(This is what Acnologia looks like 100% of the time. Fed up, tired, and maybe mad, but no one can tell)

It was not truly a war. Not in the way Acnologia was used to - something he found himself immensely grateful for.  Zeref was crippled in options. He'd have to figure out a way to destroy face via espionage, and while the Dark Wizard was impetuous and impatient, he was brilliant at conniving when he needed to be. Acnologia had no doubt the Dragneel was frantically drawing up a new plan, eyes that could not rest always racing and a mind that could not break on the verge of hysteria.

It would be quiet, but it would never be safe. Not while Zeref lived.

Acnologia, of course, went to Mavis almost immediately, dropping a stunned Makarov at the guild first and ordering him to remain calm and keep the possible invasion threat far from everyone's hearts. The last thing they needed was their loyal, yet spontaneous guildmates hi-jacking a boat to go to war with a country run by the Dark Wizard himself. This had to be kept a secret to control the masses, lest there be panic or worse: a war they started.

Zeref would be all too happy if they went to him. And Acnologia wasn't ready for another bloody showdown with those guildmembers - mere children, if you considered it all in the grand scheme of things - on a battlefield, meant for beasts like him and forces like Zeref.

 Makarov had agreed to keep the entire hellish scenario a secret and not another breath was spared on the matter until Acnologia reached Tenrou. He landed heavily and raced to Mavis' gravesite when she met him with a frown and a knowing question as she looked up and deciphered his distress.

"What happened?"

Solemnly, he explained the meeting with Zeref, the threat of Face, and the troops reported to be lying in wait just beyond Fioran borders. She listened with a stony expression and a cold nod. Her visage grew cold and he watched as her mind began to fill with strategies and questions. She took it almost too well all things considered - an apathy (or perhaps a forced callousness) taking hold of her as she pried and interrogated him for details on Zeref's motives and assets.

Two things he was lacking knowledge of, unfortunately.

"Then we need more information, above all else." A simple request from her and he was off with a nod and an immediate understanding. He knew how such things worked, he was nothing if not a child of war and a symbol of conflict. 

He knew above all else, that preparation was the forebearer of victory.

While the dark wizard schemed, Acnologia prepared. He learned the locations of all the Face statues. There were three thousand, two hundred, and eleven pillars all told, scattered far and wide around Ishgar. Most were hidden beneath the ground, perfectly concealed unless someone was looking for them. Finding them was easy - pockets of ethernano weren't subtle if you knew to look for them - but destroying the weapon? No one would be able to get to that many pillars before someone noticed what was happening. At the least, destroying them efficiently would be no easy feat, especially when their mere presence inhibited magic usage.

But, Face being destroyed and Ishgar losing its defense was only one bad scenario. The other occurred if they had to use Face. If they went off it would be immensely catastrophic. Mavis had accepted so with a stern face. 

"Let it happen," she ordered. "If he gambles it all, we'll have to use a contingency plan."

"Which is?" he asked firmly.

She only stared at him, a certainty in her eyes that he found himself hating. She wouldn't tell him. Perhaps she knew he wouldn't like it.  Perhaps it was one of those obnoxious plans that needed him to not know about the plan (those were some of her favorites). Perhaps she didn't actually have one and accepted her body's death at the hands of Zeref's idiocy. 

No matter the reasoning, he immediately began forming his own contingencies, without Mavis' blessing. He mapped out the best flight path to efficiently destroy all of Face within a manageable time. If they all activated instantaneously he was utterly fucked but if he was given a heads-up before the pillars activated, then there was a chance. All he needed was a chance. A few practice rounds ensured that he could get it done in three minutes, granted there were no extra pillars or surprises on the way. Still, it eased some of his nerves to know there was a plan, even if that plan was: fly in this direction and destroy absolutely everything in your path.

Actually... that was a pretty common plan for him. It worked most of the time too.

He would not let Face go off because... well, because. This was home. Mavis needed her lacrima so she could live. The eclipse gate needed magic to open. Turning all of Ishgar into a dead zone for magic was not an option. Ever.

He only had to hope Zeref wasn't as certain as he was. The threat wouldn't work if the Dark Wizard knew Acnologia would stop it. It wouldn't. He had to hope his performance on the beach was enough to convince the man to find a new way. He had to pretend there was a bite to Ishgar's bark.

To ease his mind he began to scan over Alvarez, never too close - just close enough to gain a sense of size, troop movements, ability, and prowess. He could get at least two of those things with long-distance observations. His draconic eyes were always incredibly sharp and would've been suited for reconnaissance had he not been infinitely more useful in combat. 

It was almost terrifying how easily he fell into old habits. Perhaps Zeref was right about one, specific thing... perhaps he was built for war...

It felt almost normal to pull out an updated map and splay it out before Mavis. It felt normal to puzzle through hypotheticals, fretting and growling as their made-up scenarios backed them into theoretical corners. It felt almost comforting to devise defensive maneuvers and fallback positions - to mark strategic places they'd have to hold: the harbor, the river, the trade route from the west.

Wasn't that... pathetic? That he was comfortable in this?

"My bet is they'll come by the sky, the navy is only a distraction," Mavis reasoned. "From the south, too... they'd take the long way around - try to catch us by surprise. Once we're busy fending off our skies, then the navy can safely enter our waters."

"Coming in by sky would be catastrophic for them," Acnologia hummed darkly. "That is my domain, without question."

"Perhaps..." Mavis' voice died away for a moment as she gingerly traced the border of Magnolia's city limits, written in simple ink. "But... Zeref would not even consider doing this if he didn't have a way to deal with you."

He didn't have much of an argument for that. His mind began to churn with questions: How would Zeref 'handle' him? An enchantment? A containment spell? No, the Dark Wizard knew him too well - had seen him overcome such obstacles with ease. Ancient spells and runic translations would serve no challenge either, if anything, it was the one thing both Acnologia and Zeref shared expertise on: old magics and cruel enchantments.

"If he does have something," Acnologia reasoned: "It will be a trade-off enchantment. Or an insanely tailored containment spell."

If nothing was strong enough to hold him (and he had yet to find something that was), Zeref would resort to alternative options. Enchantments grew stronger with specifics - the more limitations on a spell's usage, the stronger that spell typically was at that usage. Perhaps an enchantment that only kept him in but allowed anyone else in or out? A spell that was easy to break, but would activate something else... A destructive spell or something similar. 

Mavis seemed to be on the same page, nodding in understanding: "A spell you could physically break but won't. That's an easy fix. The question is: what does he tie the spell to? How can we avoid it, or make him think we've fallen for it."

"He'll go after something he thinks I value."

"The guild then," Mavis pondered deeply. Her eyes darkened for a moment as millions of plots bounced around in her head like flashes of lightning in a storm cloud.

Acnologia let the storm rumble. This was when she was at her best anyway, and, perhaps it was selfish, but it was nice to let her stew. It reminded him of the Trade Wars, back when things had just felt simpler. No Zeref. No Lumen Histoire. Just Mavis, Acnologia, and Fairy Tail doing what they were best at.

"I need a roster of all our members and their magics," Mavis demanded after a long moment. "I need it from you and you alone. I trust your insight. Update it once a year, and keep an eye on the members I tell you to. Tell me immediately if they leave or get injured. I want your thoughts on the matter as well: where they can improve and your judgment of their character."

"I can do that," Acnologia nodded sternly, something festering in his chest.

"Our best defenses will be Magnolia itself and utilizing what abilities our guildmembers offer," she reasoned. "I do not want them to be soldiers... I don't..." she hesitated: "I can't let us lose sight of what the guild is either..."

Acnologia let out a small sigh: "Soldiers or not if they bear the Fairy Tail emblem, they'll be targets. Every member who joins knows that... in a way."

"But they don't know who's targeting them."

"No. And it'll do no good telling them of this. Not yet."

"I know..." Mavis concurred remorsefully: "They don't need to be pressed into preparing for a war that may never come."

"No, this is our responsibility," Acnologia murmured.

"Yes... Yes... I need to be knowledgeable of them all: fears, strengths, friends, and rivals. If this does turn into a battlefield I'll have to send people to where they're best suited. I don't want to make them soldiers but..."

"But they may have to be," Acnologia finished simply.

She put her head in her hands and pulled at the roots of her blond hair: "Damn him."

Acnologia only sat and listened.

"Damn you, Zeref..." she breathed again, but it was more pained than anything. After a moment, she sat up and collected herself: "We'll give them the option to leave when the time comes."

"Of course."

"No one will be forced to fight."

"True..." Acnologia leaned on his hand and sighed. "But a true Fairy Tail member is hardly one to run from a fight. Abandoning their comrades? I dare say your guild views that as the most damning of all sins. As your teachings have told them to."

Mavis said nothing to that, scribbling a quick note on the side of the map, perhaps pretending she hadn't heard him at all. Acnologia let her be, staring up at the blue sky and relishing how the wind sifted through his hair.

"Then the guild is exactly what it's meant to be," Mavis' voice broke the silence, heavy as steel.

He smiled at the condemnation in those words.

She continued: "We can only rely on ourselves in this. All we have for certain is the guild and Magnolia. Relying on the country or other guilds only sets us up for disappointment... and failure. We must have faith in ourselves, our guild, and its members."

"Failure is not an option," Acnologia's voice was low, his brow dark with such thoughts.

"No. It is not." She seemed to fall back into old habits easily too, taking the map he offered her with a familiar spark in her magic. "But if he wants war with the Fairies," Mavis murmured, eyes burning as she tapped the guild's location on the map: "So be it."

They prepared because they had to. Makarov set up everything he could and listened dutifully when Acnologia arrived bearing news or a new plan from Mavis. He was often traveling between guild, Tenrou, and Alvarez now, the greatest source of information they had. For the first year or so, it felt like it was only a matter of time before it all went to shit.

Mavis thought very, very differently.

"It will be years before he can do anything. Years before he can get someone in a high enough position... years more before he can back the council into a corner," she reasoned.

"How do you know?" Acnologia pressed.

"Because it would take me years," she stated, perhaps a bit smug: "And I am the better strategist."

It seemed she was right. The navy retreated, and all troop movements lessened - hell, merchants from Fiore trickled into Alvarez and thrived. It seemed Zeref's efforts would be centered on stately intelligence, so there was nothing to do but keep a keen eye and ear out. But even then... things were so... so silent.

They would remain that way for a long, long time.

────── {⋆❉⋆} ──────

Eventually much thought toward the looming threat eased. Makarov worried for a while but there was only so much fretting you could do in the silence before it felt... useless. There were more pressing matters to attend to anyway. Present matters: Ivan, the guild, the local politics, and the council.

Mostly Ivan though.

He had grown, fast. In between his reconnaissance missions, Acnologia glimpsed the boy. He was raised around job boards and boisterous mages, wearing his guild mark proudly. He cheered at the brawls, laughed at the jokes, seethed at the insults, and grew as any child would; wild. With so many people around to raise him, Acnologia only saw him in sporadic moments, always around the child, but never close.

Still, Acnologia did what he had always done. He watched, and he recognized patterns... and he stayed on the sidelines.

Makarov was not a poor father, but he was a fantastic master, and quickly it became clear that such things were not capable of coexistence. As the boy grew so did an apparent divide.

"They should respect me!" Ivan seethed at the bar, a few stools away from Acnologia. His knees were scraped and his hand was wrapped to hide his bruised knuckles. There was a dark bruise blooming on his cheek and around his right eye.

"Do not pick fights you cannot win - and you'll gain more respect," Acnologia supposed, watching the coffee grounds swirl in the single sip he had left in the mug.

"They know who my dad is - they should be the careful ones! He could kick them out of the guild!"

"Ivan, you need to be careful," Acnologia regarded the ten-year-old coldly. "You picked a fight - they retaliated. They won."

Ivan clenched his jaw and looked away.

"Yeah, but I'm his son."

That summed up Acnologia's biggest struggle with the boy. Unfortunately, he also knew that of all the members in the guild, he was the only one who could call it into question.

Acnologia sighed, long and slow; "Ivan... do you know what makes a good leader?"

"Will power!" Ivan answered quickly, his eyes sparking with interest.

"That is part of it," Acnologia supposed.

"Then... power?"

Acnologia scoffed: "Try again."

"Nu-uh! Power definitely makes you a good leader!"

"Power exposes your true style of leadership. Power does not make anyone anything - try again."

Ivan pondered to himself for a moment before slouching to the bar: "I don't know... charisma?"

"A good leader" - Acnologia placed his cup down on the bar counter with a soft 'clink' - "instills a staunch loyalty in their followers."

"Loyalty?" Ivan questioned.

"Without fail," Acnologia murmured, Igneel's roar echoing in his head. "The greatest leaders have the staunchest allies - the loyalist followers. Do you understand?"

"No."

"Very well: who would you betray first, the child who just bested you in combat, or your father?"

"The kid!" Ivan cried incredulously.

"Why?"

"Cause he'd fucking deserve it!"

"Because violence and intimidation incite resistance," Acnologia recited darkly. "While heart and compassion inspire loyalty."

"You sound like Dad," Ivan mumbled.

"Your father is a good leader." Acnologia stared into his coffee as his mind danced elsewhere. Old battles and older families... "The guild members are his family - his children. They are as loyal to him as you are."

"But they're not," Ivan seethed. "They're not his family! I am. You're just taking his side."

"Because he is right," Acnologia supposed. "At least as it comes to leadership and this guild. Blood ties cannot matter here - that guildmark does."

"He's my father," Ivan hissed. "I'm loyal to him! Why... why can't he just..."

"He is the guild's master," Acnologia murmured regretfully. "He will always act in its best interest. Do not expect him to take your side just because you are his son. Instead, expect him to stand by you because you are of the guild, and this guild is more than blood."

That was that - it was how it always would be.

Because Makarov would always put the guild first and Ivan second. In Makarov's mind, the guild and Ivan were one and the same; Family. In Ivan's mind, they were starkly different. Acnologia watched them fight, dividing and spiting, and he remembered Igneel for a moment.

Igneel and his estranged son - a son who thought a father's duty was to him and him alone. A son who saw his father choose a different family and seethed at the insult: at the abandonment. A leader yearns for his son to love his chosen family as much as he does. All the son wants is for his father to choose him - value him, acknowledge him, and him alone.

A good leader or a good father, Makarov could not be both, and Ivan refused to let the guild supplement what he lacked. He seethed against the older mages. Condemned the younger ones. Fumed against anyone and everyone. All guild members were his competition - the very thing he fought against to earn Makarov's attention. The others took it as well as expected, scoffing and scathing the boy who hated them so.

The guild had once loved little Ivan, but time can change everything, including affections.

Makarov tried, he did. But... in every fight where Ivan was punished, every job Makarov gave to someone better suited to it, every time Makarov's leadership put him at odds with his son, the divide worsened and so did Ivan. The child learned quickly that he had no ally in Acnologia. The dragon understood his pain, but he could not fix it - nor did he want to. Ivan would have to learn: to love the guild as his father did, find the family in these walls as his father did, or lose his father.

It's no choice for a child, but it was the choice Ivan had. And Acnologia did not have a reason to intervene. Not until he inadvertently made everything worse - and yet somehow better.

Eleven years into Ivan's childhood, Acnologia stumbled upon a youth who, unknowingly to him at the time, would cement Ivan's hate. The boy was dirty, tall, and far from healthy. His red hair was full of lice, his hands were callused, and when he smiled it was a fanged bite of challenge and a spark of pride. His presence was a wild surge of power that swamped Magnolia and drowned any mage that tried to approach him. He'd been causing problems in the outskirts of Magnolia: petty theft and general contempt. It wasn't the usual issue Acnologia dealt with, but the sheer magic presence of the boy made him curious, as did the stories a few mages came back with.

A boy who could destroy anything. Who could dice through spells with ease. Who scared off some Fairy Tail mages when he threatened to slice them up the same way if they messed with him.

When Makarov had asked him to check it out, Acnologia didn't argue. He simply went to satiate his curiosity. It wasn't hard to find the troublemaker. 

They eyed each other from across the street, the redhead stopping in his tracks when he saw the Dragon of the Fairies just a few meters away. Acnologia, meanwhile, simply breathed in the aura of the young boy. His magic power was like an unending stream of sand, seeping into the cracks of cobblestone and thrumming with destructive potential as it wiggled deeper and deeper into the earth. It was familiar... in... a few way. One more-so than all others.

A soft settling of wings, contrasted with sharp fangs: "Show me your potential, child. Show me all you can destroy."

"Child," Acnologia greeted simply, chasing such thoughts away. "Are you hungry?"

The destructive power vanished as confusion danced over the boy's face.

"Aren't... aren't you here to chase me off?"

"Chase you? Young one, if I was here to deal with you, you would be dealt with," Acnologia ridiculed. "No, I am simply curious about a new place down the street, and found myself in need of company."

He actually had been wanting to try it - Rob had said something about it having excellent fish. He was rather partial to a good grilled fish fillet. Especially if it came with those small mini fries. A fantastic invention: frying potatoes and then making them bite-size. Honestly, one of his favorite innovative moments of mankind.

"So... you're not here to chase me out of the city?" the boy demanded cautiously.

"No, unless you... want a fight?" Acnologia offered. Perhaps the boy was seeking a challenge?

"No." The boy stated quickly - oh, so he knew who Acnologia was.

"Good." 

He left, and the boy slowly followed. Food was one of those universal offerings that could satiate even the proudest of the dragons. Over lunch, the boy gave his name; Gildarts. He was an orphan from the east. He'd picked his way from town to town, surviving thanks to his wits and his magic, which oh so kindly he demonstrated on the table.

Acnologia was left staring at the table at his feet, cut and diced into neatly shaped cubes. He'd been holding his coffee cup, thankfully, but stared at his half-eaten fish fillet with a mixture of disappointment and exasperation.

"Could you not wait until we were finished eating?" he asked with a light glare.

"... Sorry," Gildarts muttered with a nervous grin. "But... what do you think?"

"About your magic? It is dangerous," Acnologia supposed, prodding at the remnants of the table with a foot. "You have a juvenile control over it, but you can dice organic, inorganic, and mana-based matter - likely even atoms if you refined it -"

"Atoms?"

"Yes - do not try it!"

Acnologia shoved the boy's hands away from each other incredulously.

"What?" Gildarts asked defensively.

Acnologia pinched the bridge of his nose as he held his coffee aloft and sighed... again. "Do you want to be a mage?"

The boy was obviously offended by such a question: "Want to? I already am!"

"So, to summarize: You want to be a mage. You have incredible magic power, base-level control, and possess an impulsive nature to boot. Child, respectfully, why not just walk the seventeen blocks it takes to reach the guildhall?"

"The... Guildhall?"

"Yes. The Fairy Tail Guildhall. The guild. In Magnolia. Where you are now."

"I know where I am!"

"Then, I shall repeat my question: why -"

"Don't I... like... have to earn a place or something?" Gildarts asked with a tremble in his smile. "I did come here for the guild, but I figured I had to be older, and stronger, and ya'know beat someone to earn a place or something?"

"Iɴ ᴅIᴇꓕʏ's ᴛIᴛΓᴇ, get up, I will get you initiated."

"You will?"

"Yes! Someone has to make sure you do not recreate nuclear fission and kill us all."

"...You?"

"No. You will be Makarov's problem."

And so, Acnologia brought the young boy to the hall, watched the Fairy Tail emblem blaze itself onto his skin, and witnessed the birth of two diametric sons of the guild. One born in the guild's love, and one who earnestly wanted to return it. 

The guild took Gildarts in with love, as they always had. Someone taught him to cook, and took him shopping after his first job - Makarov helped the boy get set up at the guild's apartments which had the teenager gawking ("My own place? Are you joking - you're not joking!?...Really?"). They taught him to sew his clothes, wrap his wounds, and took his strength on with confidence and familiar egomania that was only becoming of Fairy Tail mages.

In short, Gildarts found a home, and he loved it.

Where Ivan failed was where Gildarts flourished. Where Ivan grew spiteful, Gildarts learned to love with a smile and a laugh. Ivan picked fights. Gildarts told jokes and wrapped wounds. Ivan antagonized Gildarts and the rusty-haired orphan quietly asked Makarov to train him so that he'd never accidentally kill the master's son in a fight - kill anyone in a fight.

Makarov and Rob were happy to oblige. Acnologia was not. He wanted nothing to do with the boy's potential - he wanted the boy to stay out of his hands and that young talent with it. His hands would not mold a weapon. They would not repeat the old Dragon King's errors. But Makarov was insistent, and Gildarts' spirit would shrink every time Acnologia said 'no'. And Mavis - oh, Mavis. Every visit ended the same with her encouraging Acnologia to train the boy over and over again until the Dragon King relented.

"I will only teach him to temper himself," Acnologia stated firmly. He would not make that boy a weapon. Not even with the threat of Zeref looming over them! The boy was skilled but he would not condemn him to that.

Mavis did not argue.

"Even if he doesn't stay with us, even if his power isn't needed, even if the war never comes... he should learn all he wants to in a safe place," she nodded. "I never meant to insinuate otherwise."

And for a moment Acnologia was almost ashamed he had expected her to. 

That is how the great Dragon Slayer began to teach a teenage boy lessons in control. Something Gildarts seemed to recognize the weight of. Something that struck Ivan with nothing short of jealousy.

Envy grew on Ivan like a curse. The teenager seethed and brooded, taking out his anger on those around him. He was particularly fond of goading members with less combat-oriented magic into impromptu duels, and promptly taking those duels too far, at least until someone intervened. Usually that someone was Gildarts or Makarov.

Gildarts was the son of the guild, a boy taken in and loved by the wild spirits in that hall. A boy who most members could see glimpses of themselves in. He loved them back, and that made loving easier. Makarov commissioned the city of Magnolia to rebuild the main street after a particularly nasty accident nearly wiped out half the town. An accident Ivan instigated - and just to keep the record straight, an incident he survived thanks to Gildart's self-control. An accident everyone survived, miraculously. So Magnolia's city blocks now moved at the chiming of the Gildart's bell. The boy returned home sheepish the first few times but grew prouder as the years passed.

The guild moved cities for their newest, brightest child. What more had to be said?

Gildarts, as a young twenty-year-old, had enough magic energy to level half the continent. Acnologia taught him control methods where he could, crucial lessons on self-limitations, and magical restraints. The boy was open to it all and took each lesson carefully with a snicker and a joke, but a dedication to commit it to heart. He knew cruelty and cold streets. He knew death and loneliness - he was insistent that he would be better than the world that birthed him.

It ached something familiar in Acnologia's chest. Something young. Something he thought had died a long, long time ago.

Gildarts was strong. He was impressive. He was also a kind man who brought back souvenirs for the younger members and stories for the elders. He knew them all by name and kept a small journal where he wrote down their names and birthdays, their likes and dislikes, their goals and wishes - just to look at when he was away... to remember them all by. He was a flirt and a partier and a troublemaker and a free-spirit and a protector and a menace and a hero.

He was Fairy Tail incarnate, it seemed. Mavis would've loved him, did love him when he participated in the S-Class trials. The two of them sat high in the Tenrou tree, watching the last act of the trials with warm smiles as the young man claimed his victory.

"He's grown," Mavis smiled. "But he's exactly what I expected."

"Yeah?" Acnologia chuckled.

She beamed at the dragon slayer and nodded: "Zera would've hated him."

He had to laugh weakly at that, doubling over and cackling at the thought of that girl's disdain. Oh - she would've.

Opinions and reminiscing aside, Gildarts did grow. 

It was Gildarts who became an S-class mage. Gildarts who was requested by the Magic Council for dangerous jobs. Gildarts was the name everyone thought of when they thought of Fairy Tail. He was who everyone whispered about when Makarov's retirement was mentioned.

Ivan stopped coming to the guild. He'd take a job and then vanish for weeks. He'd return, snap at anyone who greeted him, and rip another job from the board before disappearing again. Makarov tried to make peace, once, which resulted in a screaming match in the guild's main hall. A lot of bickering to the tune of: "I am your son!" and "They are also my children!" which circled too many times for anyone to count.

A long-simmering bridge was burned that day.

Ivan vanished altogether. Rob did too a few months later, and though Ivan was expected, Rob was not. He'd been talking about retirement more and more, but no one expected him to leave without a word. He'd gone on vacation and had just... never come back.

An investigation concluded that he'd boarded a ship abroad and whatever happened after that was out of their jurisdiction. He'd just left.

It was more salt in Makarov's lonely wound. The older master had drunk a bit too much that week for Acnologia's liking and an intervention was in order. The trough of that time wasn't deep, but it was painful. Makarov and Acnologia were alone in a guild full of youths. No one could hold a candle to the history the two remembered, and that's not a weight easy to bear, especially for a father who'd failed his son.

It was a few nights of quiet and a few gentle words between the old dragon slayer and the grown boy, but Makarov pressed on as he always had. As he always would. They'd hear whispers, now and again, about what the Dreyar heir was up to, but never anything tangible. Never anything that would justify chasing him down.

 It was two years until Makarov saw his son again - and he wasn't alone.

"What... what is this?" Makarov asked softly.

The entire guild had grown silent at the prodigal son's return. Silent as they looked at Ivan in the doorway. He had a smile on his face that twisted at his father's soft voice. Acnologia noted the man's sneer, the man's eyes, and even the way he held himself.

Ivan was proud. Ivan was smug.

Everyone else was enraptured by what - by who - Ivan was holding. A small blonde baby was resting in his arms, in what may have been a peaceful sleep.

"This," Ivan retorted. "Is Laxus Dreyar. Your grandson."

"My..." Makarov's voice was weak.

"Yes. Father. The next Dreyar heir. The next heir to Fairy Tail."

"There are no heirs to Fairy Tail," Acnologia corrected, standing from his usual seat. Everyone jumped to hear him break the silence. His approach was swift and in a few strides, he was at Makarov's side, staring at Ivan. "This is not a kingdom to inherit."

But Makarov was not listening, he was staring at the babe, eyes wide and lips trembling.

Ivan took a step closer to Acnologia, a darkness in his gaze that Acnologia recognized. He'd seen other beasts hold it - truer monsters had carried that look: Ambition - ambition entrusted to an heir.

"I'd appreciate it if you don't stifle this celebration," Ivan sneered.

Acnologia opened his mouth to snarl, but the boy, Laxus, began crying in Ivan's arms, the young voice screeching off the walls. For the first time, Acnologia glanced down and took in the child's presence.

His energy crackled softly in the magic around them - gently and bright... like Yuri... So much like Yuri...

Ivan took Acnologia's silence as his success and sidestepped around him to bring his heir to Makarov. Acnologia was left standing there, perfectly stagnant, in reminiscent pain.

"Hello... Laxus," he heard Makarov breathe as he could only assume the guild master held his grandfather for the first time.

So much like Yuri: the boy's magic was just like it...

"He..." - the words caught in his throat, so softly no one else heard. A breath and his voice had returned, as steady as ever: "He is like your father.

He turned and found all the Dreyar's eyes on him.

"Your instincts are mistaken, great dragon," Ivan scowled, but it lessened into a sigh. "Unfortunately my son does not have his grandfather's strong constitution -"

"I was not speaking to you," Acnologia explained simply, darkly, his gaze fixed on Makarov and the child.

Makarov laughed weakly at the epiphany as he looked down at the boy in his arms.

"Really?" the master's voice shook.

"Unmistakeably," Acnologia affirmed.

Makarov's face broke into a small smile and Ivan's eyes narrowed, perplexed by the exchange.

"What do you mean? What does he mean?" he turned to Makarov when he realized the dragon king wouldn't answer his questions.

"He means..." Makarov supposed: "Your son will grow up to be brilliant."

"Your... Wait! Grandfather died of sickness!" Ivan seethed. He then turned to jab a finger in Acnologia's chest. "My heir may not have the best constitution but if you think I will stand by while you  -"

"Yuri was not weak." Acnologia's growl shook the very core of every human present as his glare finally snapped to Ivan's. The mage's finger trembled as Acnologia, gently, moved it aside and stepped closer to Ivan's space.

"I know what you meant," Ivan scorned. "You think he'll die young. You think my son is nothing compared to Makarov -"

"Insult my dead friend again," Acnologia dared, rage bubbling under his skin. "Insult your grandfather once more and you will regret it."

Ivan shut his mouth and Acnologia was pulled away once more by the child in Makarov's arms. Makarov, who was opening his mouth to condemn Acnologia. The child, whose eyes opened, whose cries stopped, and whose face struck Acnologia to his core.

Because those were Yuri's eyes. Those were the eyes of a dead man who had known Acnologia's soul - truer than most had.

And Acnologia was gone.

He was in the streets of Magnolia, on the rooftops, and then in the cemetery. He was kneeling at Yuri and Rita's graves, his hands trembling as his breaths caught in his throat.

He didn't believe in reincarnation. He hardly believed in an afterlife! He... he... he couldn't shake those eyes. He couldn't shake the familiarity that prickled over his skin. He bowed his head at Yuri's grave and let out a long breath. The air was too still - too quiet, but if he listened close enough he could hear a storm brewing in the distance.

He stood there for a very long time.

[Ivan: I hate you.

Gildarts: ... Why though???

Ivan: You know why!

Gildarts: I really don't...

Ivan: You're the favorite child - and that's not fair because I came first!

Gildarts: Well yeah, but you were a JERK!

Ivan: WELL YOU'RE ADOPTED, SO THERE -

Gildarts: AT LEAST THEY WANTED ME!!

Makarov: *looks at the camera like this is the Office*

Acnologia: I don't get paid enough to put up with this.

Makarov: You don't get paid at all?

Acnologia: Exactly. ]