Medieval royalty AU - Natray
Heyyyy, late I know!!! Iâm not sure this fit into the Medieval category, i got excited and my fingers slipped. Iâm not sure this is considered a drabble bc itâs over 2k words. Anyway, enjoy^^
Also, this is for Day 4 of the Gratsu AU Week
The Web Valley smelled of death. Thousands of bodies littering the ground, which had absolved so much blood to the point the crimson liquid overflowed the battlefield. Screams and cries of both courage and begs for pity resounded on the natural walls that climbed up high and surrounded the armies.
His armor, incrusted with rare gems, was heavy and ruined his equilibrium. His shield seemed more of a nuisance than protection, it impeded his movements. His helmet, decored with the crown, limited his vision, it made difficult to properly aim at his enemiesâ hearts. All his attire obstructed his technique. However the king refused to take them off, even if all he needed was his sword. The ancient writing on its smooth surface was hidden under blood and gore, the hilt was slippery under his strong hold, drenched in sweat, yet it didnât slip and never faltered. The weapon was made to the king, it loved him as much as he loved it.
They worked together, as a team. The magic was on the sword but the hero was the one who wielded the blade. Waving it with measured movements, slicing at metal and leather, flesh and bones until the foes before him bowed in bloody defeat. Nothing could stop them, together they were invincible. Together they could protect what was most important to them.
At least thatâs what they thought.
A shout of his name, carried over the battle screams, caught the warriorsâ attention. The voice was incontestable and a shiver of fear as well as excitement made the little hairs at the back of his neck stand on end. The kingâs eyes darted around, frantically searching for the one destined to help him achieve victory. Every hero needed a lover, someone to share an invincible love. Despair filled his mind when the search ended with empty results.
Where was his lover?
âAre you searching for this little fly?â The dark sorcerer questioned with sarcasm.
The silence that settled over the battlefield was quelling and made the fear flooding his body all the more clear. Never before it had clamped its claws so tight as at that moment, when his eyes fell on the scene of his love struggling to breath as the dark sorcerer lifted him from the ground by his elegant neck. The lord of dark magic squeezed a little bit more, digging black painted, enlogated nails on olive skin and the kingâs fiancĂ© chocked on a whimper.
The painful sound made the kingâs heart sink and his hold on the sword tightened. Maybe if he used more magic than usual, he would be able to reach both his enemy and lover before anything drastic happened. Several men separated him from the duo but they were nothing but insects compared to the power the sword possessed.
For a moment he locked eyes with his destined rival and immediately regretted for he caught the dangerous glint in those charcoal orbs. He hesitated. The dark sorcerer smiled insanely. A black blade teared through abdominal muscles. His loverâs scream of agony lasted only a few seconds before his slender body fell to the ground like a rag doll.
The wail of fury penetrated the hearts of all the warriors there present. It embed in them the pain in which the king was drowning. Red hot anger invaded the very soul of the hero who surged forward with a feral howl, slashing away and at random, disposing of who dared to stand between him and the one who murdered his reason to live. The king went berserker, his consciousness faded as his self retreated into his mindscape. The magic of the sword, which took form of a powerful, blood-thirsty dragon took over the body. It didnât differ foe and ally.
Yes, his armor was heavy so he unceremoniously discarded it, baring his torso, showing the dragon like tattoo on his shoulder. The shield had been dropped even before. The helmet supporting the crown, also heavy in so many ways, was thrown far away, freeing his vision. Now, with unlimited mobility, the king crouched in a fighting position, presenting the dark sorcerer a challenge. Only one chance. Only one blow. Only one survivor. The corrupted man crouched in a similar position, accepting the challenge.
They both gazed into each otherâs eyes, expressions expectedly different, giving away their thoughts and emotions. A sadist smirk for a mad man and an animalistic snarl for a revengeful man. Not a word was said. Bodies sprinted ahead in a run, swords raised, movements calculated. A black blade arched low and missed for mere millimeters. A silver blade arched high and with a clear swat detached head from shoulder.
Perhaps it was a nervous reflex or a ghostly action, either way, before the head could slide and fall to the ground, the dark sorcerer smiled in awe for a bratty king defeated him with a single blow.
Only one was dead but two bodies hit the dirt together. By the time the dark sorcererâs corpse fell, the king was already by his loverâs side, lifting him into his lap and nurturing the unresponsive man into his chest. Navy blue eyes stared vacantly into his very soul. Their natural glow had faded, much like the color of his skin and the warmth underneath it. The young man was nothing but an empty shell made of pale, paper skin, cold and oh so fragile.
Squeezing the corpse against his own body, feeling his heartbeat but missing his loverâs heartbeat, the king screamed. Screamed in despair and angst, in anger and pain, in fear and sadness. The hero howled like a lonely wolf left behind by his pack, until his throat failed and his lungs burned in need of air. Until there was blood in his mouth and he could not breath anymore-
âąâą
Natsu shot out of the bed gasping for air, his hand reached for his chest, clawing at the skin, hoping to somehow tear the feeling of despair, which gripped his heart. A shin layer of cold sweat coated the expanse of his body and made pink locks sticky to his forehead. Tears welled up and spilled from green eyes like a waterfall, running down his face and creating dark spots on the white sheets.
It had been too real, it always was, but this time the level of intensity had blown the charges. This time the final was what he dread the most.
After ripping the swords out of the rock, as the months had passed the dreams had turned a constant occurrence, narrating the stories of each incarnation of the hero. They were always different but the end never changed: the dark sorcerer was defeated and the hero and his lover lived happily ever after. However, Natsu had noted something, in each reincarnation the lover grew closer to death, until it finally arrived.
It was the last dream/memory. Natsu was sure. Their confront with Zeref was only a few weeks away and the last battle had happened over one hundred years ago. If the story repeated each one hundred and fifty years, that meant there wasnât anything more to remember.
Fear made itself present as his body trembled in dread. Did that meant Gray would die?
Natsu could still feel it, the darkness crawling under his flesh, the deep grief in which his mind was lost during the dream. A feeling so overwhelmingly obscure that brought the impression that part of his spirit had been stolen away. It was suffocating and, once more, Natsu found himself having difficulty to breathe, the air refusing to enter his lungs and making his chest heave.
He closed his eyes, desperately trying to control his body, reign in the panic building within his mind. It was pure agony the mere thought of losing his lover.
Suddenly a hand touched his back right between his shoulder blades. Natsu felt the coolness emanating from the familiar palm and immediately relaxed, for the difference in temperature, the cold against his overheated skin did wonders to calm him down. In no time, Gray had his arms around his broad shoulder, whispering assurances into his ear and caressing pink locks. Long fingers snaked between his soft hair and the feeling was soothing enough to make the king sage, stiff back curving in a tired position.
âWas that another memory?â Gray asked once Natsuâs breath evened out, brows furrowed in obvious concern, âIâm assuming it was intense.â
Natsu merely nodded, still too emotionally affected to speak without his voice breaking, and he couldnât have that. When the king first noted the terrifying pattern on the memories, he immediately reached for Gray, not knowing what to do. His lover had looked alarmed but manage to hid it well enough for Natsu to catch on it only a few days later, but once he did, he instantaneously realized his mistake. Telling Gray he might die had being a wrong move and although there was no going back he promised himself that if in one of the memories it actually happened, he would keep his mouth shut.
And thatâs why he cleared his throat rather loudly when Gray opened his mouth, just about to say something, more likely to question about the content of the dream. His loverâs pink lips remained separated even if his words had being held back. Natsu stared at them for a second, willing his body and mind to calm down before he could assure with false confidence everything was all right, when it clearly wasnât.
âItâs okay, Gray. It was just too real and overwhelming.â To make his statement believable, Natsu grasped onto one of the arms holding him and brought it to his nose, deeply breathing in, taking in the fading smell of mint.
Gray looked unsure, suspicious at most, âNothing out of normal?â
The words of denial tasted like acid in his mouth, but Natsu forced them through chapped lips nonetheless, try his best to keep the strain out of his voice. Gray could not discover the truth about the dream. Panic and fear werenât the answer nor would be of too much help during the battle. One could argue, saying it would serve as a motivator to sharpen Grayâs attention, but Natsu doubted it. The raven couldnât possibly be more focused.
âLetâs go to sleep. Tomorrow weâll discuss war strategies and we canât be tired.â The king stated, laying down and dragging his lover with an arm around a strong torso.
Gray settled on his wide chest, chilly hand caressing the valleys of muscles on a hard belly. Natsu treaded calloused fingers through silky, charcoal locks of messy hair, once in a while scratching blunt nails against sensitive scalp. Soon enough the warm, safe atmosphere encompassing the room lulled Gray into a sleeping state, his breathing evening out and leaving Natsu to his own rumpled emotions. His mind, a whirlwind of thoughts, wouldnât shut down or rest until a solution had presented itself on the forefront of his brain.
Hours passed and no ideas were conceived. The darkness finally started to recede, giving way to the light of the sun and Natsu cursed mentally as he hadnât been able to sleep. For sure, dark bags would support his eyes during the day. Gray moved around, bring a leg to rest on top of Natsuâs, who held his breath until the raven settled down again. It was comforting to hold his lover so close, feel his moving chest, the warmth emanating from pale skin, life filling his form. The young king tightened his hold just a little bit more as intense love took over his very been. He wouldnât let his lover die. Screw fate. Natsu would protect Gray with all his strength. A dream would not define their future, because they build their own destiny.
