[FRAXUS] The House On Hollow's Lane - Chapter 11
Summary: When magic flares and runes are written, Freed is found in his home, wrapped up and trapped in his own magic. Heâs partially transformed, his soul is rotting, and his eyes are dead. Heâs left behind a puzzle of traps and a summons for the exiled Laxus Dreyar. A summons that, by all interpretations, would make Laxus his executioner. Laxus refuses to kill the man he cares for more than anyone else. But with an untrusting guild, a mystery that seemed hell bent on not being solved, and the threat of slaughter ever looming, can Laxus do anything to save the man he loves before he must kill him with his own hands?
Notes: Hi, this one has a villain saying homophobic things and being ignored. Read with care.
Link: Ao3, Previous Chapter, Next Chapter
Chapter Eleven â Awoken
People were yelling at Laxus from all angles. Demanding to know what he was doing. Wanting to know what had happened. Begging him to take a moment to think, and not do anything too hasty. He didn't listen to any of them, and kept on walking towards Freed, knowing exactly what he needed to do to save Freed's life.
He needed to be honest.
He needed to be vulnerable.
He needed to be himself.
Resting his weight on the cane, he pushed forward. His body seemed to be screaming at him to stop as much as the guild were, but he ignored that too. His hand was grasped tight on Freed's sword, which was still tucked in his belt. He felt Freed's runes buzzing, forcing honesty but not admission.
That was fine. What he was going to say now wasn't something that needed to be forced out of him. Not something that would be said through demand. It was just something that needed to be said. Something that would free them both.
"Laxus, you cannot go there after what just happened," Makarov stood in his way, stretching his body so that Laxus could not simply walk past him. "We still don't know what he did to you in there. You just collapsed and they dragged you out. They couldn't even gag him again; we didn't have the time. Not to mention you don't have your magic back yet. What happens if you need to defend yourself, or if you need to get out."
"I won't," Laxus assured him.
"Look, man," Bickslow tried, grabbing Laxus by the arm to try and stop him. Laxus shook it off. "Obviously, I want him out of there as much as you, but you're bein' all erratic and twitchy and not explaining yourself. Can't you give it, like, an hour just to think about it."
"I'm not letting him stay like that when I know I can get him out!"
"Laxus, I know," Evergreen went next, cupping him by the back of the neck and holding him steady. "I don't know what he showed you, but the fact you're acting like this⊠it's like he got in your head," she put a finger up to stop him from contradicting him. "That's all he was trying to do in there, right? You said it yourself. Trying to make us second guess ourselves, or get angry and less inclined to help him, or just make Freed feel bad about himself, right? What if whatever he showed you is more of that."
"Yeah, obviously," Laxus snapped. "But that doesn't mean I ain't smarter than some demon. And it definitely doesn't mean Freed ain't smarter than it."
"So what?" Makarov demanded.
"So Freed ain't being as passive as you all wanna make him look," Laxus growled. "He didn't set this up just so I can kill him. He could've done that himself without any of this shit. He set this up because he thought there's a chance of us savin' him, and he's been pulling strings as best he can. Savin' his soul, summoning me, giving me a goddamn truth spell! Any of that seem like the actions of a man who's given up and waiting to die? Really?"
The three of them looked at each other, and Laxus didn't care enough to figure out what those looks meant.
Maybe they thought he was deluded.
Maybe they'd already written Freed off more than they were letting on.
Maybe they wanted to help and wanted to believe him but they just couldn't do it.
None of that mattered, because none of them knew Freed in the way Laxus did. He and Freed, they were different. They were born out of a nasty fight filled with demands, respect, and low blows that belied that respect. They roiled in their worse qualities while taking umbrage with their betters. They spoke without words, knew without asking, and loved without saying. They were a pair joined by what wasn't said, but what had always been known.
But if it was only known to the two of them â if nobody else had been able to see it and know the truth of the two of them â then Laxus had to act accordingly. Laxus was alone, and would be alone until Freed was returned to him. And Freed would be returned to him.
He gathered at the limp wisps and spores of his barely yet recovered magic, let them dance across his skin and envelop him into their agonising sting. He roared and screamed as his body objected to such a spell when his magic reserves were empty. He shot forward, his body a stream of lightning that flickered and danced upwards, shooting over the heads of the mages and the knights that were keeping him from Freed. He landed on the cracked stone outside of Freed's front door and limped in before anyone could stop him.
He stepped inside.
Stepped again.
The door slammed shut behind him.
All sound was muffled, and they were alone.
Just Laxus, Freed, and the demon.
"You're back," The demon mused in an almost seductive tone. "I assume you want to beat the little queer for imposing his degeneracy on your image. I could pretend to be him if it makes it all the more satisfying for you."
"Will you just drop the whole macho baitin' homophobe crap for five minutes," he grasped the sword, making it obvious. Both Freed and the demon would know that, from now on, he would be speaking nothing but his own, wilful truth. "We all know all it'd take is for him to click his fingers and I'd suck his cock, and I'm fuckin' sick of pretending otherwise," Laxus walked forward. "Now, I ain't here to talk to some asshat little demon who only really exists 'cause of some magic gone wrong. I'm here to speak to my friend. So shut up."
"Oh, well, you've convinced me," the demon laughed. "I'll be perfectly compliant now that I know you're here for-"
Laxus shut him up, slamming his fist hard into Freed's face, catching him on the chin with enough force to be just shy of dislocating his jaw. There was a moment where Freed grinned â a grin that was well worn and far too familiar to be the demon â before it was shucked away by a weakness that Freed would never let known. Freed would bluster through a punch to the face. The demon, though, didn't.
"Yeah, I thought so," Laxus grinned. "You're basically a concept, right. But now you're real, and you're using Freed's body, and I bet it all feels a little too much. So let me tell ya about a little saying we mages have. Nothing hurts more than a punch to the face. Nothing except the next one. So, again, shut up and let me talk to him."
The demon's breath shuddered. "You'll be hurting him, too."
"He can take it. You can't," Laxus clenched his fist again, and a small, weak scatter of lightning illuminated his knuckles. "Want me to prove it, fuck nuts?"
The demon scowled, but was cowed. "He's not here anymore."
"Yeah, he is," Laxus was sure of that. Only Freed would have worn that smirk after getting a punch to the face, and nobody could emulate his restrained but boastful ego at being beaten down. "So, here's what I'm thinkin'. You summoned me here, when anyone could've been the one to kill ya. You knew you left those notes that hinted at emotions being the key to breaking the spell. And you left me a sword that means anything I say when I'm holding it is honest. I'm thinkin' you know me better than I've known myself. I think you've been waiting for me for way too goddamn long. And I think it's time for both of us to start bein' ourselves again."
Laxus rolled back his shoulders. He looked Freed in the eyes, and felt Freed looking back at him. Those eyes held hope again. That was Freed. He was still there. Laxus took a breath, and confessed to the bedrock of who he was.
"Freed, I fell for you the moment you slammed my head into the ground the day we met."
Fuck. Fuck that felt good to say.
"I've been in love with you for years and didn't even realise it."
And how hadn't he realised it? How hadn't he realised the driving force for all his crap, and stupidity, and maturity was the man he was so close to losing?
"You've been pissing me off, and makin' me better, and turning me on for years now."
Everything he was went back to Freed. Everything he could be was Freed's victory to claim.
"You make me a good person. You make me think about things. You make me realise that I'm being a piece of shit, or that I'm being shortsighted, or that I'm fucking things up."
He took another step forward, getting closer to Freed.
The demon thrashed against the runic binds for the first time, and Laxus knew why. His man was winning, and the demon was losing.
"You make me feel warm, and safe, and like I have the space to make mistakes without it mattering."
Freed let out a shallow, low breath.
"You make me wanna put the effort into being better. Like there's a point to pushing passed my bullshit and thinking of others."
Laxus raised his hand to cup Freed's cheek, and Freed leant into it ever so slightly, his thrashing stopped.
"You make me hot for you. Make me want you. Make me want you so damn much I get stupid."
He sent a little spark of lightning through his hand and into Freed, and heard the quietest little purr of contentment.
"You make me a person. You make me a man. You make me who I want to be."
He leaned in close enough for him to feel Freed's breath on his own, lips so close they nearly touched.
"You make me alive, Freed. And you're not fuckin' leaving me now."
Finally, he kissed his man.
He leant into Freed entirely, pushing their bodies together and holding Freed to him. Freed's chapped and unused lips slid against Laxus' own, and Laxus was left in no doubt who was kissing him. His Freed, in his arms, respondent and himself again.
Laxus wrapped an arm around Freed's waist and pulled him flush against him, strong body against strong body. Everything he was too damn stupid to know how to say, he let it fuel the kiss. He let the unspoken truth of his feelings and their relationship and the love they shared stoke the fire of this kiss. Freed took control and Laxus relented to the power of it, body going lax and his soul screaming in overwhelmed contentment.
This was right. This was destiny. This was overdue and premature and perfect.
A hand laced into his hair, angling his head so Freed could better kiss him. Another hand hooked Laxus by the belt, disallowing Laxus from even attempting to separate their bodies. Not that Laxus would. Why would he ever want to?
Freed was strong, firm and sturdy against Laxus. He could take anything, but he wouldn't have to. Laxus would never do anything that would need to be endured by Freed. Freed would be worshipped and adored and respected. Laxus would not be able to do anything else but treat his man like a prince. A king. A god.
It was funny. Freed had been the one to title Laxus as the thunder god, but Laxus felt like the lowliest of acolytes, happy to worship and splendour in his shadow.
But Freed was kissing him, and Laxus may be love struck, but he wasn't stupid enough to stop.
He would stretch this moment out for eternity, if he could.
No moment could last forever, though. Freed jerked back with a sudden movement, his hand still holding Laxus close by the belt. He threw his head back, spine arching in a steep curve as he looked up. His eyes were blown wide and manic, smoke coming from them. He coughed and spluttered, inky black bile spilling out of him and raising into fog. It clouded up, filling the space and lashing out with intangible tendrils.
Maybe this was the demon. Maybe this was the magic. Laxus didn't know, nor did he care. He now knew what it felt like to have Freed in his arms, against his chest, and on his lips. Nothing would get in his way when the prize was so sweet.
With a last final burst of his magic, he roared. A barrelling tundra of dragon slaying power rose up through his throat, parted his lips, and slammed into the demonic fog starting to take form.
Laxus decimated it, using overwhelming magic that he should not have. It tried to flee, but Laxus wouldn't let it. His roar followed the demon, ripping it apart and turning it into nothing. He took what remained of the house with it, making sure there was not a chance that this demon could hurt Freed again. Freed was his to protect, his to serve, and his to love. Nothing would hurt him or take him from Laxus again.
His magic ran dry, and the demonic smog was gone. Freed coughed a final time, body straight again and still in Laxus' arms. They looked at each other, and Laxus knew beyond doubt that Freed was himself, completely and totally.
"Hey," Laxus rasped.
"Hello again."
Freed smiled at him, and then his eyes rolled back and he fell limp in Laxus' arms. Laxus held him close, as the house on Hollow's lane collapsed into rubble.
