CHAPTER ONE: A STRETCH OF WINGS

Steel footing repetitively struck the uneven pathway paved with misshapen cobblestone and cement, a sound comparable to a ringing bell being that which cut the open air. Gentle breeze could not cradle flesh beneath layers of purchased cloth—perhaps one may consider that to be fortunate, for the skin may shriek when confronted with cool after a thousand years' worth of damage dealt by flame. First footfall brought upon him a mint-like atmosphere in the sense that the cold would chill him to his very bones, permeating and burning in a way which was entirely too contradictory.

Intuition would tell of a divine presence, though intuition had picked up a sort of redundancy in recent reports. The halo above his head was certainly not his own, and yet it hovered so close in proximity that one might be fooled at first glance. The wings at his back altered his shadow, contrasting the overwhelming demonic presence he held so drastically—so radically. Voicing his knowledge of her presence would only lead to confrontation, and confrontation would undoubtedly place his coordinates on many a map he wished to avoid. For miles on end, he held his tongue—folded ink-dripping wings and hid telling tail.

She was nothing if not tenacious, he would allot her that. His estimation of her tire lay on the path many miles ago—he traded it for patience. The game of wait was an exercise of one of many talents held by the beast. It was a talent she was blissfully unaware of at the beginning of their journey, for which he almost felt pity. If only a disclaimer lay around his neck, warning others that nearly all presumptions made would be proven false—for a demon he was, but a demon he was not.

Sometime soon the cobblestone would loosen and the sand beneath would shift. The sun had long since retired, allowing him to walk comfortably through this town without bearing facial coverings. The outskirts were quickly approaching, leaving him to roam desert sands to his mind's content—the presence of the heart would remain a mystery. The Holy presence remained unable to decipher his motive, for had she known prior to the revelation, she certainly would have halted his progress many miles ago.

Loose sands ground against steel armor, replacing the earlier thudding with the sound of wearing metal. Though the body tired from excessive travel, the mind was racing. The passing of another few miles led him to his destination—complete desolation. Golden sands a few shades darker than those of time stretched for miles on end without the presence of a human soul, and though the temperatures had dropped a chilling twenty degrees, the ability to relax his muscles was unearthly.

"Speak Holy One, I have an eternity to listen." Thunderous voice, carrying power he could no longer conceal.

"I have no words for you, Beast. I have only my blade." Venomous!—such anger was hardly characteristic of pure beings. Absolutely volatile, if he must choose to describe it.

"And your blade will not get you any farther this time than it did the last, surely you are capable of seeing that. I do not wish to shed blood—not mine, nor yours, nor that of humankind." His words were meaningless to her, that much he knew, but perhaps his actions could reflect his true intentions should she care enough to analyze them.

"Lies! Your kind does not dwell in this realm if not to shed blood, and to corrupt. You take me for a fool, demon?"

"I am not my kind." Perhaps his statement had been placed a bit forcefully, a bit too bitterly, though the expression of fury upon the face of the angel lifted to reveal surprise. "I was forced from my home after a thousand years of life on the basis of accusation and banished to these lands. I wish for no part in this battle of light and dark, I wish no quarrel with the lives of humans. The grey is where I have chosen to dwell until my unavoidable execution."

"And I'm supposed to simply believe— "

"Believe what you wish, Angel. Simply know that you cannot, and will not, defeat me. The one to have my head will be no less than Lucifer, granted I do not reach his throat first." As calm and melodic a tone as it ever was, as if he were reporting the weather.

"You wish to kill Lucifer? Many a mighty angel have gone on that mission to never return, what makes you believe that you are worthy of such a task?" He could easily place her intrigue, though she did little to cover her emotions, her intentions. Such was typical of angelic beings, their ability to embody pride and leave all to be seen without sheath, and this one in particular absolutely swelled.

"May I ask if you've seen Him for what he truly is?"

She would nod. "He looks no different than I."

"Precisely. Angelic power was not meant to combat angelic power—That of a demon, though, exists only for the purpose of corrupting that power, eating through its very core as it does with all life. May I ask if you've seen demons outside of the human realm?" A hand rose to capture the point of his hood, dragging it back to reveal the fleshly face of his Earthen form—though be it a face branded by torturers in a past life.

"I've had no reason to travel beyond the limits of Heaven and Earth." Her justification sounded even more hollow when she spoke aloud. "I am, however, aware that the form of a demon cannot truly be displayed on Earth, for the hallowed ground reduces your powers greatly."

"Just as an angel weakens in Hell, yes, that is correct." He confirmed. "However, the ability to stretch one's wings lays in the power of the beholder. I will not fault you for the misinformation, as members of the cabinet hardly touch the surface."

The robe he so treasured for its ability to retain warmth and conceal his figure slid from his shoulders and pooled at his wrists, leaving him to gently shake it from himself so that it would rest at his feet. The same fate became of molded steel chest plate and sewn cloth top. Trained amber would never blink, muscles pulled taut to the point of snapping with the force of anticipation. Her blood chilled. Words seemed to catch in her throat, quickly making that place their grave as they abandoned all hope of escape.

The act of stretching his wings after such a period of concealing them was a syrupy pain, the sort of pain where the lines blurred and pleasure met the equation. The slow emergence of ink-dripping masses took her breath in the least pleasant of ways, as if she'd been hung right then and there. The skin split and pitch ink spilled, rolling down porcelain skin as shoulders coiled inward to assist the birth of demonic presence. What first appeared as duel incisions soon stretched to become two craterous rifts down the length of the back, parting the flesh's sea so that the feather's should emerge without hindrance.

Wings unseen by this naked Earth stretched to their fullest extent with a gust, blowing scarlet strands from glowing exterior without breath of threat. Her face remained as stone, expression carved from the finest marble. Dread overwhelmed all other sense, drowning out all traces of purity almost violently, so that she might have taken a knee if not for her equally impressive reserves of pride, power, and persistence. Few others would mimic her actions.

"These wings are half of my image, I left the rest in Hell. Never again will I wear a demon's face, nor will I corrupt in Lucifer's name. My brethren share nothing but hatred for my name, and so I shall share the same for Their own." His wings came to rest comfortably tucked against fleshly body. "Though these wings are my pride and I refuse to clip them."

"You are aware that your destiny is a suicide." No hint of question resided in her voice, the embedded melody long forgone in favor of a much simpler pattern—distance. "You seek revenge."

"Name it what you wish, it makes no difference to me. I am as good as dead as it currently stands, dead man's prayer is still meaningful, yes?"

"Is that meant to be a joke?" She would advance a step, though piercing gaze would cause her halt. "I accept no prayer from my Lord's one true opposition."

"And yet I was not met here with a thousand of The Lord's soldiers. Your confidence is overwhelming still—Either that, or some part of you believes some part of I. I'm inclined to believe the former." He would not dub her less than overwhelmingly adept. Her attitude was quite intriguing.

"Look at this! The demon exiled for fraternizing with humans is now socializing with one of God's own—You are some kind of trip." Amusement lay thick over what should have simply been expressed as hostility. Neither party present before his arrival turned to acknowledge his presence. He hadn't masked it, after all.

"The quarrel you seek will end unfavorably, daemon." What should have relayed simple indifference instead expressed exhaustion. No willingness to fight was present. "Step wisely."

"Fullbuster." She would address him directly, causing the demon to raise a brow. Angels thought daemons beneath them, thought them unnatural forces—vigilantes at best, did they not? To address one so casually as if an old comrade was quite the interesting choice. "Why have you come? I assured your services would not be needed. And if you've come—"

"Dragneel isn't far behind, don't worry." He sighed. "Couldn't beat him off your trail, I mostly came to warn you, Erza… But I couldn't pass up the chance to throw a dart at the big guy." A thumb jabbed in the demon's direction lightened the mood several shades. "Gray Fullbuster, it's a pleasure to meet you, Jellal."

The vigilante would step to offer a hand in greeting, something Jellal had observed from human interaction during his travels. After a brief moment of simply staring at the proffered appendage, he mirrored the other's movement with bridled strength, though it may have appeared otherwise. "Surely." A bit dry, though civil all the same. "You possess a marvelous power."

"Are you implying that I am so transparent?" He would smirk nonetheless, a fraction of his lip disappearing into the pitch discoloration of his skin as he tightened his grip on the other's hand and allowing tendrils of ice to climb to the demon's wrist. "I tried to warm them in my pockets, but I guess I can't fool the highly evolved."

Jellal retracted his hand to inspect the frosted substance upon his skin, controlling his expression so that his discomfort would remain tightly sealed. The ice soon came to melt, tiny rivulets of chilled water rolling down his wrist and fingers. "Ice magic."

"Something like that." He shrugged. "Come now, don't hold all of your cards so close to your chest."

"Gray." Erza warned, her tone close to a growl as she finally took her eyes off of the demon and glued them to her assumed comrade.

"What? You're not curious to see if the legends hold any truth at all?" While he wasn't exactly famous for being an antagonist, an opportunity to witness something so allegedly profound wasn't something he would waste. "Besides, even if I can't get it out of him, we both know someone who will."

Erza bared her teeth. "Fool." A tone which might bite through steel if presented the chance. "Do you wish to die?"

"My apologies for interrupting, but I think you will find that I'm not so easily provoked." Jellal stated, expressionless. "That said, I would advise against any further attempt." A hollow threat. Utilizing his abilities would only draw Lucifer's forces to him at a far accelerated rate. Expressing that much, however, was far from his intention.

Three pillars stood, each monument inscribed with its own sealed intent; each monument a fine representation of its faction's strength. Each party remained unsure of the other's true purpose, leaving uncertainty to consume air already thick with tension. The moment's silence, albeit fleeting, allowed keen ears to detect a cut in the air. A winged creature was approaching—and fast. For the first time since his abrupt halt, Jellal shifted his position to accommodate the newcomer.

"A demon?" Voice bordering a hiss, an involuntary reaction as a result of his nature. Even still, the break in composure appeared to be quite uncharacteristic. Hands poised at the flank, fingers separated every so slightly in preparation to call upon veiled force.

The holy presence immediately spotted the shift in demeanor, eyes refusing to leave her decided target. Gray's gaze was also fixated on the damned, though dark eyes had locked onto the faint but present glow spreading from palms to engulf each lithe finger. He, too, altered his stance. The flat of his fist came to rest within his palm, ready to defend himself and his ally in a moment's notice. If the legends were anywhere near the truth, and the overbearing presence that seemed to grow without relent gave him reason to think that they were, it would be all he could do to escape.

"I wouldn't count on it." Gray advised. He knew the coming being far too well.

The following moments were an anxious silence, awaiting the arrival of the detected presence. As the creature grew nearer, Jellal appeared to calm considerably. Incandescent hands returned to their usual fleshly appearance, spine straightening to its previous position. "Not a demon, but certainly no angel either."

"Eh? Who are you calling a demon?" The voice would sound, its beholder coming into view as he breached the clouds overhead.

The newly introduced was falling—no, hurling himself—towards the Earth at an alarming rate. Sleek wings folded against the body as if they were a protective casing, though the objective was to be aerodynamic. Wings deployed few feet from the ground, gracing all present with a slight gust of wind. The newcomer dropped to his feet into shifty sands, struggling a bit to find his balance in a display which contradicted his smooth entrance.

Wings unlike those Jellal had ever seen in person—wings of a creature of lore. Though now they rested comfortably at his back, the others had witnessed their great expanse upon deployment before striking the ground. Visible expanse of jointed, curving bones protruded from the creature's shoulder blades, ending in multiple fine points. Those bones and the expanse between appeared to be wrapped in a thick, scaled flesh.

"Dracon." The demon muttered, eyes lighting in intrigue as he lapped up every detail of the image bestowed to him.

The other belted a laugh which only seemed to further clash with the pre-established atmosphere. "You're a pretty sharp guy!"

His grin made pointed fangs visible, not entirely unlike Jellal's own. The difference lay in their size; they seemed to be quite large compared to the rest of the teeth in their company. Just beneath salmon stained bangs, hardly visible scales decorated his temples. It would seem that they scaled his neck, shoulders, and parts of his forearms as well. Briefly, he pondered their strange appearance. It almost looked as if his skin itself was peeling, and one may be careless enough to assume so should they lack trained eye. Instead, hardened scales the same composition of thick outer flesh provided additional protection to select areas of his body.

"Natsu." Erza only seemed to grow less amused as time went on. Impressive, given the state of rage she'd been in since the beginning. "I told you not to come here."

"You're always hogging all the fun. It pisses me off!" He combated.

The demon present arched a brow. The matter of his life was a simple game? While he was impressed to see a living dracon after a millennium of their alleged disappearance, he was beginning to tire of the foolishness. He wished for peaceful seclusion and was graced with a hell-bent angel, an ice daemon, and this dracon who smelled strongly of ash. When would he reach the extent of his misfortune?

"If you wish to strike me, I invite you." His patience was wearing incredibly thin. "But I must warn you, I will be forced to make quick work of our skirmish."

"If you do not wish to be met with an army of your kind in addition to an army of mine, you will be doing exactly as I say." The blades of her voice pierced his feet, confining him to his place in the sand. Pots of honey and molten jade shifted to meet crystallized amber, and the threat in his eyes might have petrified anyone else where they stood.

"You dare attempt to command me?" He'd done his time in chains in a past life. He would not take so kindly to the thought of having his freedom revoked.

"I dare to bargain." She corrected. "Either you come with me, or you face all of your enemies at once. The choice is yours, demon."

Guess who's back with a brand new, shiny toy. Tell me if you'd like more of this story. If the feedback is positive, I'll continue. I will say though, this story is my current obsession, so expect more. Jellal is also very near and dear to me, and this story is based off of an AU verse for my rp blog. Anyone who can guess my tumblr url (without looking in my bio) gets bonus points. Until next time, it's been a pleasure.