Uhm, it didn't come out exactly as I wanted it to be, I have to rewrite some parts multiple times and still I'm not happy, but here it is as promised. Also, I want to point out that I got inspiration from other tales besides Orpheus' myth although maybe they aren't that noticeable lol

Besides this, the chapter is not edited, so beware errors and blunders ahead!

Enjoy!

Eurydice

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Juvia exhales, her impatience growing when the answers keep shunning her. She's been waiting long enough, taming the bubbling notion of making a mistake in her chest, and Ankhseram has stood there all along, intently eying the nothingness surrounding them with a fixation that makes her shudder.

There's a game in play, and she yet has to know the rules. She dips her head to the chest, the prickle of tears stinging, but holds them back. Be it so, Juvia resolves, there's a game, and it's a game she'll win despite being a simple pawn.

She swears as such for the future she craves. For the man she loves. For the friend she fights for.

Ankhseram hums in delight next to her.

"Here he comes," it says.

She freezes; her heart leaps in her breast, drops and stays still. Her fingers claw at her arms, a name fills her mouth, touches her teeth, urges her tongue, unsaid. She looks up to the being with the thousand faces, bites her lower lip until blood draws, warm and pulsing.

"Who?"

"The rules you are bound to are as follows: You won't touch him. You won't speak to him. Not until you are well outside of the Limbo. That's the gamble you choose to bet on."

Dread crawls up and out of her mouth.

"Whom?" she asks again.

"Gray Fullbuster, obviously," it says. "He is here to get you back. Or trying to, anyway."

Her knees buckle.

"This was no part of the bargain," she whispers, weak. "Juvia is the one who is betting, not Gray-sama."

Ankhseram seizes her with an unreadable face, no human or beast standing in its place. It stretches an arm, a child's arm, and caresses the side of her cheek with a tenderness that makes her guts shrink.

"Not your choice, child," it shushes, words laces with sickly sweetness. "He agreed on his own accord and he's going to pay on his own accord." It straightens back, the burden of its different stares never leaving her, and warns, "And a deal thrice agreed is not to be broken."

Juvia shakes. A monster coils inside her, the sadness giving away to despair, and the despair to anger. She glares, faces on the God of Death and Life, steps forward in defiance. Her body shivers, in fury and in misery.

"You lied," she sputters, her voice poison.

Ankhseram shrugs.

"I did not." The truth.

Juvia jeers, sneers.

"But you never said that there is another piece to the bet."

The laugh that comes from Ankhseram drips with disdain, with knowledge gathered upon millenniums. It watches her through eyes that are blue, black, yellow, green, then nothing, and Juvia cedes in powerlessness.

"You will learn," it says.

"Why isn't she speaking?" is the first thing Gray asks, furious, and then the second materializes as promptly, "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing at all," Ankhseram reassures. "Your darling is as well as she can be."

Gray scowls darkly, searches a lie that he cannot see. "You didn't answer the first question."

"And I don't intend to." It sticks up its noses high in the air, lips graced with a grin. "It's a secret between her and me."

Juvia gifts him a wan smile, almost a shadow of the ones she usually wore around him, and his brain itches, an uncertainty and a warning, his body boiling at the mere idea of having fallen short even before the beginning.

All is right, she's trying to tell but all he can think is, something is wrong.

"I still can leave with her, right?" Gray demands, his fist clenched. "Get her out of here without any repercussion."

"That was the deal," Ankhseram says. "She will follow right behind you up the path out here." The stare that accompanies his words reeks of a trap. "Still remember the rules of our game?

Gray pauses, thinks, and his eyes widen at the implication. Magic crackles out his fingers, teeth faring as if a beast.

Never look back.

He seethes.

"I do," he spats. "Just right behind me, all the way. No foul play there?"

Ankhseram scoffs. "My word," it says. "And will you give me your live if meet with failure, no foul play?

"My word," Gray snorts, spins around and out of the entrance and the exit without a look back.

They walk up the cave, up the lightless stairs, through the rooms with the mirrors and jewels and the food and the drinks. There is no sound except Gray's steps, nor wisp of wind of someone moving behind him, nor warmth that a body radiates, and Gray fears, fears, fears.

Gray fears and he sweats and he collapses a little bit inside.

His hands twitch to grab behind, his legs tremble under the weight of the task and the muscles of his neck pull, strain. He shuts his eyes, gives a step forward, a second, a third, then another one, maybe stumbles in the way, and that's how he manages to little by little comply with his part of the deal.

Never look back.

That's been the condition, but for someone who has spent his life precisely doing that (mother, father, Ur, Ultear, Juvia, Juvia, Juvia) it's impossible not to.

The darkness engulfs the surroundings, his mind as well, and it wanders around thoughts that force him to bite down on his lip. What if it had been a lie? What if Juvia wasn't following him anymore? What if she couldn't? But it has been a two-way deal, and Juvia would always be there for him and nothing would stop her, so she has to be just behind him as promised.

That's the game.

Gray hopes, hopes, hopes, withers and then hopes again.

And so he meets light at the end of the tunnel, only then allowing himself to truly breathe. Only a bit more before being able to see, to touch, to live with her; only a bit more before the tragedy ends.

Then the earth quakes, rocks dribble around them, a howl in the distance, and Gray trips backwards. He doesn't fall, though he steps back one, two, three stairs, and touches nothing in the meantime.

No one behind him.

He halts.

(Don't, don't, don't.)

His mind yowls, a pound against his skull; his heart dives, heavy and punishing. His teeth rattle against each other and his hands tremble.

There's nothing; he's touched nothing when in any other occasion he should have. No one's fast enough to avoid an unpredictable trip like that.

There's no one, no Juvia and no nothing.

He should know better, really, but—

The ringing in his ears deafens, his reason turns into ash, the blood in his veins freezes over, the world goes blank.

His neck cranes to the right, his eyes dart in search of blue and white, in search of what should be there (look back, look back, look back) and—

He can't.

Warm, calloused hands, hands he has come to know so well, hands his has longed for, brush, grasp, hold his face in place; hold him firm. They bend him forward, to the light, and a quivering gasp leaves his lips.

Never look back, Juvia's telling him, and he obeys.

Gray clasps the hand close with his, tightly, and sprints to the exit.

No one is taking her from him again.

Ankhseram comes around behind her, sways in the nothing listlessly, and drops before her with an amused expression creasing the hundred folds of its face.

"Angry even now?" it toots. "Don't be. I've observed Fairy Tail, that silly guild of yours, for quite awhile and you all seem to praise friendship and helping each other out." Scarifying for each other it wants to say, Juvia knows, but doesn't correct. "You should be elated with the help that's coming your way."

Her glower is cutting, her lips puckered into a scowl.

"Not as long as puts Gray-sama in risk's way," she says.

"Hmm."

Juvia huffs, shrinks at the path laid out before her. "Is there any reason for it?"she asks.

"Why I was around your guild? Easy, Mavis was there and I always liked to keep watch on those who posses my curse."Ankhseram's smirk is playfully condescending, and it continues despite her best expression of annoyance. "Or do you mean why Gray Fullbuster has to join the party? Here's your answer: no one can escape my domain unless they have help from the other side, that is."

She meets the snide with silence, the sarcasm with obstinacy, and when it prods, she mocks with wordless glares. The question still hangs, heavy and chocking. Ankhseram sags in a defeat similar of that of a parent giving in the tantrums of the child.

It sighs.

"I want you, dear child," it explains, voice going soft. "I don't like when souls are stuck in the line between life and death, out of my sphere of influence. You should know this."

Juvia thinks back to Zeref and Mavis, recalls how they were cursed when daring to confront the law hammered down by Ankhseram for those dear to them, and nods.

"I want you out of this Limbo whatever it takes," it goes on, lowers itself face to face to her and adds, "To be fair, however, I'd rather him to fail. Two is more than one and Gray Fullbuster has always been an elusive soul, after all."

Juvia looks daggers, clenches her hands into fists. "That won't happen."

"Maybe."

"So Ankhseram does admit Juvia and Gray-sama can win?"

"Indeed. You wouldn't even be the first," it shrugs, and then Ankhseram's expression becomes dazzling with shadow and light, a caution and a foresight. "But his failure only means death once for you two; your failure means all your deaths and all your lives are mine and mine only," it says, and the words taste of doom. "You understand, right?"

Juvia gulps down the billis, the despair and the mania. She sinks her face into open hands.

Don't touch. Don't speak. Not until you are well out of your cage.

She wheezes.

She does understand and yet it's not enough to stop her.

Gray embraces her strongly as soon as the light of the sun baths them. There's elation behind his touch, as much as relief and everlasting sorrow, and when his legs give up on him, he brings her down to the ground with him.

"I got you," he whispers into her ear, cracks appearing in his respite. "I finally got you back. We made it. We made it."

Juvia shivers under the force of his words, nestles in the crook of his neck and hides. She never thought she'd have him ever again, but there he stands and she will enjoy for as long as it lasts. It's all she could have ever wished for and then some.

"Yes, Gray-sama made it," she coos faintly. "Juvia's very grateful."

Gray pauses, his mind rushing into action and the air logging in his throat. Then chokes on distress when hearing the loss in her tone.

He shakes his head and holds her face between cold hands while the happiness fades away into desolation. He searches for her eyes only to discover her shame in them. His look hardens. Juvia grimaces.

"Juvia's sorry," she whimpers. "So sorry. But Juvia had to! She couldn't allow Gray-sama to loss—"

"What did you do?" he asks, the syllables pitched in pain, his face darkened with worry and realization. "You shouldn't have touched me, is that? And you did it!" he cries, the pain turning into agony. "You silly woman, I'd rather you didn't!"

Her heart stops, then resumes all in the matter of seconds.

"It's okay. Juvia promises," she comforts, steady hands capturing his. "Juvia isn't going anywhere when Gray-sama's done so much for her."

"I'd like to disagree," someone says behind her. "You cannot stay after what you've done."

They twist to find Ankhseram, or what possibly might be a version of it hidden behind human hood but the smirk still discernibly its, and they recoil away in the time their breaths become gasps of horror. Ankhseram approaches them, crouches to face them, and in the shadows of its hood Gray finds the possible futures that will never be.

Gray doesn't let go of Juvia, though, pushing her behind him and placing himself between the woman he would die for and Death itself. Be dammed the consequences and the deals and life itself, he has had enough and is too tired of not fighting, and so he does by preparing, opposing, and wishing.

Let it come, he thinks, let it come and try to take away what I've struggled for.

"Stand over, brave child. You did well but her not so much, and thus she has to pay," it warns, edges closer, but Gray doesn't listen. "Or are you to defy me?

The world around him distorts, warps and bends over, the light fades into darkness and the air that makes his lungs slithers out, leaving him panting. Fear grips his heart, wrings it like a fruit and squeezes all the boldness and hope and love out of it.

There's nothing to fight for, not anymore, when death grips you in its snares and looks down upon you with the force made of existence and extinction, and Gray shrinks, shrivels and freezes, his soul icing over and only Juvia's gentle touch keeping him grounded on what is still there.

It comes slowly, hesitantly, but his head shakes. "No. I got her back," Gray manages to say. "She's staying."

"You might have got her back but she didn't abide by her own side of the deal," it sneers, swats away at him with vehemence."Hand her over, child."

Gray grinds his teeth in despondency, a retort that will bring his doom in the tip of his tongue, when a voice cuts through the oppressive atmosphere.

"She won't."

They turn around, find Juvia glaring at Anksheram who, in answer, only arches a brow.

"Pardon?"

"Juvia won't hand over her life so easily," she says. "Not to Ankhseram."

Ankhseram frowns, leers as the meaning registers and gives a step forward, his presence a heavy mantle that suffocates them.

"You agreed, child," it threatens. "Don't touch, you promised, and still did. You gambled away your own soul and lost."

Tell, would you like another chance?

"She did," Juvia admits, yet unyielding with her head cast high. "But how can Juvia give away something she doesn't possess?"

"Are you saying," Ankhseram snarls, voice more of a beast than a man, "you won't pay the price you agreed upon?"

The price is, of course, your life.

"No," Juvia repeats, stands up. "Because Juvia's life was already Gray's a thousand times over. It's a gift she gave away with her blood." Her mouth twist with confidence and knowledge, recalls the discussion she had with Ankhseram in what seems to be eons ago. "And for that reason she doesn't have any right to give it away without his consent."

The words hang, swirl and settle around them. Gray feels flare in the pit of his stomach, the cursed blood of his body turning into a blessing, a link that prevails even beyond the grave, and knows it to be true.

He watches as Ankhseram blanches while Juvia fists her hands. He is quick when moving next to her, even quicker when he sees the retaliation coming their way and recoils back. The ground in the wake of its power blackens, dries up, and they shiver when the god gracefully slides into a stance that is menacing as it is oppressive.

Gray lock his jay stubbornly and sees Juvia straightening herself in dignity.

"You lied," Ankhseram spits, his tone dark.

Juvia swallows, holds herself together however she can.

"She did not. Juvia did told you that she isn't the owner of her own life," she remarks. "That she doesn't have anything to give."

Juvia doesn't have a life that is hers to give.

"But you never said so," it accuses, voice fire and ash. "You cheated with words."

Her gaze steadies over its, shrugs off the leer and the power emanating from Ankhseram, and cranes her head high above the accusations thrown at her way.

"You will learn," she says.

The air crackles with electricity, as if lightning was about struck down on them, a growl echoing over the clearing. The day becomes a starless night when Ankhseram expands and expands, his form mountainous before them, his face gone in its anger, and extends a hand that is as big as the sea.

They cower under the magnitude of their cheekiness, the flash of fury they have summoned swallowing up all that has been, is and will be. Time stops, their body shut down and it's only the certainty of having won what keeps them going without withering under the power of death and life.

Gray yells, Juvia shrieks.

The hand stills.

"You better not," Gray threatens, legs shaking though still standing. "Unless you can't keep your word."

"Three times, too; you agreed three times," Juvia clarifies. "You promised."

Ankhseram pauses.

And a deal thrice agreed...

It retracts its ancient hand, slowly, agonizingly so, and contracts back to its initial size.

And then it bends over in laughter.

It laughs, and laughs, and laughs, the end a joke to it, and sneers when looking back at them.

"You did good for mortal children, I admit," Ankhseram says. "Playing by my rules and turning them against me. Not many have achieved that before. Well done indeed."

Ankhseram steps back, the hundred folds of its face relaxing, evening out, anger flickering into amusement and then gazes them with equal parts fondness and hatred. Juvia and Gray hold their breath at that, the recognizable ring of hope thundering in their minds.

Juvia perks, hand entwining with Gray's.

"So Juvia and Gray-sama won?"

Ankhseram gives them one last look, full of wonder, and waves away an arm that is wrinkled and smooth at the same time.

"Off you go. It's over and you won, and I'm not sore enough to seek retribution." it shoos, his back turning to them and voice dripping with annoyance. "The original problem is fixed, too, since you are out of the Limbo, clever child, and back into my domain although not in the side I wanted you two to be."

They share a look, buoyant as well as promising, and miss the scowl that graces the God of Life and Death.

"I don't, however, want to see you for many years," Ankhseram says, tone low. "I'm bored of you two and this game."

So they run, never looking back.

"How can Juvia trust Ankhseram will abide by the rules?"

"Of course I will. A deal thrice agreed is not to be broken, keep in mind. Not even by me," it says, rolls its shoulders and lowers its multicolor eyes with a knowing shine. "Magic works like that."

Juvia stares at the depth and the length of its existence, gapes at the milliard of ways in which Ankhseram lives by and dies by in the second.

She nods. "Juvia understands."

Gray holds her close, his blood running warm in his veins, and hums in peace. It's been a long, long time since he has last felt like this, so thriving and so at calm, and the urge to cry in happiness heightens and the nightmare of the last few hours grows fainter until it's nothing more than that, a nightmare.

He has done what he has wished for, and when he looks at Juvia, bubbly as always and taking in the world around as if it was a gift she never thought she would receive, he thinks of home. Of Fairy Tail and the days that are to come, of smiles and amending the errors of his way, of sunlight and rain and Juvia being under the blue sky.

He sighs, pleased.

But first—

"What do you wanna do now?" he asks.

She stares at him, her skin pink, her eyes shining, the very definition of alive, and his chest swells at that.

"Live," Juvia says, smiling, and he chortles. "But Juvia would rather live with you. For the rest of her life."

It tastes of honey and possibilities, of what hope might be made of, and when Juvia grasps his hands, looks in his eye with such love he might as well drown, there's only warmth in his soul.

"I'd also like that," says Gray, and sees the sun come out when Juvia smiles.

At last, his gaze settles on what is to come rather than on what has been, and discovers this might have been what he has waited for all along.

fin.