Makarov would become a wizard saint in his late twenties. He and his magic grew into a form that haunted the Dragon King's peripheral. The boy was powerful. Arrogant. Above all he was loving - loving enough to fight a dark dragon with his bare hands, should it ever come down to it. All of Magnolia had seen him grow on the Guild's floors and soon everyone in Fiore knew the Fairy Tail poster child. Where the name Fairy Tail went, mention of Makarov was sure to follow with a smirk and a laugh.

He was proud. He was powerful. He was an arrogant little thing but endearingly so. For all that bluster or confidence, the boy was never above a small lesson from the dragon. In fact, he seemed to welcome any critiques if it came from the Dragon King's mouth. That sort of idol worship chafed Acnologia, who knew too much, but never enough to stall his assistance.

Acnologia chalked it up to the boy's heart. He was kinder than Acnologia had ever been - a bold spirit with a bleeding heart. It made better kings of powerful mages.

But, before Makarov gained sainthood or the guild - before he was grown - he started off with something Acnologia had learned to be quite crucial for success in this harsh world: Allies. Friends. Family, even.

The group started with Bob, a skilled magician with a flirtatious spirit who could make half the guild swoon - a friend made in Makarov's late teens. He came into the guild by blowing the doors open and demanding to see the mage in charge. The self-proclaimed "stunning" mage from Dialga (a merchant town across the mountains) would be joining this "prestigious guild", and would not take no for an answer.

The guild tended to reward that level of concerning determination.

So Bob joined and tailed after Makarov on some ridiculously dangerous mission to prove his worth. Whatever traumatic bonding ensued was enough to make them fast friends for life.

 Next came Rob who was quiet in the same way Warrod had been in Mavis' youth: a calming member of the new trio. He and Bob could not have been more opposed, but the flamboyance of Bob paired with the subtlety of Rob made for a strong team of surprisingly adept negotiators. The flame and phasing magic were helpful too. 

Acnologia was only slightly surprised to hear the three had snuck into the country of Seven, apparently usurped some "asshole" duke, and talked (read: fought) their way out of it. The first of many Makarov-level shenanigans that left the three returning months late, disheveled, exhausted, and yet all too ready to throw a party.

Yajima arrived two years later, right as Makarov became an S-class mage (A title Acnologia had been awarded automatically, which... pardon his vernacular but, no shit). Yajima was an aspiring lawyer of all things, who'd gone through some midlife crisis at the ripe age of nineteen, dropped out of school, and joined the most infamous party guild of all time. Naturally, seeing as half the time Rob, Makarov, and Bob were caught in legal trouble, Yajima was a welcome addition to the team.

And - Acnologia could not lie, it was a small relief as he received fewer and fewer letters from the boy asking to bail him out of some state prison three countries away. That boy needed to learn jurisdiction limitations or, in this case, get a lawyer. Poor Yajima though seemed to age thirty years in the first three weeks. 

Running from a state-wide manhunt in Minstril would do that to you. Thank gods, Bob could phase through walls.

That near-death manhunt experiance was about then when Warrod left the guild. He'd stopped taking serious jobs a decade ago and spent most of his time in a quaint summer house on the outskirts of Fiore's northern border. He'd drop by for a week or two to check in on Makarov, always smiling with a strange level of calm as the boy described his ridiculous adventures. He'd tend to some of the gardens around Magnolia, always happy to lend a bit of magic to a dying trellis, and then he'd be gone.

It wasn't surprising when the man sat next to the Dragon King with a cup of tea and told him it would be their last. Something was warming about the frank simplicity in that goodbye.

"You deserve rest," Acnologia hummed, knowing the man's fiddling was an old sign of nerves.

"I think so," Warrod smiled, smile lines twisting as he sighed and continued to pick at his teacup. "I just think I need a nice, long, peaceful retirement. Can't keep up with these kids nowadays."

Said children were currently ten minutes into another brawl because someone had knocked over someone else's drink and now three tables were broken. Acnologia gave a small nod and felt a grin pull at his lips, remembering how easily Warrod had once picked up all the Fairy Tail members, vines twisting at his command to hoist the troublemakers up, holding them still for a long, calm lecture.

Oh yes, Warrod could very easily keep up with the youths, but as Acnologia glanced over he recognized other setbacks. His hair was a stark silver, a few leaves stuck in the thick clumps (or growing from them, it was always hard to tell). The old man's eyes were weary, distant. His skin had grown thick, with deeper lines and weary marks. There was a different fatigue there, one the Dragon King knew well.

Too much life. Too much memory. It all became noise after a while; Static.

"You should think about it too!" Warrod grinned. "Might do you some good to retire."

Acnologia barked a laugh: "Please, I'd outlive my retirement."

"That's true. That's true..." 

They fell into a softer silence as Warrod sipped his tea. It wasn't a true silence - the shrieking and brawling behind them was a cacophony they'd simply grown accustomed to.

But still...

"I envy you, I truly do," Acnologia sighed at last as he rubbed his head and braced himself. A rogue chair flew for the two of them, and with no hesitation, the Dragon King caught it. With years of this odd normalcy, he gave the seat of cedar a small glare before tossing it back into the fray at random. Someone yelped and he knew better than to care.

"It sure has grown rambunxious," Warrod smiled, the wrinkles on his eyes growing deeper as he smiled lovingly. "Mavis and Yuri would've loved it."

"Yes," Acnologia concurred with a small nod. "They would."

"Well... Though I may be enjoying my serenity, if this place ever needs anything," Warrod murmured, smiling up at the guild's flag; "I'll always answer."

There wasn't much to say to that, and so the mage took his leave. He strode from the bar to the doors of the guild without fear, occasionally summoning plants to clear a path or catch an ill-aimed table. Acnologia watched him go for a moment, trying to dispel that familiar heavy feeling resting in his ribs.

"Oh... and Acnologia," Warrod supposed, turning around one last time, knowing full well Acnologia could hear him despite all the mayhem. "Watch out for Precht."

Acnologia halfheartedly raised his coffee in what he hoped passed as an agreeable gesture as Warrod smiled and left the guildhall, for the last time. Acnologia watched him fade into the crowd from the open guild doors, his cold coffee churning in his cup as he pondered those last words between old acquaintances.

He and Precht had grown... estranged. Precht had grown estranged from everyone if you thought about it long enough.

The man spent too much time downstairs with what was now referred to as Lumen Histoire. He was obsessed and it irked Acnologia to no end. He understood the innate desire to free Mavis, to return her to her body... but Precht hungered for something else. It had stopped being about Mavis years ago. The old dragon couldn't pinpoint it, but something had happened in those three years he'd been gone with Mavis' spirit and he'd never been able to rectify that with Precht.

And then there was the way Warrod had said it: "Watch out for him."

Had that been a plea... or a warning? Acnologia wrestled with such thoughts for weeks.

The guild didn't mourn Warrod. They'd grown up and moved on. The doors saw new members all the time, and Warrod had never left the guild. He still bore the mark. He would come if called. A few members went to visit him from time to time, ones he mentored.... Mostly Makarov. But he'd always come back lamenting about grotesque etiquette lessons and as all things did with time, those visits diminished.

The months flew by and things continued to change. Yajima had turned the Makarov's trio into a quartet but it was not long until they gained their fifth member; Goldmine, a rough, tumble man who loved dogs - more than people, he'd so proudly say. His joining could only be described as the traditional:

"We found this guy on the side of the road, he was really funny, and he helped beat up the dark guild we were hunting. He's our friend now."

And Goldmine with his seventeen dogs only grinned and waved: "Damn straight! I'm all your folk's problem now!!"

Acnologia shrugged and thanked the cursed gods for the seventeenth time that day that he wasn't in charge of these questionable children.

The five young men became powerhouses in the Fiore regions and Acnologia found himself worrying less and less for Makarov. The boy was hardly helpless and he had comrades he could trust wholly. Bob was personable. Yajima was quick-witted. Rob was cautious. Goldmine was loyal. And Makarov? He was at the age of glory and victory, so who was the Dragon King to intervene? 

If the child faced a few precarious situations and almost died, that was only par for the course. That was how you learned and grew. Yes, there were many close calls and yes Rita and Yuri would probably have smacked Acnologia over the head with a pan for his nonchalant nature, but that wasn't Acnologia's concern. Makarov lived. He made it. It was fine. Acnologia had done so much worse at the boy's age. And he intervened when he felt necessary.

Mostly, he was happy to let the young Dreyar live free of needless intervention. He was happy to let the whole guild grow and thrive with him fading into the background. He thought, perhaps, that all there was left to do in his life was sit and wait - a pillar of support and stagnation. He thought he'd find comfort in that. 

But then the seventh and final member of Makarov's team arrived. She accompanied Makarov's return from a solo job to the north. He returned home loud as ever, kicking the door open, and shouting something about a new member.

Acnologia had simply rolled his eyes and reached for a new cup of coffee when the wind changed direction and filled his nose with a scent.

Her scent.

She was so familiar: Fresh air and mountain skies. It caught him off guard and knocked the air out of his lungs. He whirled around in his seat, half-expecting Grandeeney's kind face to be peering in the front doors, teeth bared and feathers ruffling with amusement. 

But there were no feathers - no scales. There was no dragon.

Instead, he faced a scowling pink-haired woman across the room. She shadowed Makarov into the guild and leaned away from any attempt to shake her hand. The young Dreyar was introducing her to the guildmates, laughing and grinning as he brought up old friends and older stories. Acnologia didn't move, he hardly breathed. He watched them with a frozen gaze, picking apart the stranger's every habit, searching desperately for any hint it was her.

Her scoffs were identical - the way she rolled her eyes held more disgust, but itched the Dragon King's memories. Her soft walk, the proud squaring of her shoulders... it was taking a knife to his brain and slowly tearing that blade down the middle.

"And this!" Makarov exclaimed proudly, approaching the bar; "is Acnologia!"

"Ah, I've heard of you," the woman muttered her first words aloud - and Acnologia's blood froze. She sounded like her... less bass and resonance, but the inflection was familiar and the - the rasp...

"Acno, this is Porlyusica," Makarov grinned. "She's saved my ass from frostbite and she's gonna be joining the -"

"No." Acnologia cut past pleasantries and smiles with a sharp bite, denial in his wide eyes. "Who are you?"

Both Porlyusica and Makarov froze at the tone.

"What?" Porlyusica asked nervously.

"Who are you?" He hardly noticed he was standing until the woman took a nervous step back.

"Hey! Acno, what's your problem!?" Makarov demanded stepping between him and Grandeeney's human doppelganger.

The Dragon King had to fight to tear his attention off the woman, but as he did he realized the guild had quieted to watch the usual stagnant dragon slayer bristle like a startled hen. Their Acnologia did not stand. He did not speak. They were lucky if they could get a growl out of him most days.

This? This was already causing a scene.

"The two of you, to the back, now," Acnologia growled, and there was no room for argument. Makarov was hot on his heels, fuming. They slipped out the back door and they weren't in the sunlight for two seconds before Makarov was shouting.

"What's up with you, Acno!?" he demanded. "The hell is -"

Acnologia ignored the young man and instead pointed to Porlyusica who slipped out of the door quite a ways behind them.

"Explain," he demanded.

"I'm a doctor," she scorned. "You heard my name: Porlyusica. What else do you want?"

"No," Acnologia denied. "You sound, smell, and even feel like Grandeeney so you better tell me what Iɴ ᴅIᴇꓕʏ's ᴛIᴛΓᴇ is going on."

Porlyusica's eyes grew wide at the name, as did Makarov's.

"How... how did you -" Makarov stammering only confirmed it.

"So... I'm right," Acnologia demanded, his gaze narrowing. It still didn't make sense. Nothing about this made sense. She couldn't be Grandeeney. It had to be a trick - a trick or a draconic spell or -

"My name... was... Grandeeney," Porlyusica murmured, her voice thick with something he couldn't place.

Acnologia watched her closely. Transformation magic? Memory loss? Personality displacement? Mind melds?

"However... if you're looking for your Grandeeney, I'm afraid I must disappoint," the woman blew those hopes away with two words.

"My Grandeeney?" Acnologia echoed with a growl.

And so he learned about Edolas, about a dimension so close in nature to their own that the fabric of reality brushed together, occasionally letting mortals slip in and out of their earth and into another. Porlyusica had snuck through to escape her world, and she never wanted to go back.

She was not his sister.

She was also everything Grandeeney was not. She had a sharp tongue and a clear distaste for the human race, which filled her eyes with hate. There was no familiar warmth or charming laugh - no loving wisdom or deep, dangerous rage. But her voice and her smell... 

She was a ghost, in some twisted way. Another way to haunt him.

"I still don't understand, how did you know a Grandeeney!?" Makarov demanded once the explanations were over and Acnologia was left standing, with too many thoughts and not enough time.

Acnologia blinked and shoved his memories away.

"I... knew her as the Sky Queen," he found his strength after a moment and Makarov's jaw dropped while Porlyusica's brow raised.

"From - from your stories!? She was your sister?" Makarov choked.

"Oh no," Porlyusica huffed, glaring at Acnologia. "Thank god I avoided that."

"Oh the pleasure's mine," Acnologia snarked back, undue anger dripping through from his disappointment and hopelessness.

It wasn't her... it wasn't her... He had to keep slamming that in his skull until his senses stopped trembling in excitement. Until the dragon in him stopped trying to sing of a nest's reunion.

"Shit... I'm so sorry," Makarov breathed as his face dawned in realization.

"What?" Porlyusica demanded. "What happened to her?"

Acnologia shook his head and waved them away: "I did not mean to appear so... aggressive. I... apologize. Your presence caught me off guard."

The woman read between his tones and nodded, pressing no further. "Well, I've had worse first impressions."

With that, she turned curtly and began walking back to the guild. Makarov looked frantically between Acnologia and Porlyusica before throwing the elder an apologetic shrug and running after her.

"And... for what it's worth, dragon," Porlyusica supposed as she reached the back door, turning to look back. "I suppose I should be sorry... for being a painful reminder."

Acnologia gazed out to the ocean and shook his head: "Not painful. Just... unexpected."

────── {⋆❉⋆} ──────

Not long after Porlyusica joined, Makarov was declared a Wizard Saint by the continent of Ishgar and the Magic Council - an order Acnologia was just beginning to learn of. For a few years, there was a sense of normalcy, a bar to sit at, members to listen to, and the usual worries to plague the old slayer. That lasted perhaps another decade, and then in classic Fairy Tail fashion, everything was thrown up on its head.

Precht vanished. Not a goodbye, not a word otherwise, just a stunned Makarov numbly walking into the guild. Porlyusica was immediately glaring him down, picking that pale expression apart from where she stood. 

"What's wrong, Makarov?" Rob asked, which pulled Acnologia's attention up.

"Yeah, you look like you saw a ghost," Yajima concurred.

Bob smiled in faux seduction, arms spread and grin at the ready: "Do you require consolement?"

Makarov stood there in shock for a moment, mouth open as he fought for the right words. One of Goldmine's hounds wandered up to the man, sniffing his shoes expectantly.

"I...uh... I just became Guild Master..." Makarov announced - half in shock as he pushed past them all.

Acnologia choked on his coffee.

The guild, in conjecture, exploded in questions and commentary: What do you mean? Where was Precht? When did it happen? Just now! Well congratulations - What do you mean he left to journey? Isn't the guy like... eighty? fifty? Seventy? He'll be fine! Just like that? He didn't even say goodbye! Aw man, Makarov as the new master! This is going to be sick! You're perfect for the job! Holy shit, I never thought about it before but it has to be you!

Makarov seemed less than confident. He laughed nervously as he stumbled through crowds and paperwork. Registration took a few days and when the deed to the guild landed in his hand, Acnologia was almost ready for the man to faint.

There was something charming about it.

Acnologia let the boy suffer the paperwork and the legalities before he pulled him aside and took him to the basement.

"So... why haven't I ever been down here before?" The boy asked suspiciously as they descended the familiar stairs.

"Because there are only two people allowed past that door," Acnologia answered darkly as he breathed in the scent of pure, heavy magic. "Me, and the Guild Master. First, it was Precht. Now, it's you."

The Dragon King honestly wasn't going to tell Makarov. He had no intention of letting Mavis' story go any further than his own. Everyone made Mavis and Fairy Tail synonymous but they were not. Perhaps it was juvenile, but Acnologia was selfish. Let the guild have their historic figurehead - he wanted to protect the actual woman. His friend.  What business did strangers have with her corpse? Her heart? Anything, anything of hers, she'd given enough -

But if he allowed himself to think for a moment, and he did, it was quickly apparent what he wanted was not what was best. Being guild master would nullify all the protective enchantments that kept this basement restricted from Makarov. And, Makarov would see, clearly if he ever checked the deed's form, that the guild hall had a secondary basement. And he'd get curious. And that could be catastrophic.

So, instead of waiting for Makarov's curiosity to nose around and cause problems, Acnologia bit the metaphorical bullet and introduced the guild's sacred history to its next keeper.

Makarov played his part well. He was a quiet observer as they descended the steps. The silence grew still the further they descended, shattering when Makarov gasped at the bottom. Perplexed, the blond entered the purple-hued room, gawking at it all.

"What in the world?" Makarov muttered as he looked around. "What the -  who's that!?" he demanded, pointing to the giant lacrima, and the woman inside it.

"That is Lumen Histoire," Acnologia explained coldly. "The body of the first Master, Mavis... and probably one of the most powerful concentrations of magic energy this side of the continent..."

"What is it doing in our basement!?" 

"Well, where else was I to put the founder of Fairy Tail?" Acnologia scoffed. "On Tenrou, where every near S-class wizard would find it during the trials?"

"No! But - but why haven't I ever sensed it!? And - and that's Mavis!?"

"Protective borders," Acnologia explained gesturing to the walls. "Precht put them up to hide her presence. I reinforced them."

"Okayyyy - why do we have her body in our basement!? Everyone said she died years ago; is this a burial thing?"

"Well... she is not technically dead."

Makarov blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.

"I'm sorry - WHAT!?"

────── {⋆❉⋆} ──────

With Makarov as the new master, it was only natural that the guild shifted. His adventuring group dispersed with Bob and Goldmine starting smaller guilds in towns further inland. Yajima was recruited by the Magic Council - some sort of separate entity that had been put in place to regulate guilds and mages. It wasn't just located in Fiore but had been incorporated into all of Ishgar, a multi-kingdom attempt at legalizing and organizing guilds.

Some late-game response to prevent another trade war from breaking out. Acnologia immediately found they were his new least favorite government entity, which was a feat in itself as the tax collector crownsguards still existed.

He'd known of the council only as the group who declared wizard saints, an invitation he had declined and Makarov had accepted. He had no desire for another title and didn't like the idea of joining some ranked system for a faceless organization he knew nothing about. Little did he know that the council not only knew about him, they were very aware of him.

It shouldn't have been a surprise, he was an urban legend at this point. Stories from the Trade Wars and older histories caught people's notice, and any immortal drew wide eyes and gasps of shock. But power and notoriety came with unwanted attention and it wasn't long until the Magic Council saw fit to call upon him as a 'registered mage of Fiore'. Whenever a large problem landed in the Council's hands - usually one of Zeref's demons who'd been freed and was causing havoc - they sent Acnologia to deal with it. It was few and far between, but every once in a while, the council would come to the door and ask for him directly.

And Acnologia couldn't exactly say no to a council that could mandate his expulsion from all legal guilds... at least not yet...

The world was changing. The Magic Council marked a much-needed niche in the kingdom and allowed some guilds to flourish and others to come to light. It became readily apparent that there were more renegade and criminal guilds than anyone had thought. The Council struggled at first and made the mistake of assuming those small dark guilds were everyone's problem. Acnologia was called to exactly one job to deal with a dark wizard. 

It had been so stupidly simple that he'd walked up, decimated the group, and dropped them on the Magic Council's doorstep with a fairly concise message. He would not be responding to menial labor calls, there were other mages - capable mages - who could handle this. He was not an attack dog and he didn't fucking work for them.

Every now and again, profanity served him very, very well.

Demons of Zeref and monstrous calamities of human existence? Fine. He'd suffer. Some hypocritical young necromancer raging about the end of days and the injustice of the soul. No. Below his pay grade.

They learned to not waste his time.

After those momentary lapses in Acnologia's otherwise monotonous life, he was allowed to sit back and watch the world change.

Fairy Tail was well known, a definitive major guild in Fiore, and because of it Magnolia had flourished. It was in the top ten largest cities of Fiore and every destination/travel booklet had at least a page dedicated to its beaches or the cathedral. It was good for work, for members, for mages, and for income... it was not good for Porlyusica. She came back from every job seething at the sheer vastness of the crowded streets. Makarov would laugh and console her, a sorrowful gesture seeing as he rarely went on missions. It was only Porlyusica and Rob of the once-renowned Team Makarov.

And then...

Oh, and then...

Makarov took his usual seat next to Acnologia and nervously smiled. His blond hair had just begun to pepper with silver and his youth had faded in his middle years. Acnologia groaned as he smelled that familiar scent of fearful pride. Because - Oh no.

Another one.

"Acnologia," Makarov began slowly. "I have something you should know."

"How long?" Acnologia muttered, massaging his forehead with two fingers while his other hand gripped his coffee cup. 

"How... what?" the Master questioned.

"How long until the child's due?" Acnologia hung his head in defeat, exasperation piling on his shoulders. Another Dreyar kid running around the guild - oh, he was in trouble. Everyone was in trouble. Could he put in vacation time? Did he have vacation time? How long could he stay on Tenrou before Mavis kicked him out? Three months? Eight months?? Five years? When were kids old enough to no longer need a babysitter? 

"How did you - " Makarov began in a shout, quickly quieting down as a few heads turned. "How did you find out?"

"I am a dragon slayer," Acnologia muttered. That and Porlyusica had smelled different the last time he'd seen her - he also wasn't blind.

He'd been around long enough to pick up subtler messages. Makarov's consolements could soothe her fury. Her scornful comments were slightly less biting when they landed on Makarov's shoulders. He loved everyone, including her. She hated everyone, except him.

"Well! Well - well, now you've ruined the surprise!" Makarov sputtered.

"I thought she had no desire for children?" Acnologia inquired, suspiciously.

"She... we didn't mean to - it was an accident and... and we kind of agreed, well, she decided that -"

"No. Forget it. I do not want to know," Acnologia decided quickly to spare what was left of his sanity. "Also, I'm leaving."

"What!? You can't leave! I need you," Makarov hissed.

"Why!?"

"For - you know... the whole baby having thing -"

"Baby. Having. Thing?" Acnologia echoed incredulously.

"Listen -"

"No! Why would you think I am equipped to deal with labor?" Acnologia asked incredulously. 

"You're a dragon slayer, she's like - dragon adjacent, and she's... cautious."

"She is a human; go to a hospital."

"She's worried..." Makarov stressed in a plea. "And... well... I'd like you there."

Gods fucking damn it all to Ankserham.

Acnologia threw his head back and sighed, staring up at the unforgiving heavens: "Very well."

Though he should've gone with his gut because it was, in fact, not fine. It was almost the opposite. He had to put up with seven months - seven months of shenanigans while those two fools hid their pregnancy from their very nosy guild. Seven months of having to ignore the atrocious excuses the fool for a Third Master made up. Desperately trying not to choke on his coffee when someone made some outlandish conspiracy theory. His current favorite was the pyramid scheme Porlyusica was supposedly running out of the Second Floor of the Guild - which explained her abscence and crankiness. The runner-up in theories was that Makarov was secretly a werewolf. No explanation was given for that one. He didn't understand but that was the beauty in it.

But, if the months preceding the child weren't bad enough, the child also happened to be very, very impatient.

Porlyusica had the baby quickly, by herself, in her apartment two weeks early. The only reason Makarov was there was thanks to Acnologia's senses and the fact that she lived only a few blocks from the guild. They'd burst onto the scene to an exhausted Porlyusica holding a baby wrapped in a cloak while she seething through her clenched teeth.

"Oh my gods -" Makarov gasped.

"He - he would not wait," Porlyusica rasped, leaning her head back on the couch she sat next to. Her marble floor was a mess and the house reeked of labor.

"Are you alright?" Acnologia addressed, crouching down beside her to sense for any issues.

"I've just had a fucking baby, I'm just pleasant! I'm a damn doctor," she snapped. "I do this shit for a living!"

"Yes! But it's different when you're treating yourself!" Makarov cried, two seconds away from imploding.

"Oh, no shit Makarov -I don't need your lectures, it's not like I planned this - someone go get me a glass of water! Now!" 

Makarov fled to the kitchen and Acnologia glimpsed at the surprisingly quiet child in the woman's arms.

"I am... sorry," Acnologia offered. 

"Ah - should've known I'd have to do it all myself," Porlyusica breathed, closing her eyes and breathing deeper. "Though, it's better you two show up later rather than never. Should've expected as much."

There was a weak smile somewhere there.

Acnologia snickered softly at that before grabbing more pillows to help support her. They spent the next hour cleaning up the postnatal mess. Porlyusica was viciously defending the fact that she didn't need any doctors to check her over and Makarov was busy fretting about the smell and the stains in the carpet.

Which left the baby in Porlyusica's weakened arms, next to Acnologia. The two stared at each other, for an uncomfortably long while. Makarov stopped a few times to wave at the newborn, a weak smile taking his face as he grinned and whispered. Porlyusica smiled once when the baby's eyes opened, but it quickly faded as her adrenaline wore off and her gaze grew weary.

Makarov stayed with her for the next week or so, to help look after the child and help with Porlyusica's recovery. Acnologia was left wrestling and deflecting invasive questions for the couple's sake. Honestly; these guild members thought they were entitled to their Guild Master's every waking moment.

Eventually, Makarov returned to the guild with his son.

Porlyusica never wanted to be a mother, and that hadn't changed. She held the boy and brushed the dark hair on his head out of his eyes, but after he could take a bottle, she found it easy to hand him away. Makarov was happy to take him in, without argument. That had been their agreement. The handoff happened in her apartment building, with Acnologia there to check for any prying eyes or problematic gossipers. 

 Porlyusica gave Makarov a soft smile as she left the babe in his arms and Makarov made some dirty joke that chased the smile from her lips as she slapped him upside the head.

"Honestly, and here I was about to say fatherhood suited you," she grumbled. His child had wriggled in Makarov's arms and the man's attention immediately lapsed to the babe. Porlyusica's gaze softened for a moment and Makarov caught it.

"If you ever change your mind -" he began.

"I won't," she answered resolutely. "He is your son. And you will treat him well."

"And... us?" Makarov had asked quietly, though Achologia had still heard it from where he stood in the hallway of Porlyusica's apartment. It made him want to flee very quickly out of hearing range because he didn't need to know the intricacies of such a romantic entanglement. Not in the slightest -

"We are what we always have been, fool. That will never change."

It must've been enough for Makarov because he walked away with a small chuckle and a broad smile, his son in hand and a spark in his eyes.

"Are you ready?" Acnologia murmured knowingly as they departed from the flat.

"Yes," Makarov nodded, looking at his month-old babe. "Let's go introduce you to the guild, little guy."

Makarov had his son. The Guild knew it, and anyone who suspected it was Porlyusica's knew better than to voice it. It didn't matter anyway - the boy belonged to the Makarov and so belonged to the guild, just as his father before him.

The boy was named Ivan.

He was a healthy kid, all in all. Makarov brought him to the guild early, just as he had been brought by Yuri and they loved him just the same. The Dreyar was another guild child raised on wooden benches and magic shows. His crib was a basket on the bar. His first steps were a toddle to a guild bench with a cheer of joy from half-drunken mages. His first words were slurrings of war cries and insults becoming of any wild mage.

And just as Makarov had been, Ivan was loved by those wild, fanatic mages. Nap times were enforced with an iron fist, and should the boy run up to you, begging for 'ups' not a single mage would deny him.

When he was two, running around, giggling, and fumbling over his words, Porlyusica left. The town had grown too large, the guild too noisy. She'd had her eye on a small house in the middle of nowhere and it seemed her time had come to leave Magnolia. She gave Acnologia a soft goodbye one late night, with few there to bear witness. It was soft for Porlyusica, which meant there were no parting curses or scathing remarks.

"I hope you find peace," she supposed.

"You too - peace, and quiet," Acnologia smirked.

"That's a pipe dream I'm afraid, with all these noisy humans," Porlysica sighed, wrinkling her nose towards the evening streets of Magnolia. 

"Will you miss it?" The Dragon King wondered.

She huffed: "Probably not."

He chuckled, but he couldn't tell if he agreed with her or not.

She said goodbye to Makarov and then turned and drifted off, never looking back. Makarov watched her go for a moment before closing the guild doors behind him a small smile on his face.

"What are you happy about?" Acnologia asked critically.

The guild master held up a slip of paper and snickered; "She gave me her address!"

Acnologia placed his face into his palms and sighed with heavy regret. This guild was going to slowly strip away all sanity he had. No, scratch that. Makarov was going to strip away all the sanity he had. Who knew what this next kid was gonna do...

────── {⋆❉⋆} ──────

Fairy Tail was not a place for the faint of heart, or those averse to drama. It was a guild that thrived off gossip, feuds, fights, and chaos. There was always some rivalry or love affair. A new scandal graced the job board in ink or was whispered from Kira to Maya as the teenagers switched bar-tending shifts. Acnologia didn't dare intervene in anything - that would be far too exhausting. His job was to protect the guild, that was it.

He would hold Ivan when the boy wanted. He would offer advice when a member consulted him. He would even step in as an intimidation factor when a rival guild got just a little too gutsy. But other than that he wanted out of guild affairs. But, the world loved to laugh at him, so since he was so careful to steer clear of guild drama, political affairs grabbed him by his throat. Not actually, but it may as well have.

An emissary from some country he'd never even heard of knocked on the door and asked for him directly. Handed him a sealed invitation. Asked him to represent the Fairy Tail guild at some meeting.

Acnologia almost laughed in his face, almost.

There'd been whispers about a brewing war. The guild members who left the country for work, or served as hired hands for Fiore's military mentioned it in hushed whispers. It was a country: Alvarez, and it had grown, faster and stronger than anyone had expected. Its Navy was mobilizing, creeping closer and closer to the Ishgar coast - closest to the Fioran seas.

There'd been minor scuffles with fishing and merchant boats. Overt shows of aggression as the ships breached into Fioran waters.

There were whispers there would be another war - but who would go to war with all of Ishgar? The Magic Council and its representatives dictated a treaty of peace and united the entire peninsula under an allyship. Who would be foolish enough to tempt that? Apparently, the 'who' in that hypothetical was this "Alvarez".

And now, there was a letter in his hand, asking him to go meet with that country's emperor. He sat at the bar stool and read it - or... tried. He could skim and guess, but beyond simple letter recognition, there was a sorrowful confession he was going to have to make: He was not the greatest reader. His eloquence and vocabulary came from centuries of listening and sound reconstruction. Anna had taught him the old base alphabet (something outdated by a few centuries) and Mavis had helped him along with the new common written system (something that was also outdated now) but it took the dragon king the greater half of an hour to puzzle out most of the needlessly wordy summoning.

When it came to magic circles, runes, and ancient draconic languages, he was unmatched. Human languages? Grammar rules? Paragraph structure? They were just so needlessly... complicated... 

To summarize: he was to meet the head of some state on 'neutral ground' and 'discuss' matters of Alvarez and Fairy Tail. It felt like a bad joke. What 'matters'? Acnologia hadn't even heard of this country, much less its business prospects. And why Fairy Tail specifically? And why him!?

Makarov was at his shoulder, a supportive critical eye and the real reason he'd managed to read the entire page (it was a long document, and he'd learned centuries ago to turn to those better equipped when he was lacking).

"Will you go?" Makarov asked.

He shrugged, gaze heavy: "I do not care much for state affairs - but this is guild affairs. And it asks for me by name."

"A trap?"

"Most likely. I am the strongest mage on the continent, if this Alvarez knows its history, it knows what happened in the Trade Wars. They know I will not let them roll into Fiore."

"I thought you said you didn't care about state affairs," Makarov joked dryly, there wasn't much mirth to be found in such thoughts.

Acnologia's gaze darkened: "I am the guardian of this guild. A war jeopardizes this guild and its members."

Front lines spared no casualties, and the mages around him were more headstrong than anything else. They'd run into a war headfirst, and get dragged back in pieces. Those who didn't would be bought as sellswords by the crown, and even then, Magnolia was a large enough port town it was in a prime position for invasion, especially from an enemy across the sea - Mavis had known that much.

If Alvarez was serious about attacking, they'd come prepared with a force to take on all of Ishgar, or they wouldn't because they were betting the other countries wouldn't uphold their end of the treaty. He'd hope for the latter but prepare for the former, which meant he'd go to this ridiculous meet-up, spring whatever trap was laid out to capture or kill him, and hopefully intimidate them into a lovely state of pacifism. Permanently.

"I'll go with you," Makarov stated unprompted, watching Acnologia's gaze harden.

"You will not." He placed the parchment on the bar and stared at the aging man.

"They want a representative of Fairy Tail," Makarov stated firmly.

"I will suffice."

"You said this is a trap."

"One I will survive, no doubt."

"Don't be arrogant!" Makarov huffed, HAH, Acnologia smiled to see the boy throwing Acnologia's advice around. "Suppose you get locked in a rune cage, or cursed in a state of time stagnation for the next century!"

"There is nothing they could throw at me, that I could not handle."

"Perfect! Then I'll be in no danger at all!" Makarov grinned, snatching the paper up from the bar and jumping down. "Off we go!"

Acnologia's expression turned stern: "Makarov." 

It was the same tone he'd used back when Makarov was nothing more than a petulant child. But Makarov was not a little one anymore. He turned with a curl on his lips and a glimmer in his eyes, folded beneath soft wrinkles. He had greyed further, the silver now peppering all of his once-blond locks.

There was a look there, daring the Dragon King to deny him. Mavis had held that look, the: "I'll disobey you no matter what." Igneel too, if he thought about it. Weisslogia donned it in every fight. Metalicana too, if someone was being just a little too bossy. 

Yuri had worn before every prank... but Makarov had perfected it.

"Come on Dragon King, we've got a rendezvous to make!" Makarov cackled, striding out of the guild.

And, with a heavy sigh, Acnologia followed.

Makarov made sure to say goodbye to Ivan, who was about seven. The eldest Dreyar was cryptic enough to make the boy curious, but firm enough to shut down any possible plans of following them, not that he could, unless he suddenly grew wings. 

"But you guys are heading off to do cool stuff!" Ivan cried, narrowing his eyes, an eagerness in his voice. "I can help!"

"No," Makarov answered simply. 

"I won't get in the way!"

"Not this time," Acnologia was sterner. "Keep an eye on the guild, will you?"

Ivan scowled: "But they don't listen to me."

Makarov chucked at that and Acnologia shook his head. Then, the old dragon slayer cracked his neck and transformed. It was a roar of wind, grass, and dust that left Ivan's eyes bulging and other guild members running out of the guildhall.

"I expect you brats to behave yourselves!" Makarov ordered sharply as he stepped into the claw Acnologia offered. It was easy to place the old mage on his back and turn to the wind.

"We will return shortly," Acnologia vowed, raising his wings and taking to the sky. Some members waved goodbye, asking questions and pondering the strange expedience with which their strongest members had suddenly departed, but they would have to keep questioning. The two flew through a cloud and it was all left behind.

────── {⋆❉⋆} ──────

They met on an island to the south: true neutral territory as it was unclaimed and a few measly miles long. It was surrounded by rich reefs and treacherous shoals which made Acnologia suspicious: it would've been difficult to navigate a boat through it all, and yet, there was a large ship harbored in the island's lagoon.

"HᴏΓᴅ," Acnologia ordered as he descended. Makarov had been rather quiet on the journey, taking in the scenery, if the dragon king had to guess.

They landed down the beach, in sight of the grand ship by far out of most spell's range. The sand kicked into a dust cloud and the waves shuddered a moment under Acnologia's tailwinds. Makarov slid off his grand scales, landing on the sand as black and blue scales shrunk away to reveal the dragon slayer's human form.

Acnologia rolled his shoulder and tussled his hair, a bit more eased after the flight. It had been a long moment since he'd transformed and he'd forgotten how wonderfully it could calm those itches that scratched at his flesh and bone.

"That was incredible," Makarov breathed a youthful joy in his eyes that had once belonged to a different Dreyar.

Acnologia's chest clenched for a moment, but he smiled: "I should have taken you flying more."

"There's still time! I'm not dead yet!" Makarov cackled as they began to stride down the beach. "You should transform more often! It doesn't hurt you, does it?"

Acnologia was quiet for a moment: "Only sometimes."

That killed the conversation immediately, but Makarov had always been tenacious. 

"What was that you said before we started to fall?" he asked.

"What?"

"I don't know, you said something. I think the wind garbled it."

"Oh." Acnologia took a moment to recall: "HᴏΓᴅ."

Makarov blinked as the words clicked against fangs and rasped through draconic lungs.

"Draconic," Acnologia supplied. "It... slipped out."

"What does it mean?"

It was Acnologia's turn to blink, this time in surprise. The question took him off guard and he wracked his brain to translate.

"It can mean many things. Stop and be still. Brace yourself. Quiet," Acnologia thought aloud. "Mostly it is meant to indicate keeping things as they are: whatever the situation is, do your best to keep it that way."

Makarov tried to replicate it and as they walked Makarov found himself echoing the word back.

"More guttural, let it echo."

"HᴏOᴏΓᴅΓᴅ?"

"No. Too much emphasis... somewhere. Hᴏ-Γ-ᴅ"

"HʜOᴏΓᴅ."

"Close."

"Are you fluent in draconic?" Makarov asked, quickly turning the conversation away from his butchering of the language.

"It was the first language I learned," Acnologia concurred.

"Really?"

"Yes: why all the curiosity?" the dragon king chuckled. 

Makarov quickly tried to regain his serious guild-master look: "Just... conversing."

"Really?"

"Well. If you must know, I still don't know all that much about you, and I don't think that's very fair." Oh. And there went all professionalism, now he wasn't much different from that eleven-year-old Acnologia could remember.

"Ah."

"I mean, this is the first time we've ever flown anywhere."

"Something I can remedy," Acnologia supposed.

"And it took a national threat to get you and me to -"

Makarov was cut off by the emergence of two guards. Mages. Strong mages. Acnologia stilled and Makarov stiffened to sense it. The two emerged from the water to their left, the waves bubbling and popping to expose the soldiers.

"Acnologia," one greeted, the same crest on her armor had graced the paper in Makarov's sleeve. "You were to come alone."

"He brought a representative," Makarov interjected simply.

Acnologia glared: "I cannot represent the entire Fairy Tail guild."

The mages said nothing else, reaching the shore and gesturing for the two to follow. Acnologia carefully took in all the information his senses could grant him. The two were decently strong mages, but no stronger than Makarov. Just prestigious guards then. Simple enough.

Tragically easy to kill if necessary.

They were led to a shaded awning set up on the beach, a table spread offered, and two chairs. Acnologia let Makarov take his prospective seat and stood, waiting. The emperor had yet to show - not a strong vote of confidence against this whole thing being a trap.

There was more too. Something was on the fritz, just on the edge of Acnologia's senses. It was as if there was a muffled roar ringing in his head, one he was dutiful to listen to and take note of. It could be a masked magic, or part of some mechanism deep below the sand.

One of the guards offered Makarov a glass of water, one he took but did not drink. Acnologia denied the cup entirely.

They sat there in the stillness for about a minute before the air changed. Immediately Acnologia stepped forward, placing himself in front of Makarov's chair with a snarl. Purple glyphs burned into the sand around the opposing seat as mana condensed and a putrid scent filled the dragon slayer's nose.

He knew that scent. He knew that glyph style. 

He knew.

"Presenting, his Majesty of the Alvarez Empire!" the water mage cried, extending their hand as the runes around the chair burned brighter. There was a flash of light that Makarov winced away from.

Acnologia only glared. Because there, in a velvet chair, lounged Zeref fucking Dragneel.

"Ah, hello Acnologia," the wizard greeted with a smirk far too arrogant and cruel to belong to his benevolent side. "It's been a while."

There was a moment of silence broken only by the settling sand and the gentle sound of waves. Then Acnologia surged forward, nearly breaking the mahogany table as he gripped it. Makarov jumped back, as did the two guards. Zeref, however, didn't blink.

"Zeref!?" It was a question and a very real threat.

Makarov choked on air at the name that sent most children to bed with nightmares.

Zeref only smirked, lounging further in his seat and gesturing for his guards to bring him water (not guards, no, Acnologia was rewriting this entire situation. Those were two expendable servants). They summoned it with a wave of their hands and the Dark Wizard smiled as he took a sip.

"Here I thought we were going to have a nice quiet conversation," Zeref sighed with faux disappointment. "In private."

"What is going on here!?" Acnologia growled.

Zeref placed his cup on his side table with a nonchalant shrug: "Politics can be so... empty. I figured if I wanted some real answers, it was time to start talking to someone with actual power over Fiore."

There were many things Acnologia wanted to question. One: Zeref. Two: Zeref, as a fucking emperor. Three: Zeref, in charge of something. Fourth: Zeref, as a fucking emperor, in charge of the country currently trying to go to war with Fiore.

"And you are?" Zeref directed the next question to Makarov who had quickly recovered from his initial shock by accepting the cup of water offered to him and chugging it. Apparently, the man had decided that if their foe was Zeref, poisoning was the least of their concerns which... fair.

"Ah, yes, um" - he cleared his throat and placed the empty glass down - "I am Makarov Dreyar, guild master of Fairy Tail."

"Guild Master," Zeref chuckled darkly. "Ah yes, I suppose those must be replaced often then. That last one was getting old. How many have there been?"

"Three," Acnologia was doing his best to swallow his snarls, but that just meant he was hissing out of clenched teeth.

"Ah, well then good to meet you, Third Master," Zeref shrugged. "For whatever it's worth. I'm surprised Acnologia brought you along, he must be fond of you."

"What do you want," Acnologia seethed, straightening and forcing himself to tamper his confused rage. Having this situation broil over would not go well, and it would turn deadly for Makarov too quickly.

"To negotiate terms." It was less what he said but how the wizard said it. It was how a victor smiled to his crowd - how a king grinned to his enemies. He'd truly gotten this regal persona equipped and weaponized. 

And he knew what Acnologia thought of such kings.

"Terms of what?" Makarov inquired sharply.

Zeref smiled: "Perhaps you've heard of the force amassing on your border?"

Both Makarov and Acnologia remained stonefaced, watching the emperor carefully.

"Well, I'm sure it will not surprise you to confirm the rumors: Alvarez is interested in Fiore's conquest."

"Then you are interested in another war," Acnologia growled.

"We're quite acquainted with such things, are we not Acnologia?" Zeref mused. "I know full well you were made for such things."

Acnologia almost ripped the bastard's tongue out. He almost lunged across that table and tested just how merciless Ankserham's curse could be. But he did not, if nothing else than for Makarov at his side.

Zeref only chuckled at his fury. He knew full well what he was doing.

"I don't mean to antagonize, only stating facts -"

"Get to the point," Acnologia snarled.

"Very well. I wish to offer your guild a chance for survival."

"Survival," Acnologia chuckled darkly, it was almost funny. Almost. "The only survival in question is whatever poor soldiers you place in my way."

"You and I both know you cannot be everywhere," Zeref stated darkly. "And Fiore is a big country."

"I am the Dragon King."

"Not if your Fioran king gets his way," Zeref hummed, disarmingly soft.

That gave Acnologia a moment to pause.

Makarov also leaned forward: "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"This," Zeref smiled, far too proud of himself as he pulled out a small shard of white stone and placed it on the table between them.

Acnologia didn't have to touch it to know what it was. Makarov reached forward slowly, picking up the marbled stone that buzzed with antimagic particles. Ethernanos. The mana around the group recoiled in disgust, fleeing the presence of the rock that seemed to rest harmlessly in Makarov's palm.

"This is..." Makarov began.

"Solidified ethernano particles," Zeref smirled. "Something your Magic Council has been creating in mass."

"Why?" Acnologia demanded sharply.

The Dark Wizard gave him a knowing look: "To dissuade Alvarez from invading, of course."

Acnologia's eyes narrowed.

"My sources tell me the council has built hundreds of ethernanos pillars, all set to be activated in the case of invasion," Zeref explained simply. "A magic suicide of sorts, to keep me away."

"They know who you are then," Acnologia guessed.

"A few higher-level councilmen do," Zeref admitted. "As does your king. Though you're hardly one to lecture me on keeping a low profile."

"I am not the emperor of a country -"

"No, but you are the great Dragon of the Fairies."

"What does this have to do with us," Makarov interjected. "If you're frightened of this, then it does its job."

"And are you comfortable with that?" Zeref leaned on his armrest and grinned as he stared straight into Acnologia's soul. "Are you comfortable with Fiore becoming a dead zone of magic? With all magic artifacts and tools ceasing to exist? With all lacrimas fading into incandescent rocks?"

Mavis. The thought gripped Acnologia's mind like steel teeth. But such a thought also got his mind churning. Zeref knew what he was doing...

"It's not enough to know what they want or why," Mavis' voice pondered in a long-ago strategy meeting, her green eyes firm and dangerous. "There's a core to every idea, a main goal we need to keep in mind. So they want to take the river: why? To get a supply line going? But who do they need to supply so badly that far away from the combat zone?"

"What's in Fiore for you?" Acnologia demanded darkly.

Zeref looked at him, never losing that calm smirk: "It possesses resources that are desirable to Alvarez."

"Resources like what?" It was a curt hiss.

"They need to take the capital, that's always been the goal. A supply line in the north is only worth something if there are forces further downriver to receive them." Mavis had cleared the top of the board, much to the chagrin of the present diplomats. She hadn't cared, she'd just continued. "The bigger picture matters. Forget Malana River, we need to move all of that force to the west and intercept the soldiers hiding in this mountain pass. That's the only place they can be and it tracks with the troop movements we've seen. If we reclaim the pass it won't matter if they take the river to the north. They'll have no use in a supply line anymore. There will be no one left to supply."

"An empire needs land to grow," Zeref soothed. "And, for all its wealth, Fiore is sorely lacking in military might."

"It makes up for it in guild presence," Makarov countered. "That's how it's always been. The guilds bring commerce to the country, and the king can buy an army when he pleases. A large one. Full of people who've made a living being good mages."

Zeref remained unbothered: "Now, this council, with permission from your king, would cripple his army. Destroy a way of life that defines his country: what use will guilds be when there are no more mages?"

"You want us to destroy this weapon," Makarov figured.

"Face, is its name. And in return, I would allow your guild to evacuate before the storm. I would grant your guild members amnesty, and they'd be welcomed into Alvarez as refugees. Fiore and Ishgar may fall, but Fairy Tail would survive."

Makarov scoffed: "You want us to destroy the only weapon keeping you from invading Fiore, stab our allies in the back, and then trust you to keep your end of the deal as you conquer our homeland!?"

"Fiore is just the beginning. Ishgar is the main goal," Zeref dismissed, but Acnologia knew him better than that. He took a step back from his anger - his confusion - and took a breath to quiet the seething beast who was still rialed after being trapped beneath his skin.

"An enemy is most dangerous when their goal is unknown. If you don't know what they're fighting for, you don't know what to protect..." Were those Weisslogia's words... or Mavis'? It was a sin he couldn't remember.

He couldn't want land or war. Even at his lowest points, Zeref was apathetic to pain or hateful towards the cyclical nature of humanity. Him? A colonizing empire? Willingly starting another pointless war?

After all they had seen? After all they had done? Even at his worst Zeref had looked over a battlefield with scorn and sneered about how useless it all was. How pointless death could be. Conflict has no purpose except serving fools and false heroes - that had been Zeref's opinion at his lowest point.

No... no there was a different goal here. There had to be. Acnologia stood and pondered as Makarov and Zeref stared at one another.

"We are not a cowardly guild," Makarov scowled. "I will not mark my guild as traitors, nor its members as spineless."

"It's to save your guild. As Master, isn't that your top priority? I never took Fairy Tail to be immensely patriotic -"

"My children will always come first."

"Children? Oh, how quaint. It seems Mavis' predecessors share her bleeding heart."

"Destroying Face would only open us up to your threat," Makarov stated firmly. "I will not entrust my guild's future to the hands of a warlord!"

"You'd have your magic, your fearsome dragon. A fighting chance," Zeref threw another venomous look to Acnologia. 

Acnologia only stared at him carefully, searching his expression for answers. The Dark Mage looked away which only led the Dragon King to peer closer.

Why Fiore? Why would Face scare him so badly, if half the rumors were true Alvarez was large enough to rival Ishgar - they'd have the manpower to take down Fiore at least. No... no ethernanos must've served some larger threat. Face must've threatened something else in Zeref's plan - something so crucial he was willing to risk entangling Acnologia to take it down.

It would've been in his best interest to strike without warning, to catch the Dragon King off guard and leave him scrambling for answers in a defensive game. He'd shown his cards - revealed his position. That was reckless, and foolish... but usual for Zeref. He made poor decisions under stress.

But why? What could Face threaten... what in Fiore could...

"You want her body."

It was spoken simply, a gentle epiphany that settled on the table as Acnologia looked up at stared at Zeref, an ice settling in his eyes. 

"What?" Makarov asked, turning to the dragon slayer. Acnologia only stared at Zeref, his blood prickling with realization. Surprise flashed in Zeref's gaze for a moment, only a moment, as well as a familiar hint of fear. Then the dark wizard was the picture of composure once again.

Zeref gave a small sigh: "Well, I suppose you always were surprisingly clever."

"And you have always been foolish," Acnologia shot back. "Why? What could you want with her!?"

A large untapped reservoir of magic. The largest concentration of magic in the continent, likely. He'd been a fool for thinking it would go unnoticed.

"With who?" Makarov demanded.

"If this is some sick attempt at reanimation -" Acnologia threatened, low and snarling.

"Please," Zeref dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Don't be so presumptuous: The corpse has nothing to do with this. It's her magic I want."

"Mavis has everything to do with this!" Acnologia snarled, nearly lunging across the table once more: "That is her body. The body that died because of you!"

Zeref jumped to his feet, eyes blazing and Acnologia almost hoped he did something stupid. Something that would justify tearing him into as many pieces as he wanted.

"Lumen Histoire!?" Makarov cried. "You're after Lumen Histoire?"

"Is that what they call it now?" Zeref sneered.

Acnologia's growl was firm: "Her."

"You -" Zeref began but Acnologia shut him up with a snarl so low and guttural it drowned out all else.

"You taught her. You cursed her. You killed her! Now - now you seek to use her near-corpse as a battery! I cannot care what you have planned at this point -"

"Choices must be made, even if they are uncouth -"

"Uncouth!?" He had to ball his hand into a fist lest it fly and throw this world into chaos. "For... what?" It was a softer demand.

Zeref only glowered at him.

"For what Zeref?" Acnologia hissed, falling quiet as he leaned in closer. "Before all this falls apart, and before you and I leave here as enemies tell me why?"

Zeref only stared at him, those dark orbs churning with a dangerous sort of determination.

"You said this world would end: is this part of that plan?" Acnologia asked, growing soft. "Is this what you want."

"Of course it is," Zeref stated firmly. "Of course it is."

Acnologia raised his head and took another breath: "Then go home. Go home and sulk as you make a new plan. Face will stay. You will not invade, not while it threatens to destroy your main goal."

"It will extinguish was remains of her when it goes off," Zeref threatened.

"It will not go off. And I am sure, when I ask her, that she will ask that her body be lost forever before it is lost to you."

Zeref recoiled at that: "You... can speak to her?"

"Yes," Acnologia growled. "And she will hear of how far you have fallen, Zeref Dragneel."

If there was hurt in his eyes, Zeref hid it well and stomped it down even faster. His expression did not shift, and his irises were stony glimmers of crimson hate. The wizard let nothing stir as he cooly glared at Acnologia: "Do so then. Do so and wait. I'm coming for it. For it and her guild. There is nothing you can do to stop this."

"What is to stop me from flying to Alvarez and razing it to the ground before you can begin?" Acnologia felt his tone fall into something dangerous - something it could've been had he been just a bit crueler and bathed in a bit more blood.

Something familiar.

"Murdering innocents in cold blood? How uncharacteristic of you to take initiative. Taint your hands if you want to," Zeref dismissed. "I'll survive, I'll build a new empire. You know I will - I'll be back, no matter what you do. Kill them all, if that lets you rest easier, Dragon King."

It wouldn't. Zeref knew that.

"But if that's everything," the Dark Wizard sighed, raising his hands and summoning those glyphs around his chair once more. The chair must've been enchanted, Acnologia realized after a moment: Zeref had never gotten the hang of teleportation magic. His runic style was familiar but there were underlying foreign whisps - curls and loops where Zeref's had edges.

So he had more mages of impressive calibers helping him write his spells. Unsurprising, but crucial to consider.

"Dᴀʁᴋ ᴡIᴢⱯʀD," Acnologia called as the wind began to pick up. Zeref glanced back at him, the draconic title still familiar. "From here on out, we are enemies."

Zeref smirked, shaking his head as the sand at his feet began to shift: "So we are, Acnologia, Black Dragon of the Apocalypse. Perhaps we've always been."

With a gasp of wind and a flash of light, he was gone, the velvet chair empty in his wake and the mana resting in the remnants of the curse. Acnologia took a breath and then looked to Makarov who was still holding the stone of ethernanos close.

"Holy Mavis, what the fuck." The old man was taking it rather well. "That was - that was - shit that was - was that Zeref! The Zeref."

As well as he could.

"Yes," Acnologia nodded simply, turning and sparing the mages a glance. They were foot soldiers at best, and they did not move to impede him. 

He started off down the beach, his head filling with questions and pressing matters. He had to tell Mavis, he needed to investigate Face, he needed... he needed...

"Acnologia!" Makarov was scrambling after him, panting as he ran to his side. "Acnologia what is going on!?"

Acnologia stared at the boy - because he would always be Yuri and Rita's boy- and felt the reality settle on his shoulders. There was blood on his tongue and smoke in the sky for a moment.

"War, Makarov," the dragon king spoke quietly. "We've just gone to war." 

[Makarov: Hey... so there's this relationship drama with Porlyusica -

Acnologia: No.

Maya: So there's this new scandal and it's really juicy -

Acnologia: Absolutely not.

Kira: You wanna hear the craziest thing I heard about that new member -

Acnologia: I'd actually prefer it if you'd poison my coffee instead.

Some random member: YOOOO, so I got super wasted last night and heard the CRAZIEST thing -

Acnologia: Not interested.

Some random Empire: Hey. We should meet up. You know, or I'll kill your friends and family.

Acnologia: UGHHHHH fine. Whatever, at least this is drama I can handle. This probably won't be emotionally charged or anything.

Zeref: *appears* Heyyyyyyy

Acnologia: 

LORE TIME!! SKIP IF YOU GET BORED AND DON'T CARE LOLOLOL - I'M TOO DEEP IN THE WORLDBUILDING NOW TO STOP

ALSO: Ethernano is such a weird thing to research in the Fairy Tail canon. Some sources say it's another form of magic, some sources say they're magic particles that destroy other magic particles, some say it's just an anti-magic field, and some (like the wiki) say it's the name of actual magic particles (which contradicts the entire Tartaros arc) SO I said fuck it and made my own rules as I so usually do.

NEW RULES:

Mana: the raw form of energy, produced by the elements and forces of the natural world. It's everywhere, occurring naturally. This is what mages hold in their 'Magic container'. You run out of mana = you run out of energy. 

The natural world produces mana.

Magic: spells/abilities that transform the energy of mana into something else. People use magic, but they draw their energy from mana. Think of mana as the battery and magic as the power tool. You can't do anything with mana unless you have the prowess/knowledge to transform it into a spell. 

Mages and other things that turn mana into magic by casting spells, enchantments, gates, etc...

Ethernanos: An anti-magic force born in the aftereffect of larger spells (which draw so much mana they leave its antithesis behind). Ethernano particles typically dissipate in time as the natural world breaks those particles down in small quantities. BUT, if a large enough spell is cast, the ethernanos can be condensed into a physical form with enough pressure. 

Large spells that take up a huge amount of mana produce ethernanos. It is the follow-up pressurizing of those particles that make ethernanos physical - which makes it more permanent (and therefore dangerous).

Curses are the inverse of magic, they use this absence to manipulate mana in a different form. They quite literally pull from pockets of dead space and transform mana into the antithesis of magic, hence they work in the presence of ethernanos. Zeref was the first to experiment with ethernanos, finding it worked like synthetic magic (because you can't replicate magic capabilities, but you can create something similar) hence all demons use curses.

Humans naturally use magic. Demons naturally use curses. The two rarely cross (except in those rare cases *cough cough* Natsu *cough cough* Mirajane).

IMPORTANT NOTE: Ethernanos do not destroy mana, they offset the flow of magic. They cannot stop Earth Land from producing mana, but they can stop mages/creatures in their vicinity from using that mana and turning it into magic. Like rubber to a charged wire - the mages can't access the flow, but the energy is still there.

LAST IMPORTANT NOTE: Acnologia can consume mana and magic. He cannot consume ethernanos. In fact, ethernanos can limit his ability to eat the former two.