Ethereal (adj.) - heavenly or celestial, not of this world.

The Leaves.

They fell early. Too early. Blushing shades of browns and reds and ochres that danced above decorated heads and did somersaults over well-worn cobbles.

The sweet scent of summer still hung lazily in the air—cicadas and katydids refusing to abandon their grip on the affable season.

The Girl.

On the outskirts of the city, just turning past the last bend in a forlorn creek, a young woman was running.

Why was she running? For the same reason as any and every one else.

To escape.

Her feet pounded a solemn dirge into the hard gravel underfoot, a recently paved cattle trail that the locals had grown tired of wandering off of. Leaves cartwheeled overhead, and a warm, saccharine breeze brushed against her shoulder.

The young woman tightened her grip on her hood and pressed on.

The Boy.

Seven miles away, nestled decidedly deeper within the city's embrace, a man was moving in the opposite direction.

Away.

There were no leaves to romanticize his pilgrimage. No dancing stars. No sweet songs or melodies of moonlight. Only people, bustling about and preparing themselves for the night's festivities. Not even the moon, fateful and full in all her beauty, dared shine for him. Instead, she hid herself, wrapped up in a thick, woolen blanket of cloud.

The City.

Magnolia, they called it. A busy but quaint town comfortably settled within the more remote expanses of country—near the sea. An easygoing vacation spot, only busy during summers, and only unbearable one night of the year—the local harvest festival.

Aside from a large population of farmers, merchants, and breezy businessmen, Magnolia housed a more peculiar, eccentric group of citizens. In the center of the city, proud and on display for all to see, was a wizard's guild. Not the most esteemed in the country, certainly, but well-known nonetheless. Their strength and their recklessness were well known across the land, as was the parade they put on every harvest festival.

The Night.

The world was bright. The sky a forbidden slice of velvet night, warm and rich in a way that only soft summer evenings could be. The heavens were decorated with lights—careful explosions timed by carefree mages. Fireworks burst like a thousand stars across the sky, eliciting deep thumps through chests and evoking great, raucous echoes in ribcages—against lungs. The thunderous eruptions of mortars went deep, darting through fingers and down through veins, seeping out of capillaries and into muscle—rattling around bones.

The night wore on.

After pressing her way into the heart of the city, the young woman shrank back from the throng of cheering people. Breathe, she thought. Just breathe. Her eyes darted nervously about her surroundings, and the world almost seemed to close in around her. The crowd was shouting, throwing dozens upon dozens of jeering calls toward the procession that danced down the road. Float after float traipsed through the cobblestoned streets of the city, casting fleeting shadows and spilling magnificent splatters of colors across the young woman's chest.

Perhaps the most notorious, and, by extension, infamous, spectacle the city of Magnolia beheld was the parade thrown by the local guild. Every mage was clothed in something flashy; each displayed an equally dazzling skill. Bursts of color and flashes of light cavorted through the velour air. Fireworks erupted in the background. On the streets, the locals were shouting, mirthful with laughter. Occasionally, a mage would slip from his float, grasping the hand of the nearest onlooker and bringing the stranger up to dance with him.

Her breath caught in her throat as she watched—awed—as a young mage with fiery red hair spun like a flame beneath the moonlight. The Fantasia Parade was utterly mesmerizing—beautiful and breathtaking in a way that only magic could be. Even the stars smiled down upon the spectacle, their beauty unrivaled, yet still challenged as the wizards twirled by. Behind the technicolor music, the shouts of young children and gasps of a transfixed crowd filled the air. It was a pleasant event, endearing and charming and magnificent in every way imaginable.

The young woman, our unfortunate heroine as she might as well be called, took a few cautious steps forward, her cloak swinging round her as she made her way to the edge of the crowd. Her fingers slipped around the hood that hid her face, and with a gentle tug, the fabric shifted, allowing her to peer further beyond the disguise. Pictures were painting themselves in flame across the deep azure sky. It was stunning—utterly glorious to a girl who had always possessed a certain infatuation with the stars.

And, in that moment, as the confetti rained down around her, the young woman did something she didn't do often. Just as the guild master was climbing onto his float, she allowed a ghost of a smile to creep onto her face, her voice spilling out into the night and mingling with the faint buzz of conversation that lingered around her as she spoke.

"So this is what Fairies are like?"

"I need a room."

The shabby old woman behind the counter didn't look up at me; she didn't even bat an eye. The crone did cough, though. A bone-dry, rattling sort of hack. At least I knew she was alive.

I blinked and tried again, my voice louder. "I need a room, Madame."

Again, I received the cold shoulder. Not even a glance of acknowledgement. She had to be deaf, or either exceptionally rude—though, truth be told, I was willing to bet on the latter.

I set my mouth and leaned forward over the filthy counter. The unsanded wooden surface scraped against the hand I pressed down against it, leaving thin red ribbons on my palm. I cleared my throat, and with a hefty sigh, the aged hag looked up from the bowl of ramen that she had been occupied with. Cloudy eyes peered off a few inches to the left of my head, but the look of wry irritation plastered across her wrinkled face was clearly directed at me.

The innkeeper was far past her expiration date, with a gnarled figure and hands knotted like the bark of an ancient willow tree. She sat hunched in her chair, a great mountain for a back and boulder for a nose. Liver spots speckled her wizened features, and deep, leathery wrinkles covered much of her visage. Gravity had certainly taken its toll, considering way her turkey neck warbled when she moved.

"Can you pay?" She rasped, and an image of gravel and smoke sprawled up to my mind as she spoke. "We don't accept boarders if they can't pay."

I nodded and said, "Of course," because I could. Leaning away from the counter, I reached an eager hand to my pocket. A wad of cash appeared in my fist, and I lifted the money to her. "I have 6,000 jewel here. That should be enough for—"

"Two nights," She interjected. "You stay two nights and then you leave."

"The sign said—"

Again, she cut me off, "My inn, my rules. If I say you leave after two nights if you can't give me more jewel, then you leave, understand?"

The woman rose from her chair, rising to her full, albeit short, height, and I was left to blink like an idiot. Her jaw was set even harder than mine, and though I was stunned I swallowed hard, my throat bobbing. A breath flew through clenched teeth and I leveled my gaze at her again.

"Fine. I understand," I said. "I'll just find another inn."

There was a sharp crack as my heel turned on the floor, ripping a deep scuff into the ancient wooden boards. I could hear the sharp inhalation of breath from behind me; the woman was about to speak. I cut her off before another word could pass over her brittle lips, "Thanks for wasting my time. Have a nice day, ma'am."

In another stride I was out the door, my cloak swaying behind me as I marched away from the building.

In the depths of night, Magnolia was transfigured into an entirely different being. Laughter died, all speech quieted, liveliness fled, replaced by an eerie silence. It could've been peaceful, but the unprecedented chill in the air and the unearthly aura of the forest around me suggested otherwise.

Finding lodging proved to be almost impossible. What few inns the city did possess were almost all occupied. At one point, after being turned down by three consecutive hostels, I considered taking up temporary residence in one of the locals' barns, but my most recent experience involving several barn animals, a drunkard, and a bed of hay convinced me I'd better continue my search.

After scowering almost all of Magnolia, I came across a small, dilapidated building on the edge of town. A fractured sign hanging out front read Ilniyah's Inn, scrawled in a faded shade of tacky across a peeling, yellowed background. It was the only lodge that wasn't crowded in the midst of all the celebration. I could understand why.

It lay in the poorest corner of the city—the outside of the hostel sparsely decorated with inebriated tramps and shattered glass. Immediately upon approaching the building, the thick, overwhelming scent of crudely fermented mead hit me. A strong wave of stale sweat and mold washed over my senses.

I almost had to pause to catch my breath.

Several emaciated animals straggled about the grounds, their whines echoing the cries of their stomach. What little decorating the innkeepers had bothered to do did nothing to mask the utter desolation of their property. A patch or two of forlorn foliage would never make a garden.

After viewing the exterior of the hostel, my expectations for the interior of the building were slim to none. But no matter how little I anticipated, nothing could prepare me for the incorrigible wreck that greeted me inside. Poorly cobbled floors with gaping holes bitten out of them paved the entire structure, jagged bits of rock sticking up from the ground in their wake. Waxen walls dripping resinous tears down their sides could be found in every room, the paper peeling down as if a great beast had slashed it. A ceiling, sallowed and grayed by years of rain, dipped in places under the weight of the sky above. Hallways missed conspicuous chunks of plaster, and the roof leaked a steady stream of black water into a bucket below.

The building also had the delightful habit of creaking and groaning with every whisper of wind that brushed by, leading me to doubt the structural soundness of the inn. Honestly, I was afraid that if someone so much as sneezed too loud, the whole hostel would come tumbling down around me.

But, above all else, the most alluring aspect of the whole experience had to be the mysterious, brown haze that filled the air. The beige hue swirled around overhead—a different altitude that only added to the atmosphere of the inn.

Having observed the characters that inhabited the building, I'd deduced that the sepia smog was caused by tobacco. Smoking seemed to be a favorite hobby of the man that worked the front desk—a pipe in one hand and a pencil in the other. It was like some strange game. What would he die of first? Black Lung, or boredom? Not like anyone would survive long in this environment, though.

Part of me thought it a miracle that the inn hadn't been burned to the ground thus far, though a larger, much more deviant portion of myself desperately wished that the building had been reduced to nothing more than ashes. It was tempting to keep my money and sleep on the streets for the few days I would remain in Magnolia. Not like I'd never done it before. But it was always better not to risk the chance of being noticed, no matter how slim the chances may've been, and I'd rather not have been harassed by any late night stragglers. I was a big girl. I could handle staying in a rundown inn just like I had handled staying in every other ratty place for my past three months on the road.

My room fared no better than the rest of the building, and after an indifferent survey of the decrepit quarters I'd be staying in, I crossed the space to the only piece of furniture that decorated it. The moth-eaten mattress sank under my weight, practically caressing the molded ground. I sighed and placed my satchel on the end of the bed. The room was hot and stuffy, partially due to the fact that it was a blistering summer, and partially due to the fact that the building clearly lacked any sort of working ventilation. I wiped a stream of sweat from my brow and pulled off my boots. My cloak followed suit, as well as a pair of socks and a damp shirt. There was a distinct pause, in which I contemplated trying to form some sort of makeshift lock for the door, but I decided against it. I was too tired.

My body had curled up against the lumpy mattress, and I was asleep before I knew it.

I don't know how exactly much time passed, but I do know it was a while.

With a gasp, I jerked up from the mattress. Stagnant sweat settled in a thin film over my body, and clumps of humid hair clung to my forehead. I sighed and leaned back on my arms, balancing the weight of my problems on the balls of my hands.

My chest still rose and fell rapidly as I raked my eyes around the room. Molding walls, stained flooring, vermin traps in the corner. One held a dead mouse. My upper lip curled in disgust, and with a groan, I stood up from my mattress, crossing the dusty, desolate floor. The creature was sent flying out an open window with a flick of my wrist and a muttered, "Sorry, little guy…"

Adjacent to my room, I found a small washroom, and while the inn may have lacked in many departments, at least it could afford that small luxury. I took the opportunity to bathe, realizing it'd been several days since I last cleaned up. I washed quickly, first drawing the bath with an outdated, rusted faucet and a leaking bucket. Only once I was submerged did I realize that the water wasn't heated. My temper was enough to boil the bath. At least there was soap.

Instead of towels, I found a collection of tattered and questionably stained rags from a nearby washbasin. The knotted wooden floors felt sandy under my feet as I made my way to my satchel, where I reused a cheap cleaning charm on my clothing and then pulled everything back on, cloak included. I may have been irritated, but at least I was clean. After dressing, I removed a comb from the bag, setting to work on my tangled tresses of damp hair.

I was halfway through my tangle wrangling too, a portion of slick hair sticking to the back of my neck, when my comfortable silence was interrupted. There was a loud bang and a cracking noise and before I knew what had happened my door hit the floor with a crash. The quill brush I'd been using on my hair quivered in my hands, as if it could serve as a weapon.

Something moved in the doorway—a figure—and I reacted. With a shout, I launched the comb from my hand. It flew through the air, and an equally unabashed noise of surprise told me that I'd hit my target. The grunt was followed by a series of swears uttered by the low voice of a man.

Only then did I focus, my eyes taking in the intruder and the intruder's eyes taking in me. I opened my mouth to speak, but his words reached me first.

"What the hell was that for?"

I blinked, trying to see if I'd heard the man correctly. But then he was gone, disappearing into the recesses of the hallway. A bleating noise of bafflement spilled from my mouth, and I stamped out of the room after the idiot. My socked feet snagged on a fragmented splinter of wood from the door, ripping a hole into the cloth and forcing me to pause and disentangle myself. Thus, with great enmity did I peer out into the hallway, my eyes darting around the dirty, smog filled corridor. He stood several doors down, attempting to force what must've been a key into another door. His movements suggested that he was a bit more tentative this time.

My brush lay abandoned on a greying stretch of floor. I picked it up. He didn't notice.

I pursed my lips, "You broke down my door," I blurted, and the man turned his head, his features neutral—unapologetic.

"I'm trying to find my room."

It took me a moment to process what he was saying, and in that short time the fool had turned his attention back to the door in front of him. The distinct noise of a key attempting to fit into a lock it had no business in filled my ears.

"You gonna break that one down too?" I asked, and he glanced in my direction. The man narrowed his eyes, and I couldn't contain the scoff that bubbled up from my chest.

He snorted. "Oh, right. I'm sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean to step on your toes."

Asshole.

He made a noise in his throat—a cross between a laugh and a grumble—and returned to his work. I opened my mouth, shut it, scowled, and observed him. This guy was formidable. Muscular and tall—easily clearing six feet. A threat. If he attacked me now I'd be hard-pressed to overpower him.

I flexed my hand into a fist and glanced back at the nearest exit—yards away at the end of the hallway. Upon returning my attention to my companion, it became clear he was too preoccupied with the door to notice my unease. Good.

His features matched what'd I'd gathered of his personality—gruff and sharp, cold and icy like his alabaster skin. A pair of bushy, unkempt eyebrows hovered above his two slate grey eyes, beautiful, perhaps, but for the dark circles underneath—so pronounced that I almost mistook them for bruises. Sharp, almost aristocratic cheekbones cut down into a strong jaw, and a proud, regal nose sat comfortably in the middle of his face—probably broken once. His lips were thin and turned downwards into something of a scowl, and I couldn't help but mimic the look. The scraggly beginnings of a beard bristled the lower half of his face like moss.

What I couldn't stop staring at, though, was the flesh-colored scar that trailed a jagged line just above his right eyebrow and down the same side of his face, as if a teardrop or a bolt of lightning had managed to burn itself into his skin.

My eyes moved downward, and it struck me that even if he wanted to attack me he couldn't. A multitude of bandages crisscrossed over the entirety of his chest, covered only by a thick, fur-lined cloak. My body relaxed.

The man released an exasperated sigh and slammed his fist into the door. I quirked a brow.

"You know," I said, "breaking down another door will likely make those wounds to reopen."

He snorted. "I'm surprised your throwing arm didn't take care of that for me."

My lips quirked in an almost smile, which I quickly covered with a roll of my eyes. "Do you know your room number?" I inquired, my tone a bit softer, but no less bitter as I spoke. It seemed to work.

The man opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again before he was finally able to respond. "I was handed a key and pointed in this direction," He stated. "I figured all of these rooms were empty. This place isn't exactly 5 stars."

"Yeah, well, it's still the middle of the Harvest Festival. Everywhere's packed because of the Fantasia Parade," I said. "You'd be better off trying the rooms in the center. Probably 313 or 314. They fill up the outer edges first, so stick to the center."

He paused. "Well... Thank you. I guess."

It sounded like more of a question than an answer.

"You're welcome, Blondie."

I made my way back to my room, the sticky feeling of dust clinging to the heel of my foot through the unwelcome hole in my sock. Arriving at my doorway, I risked one final glance down the hall only to discover that, instead of marching off to the rooms I'd mentioned, the man continued to focus his attention on me.

His features were a mixture of constipation and consternation, and I was just about to ask him if he needed to be pointed to the nearest restroom when he spoke.

"I'm Laxus, by the way." Gods, what a pretentious name. "I'm in town 'til tomorrow."

I leaned against the wall, observing him. The whole mysteriousandbrooding thing was a little tough to stomach, especially when he had a name like Laxus. My new acquaintance raised his brows in expectation, and I guess he expected me to respond like some kind of civilized person.

"And you are?" He prompted, and I released a slight breath of amusement.

My lips were still tilted with a smirk when I replied, "Certainly not someone with such an ostentatious title."

"Big words for someone staying at a place like this," He remarked, his features close. "Though, usually, when someone offers you their name, you return the favor. Ever heard of manners?"

"I really hope you didn't come to this place in search of well-behaved company," I retorted. "I doubt you'll find many who understand what manners are around here."

"Thanks for the tip, smartass."

I sighed and said, "I'm Sabina," because Sabina was a nice name. Admittedly, not my real name, but a nice one nonetheless. I would've made a wonderful Sabina.

"You don't really look like a Sabina," Laxus mused, and I quirked a brow.

"Well, you don't really look like an asshole, but that sure isn't stopping you."

There was a pause, in which I actually believed I'd offended him, and then a warm chuckle. I'll admit; I was quite surprised. The sound was unexpected considering the cold demeanor he'd treated me with beforehand, but I had to admit I liked it.

He gave me an appreciative nod and fixed me with an inquisitive eye. "So what's with the strange gettup?"

My nose scrunched up at his comment. What an odd choice of conversation. Most people talked about the weather.

"What do you mean?" I asked, playing innocent, and he scoffed.

"You know exactly what I mean," the fur-lined robe he wore as a cape (which was exactly as ridiculous as it sounded) moved as he shifted his position. "It's the middle of summer. In Magnolia. Most women don't wear anything this time of year—"

"Would you rather me strip down, then?" I inquired, my tone walking the fragile line between sarcasm and seriousness. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I don't cater my appearance to the opinions of men." Blondie quirked a bushy brow, uncertain amusement stealing across his otherwise gruff features.

"I was just saying it'd be a little more comfortable if you didn't wear so much heavy, dark clothing."

"Says the one wearing a fur coat and covered in bandages," I retorted.

"Fair point."

Another pause, and I opted to change the subject, "Listen, I'd appreciate it if you fixed that door for me, or at least told the guy at the front to grab me another room."

Laxus' amusement seemed to crack at my suggestion, and I could see his grin falter.

"Can't you go ask him?"

"What, you chicken?"

"No, I just don't think he was too fond of me to begin with, and I don't particularly want to get thrown out when he finds out I broke one of his doors," Laxus quipped.

"Then don't tell him that. Make up something," I replied. "For all he knows the door could've just fallen off its hinges."

"I'm not gonna lie to him."

"Then tell him the truth."

"No," Laxus blurted, and I fixed him with an incredulous stare.

"Need I remind you that you were the one that busted my door up?" I snapped. "I'm not going to go tell the manager that I broke my own door down. I don't feel like getting kicked out of this place any more than you do."

"Maybe I would help you if you'd quit berating me," He fired back, and I rolled my eyes.

I gritted my teeth and said, "You know what? I'll take care of it myself since you're so childish." I was on my way to the exit as soon as the words left my mouth. But I guess that during our constructive, intellectual, and highly productive debate, he'd managed to near me, because his hand was wrapped around my arm before I'd taken more than a step.

My body froze, ice slipping down my veins and a frigid shiver running through my spine. Muscles pulled taunt, lungs tightened. Slowly, slowly I turned around, prepared to strike a blow to his already wounded abdomen. I knew I couldn't trust him; I couldn't trust anybody. Not after…

He bit his bottom lip, and I refocused my vision. This Laxus didn't seem menacing, just confused. I could feel him shifting under my stare. Then he said something unexpected, "I could pay for a new door. If you'd like." His hand fell away from me.

I blinked. Was he trying to salvage some sort of treatise, or could he be fooling me? Why did he have to be so confusing? It was frustrating. He was frustrating. Pretentious name, ridiculous behavior. For all I knew he was probably living it up somewhere in one of the bigger cities, visiting Magnolia for the festival. But he did seem to be wounded badly…

I shook my head and put the walls back up. "I don't want your damn money," I said, my tone vapid. Shame flickered across his features, and I rolled my eyes. "I'll tell the guy up front that a group of kids were messing around with some charms and broke the door or something."

"Thank you." He sounded genuine for maybe the first time ever.

He's fooling you.

I raised a hand, cutting him off. "Don't mention it."

He seemed to take this as his cue to leave, which was surprising after observing his tendency to linger. All the same, he turned on his heel, marching down the hall.

Halfway down the corridor, he paused, casting a sideways glance at me. "Can I do anything for you?" He asked.

I debated with myself for a moment, and maybe it was too long because he started to look bored. And I knew I shouldn't ask him. I knew I'd be better off not knowing, just forgetting about it and moving on. But for some reason, I couldn't.

"I can think of one thing," I said, and he inclined his head.

"Which is?"

"I need information. There's a wizard's guild in this town. Fairy Tail or something." Recognition flicked across his features. "I was wondering if-"

"The guild?" He interjected. "Are you serious?"

I waited a beat and spoke again, my stomach turning, "What can you tell me about it? I was wondering if—"

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you anything."

"What?" I blurted, "Why not?" He was silent, his features clouded, and I spoke again. "You've obviously heard of it before." He stiffened, but quickly masked the momentary hesitation with a half-smile.

"Everyone who's visited this city's heard of it," he retorted.

I frowned. "Yeah, but you haven't just heard of it. I can see it in your eyes."

He glanced to the side, "I can't help you."

"Why not?!" I exclaimed, and he scowled.

"Because I said so, alright!"

What are you hiding?

"What are you running from?" I said these words in such a matter-of-fact way that I almost thought I saw alarm flash over his face. Then anger.

After a pause, he gathered himself. "What makes you think I'm running?"

You've got the look, I think. I knew because I'd seen it before. I knew because I had it too.

I scowled and gritted my teeth. "I don't have time for this," I said, shaking my head. "If you won't help me, I'll do everything my damn self. See you around, Blondie. Or hopefully not."

Perhaps my words were rushed, but the meaning behind them was clear. I left him high and dry in the hall, staring after my retreating figure in frustration.

The girl didn't see the boy for the rest of the day, or that night, not even the next morning. If you were to ask her about it, she'd never tell you how she'd waited something like thirty minutes in her room with nothing better to do but to see if he'd knock again, to see if he'd barge in like he had before. But he never did.

If you ever asked the boy he'd never tell you about how he dressed his bandages quickly the night before he left and had approached the girl's room, prepared to ask her if she wanted to go with him to get something to eat. He had knocked on the newly repaired door, but after almost twenty minutes of waiting, there was no answer. So he packed his bags that night, and left the inn early, five minutes before the girl returned from town.

The fates had played their part, tugging on the strings of each individual, and causing their paths to collide—but it was each their own fault for being so headstrong and stubborn, and leaving before they had the chance to ever meet again. Of course, it wasn't like the girl would have gone to dinner with the boy in the first place. More likely than not, the young woman would've simply laughed and slammed her freshly replaced door in his face. And it's not like the boy would have said goodbye to the girl before he left on his journey to redemption. That wasn't like him. He didn't care about people enough. Neither of them did.

A/N:

Well, there it is, Chapter 1! Review and tell me what you thought; I can't wait to really dive into this story!

While I will mainly be writing this story in first person from my main character's POV, I will occasionally switch POVs to include first person perspectives from other characters, and even the occasional third person POV (as witnessed at the beginning and end of this chapter). So, I don't want you guys to be alarmed or anything when it switches perspectives haha (I will make the change in perspective clear anyways, and it will not be often). Also, it shouldn't be Mary Sued. Because this girl is clearly not perfect.

This work is rated T for now, and I strongly believe that it will remain at its current rating throughout its entire length. That being said, there will be language, suggestive themes, violence, and some sexual content. There will be a few chapters that discuss some heavier topics, but I'll be sure to warn you at the beginning of these chapters (you will always be given a heads up for any potential triggers). This is not all fluff, while some of it will be.

As always I do not own any of Fairy Tail, nor am I affiliated with it in any sort of way. All credits go to the AMAZING creators of the anime and manga. I only own our lovely "Sabina" (find out her real name in the next chapter!).

*Note, Laxus isn't going to come back until the Tenrou Island Arc (which starts towards the end of Chapter 9). While that is a long time, I think it's important that I spend time developing "Sabina" as a character and give her relationships with other people before we get to the romance side of things. Please, please, please, do not skip ahead! Be patient and I promise it will pay off! If you do skip ahead, do so at your own risk, and at the risk of a lot of disappointment and confusion. We can't fall in love with the relationship Laxus has with "Sabina" until we fall in love with each individual character first (and yes, the two of them will end up together after a slow burn, angst filled, fluff packed romance). Plus, you're going to miss out on a lot of Lucy, Levy, Natsu, Erza, and all around Fairy Tail Fluff, and who would want that? So be patient and enjoy this story!

Pairings that are or will become canon in this fic are as follows: Gajeel/Levy, Natsu/Lucy, Bickslow/Lisanna, Erza/Jellal, Gray/Juvia, Evergreen/Elfman, Lyon/Meredy, Makarov/Porlyusica, Sherria/Wendy, Sting/Rogue, Freed/Rufus, Cobra/Kinana, Dimaria/Brandish, Arcadios/Hisui, Cana/Alcohol, and, obviously, Xandria/Laxus.

Thank you all so much for reading! Reviews are very much appreciated. Love you all!