laughter echoing under the stars. She had bewitched him without a single spell. A smile, a glance — that was all it had taken. He hadn’t wanted to leave.

Fynn must have seen the light flicker in his brother’s eyes, because his voice softened. “Kairos, I’m sorry. I bring bad news.” He handed him a report. Kairos scanned the lines, and with every word, the color drained from his face. “Emberfall was completely destroyed in a dragon attack. The village, the people, the temple… all gone.”

Kairos collapsed onto a chair. “Were there survivors?”

Fynn looked out the window, his voice low. “A few farmers. They were working in the fields. That’s all.”

Kairos inhaled sharply, hands trembling. “When?”

“A few days after we’d left.”

The paper slipped from Kairos’ fingers, while Laxus stared against the opposite wall. His mind conjured images of Emberfall — the lush meadows, the white marble temple glistening in the sun, and on the hill before it, a girl with eyes like spring water. Calomene. Her innocence. Her laughter. Her hopelessly offbeat dancing. It had all felt like a dream, and now that dream was burned to ash.

Laxus’ chest constricted. The grief was his, too. It crawled up his throat, hot and suffocating. He wanted to reach out, to steady his younger self’s shaking hands, to tell him that the ache never fades but that he’d learn to live with it. But he couldn’t. He could only watch.

“Are you alright?” Fynn asked gently. Kairos nodded distantly and suddenly rose to his feet. “Where are you going?”

Kairos‘ voice sounded hollow. “The recruits are waiting, aren’t they?” Fynn dropped his gaze and followed in silence.

Laxus remained behind. As Kairos, he didn’t show it, but something inside his chest had just broken. As a ghost, he could let the truth slip across his face — that pain, that sadness. It lodged deep, silent and heavy, a weight he couldn’t shake off. Why did everyone have to die?

Slowly, he stumbled after the brothers.

The cold struck like a blade. A sharp, biting wind greeted them as they stepped into the wide courtyard. Laxus flinched. The chill bit through him, as if he were flesh and blood, not just a ghost trailing his former self. It was disorienting, how vividly the past could wound, how real it could feel.

Before them stood a dozen recruits, bundled in thick winter coats, their breath steaming in the frigid air. Beside them, three dragons: Bacches, Oberyn and Vega. Laxus felt the awe rise in his chest. He had fought dragons in his past life, he met the black dragon Acnologia and faced his fury, but even now, seeing those creatures like this, there was something untouchable about their presence, a reminder of power that transcended time.

“Kairos,” Vega greeted, her voice low and resonant, grounding. Her silver-gray scales glimmered faintly in the snow.

“Vega,” he replied, eyebrow raised. “Didn’t expect you. Thought you didn’t train Dragon Slayers.”

“Straight to the point,” she replied with a soft chuckle.

“That’s just the way he is,” Bacches rumbled with a grin. “Here are your recruits, old friend.”

Kairos folded his arms behind his back and began pacing in front of the line. Unlike them, he wore nothing but his black training gear, as if daring the elements to touch him. Laxus watched every motion, noting the rigid perfection in his posture, the quiet command that demanded attention without a word.

“I’d like to welcome you to Aberfort,” Kairos began, voice even, cold. “But that would be a lie.” A few recruits shifted uneasily.

Laxus winced. That tone. That cruelty veiled as honesty. He remembered it—he had spoken that way once. He hated hearing it now, even as a ghost.

“To be blunt,” Kairos continued, “you’ve just signed your own death warrants. For months now, they’ve sent me fools like you. All chasing glory. Honor. Fame.” His gaze swept the line, sharp and cutting. “None of them survived.”

A shiver ran through the recruits, and Laxus felt it in his chest too. He remembered the faces of those who had died. He had lived those deaths, carried them like stones in his mind.

“There’s a war out there,” Kairos said flatly. “You will watch comrades die—men, dragons, it doesn’t matter. Some will be devoured alive, some torn apart, some… tortured before your eyes. And if you’re unlucky, you’ll be next.” Silence fell, snow drifting quietly down.

Laxus’ stomach twisted. He had felt that terror, that helplessness, as Kairos.

“I’ll give you one chance to leave. Go back to your old lives, while you still can.” A pause. No one moved. “So be it.”

He glanced at Fynn, who offered a silent nod. “To your left, the training ground,” Fynn said, motioning. “Face our captain. Show what you’re made of.”

A sharp, almost feral grin spread across Kairos’ face, and Laxus felt the echo of thrill, of dangerous excitement, pulse through him. “Silence!” The recruits obeyed. “Line up.”

One by one, they stepped forward. Shivering, stripped down, weak against the biting wind. None lasted more than a few moments.

Then the last figure approached. Vega leaned down, whispering calm words. Laxus’ pulse quickened.

“Hey! You’re up!” Kairos barked.

The recruit ran forward, removing boots, gloves, coat, scarf. A gust of wind lifted pale ash-blonde hair like silk. Laxus froze. Kairos’ eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

There she stood. Slim, poised, with blue eyes staring straight into him, not innocent, not bright with joy, but hollowed by grief, and yet… a flicker of hope lingered there.

It was her. Liva—no. Calomene.

Laxus’ chest tightened. He could feel it, the pull of destiny, the weight of recognition that he didn’t fully understand. 

Calomene had survived. The truth hit him like a blow, stealing his breath. She stood in the ring, alive, fierce, unbroken.

He watched Kairos face her in combat, saw the discipline carved into his own past self’s features, the storm hidden beneath. Her magic was the same: Moonlight, silver light, breathtaking like Liva’s. The resemblance was undeniable.

They fought. The ground split, frost shattered, the air burned with power. Laxus barely saw the strikes, only the look in her eyes, the spark that had ignited something deep in Kairos: Admiration, recognition, something more.

When the battle ended, she lay bruised but unyielding. He heard her vow, raw and trembling: to hunt the dragons that had destroyed her life.

Laxus felt it lodge inside him like a shard of ice. This wasn’t just a memory. It was destiny unfolding, a bond that even death and time could not sever.

⚡️

Laxus’ breath hitched as the scene varnished like smoke and memories dragged him deeper. Thousand scenes of days, months and years flashed before him in and instant. He saw them, Kairos and Calomene, side by side on blood-stained battlefields, night after night. Always together, always watching each other’s backs. They stitched each other up by firelight, hands shaking but steady enough to pull needles through torn flesh. They bled together, laughed when they weren’t supposed to, and leaned into one another when exhaustion nearly broke them.

And through it all, they never said it. Not once.

Laxus clenched his jaw, fury building in his chest. He could see it so clearly now, the way Kairos’ eyes lingered too long on her profile, the way Calomene’s hand always hovered just a little too close when she passed him bandages, the way their silences spoke more than any declaration could. It was love, raw and undeniable, burning between them like a fuse. And yet… they had both walked that tightrope, too afraid to fall.

Cowards. Both of them.

No. Him.

Laxus’ fists trembled. He wanted to scream at his past self. To grab Kairos by the throat and snarl: You had her. She loved you. And you were too fucking blind to admit it. Every memory stung like salt rubbed into wounds that had never healed. He saw their stolen glances across firelit camps, the way their hands brushed and then drew back as if burned. Always so close. Always retreating.

And for what? Because of war? Because of duty? Because of blood already soaking their boots?

Laxus could feel the bitterness rising like bile. All that wasted time, all that wasted love. He hated himself for it. He hated that he could still feel the yearning as if it were fresh.

The scene shifted again.

Now he was back on the battlefield, thunder rolling in the distance, the stink of ash and dragon blood heavy in the air. Kairos and Bacches fought side by side high up in the sky, lightning and flame colliding with the enemy’s wings in blinding fury.

Laxus remembered the pulse of it, the roar of lightning in his veins, the pounding of his heart. But beneath it all, his eyes had always searched. Scanning the chaos, desperate, frantic. Searching for her.

Calomene.

She was out there somewhere, her silver light cutting through the dark, and the thought of her being torn apart by claws and fire gnawed at his sanity.

Bacches’ voice tore through the din, sharp and accusing: “You’re reckless! You’re not fighting the enemy, you’re chasing her boots!”

Kairos whirled, fury twisting his face. “Don’t tell me how to fight, Bacches!”

The dragon’s eyes narrowed, molten with disapproval. “You’ve lost your clarity, General. You’re a danger to your own men. To her.”

The words cut deeper than any blade. Laxus could feel Kairos’ rage boiling, white-hot and uncontainable. He remembered the storm breaking inside him, the pride, the shame, the desperation all colliding.

They screamed at each other. Voices drowned by battle, yet deafening in his memory. And then—

Then it happened.

In a flash, Kairos lunged. Instinct, madness, he didn’t know. Lightning cracked, splitting the sky. And when his vision cleared, when the roar of thunder faded… he was kneeling in the mud.

Before him lay Bacches.

Still. Broken. Gone.

Laxus’ breath shuddered out of him as the weight of it slammed into his chest. He had killed him. His friend. His comrade. The one who had fought beside him in countless battles, who had questioned him not out of malice but out of care. And Kairos — he — had struck him down.

The horror of it seared into him all over again. The mud caked to his knees, the stench of burned flesh, the deafening silence where Bacches’ roar should have been.

Laxus wanted to claw at his own skin. He wanted to tear the memory from his mind, to erase it. But he couldn’t. Because it was the truth. He had been reckless, obsessed, blinded by fear for Calomene’s life, and in that madness, he had murdered the one ally who had tried to save him from himself.

His stomach twisted violently. He hated Kairos. He hated himself.

The battlefield blurred, the edges of memory bleeding like ink into water, but the image of Bacches lying in the dirt would never leave him. Not in this life. Not in the next.

And for the first time since remembering his former life, Laxus understood the full scope of his past cowardice, his weakness and his own ruin.

⚡️

The memory shifted again, dragging Laxus down into darkness.

Chains.

Cold iron biting into skin, digging so deep he could feel the wetness of his own blood seeping along his wrists. His back was a tapestry of open wounds, his body broken down to nothing but raw nerve and bone-deep exhaustion.

And the screams. Gods, the screams. They had been his.

Laxus staggered as he relived it, though no pain touched his ghostly body. It didn’t matter. The echo of agony was enough. Every crack of the whip, every blade, every cruel hand trying to carve the arrogance out of Kairos—it was all there, etched into his soul. He remembered the heat of shame more vividly than the pain. Shame at kneeling. Shame at crying out. Shame that they had won.

Kairos, the proud general, reduced to a sobbing wreck on the dungeon floor.

Laxus’ throat clenched. He couldn’t breathe. Seeing himself this way, it wasn’t just torture. It was desecration. They hadn’t only tried to kill him. They had tried to erase him.

He remembered whispering in the dark, when no one listened. End it. Just end it. Let me die. And when silence answered, despair sank deeper, until the only companion left was his own madness.

The worst part? He had begun to believe he deserved it. For Bacches. For the blood on his hands. He had waited for death, hollow-eyed and half-mad. Until—

The ground shook. A roar, loud enough to rattle the walls, split the silence. Then another. And another. Dragons.

Panic erupted above. Shouts, screams, the thunder of boots. The fortress of Aberfort shuddered as if the earth itself was tearing apart.

Through the haze, Kairos lifted his head. Barely conscious, barely human. The iron door screeched open, and two figures stumbled inside.

“Brother!” Fynn’s voice, hoarse with fury and desperation. Behind him Calomene, her face pale, dirt and blood smeared across her robes. For a heartbeat, relief surged through Laxus. They had come for him. They hadn’t abandoned him.

But the illusion shattered as quickly as it formed. He croaked, barely audible, “What… happened?”

Fynn’s jaw was clenched, eyes ablaze with anger. Calomene’s hand rested on her blade, her whole body taut with tension.

“We led them here,” she whispered.

The words pierced deeper than any knife. “You—” His voice broke, the taste of blood on his tongue. “You led the dragons… here?”

Fynn stepped forward, grabbing his arm, hauling him up despite the chains that still cut into him. His voice shook with rage. “They tortured you. They broke you. And for that, they’ll burn.”

“That’s treason,” Kairos rasped. His voice wasn’t his own, it was cracked, guttural, like a man already dead.

Fynn’s eyes flared. “No. That’s revenge.”

Laxus reeled. He felt the betrayal like it was happening now, not then. His brother, his own blood, had sacrificed thousands, had unleashed chaos on innocent people, just to avenge him. To save him. It wasn’t salvation. It was damnation.

The three of them fled the prison as fire ripped through Aberfort. The walls trembled, shadows of wings cutting across the burning sky. Screams echoed in every street. Soldiers were torn apart. Civilians crushed in collapsing stone. The air was thick with ash and terror.

And he was part of it.

Dragged between Fynn and Calomene, his body broken, his soul hollow, he stumbled through corridors painted with blood. He remembered looking back, once, just once, as a tower collapsed in flames and swallowed the soldiers he had once commanded.

The city he had sworn to protect, turned to ruin because of him.

Laxus’ hands shook, rage and grief tangling until he could barely stand the sight of his own memories. He wanted to scream at them. At Fynn, at Calomene, at himself. This wasn’t saving me. This was destroying everything.

But Kairos hadn’t screamed. Not then. He had stumbled out of Aberfort a ghost of himself, his chains broken, but his soul still shackled. And the worst part, the absolute worst, was that part of him had been grateful. Grateful for their betrayal.

And that shame, that hollow, poisoned gratitude, cut Laxus deeper than any blade could.

⚡️

The memory bled into another, darker stretch of time. Kairos had left Aberfort, but he hadn’t left the dungeon.

Laxus felt it immediately, the way the weight never lifted. Kairos walked free, yes, his wounds stitched, his body mended, but inside, he was still chained to that stone floor, still hearing the sound of the whip cracking, still tasting iron in his mouth.

At night, he dreamed of screams. His own. Bacches’. Others. Sometimes he woke choking, convinced he was back in that cell, waiting for the next lash.

And Laxus felt it too. Every shiver. Every half-swallowed sob when the others weren’t listening. Every moment when Kairos’ hand lingered too long on his sword hilt, as though only violence could keep him steady.

He had loved Fynn. He had loved Calomene. But walls had been built inside him, brick by brick, until they could never reach him fully again. He smiled sometimes, even laughed, but it was hollow, brittle.

And through Laxus’ ghostly eyes, the truth became unbearable. He had never recovered. He had simply rotted behind armour no one could break.

The scene shifted.

Smoke rose in the distance. A village — or what was left of one. Houses gutted, roofs collapsed, the earth littered with corpses.

And in the center, a dragon.

It was massive, its scales deep red, its talons slick with blood. It crouched low, nudging a body with its snout, flipping it into the air like a child playing with a toy. Then it crushed the corpse under its claw, laughing — a low, guttural sound that made Laxus’ skin crawl.

Kairos froze.

Laxus felt the rage ignite in him like lightning finding ground. It wasn’t just anger—it was venom, burning, unstoppable. Bacches’ death. Aberfort. The endless torture. The screams. The shame. It all funneled into this one blazing truth: dragons had taken everything from him.

But Laxus saw the deeper truth now, with the clarity of hindsight. Bacches hadn’t been taken from him. He had killed Bacches himself. Aberfort hadn’t been lost to dragons—it had burned because Fynn and Calomene had led them there.

It wasn’t dragons who had destroyed his life. It was Kairos.

But Kairos hadn’t seen it then. He couldn’t. He needed someone else to blame.

The battlefield erupted.

Kairos lunged, magic exploding out of him in bolts of blue lightning that shattered stone and tore open the ground. He didn’t fight like a man anymore. He fought like a storm given flesh, violent, merciless, all-consuming.

The dragon roared, striking back, but Kairos was already on it, claws of lightning ripping into its throat, tearing flesh and scale. Blood sprayed hot across the ruined earth. The creature shrieked, writhing, but Kairos didn’t relent. He drove his fist into its skull, again, again, until bone cracked and brain matter spilled.

By the time it stopped moving, it wasn’t a dragon anymore. It was just meat. And still, Kairos kept hitting.

Laxus staggered, horror choking him. He could feel it—the satisfaction. The release Kairos found in every strike. It wasn’t about justice anymore. It wasn’t even about vengeance. It was about drowning the screams in his head with someone else’s suffering.

When finally Kairos pulled back, covered in blood, chest heaving, the silence was worse than the violence.

Fynn stared, awe and pride written across his face. “Brother… you killed it.”

Calomene didn’t speak. Her blue eyes were wide, stricken, her lips pressed tight. She looked at Kairos as if seeing a stranger. And Laxus wanted to scream. He wanted to grab her, shake her, beg her to run, because this was the moment. This was where he began to lose himself for good.

But then—

Clapping. Slow. Admiring. From the shadows, three figures emerged.

The man at the front made Laxus’ blood turn to ice. Black hair. Dark skin. A smile too sharp, too cruel. A voice like poisoned silk cut through the silence. “Now that was beautifully done.“

Laxus froze, bile rising in his throat. He knew that voice. He knew that face.

„Who the hell are you?“, Calomene asked full of mistrust, her magic already at hand.

The stranger smiled. „No need for suspicion. We are the same.“ He was a dragon slayer too. „Exiled. Hunted. Forgotten by the kingdom. You may call me Acnologia.“

Acnologia. The Black Dragon.

That wasn‘t possible, Lauxs thought. Acnologia was a vile dragon, not a young man, no matter how dangerous his smile was. But Kairos was looking at him like he was reason to continue. Fynn stepped closer, eager, desperate, hungry for direction. Calomene remained frozen, torn, but didn’t move.

“Would you like to join us?“

And Kairos, broken and blood-soaked, agreed. Laxus lost it. He roared wordlessly, his ghostly body sparking with phantom lightning. He wanted to tear the memory apart, to stop it, to stop him. But the past was unyielding.

He could only watch as Kairos walked toward the shadow of Acnologia, as his brother followed, as Calomene hesitated — and then stepped too.

Laxus sank to his knees. Because now he understood. This was the moment they were damned.

Chapter Text

Blurred scenes played out before him: Escape. Battles. Blood. Calomene dancing like moonlight on a blade. Fynn with a detuned guitar, strumming away as if the world weren’t burning. Dragons dropping like flies. And at the center of it all: Acnologia.

Laxus no longer knew when any of this had happened. Weeks? Months? Hell, maybe years. The memories flickered past like reels of some busted film, sharp one moment, smudged the next. They slipped through his fingers, never quite solid. And honestly? He wasn’t sure he wanted to hold on to them anyway.

What he did know was that he needed a fucking break.

His skull felt like it was splitting, like someone had spun him in circles a thousand times and then shoved him back into the fight. Couldn’t he just wake up for once? Come up for air? Why did his head decide this time, of all times, to dump the entire tragic backstory on him?

Then it hit, that familiar yank in his gut. The pull. The one that meant another memory was coming, whether he liked it or not.

“Aw, hell no,” he muttered, shoulders tensing. The tug sharpened, dragging him under again.
“Oh, come on!” Laxus barked at the void, voice raw with irritation. “Give me five damn minutes, will ya?!“

And just like that, the flood came rushing back.

⚡️

The memories pulled him in like a whirlpool.

Kairos, Fynn, Calomene, and two other Dragon Slayers — Leigh and Altan — had joined Acnologia. Together they carved a bloody trail across the land. Sometimes they fought beside with the army, undercover of course, lending their strength to battles already raging. Other times, they fought only for themselves.

Their enemies were always the same. The dragons.

Wherever the beasts were sighted, Acnologia was already there, hunting, relentless. He tore them from the sky, shattered wings, broke bones. And when the killing was done, he laughed amid the wreckage, standing soaked in blood as if it were a crown.

Fynn called it strength. “This is what a true slayer looks like,” he whispered once, eyes shining. And Kairos had agreed inwardly, though he never said it aloud, but he felt something close to reverence. Acnologia was power. Acnologia was vengeance given shape. And Kairos, already so lost, had begun to think of him as a brother in arms.

But even in that fellowship, something was wrong. Acnologia changed for the worse.

Laxus saw it, Kairos saw it. He felt it gnawing under his skin, the disquiet that never left. Acnologia didn’t laugh with them anymore. He didn’t drink or linger by the fire. He was always apart, slipping away early, rising before dawn, avoiding their eyes as if carrying some burden he dared not reveal. His silences stretched like walls, and the man who had once been fire and fury now moved like a shadow.

And one night, Kairos’ patience cracked.

The tent flap tore open as he burst inside, lightning flickering faint beneath his skin, demanding answers. The air smelled of smoke and steel, hot with his anger. But the words died in his throat.

Acnologia stood there, half-undressed. His back glistened in the lamplight and across it, crawling over his shoulders and chest, tiny scales shimmered like black glass, catching the light like shards of obsidian.

Both men froze.

Laxus felt Kairos’ breath lock in his chest. For once, Acnologia’s eyes weren’t cruel or mocking. They were wide, startled, stripped bare.

“You—” Kairos stammered, fists trembling. “What in the gods’ name is this?”

The silence stretched like a blade between them. Finally, Acnologia pulled his shirt back over the dark, jagged ridges, his voice a low growl. “It is nothing.”

“Nothing?!” Kairos barked, stepping closer. “Have you looked at yourself?! Why do they look like dragon scales?!” His hand shot out, gripping Acnologia’s shoulder hard, spinning him around. But then he stilled. For the first time ever, he saw it: fear. Not hatred. Not fury. Fear.

Their leader never showed anything but mock amusement or wrath, but never fear. That sight alone was enough to shake Kairos’ conviction.

“Are you one of them?” he hissed, the word spat like poison. Them, the dragons. The very monsters he loathed, the beasts he had followed Acnologia to destroy.

Acnologia’s gaze sharpened, hard as obsidian. “No. I’m human, you idiot.”

“Then what the hell is this?!”

“I don’t know, okay?” The edge slipped from his voice, leaving something rawer. “Maybe a curse? A scar? I don’t know. It started a few weeks ago. I don’t know what other spells those monsters are capable of.”

“What magic is this?” Kairos demanded, quieter now.

Acnologia looked away, jaw tightening. “That’s exactly why we are heading East to Marnum.”

Kairos studied him. Marnum? The ancient city? “You’re seeking out the grand library.”

“You know about it?” Acnologia seemed positively speechless.

“Yes, I‘m from a wealthy family, remember? Even though, I’m surprised that you know of its existence. How?”

Acnologia shook his shoulder off, almost snarling. “Learned some things here and there.”

Kairos’ brows furrowed. He didn’t like it one bit, that his companion was so silent about his past. “And what are we doing about your … condition until we reach Marnum? It will take us weeks.”

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“Bullshit—”

“What matters is you keep this to yourself,” Acnologia cut him off, eyes hardening again. “If the others knew…” His voice trailed, heavy with something unsaid. Laxus could feel Kairos’ heart pounding. The others would probably kill Acnologia. They would see him as a threat.

Kairos of Everglade seldom made mistakes. But since he became a deserter, he made one stupid mistake after the other. One was to follow Acnologia.
As a devout soldier, raised on loyalty and order, he should have dragged this secret into the light. He should have warned Fynn. He should have warned Calomene. But instead, he nodded. A choice. A betrayal.

This was his second mistake. And it would be his worst and last.

“Yes,” Kairos said at last. “I’ll say nothing.”

Acnologia’s lips curved, in gratitude, but laced with something darker. Relief twisted with triumph. He clapped Kairos on the shoulder, heavy as a chain.

“You and I,” he murmured, “we are not so different.”

While Kairos looked proud, Laxus shuddered. “Are you really that blind?” he asked Kairos. “You are different. Don’t you see what he is?” 

Why didn’t he see the wolf in sheep’s clothing? But the memory moved like a river, dragging him helplessly along.

⚡️

The memory bled forward into a day drenched in rain.

The storm had started in the morning, heavy clouds sagging low, water pouring in sheets. The mud sucked at their boots, every step a struggle. The smell of iron hung faintly in the air, and soon they saw why. From a hilltop, they found a battlefield sprawled beneath them, still littered with the remains of humans and dragons. The earth was ripped open, claw marks scarring stone, and the stench of magic still clung in the air like smoke after a fire.

Calomene slowed, her hair plastered to her face, her voice cutting sharp through the drizzle. “We should avoid this place. After what happened with Unit 147…”

Her words trailed, but everyone knew what she meant. They had clashed with the army only days ago. They were still bleeding—especially Calomene.

One of the dragon slayers laughed shrilly. “Oh, come now. You killed their pet dragon Vega, didn’t you? What’s one more bloodbath? Butt still hurting?”

The joke landed like a blade. Calomene flinched, though she hid it well. Only Kairos and Fynn knew the truth: Vega had once been her comrade, her mentor, her friend. Calomene herself had driven the blade through Vega’s heart, choosing mercy over letting Acnologia torture her. But grief had sunk into her bones, silent and unshakable.

She looked so sad, Laxus noticed, so entirely lost.

“Are you okay?” Kairos whispered, warmth flickering in his voice, a rare thing these days. She only nodded, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

Vega’s heart still rested in her pack. Someone had joked they could sell it. Another cruel knife.

Acnologia’s eyes scanned the valley, then fixed on the horizon where a battle still raged faintly in the distance. He surprised them all when he grunted, “We go west.”

No argument. No mockery. Just command. And they obeyed. They trudged into the downpour, away from the corpses and ghosts. For a while, there was only the hiss of rain.

Then came the screaming.
It was Acnologia. He staggered, clutching his chest, his roar splitting the storm.

Laxus nearly stumbled into the mud, startled by the sheer violence of the sound.

The black-haired man dropped to his knees. His body convulsed, veins blackening under his skin like ink spilled through glass.

“Help me!” Kairos shouted, but no one moved. They froze as a sound ripped from Acnologia’s throat, not human, not even close.

And then, with a wet, tearing crack, a wing burst from his back.

The group erupted into chaos. A woman shrieked. Steel hissed from its sheath. Magic crackled in panic. Calomene staggered backward, her hand clamped over her mouth. Kairos stood frozen, thunderstruck, unable to breathe.

Before their eyes, Acnologia’s body destroyed itself. Flesh split. Bones stretched. Black scales devoured skin. His scream deepened into a roar that shook the sodden earth.

And when the shape was done, when the storm broke just enough to let the world see him, Laxus knew. Those wings. Those eyes. That endless wrath.

Acnologia, the Black Dragon. The butcher who would one day bring Fairy Tail to its knees on Tenrou Island.
“So that’s your story,” Laxus whispered to the storm. “Terrible…”

The others didn’t know whether to run, to fight, or to kneel. Fear stank in the air, raw and choking.
“H-Hey, Acnologia!” Calomene tried, her voice cracking. “What the hell happened to you?”

The dragon roared, half-agony, half-exultation, mud quaking beneath his talons.

“Do you hear us?!” Kairos yelled.
But there was no recognition left in him. His mind was gone, shredded by transformation. He was more beast than man.

And then Fynn stepped forward. The man’s face was streaked with mud, his voice trembling but fierce. “Hey, buddy. Stop with this tantrum. Are you a child?”

The ground shook. The all stumbled.

“HEY! Listen to me! Calm the fuck down—”
The dragon turned. A massive claw swept out, almost lazily. And Fynn was gone.

At first, there was silence. Then the sickening crack of bones. A body thrown like a ragdoll across the valley. The wet slap of blood painting the mud.

Laxus didn’t know who screamed first. Kairos, Calomene, or himself?

“FYNN!” The name ripped through the storm like thunder. And suddenly the world was all sound again. The rain, the chaos, the screams. “NO! FYNN!”

Laxus felt it too, tearing through him like lightning ripping down his veins. He dropped to his knees, phantom sparks skittering across his ghostly skin. He remembered this moment, the agony that split Kairos’ heart in two. But seeing it again, reliving it, he knew that wound would never close again.

Kairos’ scream tore from his chest, raw and jagged.
“Fynn—!” His voice cracked like lightning, his body straining forward. He stumbled into the mud, reaching, desperate, but the boy was gone. Crushed. Silence swallowed the name, swallowed the hope.

For a heartbeat Kairos could only kneel there, his hands sinking into the muck, his face twisting. Tears streaked down his dirt-caked cheeks, his entire body trembling with rage and grief. The man who had once been his brother-in-arms stood before him now only as a beast, a monster, a dragon.

“Fynn…” His whisper broke. “My brother… gods, no…” He lurched to his feet, ready to charge blindly after the body, but Calomene seized his arm.

“Kairos, stop!” Her grip was iron, her eyes blazing. “He will kill you. We have to survive first.”

“Let me go!” He fought her like a man possessed. “He killed him, Cal! He killed my brother—”

“I know,” she snapped, voice tight with grief. “But if you run after him without thinking, you will die. Fynn’s death would be for nothing.“ She took in a shaky breath. „Remember. We need to survive this … thing first.”

Her words struck like a slap. Reality slammed back into Kairos, shattering the storm of his despair. His breathing steadied, though his chest heaved. Slowly, something cold, something familiar slid back into place — the general‘s mask.

His gaze locked on Acnologia, and for the first time there was no reverence, no brotherhood. Only hate.

“Form ranks!” Kairos barked, voice like steel. “We bring the beast down!”

The Dragon Slayers obeyed without hesitation, betrayal boiling in their veins. Together, they lunged.

Magic lit the storm-drenched field in violent bursts — fire, lightning, steel, and sound. Spells cracked against scales. Magical blades sank into flesh. Acnologia roared full of anger, his black wings spreading wide, the storm bowing before his wrath. He bled, red ichor spraying across the rocks, and for a breath it seemed they might have a chance.

But then he struck back.

His tail lashed, sending a male dragon slayer, Altan, crumpling against stone, where he groaned full of pain. His jaws snapped and his claws swung and Leigh, fierce Leigh with her fiery voice, was caught mid-charge. Her scream was cut short. A wet sound, a flash of blood, and her body fell lifeless into the mud.

“No! Leigh!” Calomene shrieked.

Panic fractured around them. The truth sank in, heavy and undeniable: Acnologia was stronger than any dragon they had ever faced. Stronger than all of them combined.

“Altan, fall back!” Kairos roared over the noice, his voice cracking under the storm. “Fall back now!”

They once were a team of six. Now one had gone mad, two died and only three remained. They scattered, wounded and broken, magic sputtering uselessly in the rain. Acnologia lunged after Altan, his roars shaking the valley, chasing down prey like a predator at the kill.

Kairos grabbed Calomene’s arm. “This way!” They stumbled west, over sharp stones slick with rain. Every breath tore at their throats, every step leaving blood behind.

And then the ground shook again. Heavy steps. The reek of blood. Acnologia was coming back.

They turned on a stony hill, the storm raging around them. Kairos and Calomene both reached for their magic. The dragon landed with a crash, mud and stone flying, his roar shaking their bones.

The fight was madness. Spells flared, steel sparked. The ground cracked beneath Acnologia’s fury. Kairos slashed with all his strength, lightning spilling from his veins. Calomene screamed curses into the storm, magic blazing bright, but still the dragon advanced.

Then a claw came down, sharp and merciless.

Kairos shoved her aside, the talons ripping through his flesh instead. Blood sprayed across the stones.

“Kairos!” Calomene’s voice cracked into a scream. She turned on the dragon, her grief pouring out as venom. “You monster! You vile, wretched beast!”

The words struck something. For a moment, Acnologia froze. His massive head tilted, his eyes locking on her, strange and searching. A look passed across his draconic face — something unreadable.

And then the ground groaned.

The hill split, stones giving way under the storm’s weight. With a deafening crack, the earth collapsed beneath them. Kairos and Calomene plunged into darkness, swallowed by the cave below. The dragon’s roar got quieter, as they entered the abyss.

⚡️

The darkness pressed down like a tomb. Pain tore through Kairos’ body, sharper than any blade, more relentless than the storms he had endured. Every breath rasped through blood-clogged lungs, each heartbeat a hammer pounding through his chest. The world was distant, drowned beneath the echo of his failures.

And then he saw her. Calomene. Alive. Breathing. Crawling through the muck toward him, every movement a trial, every breath a defiance of the storm and of fate itself.

He tried to speak, but the words stuck, jagged in his throat. “Cal…” he rasped, barely audible, his body trembling with both exhaustion and fear.

Their hands met, fingers locking, and for a fleeting moment, the chaos around them—the blood, the screams, the unrelenting pain—paused. Anchored only by the fragile warmth of her touch, he could feel everything he had lost, everything he had failed to protect, crashing down on him at once.

And then Laxus saw it.

Saw his own body, beaten and broken, gasping for life in the mud. Saw the blue eyes he had carried for decades, now dimmed with mortality. And for a heartbeat, he felt the dizzying vertigo of watching himself die, feeling the pain that had once been his, now bleeding into another man’s struggle. A mindfuck, a cruel echo: he was both observer and victim, past and present, witnessing the final act of a life he once lived.

Kairos’ voice, ragged and trembling, broke through the haze. “Before I… die…” His eyes, still bright with stubborn fire, met Calomene’s. “I… I love you.”

The words tore through Laxus like lightning. The man he had been, the boy who had fought, killed, bled, and sacrificed everything, had finally found the courage he never had. And yet, it was too late. The confession, raw and unfiltered, was wrapped in agony and finality, spoken only as life slipped away.

„Since when?“ Calomene froze, her tears blurring her vision. She could not speak, could not move fast enough to change the inevitable. For the first time in a long while, she saw the man he had been, unmasked: terrified of the world, terrified of himself, but capable of a love that had been hidden behind swords and strategy, behind pride and survival.

Kairos’ chest heaved, blood and mud coating his skin, every breath a labor. “Since… since the arena…” he whispered. “I… I thought… there would… be more time.”

Every word trembled with the weight of regret, of years lost to fear, to war, to duty. He had never told her, never dared, and now the moment to confess had come in the only way it could: at the edge of oblivion.

Laxus felt it all. The grief, the terror, the helplessness. Every beat of his own ghostly heart mirrored the agony of seeing his former self crushed and bleeding. It was a vision of inevitability, a cruel mirror reflecting both love and failure.

Kairos’ hand clenched hers for a final instant before slackening, life flickering like a candle in a violent wind. “I’m… sorry,” he rasped, voice barely a ghost, heavy with all the unspoken words, all the lives lost, all the mistakes he could never undo.

And then the light in his eyes faded. His chest fell still. The body that had carried both a soldier’s pride and a lover’s secret surrendered to the darkness.

⚡️

Then everything went dark. The tragic couple vanished before him, swallowed by shadows, leaving only the oppressive void.
Laxus stared ahead, speechless. Had he just died? Was that it? The end?

And then he laughed. Harsh, bitter, disbelieving laughter, like watching the worst movie imaginable, a story ending all wrong. Was that really all there was?

“Not satisfied?” A voice, now as familiar as his own reflection, sliced through the darkness. Laxus turned. A few meters away, Kairos stood, outwardly unharmed, yet no less broken.

“You damn bastard!” Laxus hissed, fury sparking with every word.
“Hey,” Kairos grumbled, tone unimpressed, “you and I are one and the same.”

“Bullshit. What was that?” Laxus’ voice trembled, caught between shock and disbelief.

Kairos gazed into the infinite black. “Not a praiseworthy life, I know. Wasted. Ridiculous. Twenty-three years… for nothing.”

Laxus looked him over critically. “Did you have to show me all that?”

“It was necessary,” Kairos said simply.

“I would have been fine without all your… bullshit,” Laxus muttered, frustration raw, voice tight.
Kairos tilted his head, humorless. “Yeah, sure. But that was part of the deal.”

“Deal? What deal?” Laxus flung his arms out. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’ve been trying to awaken your memories for years,” Kairos explained, voice low, almost tired. “I threw all my anger and hatred at you, hoping you would finally start to remember. But it didn’t work.”

Laxus recoiled, the weight of realization hitting him like a thunderbolt. Anger? Hatred? Every ounce of resentment he had carried toward Fairy Tail—his youth, the last years—it had all been manipulated.

“Are you telling me…” His voice trembled, rising. “Are you telling me it was your fault?!” His punch shot forward, solid with fury, but passed straight through Kairos as if he were air.

“Fine,” Kairos muttered, a quiet sigh escaping him. “I deserved that.”

“Deserved it?!” Laxus shot back, eyes narrowing. “You bet you did!”

Then, suddenly, a softness appeared on Kairos’ face, fleeting but undeniable. “My feelings didn’t work… but Acnologia’s did. And that you found our love again… that’s how you finally started to remember.”

Laxus froze, the words searing into him. His mind raced, connecting the threads. Love. Calomene. Liva. His Liva.

“What?” he whispered, voice trembling with a mixture of awe, disbelief, and something almost like grief.

“We don’t deserve her,” Kairos murmured, voice low, reverent, almost broken. “She sacrificed so much for us. Take good care of her.”
And then, before Laxus could respond, before the ache and rage could settle in, Kairos vanished.

⚡️

The next moment, Laxus toppled hard from the couch, landing with a loud thump on the floor. The noise startled Makarov, who had been sitting quietly next to Liva’s bed.

“Laxus! Are you okay?” he exclaimed, leaping to his grandson’s side.

Laxus was kneeling on the floor, chest heaving, hands trembling slightly. His blue eyes glistened with unshed tears. Makarov froze, worry etched across his face.

“A nightmare?” he asked softly, voice tight.

Laxus lifted his head, incredulous, and let out a humorless laugh that cracked through the heaviness. “Nightmare?” he scoffed. “Damn it, if only it were. If this were a nightmare, I’d happily wake up somewhere with fewer dragons, fewer deaths, and… maybe a decent breakfast.”

Makarov blinked, taken aback by the odd attempt at levity. “Dragons and death? What are you talking about?”

Laxus let out a shaky breath, the weight of memory pressing down on him like a stone. What had he just seen? What had he remembered? He wanted to throw up, to vanish into the darkest corner of the earth.

“Laxus?”

With a shaky sigh, he pushed himself up, meeting his grandfather’s gaze head-on. “Mind if I tell you a story… over a bottle of whiskey, gramps?”

Chapter Text

When Liva awoke, she felt no pain. Which was strange, considering she knew exactly how Ivan had cracked her ribs during their fight.

Completely confused, she sat up and looked around. The room was vast and high-ceilinged, a dormitory with a dozen beds lined up neatly along the walls. The floor and columns were carved from pale marble, gleaming as if freshly polished. Long white curtains hung over the tall windows, rippling in a gentle breeze. 

Her feet touched the cool floor. She wore no shoes, she noticed. And will she stood, a silvery night gown caressed her body. This definitely didn’t look like her room in the tavern.

“I see you’re awake,” said a raspy, familiar voice from behind her.

Liva froze. Slowly, she turned toward the door. It had opened without a sound, and in the frame stood an old woman in silver priestly robes. Her hair, stark white, was swept back into a severe updo, silver ornaments glinting in it like captured moonlight.

Liva’s lips parted. Her heart gave a startled lurch. “Impossible…” she whispered, stunned. “Is that… you, First Sister Ollina?”

The old woman’s lined face softened, and a small smile tugged at her lips. “It’s good to see you again, child.”

But Liva just stared at her. Ollina. High Priestess of Alyona. The First Sister of the temple in Emberfall. She had been Calomene’s guardian, mentor, and for all intents and purposes the only family she had known after her mother died in childbirth. A strict, sharp-tongued, endlessly devout woman, but one who had always wrapped her sternness in something like love. Calomene had grown under her watchful eyes, had learned to pray, to serve, to be perfect in Alyona’s light. And yet, Ollina had died. Four centuries ago. Torn apart in a dragon attack that had burned down nearly all of Emberfall village and had left only a few alive — Calomene included.

How was it possible for Ollina to stand here?

“Are you struck dumb, child?” Ollina asked, brows lifting.

Was this a dream?

Before Liva could stop herself, she stepped forward and pinched Ollina’s wrinkled cheek. “Ow!” the priestess yelped, swatting at her hand. “Have you lost your mind?!”

Liva jerked her fingers back, staring at them in shock. She had felt warmth. The texture of skin, the heat of blood. Not an illusion. Not a dream.

Her eyes widened. “Am I dead?!”

Ollina blinked at her, taken aback, then burst into laughter, deep and rasping, the sound filling the marble chamber. “By Alyona’s light, child, no! I see why you’d think so, but no, you’re not dead.”

“But … but I was just in Crocus,” Liva stammered, panic rising in her chest. “I was hurt, badly.” Her eyes widened, as memories came back slowly. “Ivan, he… he trapped us and we fought against him and … and my… my brother!” Her voice cracked as she looked at Ollina with wide, alarmed eyes. “My brother was kidnapped.”

Ollina, the eternal embodiment of calm even in the face of chaos, only smiled. Her silver jewellery glinted as she stepped further into the light. “I know.”

Liva gaped at her, throwing her arms wide. “You know it? What the hell is going on here?!”

Ollina’s expression didn’t falter. She simply lifted one wrinkled hand and motioned her to calm down. “Remind your manners, young lady. You stand on sacred ground.”

The rebuke hit so hard, so familiar, that Liva instantly shut her mouth. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Sacred… ground?”

For the second time since appearing, Ollina’s smile deepened, soft and fond. “Come. She is waiting for you.”

“Who?” Liva asked, throat dry, but somehow she already knew.

“Who do you think, child?” Ollina’s silver ornaments chimed softly as she turned toward the doorway. “Our Holy Lady Alyona, of course. You are in Her realm.”

Speechless, Liva could only watch as the old woman stepped out into the marble hallway, her movements steady and unhurried, robes whispering against the floor. Then Ollina glanced back, one brow arched in that old familiar way. “Well? Are you coming?”

🌙

Liva hesitated only a moment before scrambling after her, bare feet tapping softly against the marble floor. The hallway stretched impossibly long, each step echoing as though the stone itself held memory.

The arched windows towering above them stole her breath. They rose higher than any she had ever seen, their frames gilded in pure gold and silver that shimmered faintly in the dim light. Intricate patterns, like celestial runes, twisted along the edges as though carved by the hand of a divine being. Which was probably the case, if this was really Alyona temple.

Holy shit, Liva thought with a strange feeling in her gut. I’m walking through the halls of a god.

Somewhere in the distance, the murmur of rushing water reached her ears, deep and constant, like a river that had been flowing since the dawn of time.

Liva slowed, her hand brushing against the cool marble railing, her nervous eyes catching the view beyond the windows. Her breath caught in her throat.

It was night. An endless night, but alive with brilliance. Thousands, no— millions of stars blazed outside, so close she swore she could touch them if she dared to step outside. Wisps of silver starlight drifted like mist, curling in gentle waves. There was no horizon, no earth below, only the sense that the temple floated weightless in a sea of stars.

“Holy…” Liva whispered, awe tightening her chest. “Are we in… space?”

“Not space as you understand it,” Ollina replied without breaking stride. Her voice carried the calm certainty of someone explaining the obvious to a child. “This is the realm between realms. Where Alyona gathers her most faithful.”

Liva blinked rapidly, her brain working overtime. Expensive marble, stars, floating temples. It was beautiful, impossible, and terrifying all at once.

Her voice came out smaller than she liked. “That means, after you died … you came here?”

Ollina was quiet for a moment. “Yes, I did. Every priestess you find here is no longer walking among the living. We are souls in shape of our former body. Our afterlife’s are woven together with our lady’s power.”

Liva gulped. “And you’re sure I’m really not dead?”

Ollina glanced at her from the corner of her eye, and though her mouth twitched with restrained amusement, her tone was sharp. “Not yet, child. Though you’re making a fine effort of it down there.”

Liva choked on a laugh despite herself, shaking her head with a bitter glint in her eyes. “Well, it wasn’t my intention to be caught up in all that shit.”

“Language, girl.”

Liva looked at the figure of the old woman and her heart warmed. Despite the strange situation, despite the fear of this realm and despite her rising anger towards the goddess, who had sent her to Ivan’s clutches willingly. “You haven’t changed at all.”

The old priestess allowed herself the faintest smile. “And neither have you.”

Liva’s gaze still roamed over the whole place. A very big mosaic on an upcoming wall caught her eyes. It glimmered faintly as though lit from within. It depicted Lady Alyona, not carved in neat lines but shaped from fractured light and frost. Her outline wavered, never quite solid, her cloak flowing silver, her body stitched together from stars. Around her feet spiraled the phases of the moon.

It was … unsettling. Though it was clearly a mosaic, it still looked like they were made out of flickering light and shadows. This was not able with the law of physics or magic — this was something else.

The sound of water reached her sensitive ears again. Soft and whispering. The further they walked, the louder it grew, but still silent enough to confuse it as a rustling in the wind.

Liva frowned. “What is that? I keep hearing it.”

“The River of Memory,” Ollina said simply, as though that explained everything.

“River of Memory?” Liva muttered, shivering. “Sounds creepy as hell.” The walls didn’t echo her words this time. Instead, the silence pressed back, heavy and disapproving, until Liva bit her lip and followed in uneasy quiet.

The corridor tightened, shadows creeping along the edges, though ahead a pale glow grew brighter and brighter. At last, they stopped before a pair of double doors, towering and impossibly grand, made out of silvery stone, etched with golden constellations and runes that seemed to shift if she stared too long.

Liva’s chest constricted. A weight pressed on her ribs, squeezing until her breath came shallow and quick. She swallowed hard, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a choke. “Wonderful. Don’t faint, Liva… she’s just a goddess, no big deal.”

Ollina ignored her babbling. The smile had faded from her face, replaced by something quiet, reverent, peaceful. She bowed her head slightly, voice clear and even. “She is here, my lady.”

🌙

The grand double doors swung open silently, as if moved by a gentle, unseen hand. Liva blinked, stepping forward, and her breath caught. Before her stretched a plaza as big as the grand magic games’ arena, carved from stone so pale it seemed to glow beneath the moonlight. Above them, the moon hung impossibly low and enormous, so close it felt like she could reach out and touch it.

Marble obelisks punctuated the plaza, tall and solemn, their surfaces catching the silvery glow and scattering it across the open space. A small river, pure silver, luminous and full of magic power, cut through the plaza. Its gentle flow whispering secrets as it wound toward some unseen source.

And there, at the heart of it all, stood a throne. Not ornate in the way of mortal kings, but elegant, eternal, and impossibly commanding. Upon it, a woman reclined with the calm authority of someone who had always been there. Her robes were night-blue, stitched with what seemed like actual starlight, threaded with silver jewellery that twinkled as though orbiting her. A veil of the same fabric, soft and flowing, shrouded her head and hid her face in shadows. It was impossible to look away.

Liva’s heart hammered in her chest. Every instinct told her to fall to her knees, to scream in reverence or perhaps in disbelief. She felt small, mortal, and completely insignificant beneath the gaze of the goddess, yet alive in a way she could never remember being before.

Liva’s feet hesitated at the threshold of the plaza, her heart hammering like a war drum. Yet, she could feel the soft pull of something, powerful, yet gentle, tugging at her chest, almost as if the moon itself were aware of her presence.

“Come, child,” a voice floated to her, smooth and warm like liquid starlight. She couldn’t see the goddess’s face, veiled in night-blue silk, but the smile she felt was undeniable, carrying patience, kindness, and an unspoken familiarity.

Swallowing, Liva took a trembling step forward. Then another. Each movement felt lighter than it should have, as though the marble itself bent slightly to cradle her steps. Her nerves screamed at her to stop, to flee, but some deep, unreasoning certainty whispered: You belong here.

Finally, she reached the many cushions placed before the throne. It was softer than anything she had ever touched, yet firm enough to support her, as if it had been waiting for her all along. The faint shimmer of the river reflected on the silvery threads woven into Alyona’s robes, casting tiny sparks that flickered across Liva’s skin.

She bowed her head, recalling the formal greeting taught to her in Calomene’s youth, her voice trembling at first, then growing steadier with each word: “Blessed be the Moon’s Radiance. I offer my heart and service to you, Lady Alyona, who guides the faithful with silver light.”

Even as she spoke the words, Liva felt it, something deep inside her stirring, a pulse in sync with the goddess’s presence. She didn’t understand why, but her chest felt lighter, her mind sharper, and a quiet strength bloomed at her core. She was meant to be here. She had always been meant to be here.

Alyona inclined her head slightly, the veil shifting, a glimmer of silver catching the moonlight. The goddess’s voice, soft and serene, wrapped around Liva like a protective embrace: “Rise, my child. You have come further than most ever dare.”

Liva shifted back on the cushion, the softness doing little to soothe the tightening in her chest. The silvery light from Alyona’s robes danced across the plaza, reflecting in the river that cut through the marble like liquid moonlight. Her chest felt heavy, caught between awe and a gnawing dread.

“May I… speak freely?” Her voice quavered, barely above a whisper.

Alyona’s veiled face inclined, faint and serene. “You may, child. Speak as your heart commands.”

Liva swallowed, her hands curling into fists in her lap. “I… I need to understand. Why am I here? Please… send me back. I am honoured, truly, but my brother—Leander…” Her throat constricted, words catching. “He is your Chosen… Do you remember him? I met him… after so long… in an alley—”

A flash of memory struck her. Leander’s voice, their argument, full of regret before he was taken, telling her that he and Alyona knew what would happen to Liva. What would happen with Raven Tail. 

Pain bloomed in her stomach, bitter and searing, like a wound she had tried so hard to bury. She had understood the price she had to pay for Calomene’s wish, but knowing it didn’t dull the ache, the betrayal, the fear that her brother might suffer the same torment.

Her lip trembled as she bit it down, forcing the pain away. She had to concentrate. “After so many years… I finally got to see him again… only for him to be taken by the very man… who tortured me.” Her voice cracked. Liva lifted her hard gaze, meeting the glint of moonlight over the veiled face. “Help me save him. That’s the least you can do.”

Ollina straightened. “Liva! A mortal doesn’t demand from a goddess.” She looked at Alyona apologetically. “I’m sorry, my lady, I didn’t teach her properly.”

But Alyona ignored the high priestess, instead watching Liva. “I understand you, child.” Her voice was calm, piercing. “I know Leander. I’ve guided him, set him on his path as my Chosen. I see him—”

“If you see him,” Liva cut in, voice sharp, trembling with sudden fury, “then you know what he must endure now! Or are you that blind?!”

Ollina gasped behind her. “Liva, watch your tongue!”

“No!” Liva snapped, rising, her hands shaking, chest heaving, heart hammering. “No! I will not watch my tongue. Not with her. Not after what she did to me.” She stepped closer, heat rising in her face, trembling with a mixture of fear and fury.

“What I did to you? I saved you. I fulfilled your wish… gave you and your loved one a second chance in life.”

“I know,” Liva said, voice trembling, almost breaking. “And for that, I am eternally grateful… my lady. But… Leander told me the truth. You sent me to Raven Tail… on purpose. Because of my wish… so I could regain my memories. Why?! Why couldn’t you just let me remember? Why… why let Ivan implant this lacrima in me? Why give me that damned power back?!” Her hands clutched at her chest, the words spilling over, ragged, desperate. “And now… now my brother must suffer too?!”

Alyona sat silently on her throne, statuesque and unyielding.

“Liva, I raised you better than that!” Ollina scolded, stomping toward the blonde woman. She grabbed Liva by the arm and tried to pull her down. “Kneel before your goddess!”

“I will certainly not beg for forgiveness,” Liva hissed, yanking her arm free. “I have thrown away my pride often enough in this life. I will not kneel. I will not beg. While we talk here, my brother is suffering. I know Ivan; he will do terrible things to him.”

“Liva.” Alyona’s voice floated through the plaza, calm and unyielding, forcing the two women to pause. Slowly, deliberately, the goddess rose and descended the steps of her throne with inhuman grace.

Liva swallowed hard as the goddess approached, her chest tightening. Alyona was impossibly tall, more towering than any human could be.

“I want you to know,” Alyona said, her voice soft yet commanding, “our conversation will not affect your brother’s condition.”

“Excuse me?” Liva asked, uncertainty threading her words.

“My realm exists outside of time and space,” the goddess explained. “During our conversation… a century may pass. Or not a single second. It is entirely up to us.”

Liva blinked. “…That means he’s fine?”

“He’s fine. For the moment.” Alyona’s shadowed gaze softened as she looked at Ollina. “Ollina, would you please leave us alone?”

The older woman hesitated, glancing between Liva and the goddess. “Of course, my lady,” she said, bowing before retreating from the plaza. The door clicked shut behind her.

Liva watched her go, and then froze at a faint rustle beside her. Her breath caught, Alyona was kneeling on one of the cushions. “My lady?”

“Come sit with me, my child.”

Liva’s knees trembled as she obeyed. Something in her screamed that this was unnatural, impossible. A goddess kneeling beside a mortal? Was this some cruel trick? Had she just shouted at Alyona. Fuck, she had yelled at a goddess and now she would pay for it, wouldn’t she?

“I can see your panic,” Alyona said, amusement lacing her calm tone. “Don’t worry. You will not be punished for your words.”

“I won’t?” Liva whispered, stunned and relieved at the same time. The words felt fragile in her mouth, as if she was testing reality itself. Her heart fluttered in disbelief.

“Liva, I understand your feelings. Especially your anger and the resentment towards me, but your suffering was not in my hands.“ Alyona’s voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that seemed to make the air shimmer.

Liva looked at her, confusion flickering across her features. “But Leander said you knew what was in store for me.”

“That’s true, but the decision to weave your fate with Ivan’s wasn’t mine.” The goddess sighed, and the sound was startlingly human, soft and sorrowful, like a melody Liva had never imagined a divine being could possess. “If I had my own way, then you would’ve remembered Calomene’s life at your sixteenth birthday and would’ve gone on a quest to find the dragon lacrima. A journey to grow, a fight with Ivan and finding your lost love along the way, to finally have a second chance.”

Alyona grew silent for a moment and with a very bitter tone she said: “But that plan was ripped out off my hands.”

Liva blinked with unease. “I don’t quite follow, my lady.”

“Liva, you must know that the lives and deaths of mortals are woven into the tapestry of fate. The lives of the people who will walk Earth Land in a thousand years are already determined. The gods have planned, decided, and woven them. Only very rarely are threads of the tapestry torn and must be rewoven. When that happens, the entire world of the gods is disrupted.”

Liva’s gaze drifted upward, as if she could glimpse the vast loom of fate stretched across the heavens. Her chest tightened with awe. “That doesn’t sound very flexible.”

Alyona laughed softly, a sound like wind over glass. “No, if there’s one thing the immortals are not, it’s flexible.”

“But what does this whole story about weaving have to do with me?”

“When I granted your wish back then, I broke several divine laws. I broke the first one when I saved your souls from the realm of the dead. The second was when I wove your souls back into the tapestry of fate and gave Laxus and Liva two souls they shouldn’t have had.” Liva’s eyes widened, a shiver running down her spine as the magnitude of what the goddess had done.

“I broke the third one when I planned to give you both your old memories back.”

“Wait, wait,” Liva said, raising her arms, voice trembling. “Both? You mean Laxus…?” The words were almost a whisper, her throat tight with astonishment.

“Yes. In the long run, he will remember his previous life. If neither of you knew who you were, it would have destroyed the meaning of reincarnation. Then I wouldn’t have had to grant your wish at all.”

Liva swallowed, her heart a mixture of relief and awe. The pieces of her suffering, the torment, the confusion. All of it had a reason, a divine purpose she could finally see. “But when Kairos remembers… Will Laxus still be there?” Her voice broke, tears welling in her eyes, trembling with fear and hope alike. Suddenly her old fears were back.

Would Laxus still be the same, after remembering Kairos‘ life? Would she loose him?

Alyona’s hand rested gently on Liva’s shoulder, warm and grounding. “I see no reason why he should be any different. It will take time for all the wounds to heal, but I know that both of you are strong enough to overcome this. I will give my best to give you happiness.”

Liva looked at the goddess thoughtfully. “That all seems very kind to me, my lady. I didn’t know you were so powerful.”

There was a brief silence, heavy as if the moon itself were holding its breath.

“I was once powerful. Very powerful indeed.” Alyona’s voice carried an ancient weight. “In a world full of war, death, and despair, people sent their wishes and hopes to the moon. A god lives off its believers and worshippers, and I had them all. I had hundreds of temples and thousands of believers.”

She rose, her movements smooth and unearthly, and slowly wandered across the vast marble plaza. Her robes trailed like liquid night sky over stone.

“When I changed the tapestry, the other gods took notice. They were furious. Angry beyond words. Their first plan was to undo my work, but…” She laughed, low and bitter, and the sound echoed against the columns like a crack in the night. “They changed their mind. We immortals are very resentful. A misstep is punished and sadly, mortals often suffer under those punishments too.”

Liva’s eyebrows shot up, her breath catching in her throat.

“Changing the whole tapestry would have required tremendous effort from the gods, but it would’ve been possible.” Alyona stopped, her veil tilting slightly. “So instead, they remade my plan. Not entirely, but enough to punish me and you.”

Liva followed her, her steps slow, her expression tightening in thought. “What do you mean?”

“First, they’ve rewritten my plan for you. They intertwined Ivan’s path with your’s sooner than planned and in the most gruesome way. The torture, the pain, everything was done by them.”

Liva’s heart pounded in her ear. What? Was that true?

“After they were done with your fate, they concentrated on me. The fall of my temple in Emberfall was tragic, but it wouldn‘t have weakened my divine power that much. I still would’ve been a very strong goddess.” Alyona turned toward her, the veil catching the moonlight like spun glass. “So to punish me, the other gods tried to erased my name from history.”

A chill pierced through Liva, making her shiver. “What?”

“They made sure my followers burned, my temples crumbled, and my name faded from memory. What you see here, this place, is only the last remaining shadow of my once powerful magic. Where no prayers are spoken, gods lose their power… and their immortality.”

“That means, to punish you and me, they changed the whole fate?”

“Yes. Every death done to punish me, wasn’t planned originally. They play with life as it pleases them.”

Liva stared at the floor, horror pressing against her ribs like a weight. Her voice cracked. Were the gods really that gruel? Were they so powerful? “My lady, are you saying that my wish has cost you your followers, your power and vitality? Are you dying because of my wish?”

“Something like that.” Seeing the shock on her face, Alyona lifted her arm gently, almost consoling. “Don’t get me wrong, my child. I was aware of the grave consequences this wish could have for me.”

“And yet you grated it.” Liva’s words were a whisper, thick with wonder and guilt.

“I did.” Alyona smiled warmly, her face still hidden in the shadow of her veil. “I’m not easy to kill. Even if the others don’t like it.”

Liva’s lips trembled as she searched for words. How often did a mortal hear a goddess accuse her of bringing about her downfall? “My lady, I… I don’t know what to say.” Her hands lifted helplessly before dropping again, her chest tightening. “Why? Why would you do that for me? I was just a simple priestess. Even if I slew the dragons in your name, even if I burned with your vengeance, that can’t be enough. So why?”

Alyona studied her in silence, her expression unreadable, as though weighing whether Liva was worthy of an answer — or of the truth. 
“That,” she said at last, her voice soft as a blade sliding free of its sheath, “is a story for another time.”

Liva blinked, stunned. “But—”

The goddess lifted her chin with two cold fingers, silencing her with a touch that felt both tender and inexorable. “My reasons then are of no consequence now. What matters is the future.”

“The… future?” Liva asked, wary, her voice barely above a whisper.

Alyona’s shadow stretched across the marble as she straightened. “Yes. I didn’t accept my punishment, it was too harsh. So I decided to intertwine again.” She smiled wolfishly. “I found your brother. With his disappearance you still ended up in Raven Tail, yes, but your fate wasn’t as terrible as before.”

Liva stared. It could’ve been worse?!

As if she read her thoughts, Alyona nodded darkly. “Yes, it would’ve been much worse. You still suffered, but you were strong enough to flee and become the person you’re now.”

“But did you let me still suffer, if you changed the fate again?” Liva asked hollowly.

“Because the gods would’ve noticed.” Alyona looked up to the moon. “I try to be more subtle now. In the past, I changed the fate, that lay four hundred years in the future. The gods had enough time to change everything. But now, if I change and intervene, I do it for the immediate future.”

“So that they have no time to change?”

“Correct.”

Liva wobbled. “That … is a lot of information.” She massaged her temples. “So… to summarise everything: My wish changed the fate. For this you and I were punished by the gods. But you didn’t accept this and still try to change the already changed fate?”

Alyona smiled. “Correct again.”

“What … exactly are you trying to change now?” Liva dared to asked, but was unsure if she even wanted to know the truth.

“My, I’m glad you ask, child.” Alyona strolled again, Liva walking beside her. “Everything, to be explicit.”

“Everything?!”

“I sought out your brother not only for your fate, but also for mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“While his disappearance triggered your better future, he as well started to follow me and my believes. He became my Chosen.”

“I know that.” Liva stopped and at the goddess sternly. “What are your plans with my brother?”