"Vanessa, heel!"
Aelius actually yelled it. His voice cut through the chaos of crashing tables and shouts like a blade. He hadn't raised his tone like that since the church, and the fact that she had dragged it out of him again reminded him that Vanessa was a plague in human skin, a high form of praise coming from him.
The urchin had somehow scaled Makarov's titan form, clinging to the old master's giant shoulder as if it were her personal jungle gym. And the worst part, the truly insulting part, was that she looked like she was winning. Makarov was swatting at her, booming for her to get down, and she was darting between his massive fingers like a silver-haired gremlin, laughing all the while.
But the instant the command left his mouth, she was gone from the master's shoulder.
It was like she had folded reality itself. One heartbeat, she was clambering across a titan's arm, the next she was standing directly in front of him, so close he could smell the faint traces of smoke and ale that clung to her from the chaos behind.
Her eyes were wide, shimmering with that familiar mischief, but underneath it, something else flickered, something almost fragile, almost relieved, like she had been waiting for him to call her back all along. The grin that spread across her face was insufferably radiant, sharp enough to split her small frame in two.
"Wasn't me," Vanessa said at once, hurried, too quick to be anything but guilty. She turned her head aside as if refusing to meet his gaze would somehow erase the evidence.
Aelius stared at her, silent for a long, heavy moment before exhaling through his mask in a way that sounded like the final thread of his patience snapping. "…Are you twelve?"
"No!" she barked, then instantly backpedaled with a nervous little laugh. "Okay, maybe spiritually."
"I asked you, specifically, directly, in words even you should be able to understand, not to do exactly this." His hand twitched at his side like he was ready to pinch the bridge of his nose again but stopped himself. "....No, it's on me, I don't know why I thought you'd listen."
Vanessa bounced back on her heels, completely unfazed, her silver hair catching firelight from the collapsing guild hall behind her. "It just all tastes so goooooood," she said, dragging out the word like she was savoring it on her tongue. "The chaos, the joy, the laughter, the rage. It's a banquet of emotions, Aely, and every flavor is five stars." She jabbed a finger into his chest, tilting her head up with a grin that was all teeth. "Unlike you. You're bland. Nasty seriousness. Like burnt porridge."
Before Aelius could even form a response, the ground shook with a bellow that rattled his bones. "AELIUS!" Makarov's voice boomed like thunder, raw enough to silence half the guild even in the middle of its chaos. The old man's magically enhanced frame stormed into view, eyes blazing as he took in the sight of the smoking wreckage, the overturned tables, and, above all, the parasite at Aelius's side. "Care to introduce your friend and explain why the guild is ON FIRE?!"
Aelius didn't flinch at the roar. Instead, he exhaled, long and sharp through his mask, then reached out to snag Vanessa by the back of her shirt before she could dart away like a feral cat. She squirmed but made no real effort to break free, grinning like this was the funniest thing she'd seen all day.
"Lower your voice, old man," Aelius said flatly, his tone carrying more weariness than defiance. "I can't answer you if you deafen me first."
Vanessa tilted her head back toward him, upside down from where she dangled in his grip, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oooh, you're in trouble," she sing-songed, kicking her feet like a child about to be scolded.
"Shut it," Aelius muttered under his breath, releasing a tired groan as he felt the gazes of the entire guild bore into him. This was exactly the spectacle he didn't want.
Makarov, however, wasn't about to be brushed off so easily. His massive form bristled with authority, power crackling just beneath the surface. "I'll give you ten seconds, boy, to tell me who she is and why she nearly brought the guild crashing down." His voice rumbled with the threat of titan magic waiting to be unleashed.
His hand twitched. For a moment, he considered ignoring Makarov, letting Vanessa keep talking until Makarov decided to blast her through a wall. But then his patience cracked. "Why didn't I do this before?" he muttered under his breath.
Before Vanessa could blink, his palm flared with a sickly crackling pulse of magic that arced straight into her spine. She stiffened mid-smirk, her body seizing as paralysis ripped through her nerves. The look of frozen surprise on her face was worth the cost of energy alone. Aelius released his grip, letting her drop to the ground with a thud that kicked up dust.
"I'll introduce her when she earns it," he said evenly. Then, as if her collapse were nothing more than tossing aside a sack of grain, he reached into the air. A shimmering pulse of magic flickered, and a familiar, weighty pouch heavy with the sound of clinking jewels appeared in his hand. Without hesitation, he lobbed it toward Makarov.
The bag landed with a solid thunk on the giant outstretched palm. The moment Makarov felt its heft, his scowl evaporated. His brows lifted, eyes twinkling like the coins inside had already tripled in value.
"Two million jewels," Aelius said simply, his tone flat as ever. "The mission paid decent. And I don't need it."
There was a pause. Makarov's expression softened, his booming presence dissolving into warm grandfatherly cheer as he shrank back to his normal size. "Ah, Aelius, my child!" he exclaimed, spreading his arms like he hadn't been ready to bite his head off seconds earlier. "Welcome back! Welcome back indeed!" He tucked the bag under his arm with surprising speed for a man of his size. "Now, now, introduce me to your friend!"
"Double standards much?" Aelius muttered as Makarov approached. It wasn't loud, but the words carried easily in the lull that followed the chaos. The remark hung in the air just long enough to make the Guild Master's brow twitch, the faintest crack in his otherwise genial façade.
"Don't know what you mean, my boy," Makarov replied smoothly, though his voice had that warning undertone Aelius knew too well. "Now, I believe I asked about your guest, didn't I? I'd recommend you answer before her antics end with Erza's wrath. You know how she gets. It was strawberry. Strawberry cake." His eyes flicked toward the scarlet-haired knight, who even now was hunched over the wreckage of her dessert, trembling in a way that promised catastrophe once the tears dried.
Aelius remembered. Unfortunately, he also didn't care. He made it apparent Erza couldn't bully him into submission like she could the rest of the guild, and if she turned her fury on Vanessa, well… he'd gladly tie the silver-haired menace up like a piñata for Erza to vent on. At least that would solve two problems at once.
Still, he answered if only to cut the ordeal short. He gestured lazily to the stiff, grinning lump at his feet. "Master, meet Vanessa. Or Neshi, as I sometimes call her."
Makarov's mouth opened, concern and confusion etched plainly across his face, but Aelius rolled right over him, rattling off in a single breath before the old man could get a word in. "Yes, she's the one who caused the forest incident. No, it wasn't technically her fault; it was the same person who kicked my ass two weeks ago. Chaos incarnate, through and through. No, I didn't plan to meet her. No, she wasn't the reason I took the quest. Any other questions I didn't just answer?"
The Guild Master blinked, lips parting as though to respond, but Aelius's tone had already carved away most avenues of inquiry. The surrounding guild members had gone quiet, the air thick with unspoken judgment, curiosity, and the faint crackle of magic still hanging in the rafters from the brawl.
And through it all, Vanessa, paralyzed, grounded, and still somehow smug, lay beaming up at them like this was her grand debut.
"None then? Well, mission complete. I came to tell you I'm back. I'm going home. I'll take Vanessa with me. I can't and won't promise she won't burn the city down." Aelius's voice was flat, final. He bent to grab her, only to find his hand closing on empty air.
He froze. Then straightened slowly. "…And she overpowered my magic."
The next moment, the guild hall erupted with another round of shouts, not the angry chaos of before, but the kind that rattled rafters with laughter and cheering. Makarov turned his head, brows already furrowed. Aelius followed the sound reluctantly.
There she was, silver hair flashing as she slammed a tankard down hard enough to make the table quake. Across from her sat Cana, grinning like she'd found her new favorite sparring partner. Empty barrels littered the floor around them like casualties.
"Another!" Vanessa demanded, voice ringing clear over the roar of the guild.
"Don't think you can outdrink me, brat!" Cana barked back, slamming a fresh barrel open with her heel. The surrounding crowd whooped, stomping their feet, pounding tables, egging the contest on like it was the most important battle of their lives.
Aelius pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his mask. "Perfect," he muttered.
Makarov chuckled under his breath, though there was a tightness in his eyes as he watched Vanessa chug straight from the barrel. "She's spirited, I'll give her that. Reminds me of someone else who causes me more headaches than miracles."
"Don't start," Aelius cut in, already weary of where that comparison was headed.
The guild floor shook again as Vanessa slammed the barrel down, foamy ale dripping from her chin. She threw both arms up like she'd just conquered a kingdom. "Best! Guild! Ever!" she shouted. "You're all my people now!"
"Let's talk in private for a minute, you willing to do that, my boy?" Makarov asked. His tone wasn't harsh, but it wasn't the jovial sing-song he usually used to soften hard truths either. It sat somewhere in the middle, concern dressed in casualness.
Aelius didn't need to ask what this was about. Every time someone from Aelius's past showed up, trouble followed. Always. He couldn't fault Makarov for being cautious, not when the last one was strong enough to flatten him, and he was likely the third strongest in the guild.
Aelius exhaled slowly through his mask. "Lead the way," he said at last. The words carried no resistance, no weight of decision. Just acceptance. He didn't have a reason to refuse, and honestly, the noise rattling around the hall was already pressing into his skull like a migraine. A quiet room with Makarov was better than standing here waiting for the ceiling to collapse from laughter and drunken stomping.
The Guild Master nodded once, not smug, not relieved, just… measured. He turned, cloak trailing, and Aelius followed. Behind them, the chaos roared louder, Vanessa shouting for another barrel, Cana meeting her challenge with a laugh, and the guild erupting like the battle of the century had just begun.
Each step away dulled the thunder until it was just the two of them, walking deeper into the guild's quieter wings. And finally, they reached Makarov's office. Aelius entered behind the older man and closed the door with a quiet click.
"So what question was important enough to drag me away from the potentially dangerous guest?" Aelius asked as he turned to face Makarov who was already climbing into his chair, joints creaking, but his gaze was steady.
"About the dangerous guest, actually," Makarov said, folding his hands atop the desk. "Though I suspect you're smart enough to have guessed that already. What can you tell me about her?"
Aelius leaned back against the wall, arms crossing over his chest. He let a moment pass, long enough for the noise of the guild outside to settle into a distant roar. "I guess I owe you that much. She's… a god slayer, like me. But her domain's not like any I've seen before."
Makarov's brow lifted slightly. "Go on."
"She's an excess god slayer. The simplest way to explain it? She feeds on emotions. Thrives on them. It's more complicated than that, but emotions are the cleanest thread. Happiness, anger, grief; it doesn't matter; the stronger it is, the richer it tastes to her. Think of it like fuel, if fuel came from your heart instead of the ground."
Makarov's eyes narrowed, though not with malice. Just focus, as if memorizing every word.
"It also means lying to her is near impossible," Aelius continued, his voice even, almost bored in its detachment. "She can taste dishonesty like spoiled food, unless you're good enough to keep your emotions flat. And no, " he raised a hand preemptively, "that's not as easy as it sounds. I've known her for two years and still don't have a full grasp of her magic. Not sure I ever will."
The Guild Master hummed low in his throat, stroking his beard. "An excess god slayer," he repeated, the words slow, deliberate. "A dangerous power, and not one I've heard of before." His gaze flicked toward the door, where muffled laughter and shouting still bled through, tinged with the sharp crack of a table breaking. "And you brought her here."
"Yeah," Aelius said flatly, his tone turning cold, as if preparing for the worst. "Don't believe it's wrong to do so, is it?"
"Oh, no, no," Makarov chuckled, holding up both hands in mock surrender. "You misunderstand me, my boy." The laugh deepened, turning into a grin far too broad to be comfortable. "You brought someone here, of your own choice. Someone from your time in that cursed labyrinth. And what's more, you're standing in front of me and willingly telling me about her."
That grin didn't fade, only widened, stretching across the old man's face with a warmth Aelius found irritating.
"You've changed, and are continuing to change." Makarov continued, his voice softer now, but no less cutting for it. "Closer to the boy you were before you left us. Or at least… more open than the man who came back four years later, walls stacked high as the mountains. I distinctly remember you saying….. Ah, how did it go? 'It'll take more than a few words to break down four years of walls.'"
Aelius stiffened. For the barest second, he felt the weight of those words press in, but he smothered it just as quickly. He turned on his heel, cloak shifting with the motion, his boots thudding heavily against the wood as he moved toward the door.
"I'm going home," he said curtly, not bothering to look back. "Not dignifying that with a response. And because of that, Vanessa is your issue now."
His hand closed on the doorknob, fingers curling as if to steady himself, but his voice stayed flat, resigned, as though the matter were already closed. But before he could turn the knob, Makarov spoke again.
"I'll be nice and won't tell the others about this. Consider it, thanks for the jewels. But you're on your own if, no, when, they put it together themselves," Makarov said, laughing as he pushed himself from the chair and walked around the desk toward Aelius.
"Why drag me all the way here just to say that? To keep your word about not telling them what you think you've found out?" Aelius snapped, irritation sharpening his tone.
Makarov's smile spread, the same smile that always spelled trouble for Aelius. "No, my boy. If they see me hauling you away, they'll be twice as curious. Think of it as a nudge toward you."
Aelius felt the bait like a hot coal. He ripped the door open so hard it almost came off its hinges. "I will spit on your grave," he growled, the threat low and cold. He had walked straight into the old man's trap, and it might as well have been lethal, especially when he thought about the headache Makarov's meddling would guarantee.
"I'm sure you will," Makarov laughed, unbothered. "But that's a risk I'm willing to take."
"Maybe you should learn not to meddle in other people's lives," Aelius said, the words clipped but the edge of his voice softer than the sentence. "Worry about what's left of yours. Let me be."
Makarov fell in step beside him, following Aelius down the hall toward the ascending racket of the guild. "Like you let the guild be when you brought, what was her name? Vanessa?" he retorted, voice light but not unkind.
Aelius opened his mouth, then closed it. "…Touché," he said at last, the single word flat and begrudging.
They stepped out into the main hall together. The room was still a mess of overturned benches, singed rafters, and a dozen ongoing arguments that had already devolved into fist-swinging. Vanessa, a manic blur of silver hair and tankard foam, sat astride a table, whooping, while Cana staggered nearby, clutching the rim of an empty barrel. Someone was trying to put out a small fire in the corner with a broken bucket. The whole scene was a circus that had lost its tent.
Aelius took in the tableau with an expression so deadpan it might have been carved. The sight left a slow, bitter curl of something at the base of his throat, annoyance, yes, but also something like a reluctant resignation. He had hoped that by bringing Vanessa back, he'd be able to control the fallout. That hope had been a fool's coin, tossed into a well that returned nothing.
Makarov watched him for a heartbeat, then with a practiced hop placed a gentle, absurdly paternal hand on Aelius's shoulder. "She's loud," he said with a half-grin. "She'll settle. Or she won't. Either way, we'll manage." The old man's fingers were warm against the black fabric of Aelius's cloak.
Aelius shoved Makarov off his shoulder with one sharp motion. "I doubt that. Either way, don't come crying to me when you want her gone." He turned away before the old man could mount another trap and headed for the door. "I'm going home. Don't bother me unless someone's dying. And even then, only if I have a reason to care."