Bluff

The room was empty, and Lucy didn't know how to feel. She'd run almost nonstop and her tight bodice was constricting her chest, meaning that her lungs were screaming for air that they could not get and she already felt somewhat lightheaded. So when she finally found the room with the flower painting outside and the door that opened without resistance, Lucy had hoped to find Wendy and get her to loosen her bodice slightly before they left, and to pause for a second to catch her breath.

But when she saw that it was unoccupied, Lucy's breath caught in her throat.

She leaned against the doorframe, chest heaving as she surveyed the room. It looked like a riot had broken out- to her it appeared that everything that could have possibly been smashed had been, and the rest was torn apart with no purpose besides pure rage. From what she could see there was no blood, which was a slight positive.

Lucy began to investigate more thoroughly, although barely any fruit was borne from the endeavour. She did find a small dress crumpled on the floor, torn and muddy but recognisable as Wendy's. Yet the only information she gained from this was proof that Wendy had been there, which Capricorn had already stated.

By now the pain in her wrist was more insistent on not being forgotten, sending out sharp shocks down her arm whenever it was aggravated in the slightest. Salvaging a strip of the shredded bed sheet, she clumsily utilised her teeth and usable hand to crudely bandage it. It didn't look too bad, all things considered, and the support made the pain less frequent.

She had been so engrossed in her work that she didn't hear the approaching footsteps until they were too near for her to hide. Remembering that she had forgotten to pull up her hood, Lucy clumsily fumbled with the fabric. It slipped through her fingers and she tried again, trembling in fear, frustration and anger at herself for being so stupid.

"It's fine, Lucy."

The princess hadn't been so grateful to hear a voice in years. She turned, beaming, forgetting that she was supposed to be hostile to its owner.

"Natsu!" She said, almost hugging him in her relief.

He smiled back despite himself, but frowned when a thought occurred to him. "Where's Lisanna?"

"Where's Juvia?" She shot back.

"I asked first."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "I sent her to go find the source of the screaming."

"Same. What's this?" He asked, indicating to the wrecked room.

The blonde bit her lip. "A… an associate of mine told me that this was supposed to be Wendy's room. I found her dress, but she must have left."

"Or been dragged out." He added. She could see a spark of anger in his eyes at the wreckage which fuelled his imagination, and quickly snuffed it out.

She shook her head. "No, it's more as though someone threw a tantrum here. Even the curtains have been shredded."

Natsu's brow furrowed in thought, anger forgotten in favour of analysis. He had never been an intellectual, but he looked to be trying his utmost best to play detective. "Wendy doesn't throw tantrums like that."

"I know that," Lucy said, going to investigate something that caught her eye, "So it's more likely that she got out on her own, and whoever found her missing had an angry outburst." She shuddered, remembering the blond she had left Capricorn to face. He looked just like the kind to do this, considering he snapped her wrist like a twig.

"So Wendy's safe?"

"Not safe, just not imprisoned." She replied, running her fingers around the laceration in the mattress before slipping them inside. It was too neat to be an angry tear, she thought. This was made with something precise and delicate, like a knife. Yet she didn't remember the blond man having one, and it seemed unlikely that someone had come along afterwards just to stab a mattress. So who did it? And why on earth would they? And why would Wendy leave by herself? She was a sweet girl, certainly a bright one, but sheltered and timid. Escaping by herself into a gloomy mansion filled with murderous intent in an unfamiliar place struck Lucy as being magnificently out of character. So what compelled her to leave? A change of heart? A helping hand? A means of self-defence?

She was thrust out of these thoughts by the bolt of pain that shot up her arm when Natsu decided to grab her bandaged wrist in order to get her attention. Lucy shrieked, withdrawing.

His green eyes filled with concern, stuttering, before he picked up her wrist more gently than she had expected him capable of. "What happened?"

"It's just a bit sore, that's all."

"Then why is it bandaged? It's not broken, is it?"

Silence.

"Oh my god, how did you break your wrist?"

"That's not important." She snapped, withdrawing, and continued before he could protest. "I think we should stick together and keep looking. She's probably not very far away from here." And I'll feel safer with you she thought and barely avoided adding onto the end. There was still that gaping chasm left from their argument three years before and, as touching as it was, concern over a broken wrist was insufficient to bridge the gap.

He studied her face with the same confused frown he'd had all of his life whenever something baffled him, but eventually relented. "Okay. But promise me you'll explain later."

"Promise. Now let's go." She reached up to try once again to lift her hood, but his hand beat hers there and Lucy could not stop herself from smiling. Because loving Natsu, that loveable doofus of a prince, was so much easier than hating him.

Juvia was the first to move, so swift that Gray hadn't registered her leaving his side before he heard the clash of metal on metal, and the scraping sound as she swerved backwards, her knife leaving his sword. Her boots squeaked on the floor as she came to a stop. Bluenote hadn't moved besides parrying her attack, instead standing immobile.

"Well? Are you going to try again?"

Perfect. Gray took aim in the moment of calm, and would have finished it there and then had Juvia not gone in for the kill again, ducking under Bluenote's blade to try and stab him in the back. Gray pulled the trigger in surprise, and for a brief moment thought he'd shot her. But Juvia must have managed to dodge by a hair's breadth as she was unscathed.

"Watch it!" He hissed. Gray's pistols only held about three bullets each, and he'd already fired two. But what was more important than that was that he'd very almost killed his ally by accident.

Juvia opened her mouth to reply before Bluenote twisted around, his blade slicing the flesh of Juvia's hand and only stopping when it came into contact with her knife's hilt. She threw herself back and rolled onto the floor before stabilising herself, leaving a smear of crimson on the marble. If she felt any pain, she didn't show it, nor did she seem to notice Gray anymore. This girl was something different.

He held up his pistol again, ready to aim at any opening. Juvia went at her own pace and it would be difficult to not hit her, but Gray was confident in his aiming skills – Ultear had insisted on him getting only the best of training – and only needed the opportunity. He'd have to be careful not to waste bullets though: he kept two pistols with him, both fully loaded, and this current one was down to his last bullet. He did have his pouch of powder and bullets with him, but reloading would be too risky in this situation. So Gray had to keep calm and use his last four shots well.

But Juvia and Bluenote were like a hurricane, never quite predictable. It was usually Juvia who struck first, so fast that it seemed impossible that she'd fail constantly to land a single hit. Bluenote, however, was mainly on the defensive and besides the one flesh wound he'd inflicted on her hand had made no progress. Juvia was resilient, a constant whirlwind of blades.

She struck then, throwing all of her weight into it. But Bluenote blocked it just the same. Before Juvia could lapse back into her pattern of stepping out of the way and trying again, he thrust his blade, much heavier and more powerful than her knives. The force sent Juvia stumbling back; as she had thrown all of her weight into the attack she'd sacrificed her balance, and now fell to the floor. Instinctively she dropped a knife and her hand went out to soften the impact- this was unfortunately her injured hand, and Gray winced at the wet splattering sound when it made contact with the ground.

Bluenote finally made an attack, and it was clear that the dazed and recovering Juvia would have no way to defend herself against the cold steel about to impale her throat. She seemed to register at the last second. It was too late to move then. Her hands flew to protect her neck.

Bang

The man swerved back at the last second, narrowly avoiding Gray's bullet. Both he and Juvia seemed to once again register the prince's presence, and Gray realized with a jolt that this pistol was now empty, making him a sitting duck for attacks.

Bluenote's blade came to meet him and he found out that an empty pistol wasn't so useless after all- twisting his hand, the metal of the barrel managed to block the steel sword, although barely. Still, it was enough of a delay for one of Juvia's knives to press itself against Bluenote's throat.

"Juvia thinks you should surrender."

The swordsman, however, laughed despite his vulnerable position. "Juvia is sorely mistaken. One thrust and her man is gone."

And Gray realised, with a jolt, that it was true. His pistol had been sufficient to block the initial swipe, but a simple change in the direction of force would lead to a stab in his heart. Still, Bluenote's attention didn't seem so much on him as on Juvia, with whom he was conversing as casually as anyone would a friend.

"So what guild are you from?"

Gray's hand reached towards his belt. His fingertips just grasped the metal of his second pistol.

"Juvia has no guild."

They wormed their way around into a grip. Gray took a deep breath and, before his actions could be noticed, slid the second pistol carefully out of its holster. He'd have to use his non dominant hand, but it would be better than nothing.

"So if I were to search your corpse, there'd be no guild mark?"

Bang

He wasn't aiming at anything or anyone in particular – doing so would be too dangerous because the chances of hitting Juvia were high – but the very sound of a gunshot was enough to scatter them in shock. The girl was fastest to recover and wasted no time in going in for the kill. Bluenote's reaction was more delayed, but he'd gathered his senses in time to block her attack. Juvia slid under his blade, knife slicing through the flesh of his thigh, and was upright in time to parry his strike.

She was making progress, but it was easy for Gray to tell that the battle had taken its toll on her: her grip on her right hand knife was less firm, for that was where she'd received the cut; her throat had red marks over it where she'd gone to defend herself; her legs were ever so slightly shaky. Bluenote, on the other hand, whilst worn down and sporting a new injury was in a better state. Gray himself was the best off of the three, but altogether the least deadly.

Hurriedly, the prince stuffed his empty pistol back in his belt and switched the loaded one to his left hand. He had two shots left and, considering the competency of their opponent, he'd have to use them well.

"I'm here, Azuma."

Erza kept her head down, letting her hair shield her face so she couldn't see who 'Azuma' was. Mystogan's (she had decided to cooperate with whatever name he wanted) arm was wrapped around her neck as he dragged her like a captive, not quite firm enough to choke her but good enough.

The voice which she presumed to be Azuma's came, and Erza made an effort to not turn and look at him. "What is Dame Scarlet doing here?"

Mystogan's arm stiffened. "I found her. She tried to attack me but I managed to disarm her. Now she's gone silent and is refusing to state her purpose, or whether or not there are others. How do you know who she is?" He was inching his way forward, gradually dragging Erza. She tried to be limp, her boots screeching against the floor.

"There's few women in this country with hair that shade, and only one who would ever wear armour. I know you're foreign, Mystogan, but you should make an effort to learn. That's what I did."

Erza frowned, glad that her crimson locks hid her face. Jellal wasn't foreign at all – Fiore born and bred. He could pass as a foreigner, she supposed, or maybe that was the tattoo.

"And who is she?"

"Dame Scarlet? The first Fiore woman outside of the Strauss family to be knighted. The first female soldier to be appointed the rank of general and above. Military advisor to the King. A very important woman, basically."

Mystogan gave a slight groan as he flung Erza to the floor. Her armour clattered and dazed her for a moment but she remained still, arm outstretched just a little bit too far away from her sword. She grunted, deliberating whether or not to try shuffling over- but her armour would scrape against the floor and make it too obvious. She willed for her arm to just grow longer, to reach her weapon so she didn't feel so powerless.

"But what is she doing here?" If Mystogan was bluffing, he was doing it well. He made a good actor.

"For the princess, why else? It's odd, I'll say. I can't imagine her finding out about us unless Ultear were to tell, and that woman is far too stubborn to talk to the likes of her."

Now that was a shock. Sure, Erza and Ultear weren't close, and Erza couldn't exactly say that she was fond of the former queen's daughter- she seemed too haughty and certain of her own importance. Igneel had put her in charge of most of the castle's affairs while he was preoccupied with his duties to the country, and she made sure that everything went her way. She was a cold woman, but Erza had never imagined her to be involved in such shady business.

"Interrogate her." Azuma's voice was deep and commanding.

Mystogan's foot came to the very edge of her armour, nudging timidly. He leaned down, grabbing Erza's hair and gently tugging her to face him. "How did you find out about us?"

She froze for a second. The knight had never been an actress, nor had she been in such a position. But she had to do something.

Erza spat in his face.

Mystogan straightened and rougly kicked her side, knocking her a few inches with a grunt. It had probably hurt his foot more than it did her, although it did wind her slightly. She coughed for dramatic effect, trying to work out why he had really thought that necessary. Had he turned against her? No, Jellal wouldn't do that. So why?

It only made sense when she realised that, if she stretched her arm a bit further, she could just reach her sword. But Erza had to wait for a chance, an opening, so she kept her silence, glancing up at Azuma from behind the curtain of her hair. He was large and bulky with the look of a foreigner about him – or perhaps he was just exceedingly tanned from time outside. It was hard to judge when the lighting was so dim. But whatever his nationality, he looked like a strong opponent. Not that Erza wasn't up to the challenge, although she had to keep in mind that her primary goal was not combat, but rescue.

"Do we lock her up?" Mystogan asked.

Azuma shook his head, wild hair bouncing from the movement. "I say we bring her to Hades. He could get something out of her… a shame, really. You say that she didn't put up much of a fight?"

"No."

Erza forced her mind, one in turmoil from the barrage of recent revelations, to focus. She'd strike soon. She would have to, because Mystogan could only buy time for so long.

"What a shame. It's been a while since I had any worthy opponents. I thought that the Dame Scarlet could be one."

It was the perfect opportunity to strike, both in poetic justice and the fact that his gaze was elsewhere. Her movements had to be quick – clinking armour would kill the chance of stealth – and so Erza took a beat to process her course of action before carrying it out. In one swift motion she moved to her feet, swiping her sword from the ground, and in the next she had sprung to her feet and went to deliver a blow to the side, one that would wound but not be fatal. However, Azuma was quick despite his gait and managed to step out of the way in time. But Erza's primary goal of rearming herself had been achieved, and with steel in hand she felt much more secure than before.

He regained his balance and glanced at the stoic Mystogan before laughing.

"A clever setup! How did you win him over? Hm?" More grinning, although it was not in a delirious manner- more like that of a child just presented with his favourite game. "So not just one worthy opponent, but two of you! Yes, I'm in for a challenge."

Erza gripped her sword, one ungloved hand feeling feather light in its exposure. She took a few steps back so as to have Mystogan within her peripheral vision, catching a glimpse of how he too had armed himself- with a halberd, by the looks of things. Interesting. Exactly the same kind of weapon that Jellal had a preference to.

But right now, Erza couldn't have Jellal on her mind. After all, she had a reputation to prove and a princess to save.

She was tiring, Gray could tell. Juvia's methods of fighting had transformed; her once twisting and versatile steps accompanied by slashing had originally given the impression that she was aiming to fight and not to kill, or at the very least that she was trying to use evasive tactics to gradually wear Bluenote down and maybe take out a muscle or two while she was at it. Yet that had been at the start. Were Bluenote an ordinary opponent then he might have been down by now, but his skill and deftness with his blade were second to none. Now it was becoming clear that Juvia, whilst a capable fighter, was not up to the same level in open combat: her steps had retained their pace, but were more clumsy, less tactfully placed and her swipes not so targeted at specific weak point as at anything she could cut; and now, after Gray had lost count of how long the battle had gone on for, she was resorting to stabbing techniques more so than cutting- trying to put the fight to a quick end. It was clear that she had sufficient anatomical knowledge as she was aiming for weak points, such as under the armpit or below the ribs. Yet the challenge here was actually reaching said vulnerable spots. Bluenote didn't let his guard down, and often Juvia's strikes were more reckless attempts at finishing moves which resulted in receiving her own injuries. Fortunately her mobile style of battle meant that these rarely went beyond flesh wounds in terms of seriousness, but the fight was clearly taking its toll. This was most notable in her hand; the hilt of her knife was slippery and she was constantly using any spare moment to wipe it on her clothing, although it seemed to do little good and her hand was beginning to shake.

Juvia was talented and deadly, but Bluenote was on a different level. Gray's two bullets were going to be very important. Yet he too was being faced with the unfortunate realisation that his skills and training were perhaps not all that impressive after all. The prince had been trained in the use of firearms, of course, especially his pistols. It was important, after all, for the heir to the throne to be able to defend himself in case all else failed. He knew basic fencing as well, but accuracy in shooting was his forte. The pistols had only limited ammunition and despite Gray being practised in doing so took time to reload, but time in training had shown his skill. He had shot targets aplenty from impressive distances, and after time managed to strike the bullseye. Except now Gray didn't feel highly trained and skilful at all. He felt useless, clumsy, his hand shakier than usual (perhaps from adrenaline, the rush of blood through his veins) and the target suddenly much more difficult to hit now that he was a mobile, breathing being.

Still, when a parry from Bluenote caused Juvia's knife to slip out of her blood sodden hand completely, he realised that he had to do something. And so he fired a shot which didn't hit, of course- but as with all of his shots it caused him to start and bought her a few seconds to relax in the knowledge that she was not the target. Juvia had time to wipe her hand and knife hilt on her skirt, hand jittery and uncertain. Yet she gripped her knife with notably greater firmness than before, and Gray had been of use. It was a relief to not just be a nuisance to her.

He was determined to use his last shot well; she was once again armed, but Juvia was simply too worn down from the fight to keep going for much longer. Most of her cuts were on her arms, although one or two had nicked the flesh of her thigh, or on her calf just above the point protected by her boots- too shallow to be debilitating, but also impossible to ignore. They would heal given time and not even scar, but in the heat of the moment they were just another problem, especially since Juvia's constant movement served to further aggravate the wounds. Trickles and smears of blood ran down her legs and it seemed to be only a matter of time before one cut went too deep and she was rendered defenceless thanks to one cruel twist of human anatomy.

At this rate she was fighting a losing battle, and so Gray decided that a change of pace was required. He selected a target, removing all else from his mind, blocking out the scrape of metal on metal that had accompanied the battle. There was a faint pulsing in the back of his mind, like a heartbeat amplified to extremes that he forced to go silent. Ready.

His target's area was a slim one, and he didn't want to try and calculate the chances of missing. Sure, he'd struck smaller targets from greater distances before but now nothing could be taken for granted, and he had one chance. He steadied his hand. Aim.

Now all he needed was the window of opportunity. Gray called Juvia's name, his tone loud and insistent, and within a heartbeat she was rushing towards him, far swifter than could be expected one with injuries such as hers. He had a split second chance to do it, so he didn't think about that before pulling the trigger. Fire.

AN: So I finally updated. Finally.