AN: Here's the second part! This fic will be a collection of shorts from this AU that I'll write whenever the fancy strikes me, and I'll upload them here and on my tumblr. They'll be chronological, and will sometimes feature different characters, though it's mostly about Gajeel and Levy. Expect shenanigans, and dragons.

"You're the chief?"

She glanced up from where she was unhooking the buckles on Whirlwind's saddle, to find him looming at her back, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and outright accusation.

"Yeah," she said, running her fingers along the dragon's chin. She tried not to smile. "Surprised?"

"But you're–" he stopped, and clamped his mouth shut.

She raised a brow. "Yes?"

He resolutely kept his mouth shut, but the word hung between them, regardless. But there was no irritation skimming along her veins this time, only a smug sort of pleasure.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Size matters with you, huh? That's the second time you've brought it up since we met."

He shrugged. "It's surprising, 's all I'm saying."

"That someone so short could become chief?"

He glared. "Didn't say that. Just could've mentioned it," he pointed out with a grumble.

She shrugged, but the gesture felt stiff. "I thought you'd figure it out on your own, to be honest. It's been three days, and it's not like it's the village secret. And anyway, it's a new thing," she said. "I've only been chief a few weeks. My mother was the chief before me." She paused. The hurt lingered, a phantom splinter under her skin. "She passed away."

Something shifted on his face, before his features settled back to accommodate for his usual glower. "Ah." Then he shifted his weight, clearly awkward, but she didn't know what to say to break the sudden tension.

"So does everyone on this rock have their own dragon?" he asked then.

Levy smiled. "Not everyone. You can't just pick one – the dragon's got to choose you, and we don't allow the youngest to fly, for obvious reasons. But most of us do, yeah. Not all of us are dragonriders, but everyone helps care for them."

She looked out over the village centre, shielding her eyes from the sun. "That one over there, that's Skywise," she said, pointing at a small, bird-like dragon by the well. "Her rider is Wendy, you see her with the dark hair? And the one in the pen next to it, that's Starlight." She hesitated. "She's Lucy's."

"The one we shot down," he added, throwing her a sidelong look. "I apologized."

Levy smiled. "You did. And you stayed."

He shrugged. "No one came looking. They all probably think I'm dead."

"And you don't think anyone misses you?" She found it hard to believe. Dragonhunters or not, there had to be someone waiting for him back home. He obviously didn't have a wife, although she didn't know why thatparticular thought made her feel relieved.

He seemed to think about it. "There's one," he said then, after a pause. He snorted. "She's about the only decent soul in the whole damn tribe. Crazy as they come, but she's family, I guess."

She wanted to ask what he meant by that, strictly speaking, but he beat her to the punch. "So, what's so special about those dragons?"

Levy smiled. "Well, Skywise is small and light – and she suits Wendy pretty well. Lucy's dragon is bigger, but what she lacks in speed she makes up in fire-power."

Gajeel snorted. "Wouldn't think that with such a girly name."

She gave him a look. "What I'm trying to say is, don't judge a dragon by its rider, or the other way around. They don't always match – that's part of why it works as a partnership. Like this, over there – see that big one sleeping by the forge?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"That's Hearthfire– his rider is Natsu, if you remember him?"

Gajeel snorted. "Pink hair, right? Hard to forget."

She grinned. "That's the one. His dragon's a sturdy breed, but their size makes them slow fliers, and they're not very aggressive." She grinned. "Lucy says he's too patient for Natsu, but they make it work. The dragon doesn't always have to fit the rider's temperament – usually that ends badly. Natsu tends to be a little reckless, but Hearthfire keeps him from landing himself in the fjord."

"But this one," she said then, motioning with her hand, and he looked down with a shout of surprise as a dragon came trotting forward. Levy laughed, pressing her palm against a warm muzzle. "Hello, girl," she cooed.

When she looked up, he'd taken a step back, apparently still wary at close quarters with the dragons. "This breed is our fastest," she explained. "But don't be fooled, she's pretty strong, even if she's such a small thing." She met his gaze, tongue in her cheek, and was pleased to see him finally crack a smile.

"Yer never going to let me live that down, huh?"

She grinned. "Not a chance."

The dragon crooned, before a tongue flicked out to lap at his fingers, and he yelled in alarm. "Hey, get off!"

Levy laughed. "She can probably smell the fish from supper."

The dragon gurgled, and persisted despite his protests, nudging a round forehead into his side with enough force to almost topple him over.

She wasn't a hatchling, but still of the younger broods, and had no rider and no name, yet. Her breed was one of fast flyers, with lithe shapes good for making sharp turns. Compared to some of the other dragons like Whirlwind she looked small and she was unlikely to grow any more, but the silver-grey scales lining her belly and back were near impenetrable, compared to the softer hides of many of the other breeds.

"She likes you," Levy said, and tried not to sound surprised. She'd imagined he'd be too hostile to take to any of the dragons, but he'd kept his calm, and his shoulders had lost some of their tension now. He'd even stepped closer to the drake.

"She have a name?"

The grumble caught her by surprise. "No," she said. Then, tentatively, "Not yet." She tried to meet his eyes, to convey the meaning behind her words, but he was busy looking at the dragon. "Why don't you name her?"

He snorted. "Right."

She turned to face him fully. "No, I'm serious. Why don't you pick a name for her?" Her smile widened. "Like I said, she likes you."

As if in response, the dragon pushed her brow into his side again, making him stagger, and he grumbled, but reached out to tentatively pet it. "The hell kind of name should that be?" he asked then. "I don't know shit about these things. I grew up hunting dragons, and we don't…name 'em back where I come from."

We don't name our kill was what he'd been about to say, and she was surprised to see that he'd opted for vagueness. To spare her feelings? Or out of respect? She honestly didn't know.

She tried not to think about exactly what they did to dragons where he came from, and tried to focus on him now, awkwardly trying to get along with one for the first time in his life. And it kindled a thought in her that there was hope for vikings like him to see more than just beasts meant to trap and kill.

She hummed under her breath. "Well, when you look at her, what's the first thing that springs to mind? Does she remind you of anything?"

He looked at her then, one brow raised, and she didn't miss the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

She raised a brow in turn. "You're hilarious."

He grinned. "Told ya she was small, didn't I? Like you."

Levy pursed her lips, but found it hard not to smile – there was quite a bit of difference between the way he said it now, and the way he'd said it that day she'd picked him up off that ledge. "You can't name her after me," she said, then. "Have some sense of originality, would you?"

He seemed to think about it, and took another look at the dragon, who seemed quite taken with him, now that he was paying attention to her. He ran a hand along her spine, the way he must have seen Levy do, and gained confidence when the drake seemed to purr in response.

He laughed then, his grin a wickedly delighted thing. "Shorttail," he said, meeting her gaze, eyes alight with his humour. "Shorty for short."

He looked obviously pleased with himself, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Think you're clever, huh?" But she didn't let him answer. "Shorttail?" she repeated, tasting the name on her tongue. The look he was giving her seemed to be daring her to disagree, and she found her smile come easily in return. "You're really running with this theme, aren't you?"

He grinned. "Well, what was it that you said? That size don't mean shit?" He put a hand on the dragon's head, palm splayed across her scaly brow, and she crooned in response, pushing further into the warmth of his hand. Small as she was compared to the other dragons, compared to a normal human she was easily twice the size of a full grown horse.

But the name seemed to fit, Levy realized. With her tail curled around her body, she found it wasn't half the length of Whirlwind's.

"Well, for your sake, I sure hope that's the case."

He frowned, features darkening suddenly at the implications behind her words. "Why?"

She grinned. "Because it's customary that the one who names a dragon, rides it."

He visibly balked, but she didn't allow him a chance to protest. "Welcome to the tribe, Gajeel, rider of the ferocious Shorttail." And with an exaggerated flourish, Levy turned to leave, smug grin just barely concealed.

"Oye!" he called after her. "The Hel– you can't just decide that!"

She grinned, as she set her course towards the mead-hall, the breeze tugging at the loose strands of her hair and the smell of the fjord sharp in her nose.

"I'm the chief," she called back, her grin curving wide and shameless over her face as her laughter bubbled up in her chest. With a last look back at his flabbergasted face, his new partner purring pleased as a cat at his side, she offered him a last smile.

"I can decide whatever I want."