AN: So I actually didn't mean to do another prompt for Midlu, but I thought of this yesterday, and ended up doing a Mardlu under the same prompt too. So this is overdue. It's not as happy as I would have liked, (especially after yesterday!) but it'll do.

On with the story!

The first time they met, he was asleep.

He could not recall the ensuing encounter; only a flash of gold, pink, and red remained. Lost as he was in in his dreams, nothing else remained in his mind.

Afterwards, he had no time to see her, as he was immediately engaged by a red-haired demon whom still haunted his nightmares even now. But nightmares of her seemed pleasant in comparison to the ones to come.

The next time they met, it was as enemies.

Even now, he clearly remembered the cruelty with which he treated her. As he laughed mockingly at her attempts to escape, as her brown-haired friend struggled to free her, as she sunk deeper and deeper into the clock.

And then, she turned his own curse against him.

It took him back to his childhood. That infernal clock had restored upon him the horrors he experienced daily inside the Tower. The Tower that ruined them all.

The third time he met her, he knew remorse. Once joining with Jellal, he began to rethink his past actions. Her eyes haunted him, chilling him with their rich brown intensity. Seeming to plead and nag at him, begging him to set her free.

And yet, every time the scene replayed, he didn't.

He let her sink, let her lose her freedom.

So seeing her, naturally, was an unpleasant experience.

Her brown eyes, haunted with experience he did not know of, reflected something he saw in his own.

Despair.

Utter despair.

She had known it too; she had lost something precious. She would never be the same; the same nightmares haunted her at night as well.

So he took her out for coffee.

It was a poor apology at best, but it was more of a way to make sure he actually stayed awake long enough to convey his remorse. After all, it would appear pretty pathetic if he dozed off halfway through their conversation.

And that day, as he chugged the bitter drink, he offered something he shouldn't ha ve.

He offered to revive her doll, Michelle.

Her lips had parted with surprise, her already wide brown eyes opening up further with surprise. Her hand immediately slipped to her keys, clenching something.

But then, a flash of steel had appeared in her eyes. Her mouth clenched, and with a steely expression she had refused. He still remembered what she had said.

"Michelle's at peace. She should never have been transformed in the first place. It's better this way, more natural."

The words seemed to bite at him, reminding him that he was the one who made her that way. Did she think he was unnatural? Did she despise him for what he did? Of course she did. But why did that bother him?

As if she was aware of his inner turmoil, she had softened. She had apologized for her words, and he had been shocked. Why was she apologizing for his mistakes?

And then she smiled.

And for the first time, he felt awake.

The smile reminded him of something else. Someone else had smiled like that at him long ago. Someone with hair as dark as his, with warmth just as bright as hers. Someone who had loved him once, long ago.

But then fire and ash took over, and the feeling was lost.

But still.

It was here now, with her. Perhaps if he spent more time with her, he could find it again.

At least, that's what he told himself was the reason for asking her out again. No one bought it, not even Richard. And Erik, that snake-faced bastard, had made it so that no one ever would, by claiming he had "heard the truth in his soul".

Why didn't he just say that he read his mind?

His feeling of surprise when she actually accepted was one that remained even today. She had said yes to the man who tried to sacrifice her to a clock. Was she insane?

Yes, he discovered. She was. And she was also much more frightening than the red-headed monster. Her golden hair and wide brown eyes housed a demon.

But he loved it.

And their relationship struggled between the countless battles and wars they both found themselves in the middle of (because Fairy Tail was always involved in something or the other) and eventually developed into something more lasting.

Instead of plotting world domination, Macbeth now spent his days lying on the chest of Lucy Heartfilia, just listening to her heartbeat as she read him her latest story. The rhythmic beat reminded him of a clock, the clock that started it all. And though it may have caused them unimaginable pain, it brought them to where they were today. Sipping coffee together, as the voices of their three children rang out from outside. And he loved it.

(And no, it did not make him any less of a man that he was lying on her lap instead of the other way around. And of course he was not the smaller spoon, no matter what that idiotic, blue, for some reason flying cat said. If someone would just tell Erik that, maybe Macbeth could finally reach complete happiness. Though of course, if Lucy asked, he would say he already had it).

AN: Thank you for all the people who reviewed for my last story! Sorry if I made some of you cry… I swear, I only half meant to.

But anyways, review and tell me what you think! I'm officially out of stories to start, and I don't think I'll do another Midlu for a while. I'm not sure whether to mark this story as Complete yet, but I think I'll leave it Incomplete for now, just in case.

So if you have any ideas or new prompts for me to do, let me know. I'm all ears.

Until next time then!

-Fareetauhl