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[FT: O King of the Fairies] Chapter 99
🕑 Added 2025-06-02 13:02:21 +0000 UTCChapter 99
The days passed in a quiet, tense silence, each moment heavy with unsaid words. Erza had withdrawn into herself, giving Irene space but never truly leaving the walls she had built.
She would train with the others, her movements sharp and focused, but there was always a distance in her eyes, a layer of emotion she wasn’t ready to face. She wasn’t ready to forgive, but she also wasn’t ready to fully push her mother away again.
Jellal noticed it too. I could see the way he kept looking at her, the concern written across his face, but he never asked. Not directly. I knew he wanted to. He was a man of action, always wanting to fix things, to understand and help, but he understood this was something only Erza could confront in her own time.
He could see the distance in her eyes, and he respected it, but I could tell he was waiting—waiting for her to come to him when she was ready to share what had happened.
I could only imagine how much it must have been eating at him. Jellal is Erza’s closest friend, someone who had seen the worst of her past, someone who understood how important it was to her to never show weakness. But this—this was different. It wasn’t just her strength that was being tested, it was her heart. And no matter how much he wanted to fix it, he couldn’t force Erza to talk about it.
The tension lingered between us all, each of us unsure of how to bridge the gap, how to help Erza find her way through the mess that had been laid before her.
Irene spent most of her time in her quarters, lost in thought, occasionally glancing toward the door where Erza had left her, wondering when or if the girl would return.
She knew this was going to take time, that everything they had lost couldn’t be undone in a single moment, but the waiting was the hardest part. Every hour that passed felt like a lifetime.
But I knew I couldn’t leave things hanging in the air forever.
She wasn’t a child anymore. She didn’t need someone to coddle her. But she was hurting—hurting in ways I couldn’t just ignore. I needed to speak with her.
By the time I made it to Fairy Hills, I could already hear the familiar sound of metal striking metal, the rhythmic clash of her sword cutting through the air. I wasn’t surprised. Erza always trained when things were too heavy to deal with directly. She'd done it her entire life, retreating into her strength, her sword, whenever her heart was too full.
I walked into the open training area and saw her, her figure silhouetted against the fading light of the evening, her movements sharp and precise. But it was clear: she wasn’t just training. She was fighting something.
I stood there for a moment, letting her work through whatever she was feeling. She didn’t notice me at first. But after a few more swings, she finally paused, wiping the sweat from her brow, her breathing steady but slow.
When she turned and saw me standing there, her brow furrowed just slightly, but then it softened.
“Aiden,” she greeted, her voice quieter than usual. “What are you doing here?”
I hesitated, unsure how to approach her. She was still processing so much, and I didn’t want to overwhelm her. “I came to talk,” I said simply.
She set her sword down, a soft thud against the ground, and walked over to me, her steps steady. “About what?”
“About Irene,” I said, keeping my voice low.
She glanced down, her expression unreadable for a moment before she gave a small nod. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“I… I know it’s a lot to take in,” I started, running a hand through my hair, frustration building. “All of this with Irene. With everything she’s said. But I just need you to understand something.”
She glanced at me, but her eyes were distant, like she wasn’t sure where to even begin.
“Erza…” I said, my voice gentler now, softer. “She’s your mother. I know that’s not easy to swallow. Hell, it’s not easy for her either. But the truth is, she’s been there, watching you from afar, even when she couldn’t be with you.”
Erza didn’t move, but I could see a flicker of something—confusion, hurt, maybe even disbelief—behind her eyes.
“You’re not the only one carrying a heavy weight,” I continued. “Irene… she hasn’t known how to be the mother you needed. She thought you’d be better off without her, that her presence would only bring more pain. But it wasn’t out of a lack of love. She’s been torn apart by the thought of what she did to you.”
Erza’s eyes lowered, and I could tell she was fighting it. Fighting the swell of emotions that threatened to overtake her. The dam that had been holding everything back was starting to crack.
“I don’t know how to forgive her, Aiden,” Erza said quietly, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I want to.”
“I’m not asking you to forgive her right now,” I said, moving closer. “You don’t have to. All I’m asking is for you to give her a chance. She’s trying, Erza. She’s really trying.”
I could see the struggle inside her, the confusion and the anger battling with the desire to understand, to find peace. But the walls were still too high, the distance too vast. She couldn’t cross that bridge yet, not without the fear of falling.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready,” she whispered, her voice filled with uncertainty.
I nodded, understanding the depth of her words. I’d been there, too—broken, lost, unsure of how to even begin putting the pieces back together.
“That’s okay,” I said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Just take your time. It’s not about forcing anything. You’ll find your way. I’m here for both of you, Erza. But this is something only you two can fix.”
She looked up at me then, her eyes still holding that cloud of doubt. “And what about you, Aiden? What if I don’t know how to face her? What if I don’t know how to handle all of this?”
“I don’t have all the answers,” I admitted, giving her a small, reassuring smile. “I can’t tell you what’s going to happen, but I’ll be here. And so will she. When you're ready.”
For the first time in what felt like a long while, I saw the faintest hint of relief in her eyes. She wasn’t ready to forgive Irene, but she wasn’t closing her off, either.
“Thanks, Aiden,” she said, her voice quieter now.
“We’re here for you, Erza,”I gave her a small grin. “Take your time. Don’t rush. When you're ready, you’ll know what to do.”
—
The days dragged on, each one feeling both endless and too brief at the same time.
Erza still kept her distance, still working through everything that had happened, but the walls she’d built around herself were starting to crack, just a little.
Irene, on the other hand, spent most of her time in her own quarters
In the meantime, I threw myself into missions. I figured the best way to give them space was to be busy, to let things settle without forcing them.
The guild seemed to understand something had shifted, but they respected the quiet, the unspoken understanding.
They weren’t blind. It was subtle, the way the guild would glance at Erza when she walked in—how her usual energy seemed tempered, quieter. No one dared to ask.
They respected her too much for that. The bond she shared with the guild was deep, and they knew whatever was going on was something she needed to process herself.
It wasn’t until a week had passed that the first real sign of progress appeared.
Erza showed up at my fortress early one morning, her silhouette outlined against the pale light of dawn. Her posture was stiff, but there was an undeniable determination in her steps. It was clear that she had made a decision—she wasn’t just here to train or to escape from her thoughts. She had come for something deeper.
I could tell the moment I saw her standing at the entrance. She wasn’t just standing there to linger; this wasn’t a random visit. She was here because she needed to be.
“Erza,” I greeted her, stepping out to meet her. “What brings you out here so early?”
She didn’t immediately answer, and I could see the weight of the emotions swirling in her eyes, the hesitation still hanging in the air between us. It was as though she was testing the waters before diving in.
“I need to talk to Irene,” she said after a beat, her voice steady, but the words came out like a quiet exhale, as if she was letting go of something heavy.
I didn’t need to ask if she was sure—there was no mistaking the resolve in her expression. “She’s inside,” I nodded toward the door. “She’s been waiting.”
With a silent nod, Erza walked past me, her movements slow but purposeful. I couldn’t help but notice the tension in her shoulders, the deep breath she took before crossing the threshold. This was the first step—her first real step toward confronting everything that had been left unsaid between her and Irene.
I gave them space. There was nothing more I could do at that point, but I stood close enough to know that if either of them needed me, I’d be there.
Inside, I could hear the faintest sound of footsteps—Erza entering, Irene’s quiet response. There were no harsh words, no accusations, just the quiet hum of uncertainty that echoed in the small space between them.
Irene didn’t immediately speak, though I could imagine the flash of emotions running through her. She had been waiting for this moment, but it wasn’t as simple as just waiting. She didn’t know how Erza would react, how this would go. She didn’t know if Erza would lash out, or if she’d run, or if she’d even stay. The possibilities were as endless as the distance that had separated them for so long.
And then, it happened.
Erza spoke.
“I don’t know where to start,” her voice was raw, like she hadn’t used it for this kind of conversation in a long time.
There was a pause, and then Irene’s voice—soft, fragile, but there. “It’s okay. We don’t have to say everything all at once.”
I didn’t hear more than fragments of their conversation from where I stood, but the few words that reached me told me everything I needed to know. There was no rush, no pressure. They were taking their time, finding their way back to each other, one small step at a time.
I remained outside, giving them the space they needed to start rebuilding what had been broken. No words could fix everything, but sometimes, simply being there, without forcing things, was the most powerful thing you could do.
The sounds of their voices grew more steady, less uncertain. And even though I couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, I knew that something important was happening in that room.
It wasn’t immediate. It wasn’t some dramatic moment of catharsis. But the walls were coming down. Slowly, surely, and with every word that was exchanged, they were beginning to heal.
I stood there, watching the sun rise higher in the sky, and realized that, for the first time in what felt like ages, I wasn’t as concerned. They were making progress. They were taking the first steps.
