What Lies Beneath

The Dragneel Household: Zeref

A/N: If you are triggered by child abuse, do not read this

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Birthdays are supposed to be happy days. Zeref knew this. He was three now, and he's seen the kids in their small village celebrate their birthdays multiple times now. They had cakes with candles and colorful bits of paper and presents. They got toys for their birthday! The sun would shine for them, and they'd get to play with their friends- They have friends.

Unfortunately that's not how it went for him. The gray sky openly wept for him and everything he would lose today as the icy chill of fall ripped through the loose boards of his family's house. The wind howled as if voicing all the pain he refused to. He wasn't allowed to speak unless spoken to anyways. He shivered in the loose robe his parents called clothing, he had no idea what was coming, not really, but he'd heard them talk about it. He also knew it involved him and that he was supposed to listen to them. That's why he was waiting here in the living room instead of the small closet he called his. At least it's warmer here.

A larger man came into the house after his first few minutes waiting. Zeref didn't greet him. His father's rule about talking to strangers echoed in his head, "Only speak if we tell you to, and never to a stranger we didn't introduce to you." He has always thought it was odd, but the other adults had always said he was mature and that it was a good thing. He never got it. Not really. He ran his hands over the couch, feeling the rough texture beneath his fingertips as he continued to shiver.

"Poor little thing.. You couldn't even spare a blanket for the boy? He's pale as a ghost and on 'is way to blue, Aster," The stranger said softly. His odd accent instantly tagged him as a traveller.

"Well-" Zeref nearly jumped at the deep rumble of his father's voice behind him. He quickly fixed his posture and put his hands back in his lap. "That's what you're here for, isn't it?" His father, Aster, was a no funny business kind of person. He didn't joke, he didn't smile, and he certainly didn't ruffle Zeref's hair like he just did. Birthdays are supposed to be happy days... So why does mine feel scary?

His mother, Kali, sat beside him, and it took all of his will power not to reach for the warmth, "Zeref, darling... be good while we're gone okay? This man here's going to watch you for us." She sent him an icy smile that chilled him more than the wind as she stood up again, taking the warmth farther away from his grasp. She places her hand on the other man's arm, inviting him farther in, "Have fun, dears. Let's go, Aster." The room seemed to get even colder as his parents left.

"Honestly..." The stranger's nose turned upwards as if he was disgusted. He slipped his coat off and dropped it over Zeref's shoulders, causing the smaller boy to flinch. He closed his eyes and sat still, waiting for the inevitable punishment for showing weakness, but it never came. "Aw, now there's no reason to flinch over a coat... though it is a bit heavy, so it may have surprised you is all."

Zeref cracked his eyes back open, not understanding why he wasn't hit. He still didn't dare to ask. He didn't trust him.

The older man laughed joyfully, "Warm yourself up there for a bit. I'll make food." He smiled softly and nothing could really stop Zeref's instincts from screaming at him, but he wrapped himself in the coat anyways, relishing in the heat it gave off. He watched him warily from the corner of his eye as he cooked, disguising it as staring at the wall. "You stare like you don't trust me."

He doesn't.

The smell of food causes his stomach to rumble, and Zeref nearly winces at the noise. "It'll be done soon, kiddo. Just wait a bit." He hides himself in the coat more. It takes what feels like hours as he hears the stove click off, but he still refuses to let himself be happy over it. "Come to the table, kid. I've already made you a bowl."