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Through the window behind Governor Makarov’s desk, Gajeel watched the browned leaves of an oak tree fall in the breeze and felt a kinship with their weightlessness, with the sensation of being swept around by a force he couldn’t hope to counter.
The collar of his very best coat was damp with sweat. The garment was a little shabby at the elbows and he’d already turned the cuffs to hide the wear as best he could, but it was his best option for today’s meeting with the head of the Magnolia Trading Company. He’d cleaned it specially and bargained with Juvia until she’d pressed it for him. He’d combed and tied back his hair, shaved as carefully as he ever had, polished his boots until they shone.
It hadn’t mattered at all. Not even one bit.
“You want me to…” Gajeel’s murmur trailed off, hoping to the gods he had misunderstood the Governor’s response to his request.
“One year,” Governor Makarov repeated. “If you wish to marry my ward, you will sail with the Magnolia Trading Company for one year.”
Gajeel was caught in a hurricane and there was no escape.
“Governor,” he began, hoping a polite argument would form as he spoke. It didn’t.
“Listen to me, my boy.” For all the old man was diminutive in size and aged in years, the gravitas in his voice spoke to his decades leading Ishgar’s most profitable trading company. “You have served faithfully for many years. You have risen from the lowliest position in our organisation to my most trusted manager in the warehouses.” Makarov raised a finger to halt Gajeel’s interruption. “But you have not sailed with us. Every shareholder in this company has sailed aboard our fleet; it is how we built this company from the ground up!”
“Sir, I…” Gajeel swallowed reflexively and tried to steady his voice. “I sailed as a kid; I know the sea but…” He couldn’t put the cruelty into words – that he would have to leave Levy alone when she thought they would finally be together was unthinkably cruel. She would be lonely.
“Marriage, Gajeel,” Makarov said with emphasis. His eyes softened. “Marriage to my ward, my daughter, comes with responsibilities. You will be a son to me. Together, you and she will inherit all I have built.”
The words hung in the air between them. Makarov’s eyes were knowing and kind. Gajeel tried not to panic at the enormity of it. Several times during his life, his course had been rerouted by factors beyond his control. His parents had been killed. He’d been pressed onto a ship. He’d spotted a head of bright, cornflower blue hair across the docks.
He had assumed he would work the warehouses for the rest of his life, but now… a marriage and an inheritance, if only he left behind everything he loved for an entire year.
“I would have you bear the burden with her,” Makarov confessed quietly. His voice hardened as he continued, “She is more than competent, she doesn’t need you and you’d do well to remember it, but there are expectations of marriage. Others have offered.” He gestured to a thick bundle of letters on his desk and Gajeel attempted to incinerate them with his eyes. “Levy has made her feelings clear. Prove to me you are willing to earn your place at her side and you will be married. I have an important route planned for you…”
Ten minutes and a lot of logistics later, Gajeel started to feel as though the blustering leaves in his stomach had settled. He had his heading.
One year sailing aboard the Fairy Tail, the Magnolia Shipping Company’s flagship vessel.
One year away from the city and the woman he had come to love.
Gajeel’s course was set.
Even so, when he left Makarov’s office with a schedule and an itinerary and a goal, he nearly threw it all away at the expression on Levy’s face. She’d been waiting outside the office exactly where Gajeel left her, hoping to celebrate the good news as soon as possible. It was clear she had heard everything. Now she was blinking away tears and pasting on a quavering smile.
“He didn’t say no,” Gajeel observed gently, wishing he was allowed to reassure her with a touch. Alas, he had to earn that right by leaving her behind. “Coulda been worse.”
“Could have been worse,” Levy repeated in a strained whisper. She nodded rapidly, determinedly. “One year, and then the rest of our lives. We can do this. We can write letters!” She was trying to convince herself and Gajeel felt his heart crack in two. He knew he would be leaving half of himself behind on this voyage. More than half if he took Lily into account. Damnit.
“Got a favour to ask.” Gajeel’s voice was tight and he cleared his throat awkwardly, aware of the office behind him and the man within. “I can’t keep Lily safe at sea. Will you… look after him?”
“Oh Gajeel,” Levy laughed. Her hand rose as though she would touch his face and Gajeel craved it. Even through the kid leather of her gloves, he wished for just a moment of her warmth against his. “Of course. I’ll take good care of him.” Her lashes fluttered as she lowered her eyes. With a tremble in her voice, she added, “We can keep each other company. I’m sure he’ll miss you terribly.”
“Yeah,” Gajeel agreed. He clenched his fingers tightly to keep them at his sides. “I’ll miss him, too.” He wanted to kiss Levy so badly. One chaste touch of his lips to hers, a mere moment of connection to keep him warm at sea whilst they were so far apart. One kiss, just in case.
It was true that Gajeel had spent a formative part of his childhood sailing and he knew the dangers – there was a chance he would be lost at sea, gone to the devil without ever having kissed Levy. It was unbearable. Every storm and sickness, every rogue wave and close call would be a reminder that propriety had kept them apart when they so clearly belonged with one another. As if a kiss could make a difference when Levy held Gajeel’s heart in her hands.
The office door opened behind them and Governor Makarov called out for his daughter. With a half-bow, Gajeel caught Levy’s eye once more. He forced himself to grin and revelled in the answering smile, sweet and sad. “I’ll see you soon, Miss McGarden. Count on it.”
A week later, Gajeel watched from the stern of the Fairy Tail as Levy diminished to a blue speck on the horizon, then vanished altogether. His past, his present, and his future.
He missed her already.
-
Dearest Gajeel,
According to the itinerary my father reluctantly shared with me, you will be arriving in Minstrel six weeks after your departure from Magnolia, having delivered three pallets of cotton in Caelum. If my postal schedule does not line up with your voyage, I’m afraid I will have to chase you down. Your physical absence is punishment enough; I cannot fathom hearing no word from you for the next year.
Speaking of punishment, it’s with no displeasure that I relay to you the most recent of Father’s self-imposed struggles. After sending his most trustworthy warehouse manager away on what I will charitably call a fool’s errand, he now finds himself without a trustworthy warehouse manager at the Caldia Street warehouse. He is somehow surprised by this.
Since your banishment departure, the daily governance of Caldia Street has been entrusted to one Mr. Jose Porla, an old colleague of Father’s. I wish not to conflate beauty with goodness, nor the implied inverse, but I must say that Mr. Porla’s chilling smile and exceedingly sinister eyebrows might have warned my father of ominous tidings.
All this to say, last week I assisted Father in gathering the necessary evidence of wrongdoing to see Mr. Porla removed from his post within the Magnolia Trading Company. You would not believe the cruelties that man inflicted on your previously excellently maintained ledgers.
Once again without reliable aid on Caldia Street, Father finally asked my opinion and as such has instated Messrs. Jet and Droy as the trustworthy, if slightly underqualified, co-managers of the warehouse. Do not fear. They have a strict rota in place. I am overseeing the accounts. We will survive until your return.
I should say, in a professional capacity, we will survive until your return.
Personally, I am destroyed by your absence.
Oh, Gajeel.
The distance between us weighs even more heavily than I anticipated. A mere month without your presence and it wears upon me. A whole year! Who will I go to when I cannot seem to smile? Who will listen to my petty complaints of the shareholders? Who will pick me a bluebell when the seasons finally change?
I suppose I have grown to take you for granted. You are always by my side exactly when I need you, ready to help and support me in whatever way I require.
I shall never take you for granted again once you have returned to me.
Self-recriminations aside, we are well here. The nights grow colder in Magnolia and I find myself grateful for my new companion. Lily is very warm and he has quickly grown accustomed to sleeping in my bed. Do not be too jealous.
I will thank you once again for warning me of his nightly ghost-hunting ritual – I would have been rather startled otherwise. Aside from the ongoing war with the ghosts, he has settled in splendidly. Like his partner in crime, he is admirably adaptable. Also like his partner in crime, he has well and truly stolen my heart. I may find it difficult to return him to your care and as such we will simply have to share. Perhaps the three of us could find a home of our own as soon as possible, in the interest of efficiency.
Truly, I think Lily misses you, though who can really say why he gazes so forlornly from my window? Perhaps he misses his vital work at the warehouse. There are few rats for him to chase in my chambers and I worry he grows bored.
I hope the winter is milder where you sail to the south. I cannot imagine being at sea in this weather and I worry for you terribly.
Always yours, across any distance,
Levy
P.S. I have spoken too soon. Your furry menace brought a mouse to bed last night. He is fortunate he is so cute.
-
Gajeel dropped the holystone into his bucket and stretched out an old, familiar ache in his neck and back.
Life on a merchant ship wasn’t at all different from the pirate ships of his youth. There were always storms to avoid, decks to scrub, sails to mend, dishes to wash, lines to wind, and those things didn’t go away just because they flew the white Magnolia Trading Company flag instead of the black Jolly Roger. On the Fairy Tail, he worked to the bell and watched the horizon just as he had on the Raven.
The people weren’t even that different – Captain Erza and her band of misfits and weirdos were every bit as scrappy as the crew of the Raven. Natsu and Grey, the first mate and quartermaster, were in constant competition; Lucy was as star-obsessed as any navigator Gajeel had ever known; and Wendy was… alright, there’d been no one like Wendy aboard the Raven, but she did remind Gajeel of Juvia in that he felt an instant need to watch her back.
So yeah. A few superficial differences but mostly a familiar grind of hard work and bad sleep.
Except he didn’t remember hating it this much. He’d never had someone waiting for him at home before, maybe that made a difference. Hell, he’d never had a home before. Some of the Raven’s crewmembers had reminisced about lovers and families they’d left behind and Gajeel had always scoffed, never believing there could be anything better than the sea breeze on his face and the deck rolling beneath his feet.
A child. He’d been a child, naïve and stupid, forced into piracy after his parents were killed and convinced it was the only way he could survive.
Then there was Levy.
Gajeel’s hand hovered briefly over the pocket where he’d tucked her letter. The black whisker she’d enclosed in the paper, tied with a length of thin red thread, was safely below with the rest of his things.
The first time Gajeel had seen Levy, he was fourteen and scrawny, overdue a growth spurt that the diet of a pirate wouldn’t allow.
She was everything a Governor’s daughter should be – beautiful, intelligent, walking with purpose at Makarov’s side. She wore a dress the same shade as a Midian papaya with waterfalls of delicate lace at either wrist and a yellow headband that Gajeel hadn’t seen since but remembered in his dreams. It was a ray of sunshine against hair the colour of the sky after a summer storm.
He'd been caught at once and hadn’t cared to untangle himself in all the years since.
Within days he’d scored a job at the Caldia Street warehouse, dodging the Raven’s crew until they were forced to leave Magnolia without him.
It was another three months before he saw Levy again, despite his loitering and sneaking around, trying to be wherever Makarov was in the hopes of catching his ward’s eye.
Then they had arrived at the warehouse with questions for the old man who managed it, mainly: where had he lost forty-thousand Jewels and an entire shipment of Boscan wine?
Governor Makarov had spent almost an hour arguing with the drunk old bastard before Gajeel had beckoned Levy over with a finger pressed to his lips, snuck her up the wooden stairs to the loft, and shown her exactly where the missing wine was being stored. The Jewels and the letters from a rival of Makarov’s had been a bonus Gajeel hadn’t even known were there.
The memory of Levy’s conspiratorial smile as she showed him the letters made his mouth twitch even as he took up the holystone to get back to work.
In the space of that single afternoon, he’d caught Levy’s attention and earned his status as ‘trustworthy’, eventually leading to his promotion to warehouse manager. Quite the feat for a skinny pirate brat.
Never mind that he’d only known where to find the pallets of wine because he’d been secretly sleeping behind them every night since being hired. He began to compose his next letter home as he scrubbed the deck.
Dear Levy,
I guess I never told you how I found Makarov’s Boscan wine…
-
Dearest Gajeel,
I found a book that claims there is a species of fish living in the warm waters of the Desierto Gulf that the locals call the ‘Malabah’ or the Sea Queen. Apparently, they can grow to fifteen feet in length, have few natural predators in the gulf, and sprout poisonous spines that protect them very early in their life cycle. Also, rainbow scales! Such a thing seems impossible!
If you see a Malabah, please pay close attention. I will rely on your account for fact-checking.
The book also says that the climate of the Desierto Gulf is reliably warm in all seasons. I am glad for you. The winter has been bitterly cold here and we saw snow long into February. It caused some disturbance in our overland trading with Bosco and Seven, which in turn caused something of a pile-up in the warehouses.
Jet and Droy are coping. Jet acted quickly when it became clear the oilcloth couldn’t ship onwards and rigged a system of overhead storage nets to utilise more space. Droy leased an additional root cellar which has kept the last of the vegetable harvests fresh. Father is impressed with them, though I still cover the majority of the financial work for Caldia Street.
Of course, I’m quite used to that. Do you remember when you were first promoted to manager? Oh, what a mess you made! It took me hours to unravel it whilst you hovered over my shoulder.
That was the first day I met Lily. Do you recall? He was still all scraggly and flea-ridden, I think you’d only been feeding him for a couple of weeks. He jumped right into my lap, got his claws snagged in my gown, then jumbled the paperwork all over again in his panic. Poor baby.
He is doing very well now. His ghost-hunting continues, of course, but I believe he is becoming accustomed to a life of luxury. He has developed a fondness for mackerel and his coat is very soft and shiny as a result. Father says it’s the oil in the fish; I believe he takes something similar for his health.
Whatever it is, I have found myself spending hours every day brushing and petting his fur. He even purrs for me now! I cried the first time – silly, isn’t it? It felt like such a gift of trust. He still has maudlin moments but we’ve set up a sort of fort for him. Droy cut a Lily-sized hole in a wooden crate and filled it with woollen blankets. It seems to help him settle. Lily, not Droy.
Lily also likes when I play the harp, though he insists on sitting on my lap which has led to some posture issues. It reminded me of how I used to sit in my mother’s lap as she played the pianoforte.
Mama would teach me how to place my fingers on the keys even when my hands were too small. After a few years of practice, we heard a travelling group play at the town hall. One of the musicians let me pluck the strings of their pedal harp and the sound was so magical I knew that’s what I wanted to play.
I have realised in the retelling that I never played for you. I should very much like to play for you when you return. Perhaps you and Lily can sit together and listen.
Six months more, Gajeel.
We will have so much to talk about. And a wedding to plan. And then perhaps we can build a family of our own. I want to teach our children how to play music and read stories and pet Lily in a way he’ll tolerate.
I wish to enjoy the process of building a family with you. I think about that frequently.
We will have a lifetime to catch up on this stolen year. Every moment will be a celebration.
Always yours, in body and spirit, no matter the distance,
Levy
P.S. Do not forget about the Malabah. I won’t believe they grow so large unless you tell me so yourself.
-
Gajeel looked down at his plate, then back at Levy’s letter, then at the enormous spiky fish that Captain Erza had caught and roasted for their dinner.
Malabah, huh?
It definitely had the rainbow scales and poisonous spines – Grey was currently sleeping off the paralytic poison and Erza had firmly commanded the crew to quit messing around with the spikes. Natsu had claimed the incident was an important experiment.
The fish wasn’t fifteen feet long but it was easily big enough to feed the crew for days.
Good thing, too, considering they’d been stuck on the coast of Desierto for two damn weeks.
The tropical storm raging in the Gulf hadn’t given them any chance to leave after their drop-off in the coastal city of Oasi and, as such, they’d been docked and waiting ever since.
It was frustrating as hell. Gajeel just wanted to be home.
Worst of all, the crew of the Fairy Tail were getting insufferable with boredom. Every day there had been brawls and bickering. Natsu sticking Grey with a fish barb was the least of it – a few days ago they’d beaten each other bloody and then turned on Gajeel. Lucky for them, Gajeel was content to brood and growl and stomp off down the beach away from camp when they were annoying him.
Mostly.
Alright, fine. First he’d beaten that fiery little fucker with a cast iron frying pan and then tossed Grey into the Gulf and then he’d taken a walk to calm down.
“Hey, can I sit?” Lucy’s peppy voice asked. She had a tankard in each hand and she gestured to the sand at Gajeel’s side.
“Ain’t my beach,” Gajeel muttered. He folded Levy’s letter back into its envelope, tucked the envelope inside his jacket, and returned to his food.
“Was that from Levy?” At his suspicious glare, she continued. “We grew up together, you know. My father and Governor Makarov are colleagues.” Lucy sighed and set one of the tankards in front of Gajeel, drinking from her own deeply. She reclined against the sand, propped on her elbows. The storm clouds out across the Gulf were dark and thick but here on the beach, the stars shone brightly. “We used to sneak into my mother’s study to use her telescope, then we’d go to the library to learn about the stars we’d seen.”
Hearing about the woman he loved from someone who had known her longer was painful and addictive all at once. He’d sailed with Lucy for six months and he hadn’t cared to get to know her beyond learning how she plotted their course, where she kept her secret unfinished manuscript, and the best way to rile her up with that knowledge.
And the whole time, she’d been an untapped connection to the person he missed most.
Gajeel tried not to look too eager.
“Sounds like you’re close,” he replied simply.
“Oh yeah,” Lucy said with a sly grin. Gajeel didn’t like that grin at all. “She doesn’t keep any secrets from me. Though it’s been harder since I started sailing,” she added, some of the glee fading from her face. “We see each other less now. We write – she loves her letters – but it isn’t the same anymore.” After another deep pull from her tankard, she said, “See that constellation? The one like this…” She traced a zigzag shape with her pointer finger, outlining the shape in the sky. At Gajeel’s confirmation, she pointed to another spot in the clear sky. “That one’s Cassiopeia, and over there is her husband, Cepheus. They made some awful choices, but when Cassiopeia was condemned to a life in the stars, Cepheus begged to go with her. He couldn’t stand to live without her even whilst she was immortalised in the heavens above.”
The dull ache of the distance between he and Levy sharpened to a stabbing misery at that. Gajeel would’ve joined her in the stars, as it were, if he’d been given half a chance. He would’ve leapt at the opportunity to stay by her side in Magnolia. The unfairness of it stung.
“I woulda stayed,” he snapped, too sad and angry and lonely to temper himself. “I tried to tell Makarov –”
“No, you don’t get it,” Lucy corrected him kindly. “Levy tried to come with us on this trip. Did you know that? She was desperate to be with you. She even tried to convince Erza to take her on as a deckhand – she technically has the experience since Makarov taught her to sail.” Her eyes traced invisible patterns across the sky and she smiled fondly. “We were under strict instructions to check for stowaways before leaving.” Lucy sat up from her reclined position on the sand, making direct eye contact with Gajeel. The firelight made her dark brown eyes look like flickering embers. “Do you see now?” She asked with that kind smile. “She tried to join you in the stars.”
Long after Lucy had finished her drink and gone to bother Natsu, after Wendy had packed up the leftover Malabah for the next day and the rest of the crew had drunkenly retired to their tents for the evening, Gajeel remained on the sand staring up at the sky.
Every day he sailed further from Levy’s side, but looking out at the vast blackness of the night sky, lit only by those distant motes of light, the world felt smaller. He would make it back to her and they would be as inseparable as Cassiopeia and Cepheus.
Dear Levy,
Lucy showed me how to see you in the stars tonight…
-
Dearest Gajeel,
Researching the Pergrande Kingdom has proven difficult on account of its sheer size. I spent a whole day learning all about the culture of the capital, Pergrande City, before realising it is two weeks’ travel from the peninsular where the Fairy Tail trades!
Even so, I have enclosed a Grandinán vocabulary primer to help you adjust. It lists some every day phrases including ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. I know they aren’t typically part of your vernacular but perhaps you could make an effort in the interest of returning home to me rather than being locked in a Pergrande prison for the rest of your life. All the books agree that etiquette is important, even in the dock cities where you will be staying for the next month.
Goodness, a whole month.
I understand the need to rest and resupply before the journey home but this is torture. Especially since, as you are sailing directly home to Magnolia, I am unlikely to hear word from you unless a storm drives you into port. I will not wish storms upon you merely so I may receive a letter… but if you must stop, please write.
It is a beautiful summer here already but I find myself wishing it onwards so we might be united sooner. Father has been speaking of a springtime wedding. He vastly overestimates my willingness to wait to be married. How would you feel about a dockside autumn wedding, perhaps the moment you step off the boat?
I jest. I understand you will need to at least bathe before we wed.
In truth, all I can think about is how we should be married by now. You asked Father’s permission to wed in autumn. How many brides are expected to wait eighteen months for their wedding day?
It is ghastly and inhumane and I have told Father so many times.
Then I remember that he was not obliged to take me in after my parents’ deaths. Let alone name me his heir. Let alone allow me my choice of husband etc. etc.
I’m rather a mess of loneliness, resentment, and anticipation. It’s very un-summery.
Speaking of summer, did you know your cat is a sun-bather of the highest order? We have taken to spending whole afternoons in the solarium where he will find a sunbeam and lounge in it for hours, no matter how inconvenient its placement. If anyone attempts to move him, he growls. I think he wishes to remind us he is a fearsome rat-catcher from the docks, not a small fuzzy baby to be doted upon, despite all evidence to the contrary.
Truly, I don’t know how I would have survived the past eight months without Lily. His quiet companionship has meant more to me than I could’ve known.
Quiet companionship and growling. Now… who could that remind me of?
Oh! I intended to tell you of the Pergrande Kingdom’s exports. Surely by the time you read this letter the trade will be complete, but, among other things, Pergrande specialises in silk woven from the cocoons of mountain-dwelling moth larvae. Captain Erza is to collect a special order of this fine silk for use in the making of hats, gloves, and wedding gowns. It takes to all colours of dye exquisitely. If you have a chance to handle the silk, take it. It flows through the fingers like water. There is nothing quite like it.
I shall admit to you alone that I covet it whenever we receive a shipment.
Is it worth your absence for an entire year? Absolutely not!
But. It is beautiful.
By the time you return, it will be autumn and the leaves will be falling. I may have completely lost my mind by then. I warn you of this so you will not be startled when I hurl myself at you on the docks.
My only solace is that, after your month of rest, the distance between us will be shrinking every single day as your journey home progresses.
Please be safe. Please return to me. I cannot stand this much longer.
Always yours, in spite of the distance,
Levy
-
Gajeel politely thanked the merchant in the local tongue and moved away from her stall, hiding his purchase away like the precious treasure it was. A month in Pergrande had taught the Fairy Tail crew that Levy had been painfully right about the etiquette here – a missed apology or ignored greeting could cause great offence. After they’d watched Natsu narrowly miss a trip to the stocks, Gajeel and Wendy had studied Levy’s vocabulary primer intently and shared the knowledge with the others.
Nothing would keep him from Levy any longer than necessary, even his admittedly shitty manners.
The Pergrande Kingdom was renowned across the continent for its many and varied bazaars and, wandering through the central square of the textiles district, Gajeel could see why. Everywhere he looked, the sights and sounds were a feast for the senses. There were stallholders hawking rugs and fabrics and ribbons in every colour imaginable, jewels and chains that glittered in the bright sunlight, huge jars of buttons carved from wood and bone and stone.
The smells were in turn delicious and disgusting – the food in Pergrande was like nothing Gajeel had ever tasted but the dye houses to the north of the square spat out the worst scents he’d ever experienced. Apparently, horse piss was a key ingredient to setting dye.
He tried not to think about that in relation to the gift in his pocket. It was clean, he reminded himself, tucked away in a pristine velvet pouch and worth far more than its weight in gold.
It was like Levy in that regard.
Those first months after he had been promoted to warehouse manager were the most mentally taxing of his life and he wasn’t sure he’d have kept the job without Levy.
The first day she’d dropped by to query an invoice, they’d ended up squirrelled away in the manager’s office late into the night, desperately trying to figure out why the numbers didn’t add up when all the maths seemed right. Levy fixed it – of course she did – but not before she had gripped her hair in frustration, close to tears and cursing the late hour. It made Gajeel want to draw her away from the desk and hold her close, to stand quietly in each other’s space until her frustration ebbed, and then lead her to bed and hold her some more.
Gajeel had felt like a real bastard for thinking of her that way, doubly so when the problem turned out to be his own damn handwriting.
Levy had written out a worksheet for him then, too, which she’d sent with an open invitation to visit her at Governor Makarov’s house any time he needed help.
He’d made a point of needing help at least once a fortnight until she’d called him out on his behaviour, suggesting that perhaps they could take a walk through the park instead of poring over his boring work ledgers.
After that, they had met regularly. They walked in the park or lunched at one of the cafés Levy favoured, visited Juvia or had dinner with Governor Makarov. They had morning tea, afternoon tea, and evening tea. On Gajeel’s very favourite days, Levy would sit in her library for hours on end and Gajeel would pretend to be working nearby so he could watch her lashes flutter and her hands twitch excitedly.
Those were the best days of Gajeel’s life.
Damnit, he wanted to hear Levy’s voice more than anything.
Finding a quiet corner of the bazaar, he settled for rereading her most recent letter.
She was right that few brides were obliged to wait eighteen months for the wedding but, if Gajeel were being honest with himself, Levy had been waiting for him a lot longer than that. He’d been courting her longer than he’d known what the word meant and yet it had taken him years to pluck up the courage to make his intentions known. Longer still to approach the conversation with Governor Makarov. And now… this pointless journey.
It was nearly at an end. A few more days and they’d embark on the three-month journey home, praying for calm seas below and clear skies above. He would write one more letter to Levy and then race it home.
And when he arrived, they would begin the rest of their lives. He would be the husband Levy deserved; she would never have to wait for him again. He would make his feelings known every single day. They would face the storms of life together, Levy at the helm of the Magnolia Trading Company with Gajeel standing immovable at her side.
Dear Levy,
I will stay by you forever and I wish I had told you sooner…
-
Gajeel wanted to yell at Natsu to move faster, damnit! How hard was it to lower a gangplank? Instead of yelling, he tightened his grip around the strap of his bag and fixed his gaze on a distant speck of blue. Levy was waiting on the edge of the quay. Governor Makarov stood beside her in conversation with the dockmaster. She was right there and he was going to kick Natsu’s ass and jump off the boat if he didn’t hurry up!
“Come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath. How hard was it to secure a damn plank? Captain Erza clapped him on the shoulder as she walked past him to the gangway.
“Natsu! Stop winding him up,” she shouted, pushing that pink-haired bastard out of the way with a firm hand. She set a boot on the end of the gangplank and kicked it firmly into position. With a knowing smile to Gajeel she said, “Go get her.” Gajeel was already gone, across the gangplank in three long strides. He stumbled as he reached the dock. It didn’t rock with the ocean waves.
“Gajeel!” Levy’s voice carried on the wind, so sweet, sweeter than anything he’d ever heard. Never before had he gotten into port and been greeted by someone happy to see him. And there she was, running the length of the dock with her skirts flowing and her smile incandescent. “Gajeel!”
With a laugh that held more tears than he’d care to admit, Gajeel started running.
Levy threw herself at him in a tangle of limbs and laughter and finally they were together again. It felt like there had been a storm raging in his soul for a year and Levy’s touch had finally calmed it.
After a moment of adjustment, of getting used to the sensation of their bodies touching in a way they’d never dared before, Levy’s hands clasped behind Gajeel’s neck, his arms tight around her middle. Her feet dangled as Gajeel spun them in a circle and her laughter in his ear felt like home. He was home. It was such a relief that he collapsed under the weight of it, dropping to his knees right there on the dock and bringing Levy with him.
A whole year. They’d been apart a whole year. Levy had been sad, lonely, missing him. He’d fought the sea, the storms, and his own damn shipmates to get back to her.
And they’d made it.
“Levy,” Gajeel croaked. His voice sounded broken and hoarse.
“Gajeel,” she sighed in return, pulling from their embrace just enough to look him in the eyes. Her small hands cradled his face, stroked over his cheeks and down his neck to the collar of his shirt where they clasped at the cloth. The sight of her tears made Gajeel a little less embarrassed by his own. “You’re here.”
“I’m here,” he confirmed, his fingers smoothing over her lace sleeves. “I ain’t ever leaving, never again.” The skin of her arms was impossibly soft and pale against his own weather-worn hands, thick with calluses after a year – a lifetime – of hard use. The contrast was intoxicating. He wanted to undress them both and see all the ways Levy’s softness would complement his own sharp angles.
“Ahem.”
Gajeel’s stomach sank as he tore his eyes from Levy’s skin and looked up – barely – to meet Governor Makarov’s stern stare. This had to be it. Surely there was no more. Surely the old man had no further objections to the marriage. There was a pause long enough that Gajeel seriously considered whether Levy would agree to be kidnapped for elopement before Makarov’s face cracked into a wide grin.
“Welcome home, my son,” the Governor declared, loud enough that it echoed across the docks. “It will be my honour and privilege to bless your marriage to my daughter in spring.”
“No,” Levy said tremulously, then harsher, “no!” She stood, her small hands still holding onto the unlaced collar of Gajeel’s shirt and dragging him to his feet along with her. “We marry within a month, Father. You’ve made us wait long enough.”
“But…” Governor Makarov glanced from Levy, to Gajeel, to the crew of the Fairy Tail unloading the precious Grandinán silk behind them. “But the silk for your wedding gown only just arrived. Within a month? A tailor could never…”
Wisely, he cut off at the fury-bright glint in Levy’s eyes.
“Father,” she began, her hands dropping to fists at her sides. “Did you send Gajeel away,” her voice was icy and Gajeel had to steel himself to stay by her side rather than cowering, “delaying our marriage for an entire year,” a tiny droplet of sweat beaded on Makarov’s temple, “to fetch silk for my wedding gown?”
“Well,” Makarov’s voice had turned reedy in the face of his ward’s wrath. “He needed to sail… There was the matter of… It seemed a good idea at the time?”
Levy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she spoke again, it was with the kind of iron control Gajeel hadn’t possessed a day in his life.
“I will marry in cotton,” she declared with finality. “And we will marry within a week.”
“But you said –” the Governor cut off his objection swiftly. “A week. Yes, my beloved daughter. Anything for you, my sweet daughter! I will make the preparations. There will be guests to consider and flowers to order, a notification sent out…” He walked briskly away down the dock, red in the face and muttering to himself about wedding arrangements.
“All this for silk!” Levy wailed, dropping her forehead to Gajeel’s chest. She fit in his arms so perfectly. “The silk is beautiful but I’d rather have you!”
“You can have both.” Gajeel pulled his bag from his shoulder and withdrew the velvet pouch he’d carried home from the Pergrande Kingdom. “I got something for ya.” He withdrew the gift he’d bought with his salary, the memento of his journey that he knew would mean something to Levy – a length of silk, sunshine yellow and brilliant in the light. “Picked this colour for ya. They make the dye with crystals from the Pergrande desert.” It matched the colour Gajeel saw in his dreams; the colour he first saw Levy wearing and would always associate with her. “Thought it would look pretty in your hair.”
Levy let the silk flow through her fingers, a yellow glow reflecting from the fabric onto her face. She looked radiant.
“Gajeel, this is…” Her words trailed off as she stared at her silk. For just a moment, Gajeel worried he’d gotten this completely wrong – never mind that seeing her with that luminous yellow had hurled him right back to his fourteen-year-old self, that scrawny kid, desperate for a glance from the angel on the docks.
Then Levy met his gaze and the love that shone within those beautiful hazel eyes mirrored his own perfectly.
When Levy’s lips finally met his in a kiss as sunshine bright as her silk, Gajeel knew he would never have to miss her again.
The distance between them vanished and their life together began.
-
“That ain’t my cat.” Gajeel stared disdainfully down at Lily’s nest on the piano stool in the solarium. The cat in question was snoring in precious little purrs, stretched out on his back with a slightly round tummy on full display. His mouth was open just enough to see a hint of his tiny teeth and his whiskers twitched as he dreamed. His coat was growing lustrous and full for the coming winter, with no bare patches or chunks missing from misadventure or fights with other cats.
“Aww, don’t be mean to him,” Levy insisted, kneeling next to the nest and petting Lily’s tummy without hesitation. The cat stretched languorously. “He’s had a very hard year,” she added, just for the joy of seeing Gajeel’s eye twitch before his face softened. He came to crouch beside her.
“We all have.” Gajeel hesitated for only a moment before lifting Levy’s chin with his forefinger and laying a soft, chaste kiss on her lips. They lingered in the feeling of rightness for a moment, then Gajeel stood decisively. “Alright, cat, let’s talk,” he said gruffly, reaching out and hefting Lily up under the armpits. The cat woke abruptly and scrabbled against the hold. Gajeel merely hugged him closer and ignored the claws. “I know you had her to yourself for a whole year but we gotta learn to share. The bed’s mine from now on, ya hear?”
The purring started not long after.