The Translator of Flames
Synopsis -
When Natsu Dragneel begins losing his ability to speak—and eventually his human consciousness—to "Dragon Slayer Reversion Syndrome," . While the rest of the guild struggles to communicate with him, Levy discovers that her Solid Script magic can manifest his internal "dragon" thoughts into physical words.
***
It started with single words.
Natsu would open his mouth to yell something at Gray, and what came out was a low, rumbling growl that made the windows rattle. He'd laugh it off, try again, and manage "Ice... bastard..." before his voice dissolved into an inhuman snarl.
By the third day, he'd stopped trying to speak at all.
Lucy found him on the guild hall's roof at sunset, knees drawn up, staring at his hands like they belonged to someone else. When she called his name, he flinched—actually flinched—and the look he gave her was wild, cornered.
"Natsu? What's wrong? Talk to me!"
He opened his mouth. A guttural sound emerged, somewhere between a roar and a whimper, and Lucy took an involuntary step back. The hurt in his eyes was worse than any monster she'd faced.
He was gone before she could apologize.
***
Master Makarov called an emergency meeting. The guild's resident healer, Porlyusica, examined Natsu with clinical detachment while he sat rigid on a wooden chair, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.
"Dragon Slayer Reversion Syndrome," she announced grimly. "Rare, but not unheard of. His magic is overwhelming his human consciousness. If it continues..." She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
"Can you fix it?" Gray demanded.
"Perhaps. With time and research. But he's losing his ability to process human language entirely—both speaking and understanding. Within a week, maybe two, he'll be operating on pure instinct." Her gaze swept the assembled guild members. "Keep him away from combat. Strong emotions accelerate the process."
Natsu's hands were smoking. He stood abruptly, chair scraping, and bolted for the door.
"Natsu, wait—" Erza's command went ignored.
He disappeared into the forest outside Magnolia, and when Happy tried to follow, Natsu's warning growl sent even his best friend retreating.
***
Levy McGarden sat in the guild library, surrounded by ancient texts on Dragon Slayers, draconic linguistics, and magical pathology. Her Gale-Force Reading Glasses perched on her nose as she speed-read through a tome written in Old Draconic, fingers flying across her notebook.
"There has to be something," she muttered. "Some precedent, some treatment, some—"
A crash from outside made her jump. Through the window, she saw Natsu in the training yard, flames erupting uncontrollably from his body. He was alone, deliberately isolated, and even from here she could see the frustration in every movement.
He punched a training dummy. It exploded into ash.
He tried to speak—she saw his mouth form words—but only smoke emerged.
The anguish on his face made her chest ache.
Levy closed her book and made a decision.
***
She found him an hour later, sitting against a tree deep in the East Forest, forehead pressed to his knees. The air around him shimmered with heat.
"Natsu?"
His head snapped up. For a moment, something feral flashed in his eyes—but then recognition sparked, and the wildness retreated slightly. He made a rough sound, almost questioning.
Levy approached slowly, hands visible. "I'm not here to drag you back. I just... I want to try something. If you'll let me."
He watched her warily, but didn't move away.
She knelt a few feet from him, pulling out her pen. "Porlyusica said you're losing human language. But your magic is still responding to your thoughts, right? Your intentions?"
A hesitant nod.
"Dragon Slayers consume magic through their element. You eat fire to gain strength." She wrote in the air, and golden script materialized: FLAME. "But what if you could eat more than just fire? What if you could consume... meaning?"
Natsu stared at the glowing word. Slowly, carefully, he reached out and touched it.
The script flared bright orange and dissolved into his palm. His eyes widened—not with pain, but with something like recognition. Like remembering a language he'd forgotten.
Levy's heart raced. "Did that... did you feel that?"
He nodded emphatically, then gestured at her pen, at the air, urgent and hopeful.
"Okay." She steadied her breathing. "Let's try something else."
She wrote: CALM.
This time, when Natsu absorbed the word, his shoulders visibly relaxed. The oppressive heat around him dimmed. He looked at his hands, then at her, something like wonder breaking through the frustration.
"You can feel what the words mean," Levy whispered. "Not just read them—actually feel them."
He nodded again, and the desperate gratitude in his expression made her want to cry.
Instead, she smiled and wrote another word: FRIEND.
When he absorbed it, the wildness in his eyes faded almost entirely, replaced by something warm and achingly familiar. The Natsu she knew.
He reached out, hesitated, then gently tapped her notebook.
"You want me to keep going?" She interpreted.
A firm nod.
Levy took a shaky breath. "Okay. Then we do this together. I'll be your voice until we fix this. Deal?"
Natsu's answering grin was all teeth and hope.
***
They developed a system.
Every morning, Levy would meet Natsu in the forest clearing. She'd create words for him—simple concepts at first. HUNGRY. TIRED. HAPPY. He'd absorb them, and she'd watch his expression shift as the meaning settled into him, giving form to feelings he couldn't articulate.
But it wasn't just one-way communication.
When Natsu felt frustrated, his magic would flare in specific patterns—sharp bursts for anger, rolling waves for sadness. Levy learned to read those fluctuations like text, interpreting his emotional state through the magical heat signature her Gale-Force Reading Glasses detected.
"You're worried about hurting someone," she said one afternoon, watching the erratic pulses of flame around his hands.
He nodded, looking away.
She wrote: CONTROL. Then, after a moment's thought: TRUST.
He absorbed both, and the flames steadied.
"You won't hurt me, Natsu. I trust you completely."
The look he gave her was so raw, so vulnerable, that she had to glance away first.
***
The guild noticed the change.
Levy would arrive with Natsu in tow, and while he still couldn't speak, he seemed... present. Less feral. He'd sit at the bar while Levy worked nearby, occasionally making low sounds that she'd somehow interpret perfectly.
"He wants to know if there's any spicy food left," she'd say, and Mirajane would blink in surprise.
"How did you—"
"I just know." Levy shrugged, but her cheeks colored slightly.
Gray watched this exchange with narrowed eyes. "You two have gotten pretty close."
"I'm helping him," Levy said simply. "Someone has to."
"Yeah, but..." Gray gestured vaguely. "You're the only one he doesn't, you know, growl at anymore."
Levy glanced at Natsu, who was watching her with an intensity that made her pulse skip. "Maybe he just needs someone who listens."
***
The breakthrough came during a rainstorm.
They were in the library—Levy's refuge, now Natsu's too—when thunder cracked overhead. Natsu flinched, flames sparking uncontrollably, and Levy recognized the pattern immediately.
Fear. Not of the storm, but of himself.
"Hey." She crossed to him, ignoring the heat radiating from his skin. "Look at me."
He did, eyes wild.
She wrote quickly: YOU ARE NOT A MONSTER.
He stared at the words, but didn't reach for them.
"Natsu. Take it. You need to believe it."
He shook his head sharply, backing away.
Levy's chest tightened. She understood—he was terrified that if he kept losing himself, he'd become something that would hurt the people he loved. That he'd prove everyone's fear right.
She made a split-second decision.
Instead of writing in the air, she grabbed his hand and wrote directly on his palm: I SEE YOU.
The script glowed gold, then sank into his skin.
Natsu gasped. Not just feeling the meaning—feeling her intention, her certainty, her complete lack of fear. The connection was intimate, overwhelming, and for a moment his entire mind opened to her like a book.
She felt his thoughts—not in words, but in impressions, emotions, instincts. The fierce protectiveness he felt for his nakama. The terror of losing himself. The desperate loneliness of being trapped in his own head.
And underneath it all, blazing like dragonfire: Levy. Levy. Safe. Important. Mine to protect.
Levy's breath caught.
Then the connection faded, and they were just standing there, hand in hand, both shaking.
Natsu's eyes were human again—fully, completely human. He looked at their joined hands, then at her face, and made a soft, questioning sound.
"I saw you too," she whispered. "Your thoughts. Your... feelings."
He went very still.
"Natsu, I—"
A low rumble from his chest, but this time it wasn't threatening. It was almost... bashful?
Despite everything, Levy laughed. "You're embarrassed?"
He huffed, smoke puffing from his nose, and she laughed harder.
"Come on. I want to try something else."
***
She called them "elemental sentences."
Instead of single words, Levy began crafting complex phrases tailored to Natsu's magic—concepts infused with meaning and emotion. ETERNAL SUMMER. BLAZING COURAGE. WILDFIRE HEART.
When he consumed them, the effect was dramatic. His magic stabilized. His control sharpened. And more than that—his human consciousness seemed to strengthen, pushing back against the dragon instincts.
"It's working," Levy breathed, watching him practice controlled bursts of flame. "You're getting better."
Natsu nodded enthusiastically, then gestured at her with both hands, expression urgent.
"You want to tell me something?"
He nodded again, then pointed at his chest, at her, then made a complicated gesture she couldn't quite parse.
"I don't..." She grabbed her pen. "Here. I'll write out options, and you tell me when I'm close."
She started writing: THANK YOU.
He shook his head.
GRATEFUL.
Closer, but still not quite right.
YOU'RE IMPORTANT TO ME.
He hesitated, then nodded slowly—but gestured for her to keep going.
Levy's hand trembled slightly. I TRUST YOU.
Yes, but more.
I NEED YOU.
He grabbed her wrist gently, stopping her. Then he took the pen from her hand and held it awkwardly, clearly unpracticed. With painstaking effort, he drew a simple picture—two stick figures, one with spiky hair, one with a book. The spiky-haired figure had a heart drawn on its chest.
Then he pointed at himself, at the drawing, and at her.
Levy's breath caught. "Natsu..."
He looked at her with such open, unguarded emotion that her heart ached.
"I..." She swallowed hard. "I care about you too. So much."
The smile that broke across his face was incandescent.
***
Master Makarov called them in a week later with news.
"Porlyusica has located a potential cure. There's an ancient draconic library in the Hakobe Mountains—apparently it contains medical texts from the age when dragons and humans lived together. If anywhere has information on reversing Dragon Slayer Reversion, it's there."
"I'll go," Levy said immediately.
"Not alone, you won't." Gray crossed his arms. "That place is crawling with ice monsters, and—"
Natsu's growl cut him off. He moved to stand beside Levy, expression firm.
"He wants to go with me," Levy translated quietly.
"Levy, he can barely—"
"He's still one of the strongest mage here," she interrupted. "And he has more reason than anyone to see this through. We'll go together."
Erza studied them both, then nodded slowly. "Very well. But take Happy as well. And report back every six hours."
***
The journey north was brutal.
They trekked through snowdrifts and howling winds, Natsu's body heat keeping them both warm. Happy flew overhead, scouting for threats. Levy navigated using ancient maps and linguistic clues from dragon-script markers along the path.
When ice wolves attacked, Natsu dispatched them with ruthless efficiency—but Levy noticed he deliberately held back, never using more force than necessary. Staying in control.
"You're doing so well," she told him that night as they huddled in a cave. "Porlyusica said strong emotions make it worse, but you're managing."
He rumbled softly, then tapped her notebook.
She smiled and wrote: PROUD.
He absorbed it, and his grin was boyish and warm.
But then his expression shifted—serious, searching. He gestured at himself, then at her, then made a motion like pushing away.
"You think you should stay away from me?" Levy interpreted. "Natsu, no—"
He shook his head firmly and tried again. This time he pointed at his heart, then at her, then made the pushing motion again—but gentler. Reluctant.
Understanding dawned. "You're afraid your feelings for me make it harder to control yourself."
He nodded, looking miserable.
Levy set down her notebook. "Natsu, look at me."
He did.
"Your feelings aren't making you lose control. They're the reason you're *keeping* control. Every time you're with me, you're fighting to stay human—and you're winning."
He stared at her, stunned.
"So don't push me away. Let me help. That's what..." She hesitated. "That's what people do when they care about each other."
Slowly, carefully, Natsu reached out and took her hand. His palm was warm, and despite the danger, the cold, the uncertainty—Levy had never felt safer.
***
The draconic library was magnificent.
Carved into the mountainside, its entrance was marked by two enormous dragon statues with eyes of glowing crystal. Inside, the walls were covered in intricate script—not just one language, but dozens, layered over each other like geological strata.
"This is incredible," Levy whispered, Gale-Force Reading Glasses activating as she scanned the text. "These are medical treatises, historical records, even poetry—"
A deep roar echoed through the chamber.
They turned to find a massive ice chimera blocking the exit, its three heads snarling in unison. A guardian, then. Ancient and powerful.
"Natsu, be careful—"
But he was already moving.
The fight was brutal and elegant. Natsu's flames carved through ice, his movements precise despite the dragon instincts screaming at him to go feral. And throughout it all, Levy called out words of support, her script materializing in the air: FOCUS. BREATHE. STRONG.
Each word he absorbed mid-battle, using them as anchors to his humanity.
When the chimera finally fell, Natsu stood panting, flames extinguished, fully in control.
"You did it," Levy breathed. "You stayed yourself the entire time."
He looked at his hands, then at her, and the wonder in his expression said everything words couldn't.
***
They found the medical texts in a sealed chamber deep within the library.
Levy read frantically, translating ancient dragon script while Natsu kept watch. "Here—Dragon Slayer Reversion Syndrome. Caused by an imbalance between human consciousness and draconic instinct. Can be treated by..." She trailed off, eyes widening. "By establishing a permanent magical tether to another mage. Someone whose magic can act as a constant anchor."
She looked up at Natsu. "It would have to be someone you trust completely. Someone whose magic resonates with yours. And the bond would be... permanent."
He tilted his head questioningly.
"It means we'd be magically linked. Always. You'd always be able to feel my presence, and I'd always be able to sense your emotions." She swallowed. "It's essentially... a magical partnership. For life."
Natsu didn't hesitate. He pointed at her, then at himself, then laced his fingers together.
"You want me to be your anchor?" Levy's voice cracked. "Natsu, this is forever. You need to be sure—"
He cupped her face with both hands, gently enough that she could pull away if she wanted. She didn't.
His eyes were blazing—literally, small flames dancing in their depths—but they were also absolutely human, absolutely certain.
And in that moment, Levy understood what he was trying to say.
You already are.
"Okay," she whispered. "Let's do it."
***
The ritual was complex but beautiful.
Levy drew a circle of script around them both, ancient draconic words for partnership, trust, and balance. Natsu sat across from her, hands extended, palms up.
"When I activate the spell, our magic will merge temporarily," Levy explained. "It might feel overwhelming. If it's too much, just—"
Natsu shook his head firmly and gestured for her to continue.
She took a breath and activated the circle.
Golden light erupted around them. Levy felt her Solid Script magic reach out, felt it touch Natsu's Fire Dragon Slayer magic—and instead of clashing, they harmonized. Her words gave shape to his flames. His fire gave power to her script.
And then their minds connected.
She felt everything he'd been unable to say. The moment he'd first truly noticed her—years ago, when she'd stood up to Gajeel despite her fear. The gradual realization that her quiet strength wasn't weakness but courage. The way her laugh made something in his chest warm. The desperate need to protect her, not because she was fragile, but because she was precious.
And he felt her thoughts too—the admiration she'd hidden, the trust that had grown into something deeper, the moment she'd decided that helping him wasn't an obligation but a choice. A choice she'd make again and again.
I love you, his thoughts whispered, wordless but clear.
I love you too, hers answered.
The light flared once, brilliantly, then settled into a soft golden glow that pulsed between their joined hands.
When Levy opened her eyes, Natsu was staring at her with an expression of absolute awe.
And then he spoke.
"Levy." His voice was rough from disuse, barely above a whisper, but it was unmistakably human. Unmistakably him. "Can you... hear me?"
She laughed, and it came out half like a sob. "Yes. Yes, I can hear you."
"Good." His grin was incandescent. "'Cause I got a lot to say."
***
Epilogue:
They returned to Fairy Tail three days later, hand in hand.
The guild erupted in chaos—Happy sobbing happily, Lucy tackle-hugging Natsu, Gray picking a fight just to hear Natsu's answering insults. Master Makarov's eyes were suspiciously wet.
But what shocked everyone was the golden thread of magic visible between Natsu and Levy—thin as spider silk, but unmistakably present. A permanent tether.
"You bonded?" Erza asked quietly.
"Permanently," Levy confirmed, cheeks pink. "It was the only way to stabilize his magic. We're... partners now. In every sense."
Mirajane's delighted gasp could probably be heard in the next town.
***
Life settled into a new rhythm.
Natsu still struggled sometimes—moments when the dragon instincts surged—but Levy was always there, her presence through their bond like a steady heartbeat. She'd write words of comfort, and he'd absorb them, letting her meaning anchor him.
And Natsu learned to appreciate what he'd taken for granted before. The way Levy's eyes lit up when she solved a puzzle. Her fierce determination when facing danger. The soft sound of her laughter. The feeling of her hand in his.
"Hey, Levy?" he said one evening, watching her read by the guild's fireplace.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you. For not giving up on me."
She looked up, smiling. "I'd never give up on you, Natsu. You're stuck with me now."
"Yeah?" He grinned. "Good. 'Cause you're stuck with me too."
She rolled her eyes, but her expression was fond. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Later, when the guild was quiet and they were alone, Levy wrote one more phrase in the air—not for him to eat, but simply to hang between them, glowing softly in the darkness:
FOREVER PARTNERS
Natsu traced the words with his finger, then pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers.
"Forever," he agreed.
And for once, neither of them needed any more words than that.
The End
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this story and previous one.
I am open for requests of your favourite ships.