Fairy Tail: Fairies vs Bandits (part 6)

As Lucy succumbed in the grasp of her new mistress, the battle in the attic continued to the point of absolute exhaustion. Both the scarlet knight from Fairy Tail and her jade opponent had wounded each other several times in as many minutes, often trading one blow for another.

Lydia’s armor gaped in several places from various weapons, blood stark against her fair skin. In truth, the green knight should have collapsed already, but her “steel magic” made her armor a part of her and she used the strength of metal to supplement her own. Even so, her supernatural endurance was being tested, not only by her injuries but by the pace of the fight. The pair of them had been battling for close to twenty minutes straight while hardly slowing.

Erza felt the weariness in her body and soul, the glowing “wounds” of the Sword of Darkness fading after several seconds, yet their effects lingered. Her spirit was strong and she wore the damage well, but the constant use of her requip magic had drained her reserves entirely. With every attack she felt like she’d entirely run out of magic, not to mention physical energy, but she always was able to drudge up enough to keep fighting. She had meant what she’d said: losing was not an option when her friends and guild needed her.

Their weapons clashed and Lydia let out a wild cry, both of effort and passion. As she had grown more tired, the green knight had become more savage, her eyes wide with insane intensity. Blood from her jade hairline painted one side of her face, her once-smooth hair now stiff and frayed from sweat. Showing her teeth, panting raggedly, she looked like a crazed she-wolf, starving for the meat of a victim.

Erza met the ferocious snarl with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth, not as wild but equally forceful. While Lydia looked like a vicious animal, Erza’s face was carved from stone, indomitably stern, refusing to buckle or bend.

They struck and countered, transforming their weapons to strike again, trading blows, refusing to give ground.

“Tear you… down…” Lydia rasped, swinging her sword, “Break… your soul… mine…”

Erza blocked the stroke and slashed back, then glowed once more as she transformed.

Their blades crossed again, Lydia changing her weapon even as she struck, Erza following suit.

“Give it… to me…” the bandit queen brought down her weapon in a hammer blow, “Mine… fall!”

Erza blocked the attack and shoved her back, glaring as her shoulders heaved, arms quaked.

“Never…” she snarled, then charged to meet the villainess yet again.

Wizard and bandit were both exhausted to the point that it required almost all their focus to keep from collapsing. There was barely any room for thought, leaving them to fight on instinct, relying on reflexes built from years of training. It was like they were on a separate plane of existence, nothing outside it except the battle itself, moment to moment.

However, through the endless flows of attack and counter, a plan formed in Erza’s mind. She had been telling the truth when she said she hadn’t shown Lydia her complete arsenal. Even having not known about the villainess’s ability to read and copy an opponent’s attacks, she made it a point not to show anyone all her techniques at once. Fortunately, she had one set of armor Lydia hadn’t seen, with unique capabilities which the bandit would be unprepared for. It could end this battle, if she landed the right blow.

The blades clanged together, scraped off. They drew back, clashed again, sparks flying.

“I see… your steel… song…” Lydia hissed, “See… scared eyes… looking up… hopeless… broken… my prey!”
 She slashed across Erza’s shoulder at the same time as her opponent sliced her thigh.

“NYAAGH!” the bandit yowled in pain and fury, hobbling back a step only to lunge forward again.

Cringing from her own wound, Erza’s arm drooped for a moment, before she forced it back into action with sheer will. She brought her weapon up to block the attack, the steel ringing almost like a bell.

It took tremendous discipline not to use her last armor set in that moment, but Erza held it back. Once she called upon it, she knew Lydia would be able to predict those attacks from that point on. She would have one opportunity to truly surprise the bandit queen, one chance to land the final blow. The attack would have to be timed, set up where it couldn’t miss. She wasn’t going to take any chances.

She knocked the villainess’s blade aside and lunged inside its reach, hammering an elbow into her nose. In return she took a knee to the stomach and staggered back.

“Make you… fall!” Lydia cackled, “Titania… broken… forever!”

Erza was so focused on the battle, she felt the opportunity rather than thought it out. Although she couldn’t instantly anticipate attacks with magic, like any masterful fighter she could glean her opponent’s rhythms and tendencies if she fought them for long enough. She had been dueling with Lydia more than long enough to know how she would react to a particular attack and she knew instinctively how to use it to her advantage. Without an actual plan in her head, she knew what she had to do.

The ragged queen of the fairies called on her requip magic once more, changing into the scant outfit she wore when she used Benizakura. She lashed out with the sword, a powerful cut that would leave her open.

Lydia reacted as Erza knew she would. Benizakura raked across her shoulder, but the bandit queen used the opening drive the Sword of Darkness through Erza’s bicep, just above the elbow.

The green knight snarled in triumph, thinking she’d finally landed the fight-changing blow. She didn’t see Benizakura glowing and changing shape.

Before Lydia could withdraw her weapon, Erza slammed the war maul into her chest with her good arm. It wasn’t as powerful a blow as it could have been, and the bandit queen’s armor absorbed a lot of it, but it did its job. The villainess was thrown back, slammed into a tall stack of books, losing her footing and balance.

Now.

“Requip,” Erza cried out, “Heaven’s Wheel armor!”

Calling on yet more magic than she thought she had, Fairy Tail’s strongest woman glowed once more and floated from the ground. Benizakura vanished from her hands and more light shone around her in a ring, glaring and making it difficult for her opponent to see. It was like a new star being born.

When the light faded, Erza was an angel of polished steel. Dozens of gleaming blades sprouted from her back, forming upper and lower wings, held rigid and still, her magic itself keeping her aloft. A circlet with matching wings flared out from beneath her scarlet hair, another set of wings clamped around her breasts, cupping and hugging the ample shapes from underneath.

The upper half was scant, a few panels on her ribs and guards on her lower shoulders, but most was left bare, most notably her clavicles, a plunging cleavage, and trim stomach down to the beginnings of the V shaped muscles of her hips. The lower half flared out into a full dress of metal blades, armored boots and gauntlets with wings of their own, all shining and brilliant.

The glowing wound glared violet from Erza’s left arm, which hung limp at her side; it didn’t matter as she wasn’t holding a sword. From the light circling around her there had formed not a sword, but dozens of swords. They framed her in a tight ring, whirling around her, all different designs and sizes, glittering in a cyclone of metal.

Lydia froze, startled by the sudden change.

Erza had counted on that reaction. The bandit queen’s ability to magically assimilate her opponents’ skills was formidable, but she relied on it too much. When faced with something entirely new, she would hesitate, wait until she could read and assess the new techniques before she acted.

This time her opponent wasn’t going to give her a chance to adapt and copy.

The magic required for this spell wasn’t normally exhaustive, but in Erza’s current state it required all her focus and drive. The distance was good, no way Lydia could reach her with a melee weapon, and now way the villainess could dodge all these swords with her back to the bookstack. She just had to do the spell and time it correctly.

Erza thrust out her good hand and the ring of blades stopped spinning, like they had been called to attention. The spell faltered, but she redoubled her focus. She only needed to land this attack once. For the world, for Fairy Tail, for her family, she had to go beyond her capabilities.

With wide eyes, Lydia transformed the Sword of Darkness into a smaller violet shape.

Weariness burned in Erza’s heart, but so did determination. With all her strength, passion, and inner light, she commanded her swords to obey her. Teeth gnashing, face contorted with grief, she focused everything she had into the spell, to send the weapons hurtling towards her opponent.

Erza only saw her target. All that mattered was this moment and that’s all she focused on.

Something struck her in the stomach.

Erza heard herself grunt, felt a distant pain, but it didn’t matter. She WAS this spell. Even if it meant her life, she would complete it.

She only realized something was wrong when one of her swords clattered to the floor.

Another fell a moment later. Then another.

Erza blinked as cracks formed in her concentration. The spell waned and the pain in her stomach pushed itself towards the forefront. She tried bury herself into her magic, to force the spell back into shape, but the pain wouldn’t be ignored and her strength was crumbling.

More swords began to drop, clattering to the floor one by one.

She struggled with all her will to avoid it, to focus on her target, but slowly, inevitably, she looked down.

A glowing, fletched shaft protruded from her stomach. A dark energy arrow, bullseyed right into her belly button.

The spell, and Erza’s power, shattered.

The rest of her swords came down, crashing and clattering off one another, like dozens of cymbals striking at once, echoing off the walls of the attic.

Erza herself fell and one leg buckled beneath her when she landed, dropping her to a knee. She gaped at the arrow, grasped it instinctively to pull it out. Instead, just as she gripped the shaft, it burst into motes of violet light and evaporated, leaving the pain and a small glowing circle behind.

“Ohhhh…” Lydia moaned with almost orgasmic heat, “Ohhhh yesssss…”

Still too shocked to react to the agony in her stomach, Erza lifted her head, the movement halting and clumsy. She stared at her opponent with a hanging jaw.

The Sword of Darkness glowed with its usual malevolent light, but it was no longer a sword. In the telling moment, when Erza had been entirely focused on the spell, Lydia had transformed her weapon into a short bow, with the forward curving haft favored by tribal horsemen. Small and light, the bow was designed to rapidly fire multiple arrows and as Erza watched, another fletched shafted glowed to existence, nocked and ready to be drawn.

Still panting like a wild animal, eyes blazing with victory, Lydia slowly advanced, staggering with weariness.

“Feel it… taste it…” her voice was hoarse with passion, “Failure… despair… helplessness… quaking terror…”

Thoughts whirling with exhaustion and shock, Erza staggered back to her feet, though she doubled over from the pain in her stomach.

The spell. She had to complete the spell. Had to stop her. Had to stop.

She lifted her good arm, calling out a command, “D-dance… my sw—AAAGH!”

Another arrow struck her in her good shoulder and there was no ignoring it this time, no shock to keep the pain at bay. She cried out and staggered back, the violet shaft protruding from her marbled shoulder, unable to even grasp at it with her other arm.

“Give me what I want…” Lydia continued to advance, “Embrace defeat… admit your place… kneeeeeel!”

Erza almost fell onto her back, but tottered to catch herself, sucking in deep, croaking gasps of air. Even managing to stand, her shoulders drooped forward, breasts hanging down, abs unable to support her. Both arms hung limp, dangling uselessly. In desperation, she called on her requip magic, searching for something in her arsenal to help her, but it all escaped her. She was too weak to reach for her power. And even then, she could feel herself growing weaker.

The arrow vanished from her shoulder and reappeared in Lydia’s bow.

“Kneel to me, Erza Scarlet…” the bandit queen tittered madly, drawing back the string, “Bow down… accept the sweet kiss of my blade… give yourself…”

The arrow thumped into Erza’s left thigh, ghosting through her armored skirts like they weren’t there.

The leg instantly buckled and the proud warrior woman cried out in pain and anguish. Unable to use her arms to balance herself, she tottered, limping, her body trying to fall to the floor.

Erza refused to drop. Even exhausted, wounded, with only one fully functional limb, she cringed in pain but managed to steady herself. She wobbled, but slowly lifted her head to glare defiantly at her opponent.

“Kneel.” Lydia said again.

“No…” Erza rasped, glaring daggers, “N-never… I will… always…”

She got no further before the final arrow struck her right thigh. She dropped, flopping to her knees with a gasp of pain.

The sudden fall was like a slap in the face. Erza blinked wide eyes as her situation dawned on her with terrible clarity.

She couldn’t move her arms and her legs couldn’t hold her. Her magic was spent. She had used every ounce of her strength, every skill and trick, forced herself far beyond the limits of her stamina, and now she was kneeling, while her opponent stood over her.

That thought hit her the hardest, like a sledgehammer to the gut. Despite her words, despite all her will and refusal to accept it, she was kneeling before her enemy.

The thought seemed to strike Lydia at the same time, because as despair began to grip Erza’s heart, the bandit queen began to laugh. It started as a low giggle then built sporadically, mixed with deep gasps of air. It was ragged and harsh, an unrestrained, almost drunken expression of utter delight.

With barely the strength to grit her teeth, Erza tried to rise, but it was hopeless. Her body had had enough. Rather than rising, she began to droop, her exhaustion finally catching up with her. Her muscles sagged of their own accord, every last drop of energy having dribbled out of her, leaving her head to hang and chest to sag forwards, wilting like a wax figure in the sun.

Lydia’s laughter continued to ring out in fits as she stumbled towards the crumpling Erza, limping and exhausted from her own injuries. Her trudge towards her fallen enemy looked painful, but the wild glint in the villainess’s eyes made it clear it was more than worth it. Her laughter continued, spurting, ragged cackles.

“Yes…” she gasped,” Ha… ha ha… yesssss…”

With a final whimper, Erza’s nodded forward, scarlet hair falling in front of her face, bowed and beaten.

“Finally…” Lydia stopped in front of her, “The mighty Titania… “

Her head bowed, shoulders heaving, Erza’s eyes were cast down to the floor, looking at everything through a weary haze. She had fallen amidst piles of her own swords and the villainess was looming over her, so close she could see the toes of the green, metal boots. Her enemy directly in front of her, so many weapons within reach, and she couldn’t raise one to defend herself.

Lydia nudged a few swords out of the way with her toe, one of them actually touching Erza’s hand. They were little more than paper weights, no more dangerous now than the beaten Erza herself.

“Such a delicious defeat,” the villainess combed her green talons through the silky red hair, “You gave absolutely everything to me.”

She cupped the wilted knight’s chin, lifting her head up to meet her gaze.

“Thank you…”

Erza stared at the woman, panting, face shining with sweat. Lydia still looked a bit wild, her eyes shining with glee as she stared back, but there was a discipline behind it that hadn’t been there minutes before. It was strange.

The villainess held up her other hand and her clawed gauntlet peeled back to reveal pale, even delicate fingers, soft and feminine. She stroked the backs of those fingers over Erza’s sweaty cheek, the touch teasing and bitingly sweet.

“The steel… never lies,” Lydia told her, still a bit out of breath herself, “Your spirit is strong, but everything has limits. You’ve reached yours now. And no amount of feeling… friendship… or duty can change that.”

Looking at the suddenly controlled bandit queen, Erza’s mistake came clear to her in a painful flash of hindsight. When she’d held back her arsenal, she hadn’t considered Lydia was doing the same. She hadn’t considered the villainess was holding a projectile weapon in reserve and she’d miscalculated how reliant the green knight was on her mimicry.

Lydia wasn’t crazy and even at her most savage, she’d never been out of control. It had been a ruse and Erza had fallen for it. She’d been played. She was beaten and it had been her own mistake that allowed it.

“Mmm…” the villainess leaned closer, grin broadening, “There’s the look. Big eyes full of fear.”

Erza’s breath wheezed through her slack jaw, eyelids heavy from complete exhaustion. All she could do was stare up at her victorious opponent in awe, in shock that she’d failed. That defeat had come for her at last.

Driven by the hopeless, almost pleading expression on the strong woman’s face, Lydia growled and lunged downwards, capturing her conquest’s mouth with her own. She mashed her lips against the unresisting mouth, the force of it nodded Erza’s limp head back. The kiss broke for a moment and Lydia snarled with frustration, then gripped a handful of the beaten girl’s and pulled the head back where she wanted it, before plunging in again to devour the slack mouth.

Through the wet smacking of lips, the tongue tangling and plunging, the soft nose pressing against her own, Erza’s eyes were vacant and empty. It almost felt like this was happening to someone else. She could do nothing to stop it, was an entirely passive spectator to the feelings of her mouth being explored, head held so securely. She felt like a doe that had been brought down by a predator, unable to move as she watched herself be devoured, knowing she was nothing more than meat now.

And like a predator, Lydia wanted more and more. She pressed harder, worked her mouth around to press deeper, pausing to suck on Erza’s bottom lip before sticking her tongue further, tugging on the scarlet hair until it felt like she was going to pull it out.

Then abruptly, the hunger was sated. Lydia drew back with a loud pop of wet suction and a purr of satisfaction. She licked her lips, staring hard into Erza’s hopeless eyes, saying several things without speaking.

I won. I am the greater warrior. I am dominant over you. I own you. You’re mine.

Erza, now hanging like a broken puppet by her own famous hair, could only look back, empty of defiance, breasts heaving raggedly, lips flushed from the intense kissing.

It was over. She’d failed her friends. There was only one thing left.

She lowered her eyes, full of shame and regret.

“V… vic… tory is… yours…” she whispered, “fin… finish… m-me…”

Lydia laughed gently, releasing her death grip on Erza’s hair, letting the beaten queen of fairy’s head drop forward and hang. She gently smoothed down the clump she’d made in the scarlet locks, coming her fingers through it. For several seconds, she let her victim’s request remain unanswered, simply petting her, soothing her.

“The mighty Titania, queen of fairies…” she said, her voice remarkably gentle.

Taking the winged circlet, she pushed it up and clear of Erza’s forehead, then slipped it free of the long red hair. Some of the scarlet locks were picked up, then fell. Lydia smoothed them back into place as she admired the winged “crown” of the queen in her metal talons.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, focusing her magic. Her gauntleted fist squeezed, crushing the metal band of the circlet and the whole thing beginning to glow with a violet light. The light grew brighter, like the metal was being heated to a violet melting point, then began to be pulled into Lydia’s metal hand by an unseen force. The wings were first, squealing as they bent over, then were pulled down, the band itself warping inwards.

The whole head piece crumpled, crunching and groaning, vanishing into the metal glove, and as it did some of the holes in Lydia’s armor closed themselves. The villainess absorbed the magical steel into her own armor, sucking it in until it was gone. She began to breathe easier, expression more relaxed, using the stolen metal to not only heal her armor, but herself.

Once the circlet had vanished, Lydia clenched her fist with renewed strength. Opening her eyes, she smiled, sighing with satisfaction.

Only then did she answer.

“I’m not going to kill you, Erza,” she whispered, “But… you do need a finishing touch.”

Lydia stood upright. Placing her fingertips on a slumped shoulder, she circled slowly around to Erza’s back.

“Dead is boring,” she said, “You’re so much more fun like this. Alive. Kneeling. Beaten.”

Erza closed her eyes, wishing she could shudder as she felt the villainess’s fingers stroke over the lines of her shoulders, tracing the curves of the muscles. Her body was lithe and powerful, but it didn’t matter. Now it was just something pleasing to touch.

“I’ll need to display you to the men. Show them your defeat. Then I’m going to keep you just like this. A living trophy. And a toy. And a pretty servant.”

Lydia felt around for a spot she liked, pinching gently at the muscles until she found a place just in the middle between the arm and the neck. She massaged the place with her thumb, working in little circles. In her other, gauntleted hand, the Sword of Darkness came to life once more. It was shaped into a short, slender blade, like a miniature rapier.

Erza couldn’t see the sword, but she felt it. It was a cold glow, making the little hairs on her neck stand up.

“The sword will kill the strength inside you,” Lydia cooed, “It will hurt, but I’ll make it quick. One clean stroke.”

Clasping the kneeling warrior’s shoulder with her bare hand, steadying, she placed the point of the sword at the spot between arm and neck, angling it so it would go directly to the reservoir of Erza’s soul: her heart. It pressed there, pricking, held at the precipice of the final thrust.

“You fought well,” Lydia told her, “So, I’ll give you a moment to accept your fate. Tell me when you’re prepared.”

Erza let her eyelids droop, a deep, painful weariness in her heart. It would have been easier to be defiant if her opponent had been more vicious, but she found herself grateful for the courtesy of a moment. This is what happened to beaten warriors and she had been beaten in a direct contest, her own error being the cause of her fall.

Slowly, Erza relaxed the last of her muscles, head bowing down, allowing her conqueror to hold her upright. Even if she wanted to be angry, she didn’t have the energy. She released a sad sigh and let go of her warriorhood, the last remnants of her pride. There was nothing else to do. She was finished.

She closed her eyes, offering a barely perceptible nod.

“I’m… ready…” she whispered.

Lydia lips curled in a triumphant grin, her chest swelling with pride. The legendary Erza Scarlet had at last surrendered to the inevitable.

“Good,” she crooned, “Then let’s finish this up.”

She worked her grip on the sword, rechecking the position of the blade, but also relishing the moment. She wanted to remember this.

“Embrace hopelessness, Titania.”

With a last, gentle laugh, she shoved the sword deep into Erza’s body.