twitches violently on the ground

Title: Berserk | Chapter Eleven

Rated: T (language/violence)

Summary: Berserk. Out of control with anger. This is what Natsu was born to be. A warrior soaked in blood. A murderer. This is what Pergrande turned him into. Taken at a young age by the King, Natsu is a soldier of the Royal Army, a creature of rage and violence—a weapon. Lucy is a thief from Fiore with a price on her head. Natsu is sent to kill her. When they meet it isn’t pretty at all.

Word Count: 4224

| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten |

*Because tumblr is garbage, nothing with an outside link shows up in the tags. Therefor, I have removed the FF link. The chapter is also now on FF, so feel free to leave a reply there or do whatever you want to do.

{i’ll ask of the Berserks, you tasters of blood}

The trees whisper amongst themselves in hushed tones, low, indistinguishable voices a hum in the silence of the night, echoing through the stillness of the forest. Their gnarled branches twist together like thorns—sharp, mangled, and bare of leaves—winding and curling overhead until the sky above is nearly blackened out by the copse of wicked spines, only thin slivers of the waning moonlight flickering through the bare trees, illuminating the thicket with pale light. A thick, rolling fog hangs low over the forest floor, twisting between the trees like ghosts and swirling around the prone figure lying in the dirt. A biting chill curls through the air, fallen leaves rustling as a breeze sweeps through the woods. The fog dampens the earth as shadows dance across the ground, the scent of rain heavy in the air.

She blinks slowly, her vision remaining blurry and unfocused as her gaze flickers around what she can see of the copse. She shifts, sending messy coils of blonde hair spilling over her shoulder and obstructing her vision as she slips in and out of focus. Blinking heavily, she stares at the trees, distorted oaks appearing as hazy figures in her vision—monsters slipping from the shadows and creeping closer with every breath.

She winces suddenly, groaning in pain as her forehead throbs, a sharp, stinging ache spreading through her entire head. Something slick slides down her temple, though she hardly notices, more interested in squinting at the shadows coming to life around her.

The trees begin to quiver, bending and leaning in every direction, almost as if they were dancing—trembling with fear of something she can’t see. Her eyes slam shut once more, and she whimpers softly as the whispering gets louder. The voices grow closer and closer as the trees begin to shake violently, the wind picking up and whipping the dead leaves across the ground until they begin to swirl around her.

Her eyes snap open wide and the forest falls silent once more. The voices disappear and the leaves still—trees standing tall around her, as if they had never been moving to begin with. Her fingers twitch suddenly—scrapping across the ground almost violently as her nails sink into the fresh earth, rain still falling around her. Her eyes narrow in bewilderment as a phantom, icy finger runs along her spine, prickling the bare skin of her back as pale moonlight dances across her naked arms and shoulders, the ghost of a breeze making her shiver.

Holding her breath, she goes stock still, not daring to move as her fingers freeze against the wet ground. She peers through the curtain of hair falling in front of her eyes, heart beating out of control. Around her is nothing but naked trees winding high into the air, dead leaves littering the ground in warped shapes—nothing else in sight. Just dying trees and the fog curling around her frozen form.

A low, mournful sound splits the air, a single note that disappears as quickly as it came. The trees shriek suddenly, the thicket taking up the violent cry, roaring like a northern beast. Another hum, soft and sad, and the trees echo again. She twists to the side, a hand curled around her throat and squeezing—choking.

“—drowned lover—”

The sound is cut off, a sob building in her throat as she recognizes her mother’s voice.

Around her the trees rattle, branches snapping together high above her head. She startles when a twig snaps in the darkness. Her mother keeps singing, and she forces herself to find the sound through the shrieking and snarling that’s built up around her.

“—come home to me.”

Keep reading