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Too Strong to Love	By : Rhov Category: +. to F > Fairy Tail Views: 1609 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Fairy Tail is the property of Hiro Mashima. I make no money, I just do this for my own pleasure.

Chapter List
- 1-Too Strong to Love
- 1
A/N: I got this idea months ago when I first read Chapter 251, where Cana confesses to Gildarts. It made me wonder, why did Gildarts leave Cornelia? If he loved her that much, I don't think it was because he was merely a "rolling stone" obsessed with work. Somehow, this scenario popped into my head fully formed.

Too Strong to Love

a Fairy Tail fanfic

by Rhov

Gildarts had known other women before, but none like this woman. She was tender. She was wild. She was sweet. She was spicy. She rarely spoke, but when she did her voice was naturally loud. She sat as primly as a princess and drank like a salty sailor on furlough.

She loved him. Oh, how much she loved him! And he loved her with deep fidelity.

Gildarts Clive loved Cornelia Alberona enough to marry her.

But there was a catch. He knew he was too strong. His magic leaked out and destroyed everything around him. How many times had Cornelia screamed in that bombastic voice of hers not to walk through the wall but use the door? Open the door, not smash it!

Things he touched had a tendency to go flying, so when it came to Cornelia, although he loved her madly, he was scared to touch her.

Still, they managed a happy married life. He was off on missions frequently. He had to admit, he was addicted to work, to the rush of battle, to the fascination of traveling to new places, and all the time getting stronger. The down side was the loneliness. He worked to get stronger so he could be back with her sooner. She teased him sometimes about the ladies in Fairy Tail and just who kept him warm at night on his long missions, but Gildarts was faithful to her. He had been wild in his youth—he had owned three little black books to keep up on all the numbers he had—but he decided those days were over and was ready to dedicate himself wholly to her.

If only he wasn't terrified to touch her.

At night as they made love, he let her take control. He liked to watch her in the moonlight, her wavy brown hair flying as she rode on top of him, her massive breasts—God, what breasts!—bouncing as she thrust herself down onto him. There were moments when she became self-conscious, when she tried to keep quiet, when meek mewls escaped between tight lips as she tried to hold back from screaming in ecstasy. He loved that voice too. And he loved when she broke past that barrier of cultural propriety and rediscovered raw, carnal instinct. Then that loud voice of hers howled and could drive him crazy.

Yet even in the throes of passion, when Gildarts wanted to grab her and forget everything else but pleasing his wife, he had to be careful. Too often, he began to reach out, wanting to grab her, but pulled away in fear.

He knew why Magnolia rearranged the city whenever he entered. One misjudged touch—hell, sometimes he didn't even have to touch anything—and things...crumbled.

He could not put Cornelia in that sort of danger, yet just being this close to him was a hazard.

Three years of bliss! Years from now, Gildarts would look back on this time as the best in his life, a time of youth, passion, freedom, before Makarov began sending him on the really long quests that could take years at a time. During those three years, although he was urged and pleaded into taking a ten-year quest, Gildarts humbly refused. Simple monsters, simple dark mages, an occasional cursed village...granted, they were still S-rank missions, but they seemed so easy. That was fine with him. They paid good, so he could spoil his wife. As much as Makarov pleaded to take one of the more challenging quests, Gildarts laughed and walked away, hurrying through Magnolia, between the walls they erected to make sure he did not demolish the town as he walked from the guild hall to the house he and Cornelia shared many leagues away from the city, a cabin in the countryside where they could be at peace.

He had rushed back especially for that day. Of course, for how absent-minded he could be, he never forgot two days a year: Cornelia's birthday and their wedding anniversary.

Three years! As he walked between the gauntlet of high walls, he smiled to himself with memories of their time together. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He could imagine them celebrating ten years, forty, sixty! They would be older than Makarov, two insane white-haired geezers laughing and sneaking mischievous pinches to one another's butts. Yes, he could imagine that.

When he arrived at their cabin, he smelled the sweet aroma of baking. A cake, likely. She loved cake and sake! Yet when he entered, he did not hear her humming in the kitchen or see her bustling around to do a last-minute cleaning like she normally did on days when he returned from missions. The house looked spotless, the lights were off, and candles burned in a smoky, waxy redolence. Gildarts set down his traveling sack and looked around, smirking as he expected her to pounce out at any moment.

"I'm home," he called out.

Finally, from the direction of the kitchen, he heard her call back, "Welcome home!"

Still he waited as he heard footsteps coming. His heart was already beating harder in anticipation. His instincts told him she had something special planned, and he was desperate to know what his beloved wife schemed this time.

Then, with her long, wavy, chestnut-colored hair draped over her shoulders and her dark eyes gleaming, she grabbed the corner of the entryway between the kitchen and the front room and swung the top half of her body around. "Hey there, sexy," she said in a deep, seductive voice.

Slowly, with movements like a panther, she slipped around the corner, and Gildarts knew his mouth had dropped almost to his chest. All she wore was a frilly apron. He could see the edges of her torso peeking out the sides of the tiny apron, and the outfit just barely hid her bosom. Her lightly tanned legs seemed to go up and up, higher, until the ruffled end of the apron hid the treasure where those toned legs met her shapely hips. If somehow he managed to take his eyes off that tempting outfit and the skin it showed, she had accented the ensemble with four-inch red heels. Her hips wiggled from side to side as she walked in those shoes, giving him glances of her body with each step.

"I must have failed in my mission, because surely I've died and gone to heaven!"

She walked past him, smirking like a succubus, and over to the coffee table. She leaned over—oh yes, she knew she was giving him a full view of her back side—and picked up a wrapped present. Then she righted up and turned back around fast. Yep, his eyes were trapped staring at her ass!

"I got something for you."

He hardly noticed how soft her voice was this time. Who was listening to words? He had a mental overload of pure sexiness wiggling toward him, one foot delicately placed in front of the other.

She came right up in front of him, her eyes lowered, her lips slightly open just enough to see her gleaming white teeth. "Happy anniversary, my husband."

Gildarts' brain finally snapped. "You better put that present aside," he warned, knowing he was rushing toward total loss of sanity.

"Oh?" she chuckled, but she put the gift box on the couch to be safe. "Not ready for presents and cake yet?" Her arms slithered up his leather armor to his thick neck, where she knew all the nerves that gave him shivers. "I missed you."

He was ensnared! "God, I missed you."

He rushed at her, lifting her right up out of her heels, and charged blindly to the bedroom, partly destroying the door in his haste. Cornelia laughed like a witch who caught a boy with candy.

Gildarts had no patience at all. Using his magic, his clothes turned into tiny shreds and fell to the floor. He stepped away from the ruined pile and chased Cornelia to their wide bed. She laid across it, smirking, curving a finger to beckon him to come. Gildarts leaped onto the mattress and yanked the strings off the apron and set the outfit aside. He did not just destroy it. No, he wanted to see her wearing that again! Damn, but it was sexy!

He caged her in and looked down at her. For a brief moment, Gildarts realized this was the first time he had ever taken the top position. Always, he had been afraid.

Tonight, fear and caution were burned away by fiery lust.

He was insane. He wanted to possess her. He wanted to eat her. He kissed her all over, then sucked her breasts until she moaned loudly. His hand went down and went through the wiry hairs that hid her treasure. She spread her legs eagerly. No cute whimpers this time. She was as ravenous as him.

"I want you inside!" she demanded.

Gildarts looked down and saw her flushed face and the desire in her dark eyes. He moved his hips to search her out and felt the wetness already built up. Grinning that his lovely wife was so ready for him, he slipped in, thrusting into that soft, warm, wet tunnel. They both moaned at the feel: Gildarts enjoying the feel of her shielding him and the idea of being inside her body; and Cornelia loving the feel of him completing her, filling that void with such a thick manhood.

"Fuck, I missed you!" he growled.

"Oh?" she snickered. "Were you a good boy this time? No dames to keep you warm at night?"

"Thoughts of your hot body are the only cloak I need," he smirked.

He pulled back and thrust harder. She shouted as he slammed in hard. It almost hurt, but it felt so good.

"Cornelia," he moaned, saying her name like an oath, a promise, just like the vows they took on their wedding day.

Her voice was strained with passion. "Gildarts!" she cried, gasping each time he thrust in.

He dived down to kiss her. Their tongues played roughly, but suddenly Cornelia pulled back.

"Hurts!" she whimpered.

He ignored the warning. His thrusts were wild, pressed in as hard as he could, trapped in the moment, drowning in the sea of her juicy wetness. The sounds of her moisture became louder. She voice cried out at each thrust.

"Gildarts!"

He was not paying attention, eyes squinted as he focused solely on the sensations, on how much he loved her, how much he had always wanted to do this, to control her, to dominate her and make insane love while she laid there and enjoyed it. Never had sex felt so good. Never had he dared to take control like this.

He grabbed her breasts, and she screamed. She shouted at him, and he did not hear. He did not see the faces she was making. His eyes were closed, enraptured, helplessly lost. His body was going on instinct, thrusting at its own rampant pace. God, it felt so good to make love at the pace he wanted!

"Gildarts!" she yelled. "Stop!"

His mind had blanked out, lost in the feel of her folds stroking him at every thrust. He was almost at his climax. It was ending too fast, not long and torturous like how Cornelia did it, somehow making him last an hour while she climaxed over and over. In the midst of blind lust, he decided he would make it up to her later. For now...

Right now...

Fuck, he was losing it!

He thrust harder, and Cornelia shrieked. Her voice threw him over the edge, but her screams wouldn't stop. Even as his spurts eased away, she was crying. Finally, as his head cleared, he opened his eyes and looked down...

...at his wife...

...covered in blood...

"My God, what have I done?"

It was late in the evening. Gildarts slouched in a chair, his chin and mouth in his hands, his eyes glazed over as that scene replayed in his head, over and over, like some form of foreign torture.

She had been screaming for him to stop, and he did not listen.

She had been crying, but he did not realized it was in pain.

He had been too greedy to hear her yells.

"What sort of husband am I?" he whispered.

Makarov sat beside him in the hospital hallway and patted Gildarts' arm. "It wasn't your fault, Gildarts. It was an accident. Cornelia knows this. She's a good woman, so she knows how you can be."

The Master did not comfort him. Instead, those well-meaning words tormented him. "How...I...can...be?" He gritted his teeth in self-hatred. "How I can be? A man who destroys all around him. A man who has no control over his strength. A freak!"

"Gildarts!" Makarov warned. "Do you think I'm a freak? Do you think all mages are freaks?"

"Real mages can control their magic," he shouted, but suddenly his head fell into his hands. His shoulders shook, and Makarov saw teardrops fall to the hospital floor. "Real mages...don't hurt friends. Real husbands...don't hurt their wives!" Then he lashed out at the Master again. "So what sort of husband am I?" he screamed. His face was tormented in guilt. He did not even care that his eyes were swollen with tears and his nose running from sobbing.

Just then, a doctor came out of the nearby room. Gildarts sloppily wiped all moistness off his face and onto his sleeve.

"Are you the husband?" he asked quietly.

Gildarts nodded anxiously. "How is she?"

The doctor sighed, and Gildarts felt his heart plummet. "She will live," he assured, "but the internal damage was severe. We...had to remove one breast."

Gildarts covered his mouth as he lost the ability to keep it closed. "Oh God!" he shuddered. He felt like all of Earthland was about to crumble around him.

"Her vaginal tract was severely mutilated. In order to stop the hemorrhaging..." The doctor decided to skip the gory details and went straight to the worst part of the news. "She will never be able to have sex again."

For a minute, that did not even register in Gildarts' brain. It was like being told a fish can never touch water, or the sun will never rise in the sky. He shook his head, trying to piece together what the words meant. "She...never...again..." He yanked at his hair, wishing he could rip her screams out of his head. "No! Please God, no. I...I never wanted to hurt her. Never!" He sobbed and his head hit his knees.

Her smiling face came to his mind. Her laugh rang in his ears. Her delicious body thrusting down on him.

That would never happen again.

He had hurt her in a way that could never, never, be forgiven.

"You can come see her, if you wish," the doctor said hesitantly. Gildarts heard in his voice, this doctor did not trust him. After all, this was a man who could destroy his wife's body so horribly.

"I can't," he whispered. "I can't face her, not after this."

"Gildarts," Makarov warned.

"I don't have the right to love her!"

The emotions overwhelmed him for a moment, and despite trying to be strong and firm, he hiccuped in sobs. Never in his life had Gildarts Clive cried like he did that day.

Eventually the doctor excused himself. There were still tests to run on his patient. Makarov stayed where he was, worried for his little brat. After many minutes, one thought hit Gildarts. It crushed him, but he knew it was something he could not ignore.

He looked over to the tiny guild master and smiled through thick tears. "That ten-year quest. I accept it."

"This is not the time..."

"No, it is," Gildarts insisted calmly. "I can't be around her anymore. I'm...too scared of myself. I don't trust myself being anywhere near her. I can't...can't face just what I've done to her. I'm t-too strong...too strong to love her," he sobbed. "I can't be her husband until I know without a doubt that I won't hurt her again. Please, Master," he pleaded desperately. "Tell her for me. I...I have to leave her. I'm a total asshole for doing it this way," he realized, and Gildarts had to laugh at himself for being such a jerk, "but...I just can't...can't see that face. I can't live if I see her looking at me with fear."

Gildarts slowly calmed down, rose from his chair, wiped his face, and faced toward the exit, unable to look at the door to Cornelia's room or down to the Master.

"Tell her...it's over." With those cold, reluctant words, he walked away.

Makarov sighed and shook his head. People needed to deal with matters however they felt were best. He firmly believed that. Still, he wondered if Gildarts was doing the right thing.

Gildarts walked back to his cabin. He picked up his travel sack and began packing. It felt routine. He grabbed the same things he always did. Then he came across a piece of Cornelia's lingerie. It stabbed his heart.

We had to remove one breast.

He closed his eyes and shook his head angrily. He kept throwing things into his sack. A ten-year quest. That would get him away long enough for her to move on. Maybe she would forget him. She could meet a normal man, fall in love, have a family...

She will never be able to have sex again.

"Why?" he screamed to the heavens.

Even if he left, no one would want to marry a woman with one breast and unable to have sex. He destroyed not only her body, but her future. She would never feel that great joining of bodies again. She could never have children. She once told him she wanted a family one day. They were trying, although so far nothing came of it. Now that happiness had been robbed from her.

And for what?

For his own selfish desires! For one moment of sexual gratification!

The bed was still covered in blood. The blankets had been stripped off so he could carry her in them as he raced back into Magnolia to the hospital. It smelled of musky sex mingled with blood. He needed to get out of that cabin. He threw the sack over his shoulder and stomped away. However, as he began to go, he saw the wrapped gift. He slowed down, looked at it, and sniffed back the tears. His sack dropped, and Gildarts carefully removed the wrapping paper, not disintegrating it as he usually did. Inside the box was a thick black cloak and a card.

Dear husband,

I know you go on long journeys, and I've often teased you, 'Who keeps you warm at night?' Here is something to comfort you while out on the road, that way I never have to doubt your loyalty. Happy anniversary, my dear.

Sincerely, your wife Cornelia

He began to cry. "Idiot! I liked that you always asked me that." He pulled the black cloak around him. It was thick enough to last him many years. Then, slowly, he walked into the kitchen and saw the cake she had baked. A smile struggled onto his face. He cut the cake in half, put one part in a container to take with him, and put the rest away so it would not spoil. He wrote a letter, knowing Master Makarov would probably not convey his feelings right. He spent an hour on that letter, and it became many pages long. He knew, in the end, it was an apology mixed with a thank you. "Thanks for the best three years of my life" seemed like a crappy thing to tell the woman you were divorcing, but he knew she would understand.

She always did!

When Cornelia opened her eyes, it was not to the man she loved, but to a friend she trusted.

"Makarov," she smiled sadly. Seeing the old master there was more than enough to tell her precisely what had happened. After all, she knew her husband too well. "A mission, huh? How long this time?"

Makarov looked uncomfortable to be the one bearing bad news. "He left tonight, a ten-year mission to Northern Fiore."

"Ten years," she sighed and looked away. "I guess I can't blame him. I know a little too well how he thinks. I know his strength scares him. I know, for three years, he has felt caged, trying so hard to fight his instincts. I...pushed him too far. It's my fault."

"Cornelia," Makarov sighed. "Honestly, you two are so alike. No wonder he married you! It's not your fault, nor is it his."

"But since we're alike, you know both of us will still feel that way," she realized quietly. "So if I know him...tell me..." She hesitated as she gathered the strength to hear the truth. "Be honest. Will he be back?"

Makarov dropped his head. "He says he won't."

Cornelia nodded in acceptance. "If that's what he said, that's what he intends. I guess...I don't blame him," she admitted and looked at the bandaged wrapped around her chest. "If he saw me, he would only see how I looked at that moment, and if I see him, I'll only remember the fear and pain. It's...probably best," she sighed. Cornelia turned her face aside. "Please watch over him. Don't send him on missions that are too dangerous."

Makarov reached over and patted her arm. "I'll treat him like a son. You're welcome to visit, or just write to me if you can't face him. I'll tell you how he's doing, and I won't tell him I'm still in contact with you."

That finally put a smile on her face. "You're a good friend, Makarov. Thank you."

He left, and Cornelia softly cried. The pain was a reminder, and that memory brought fear. She knew this was natural. She even had a psychiatrist in earlier to help her deal with the trauma. She knew, if she saw him, she would fear him...and she knew that seeing such terror in her face would be worse than death to a man as gentle and caring as Gildarts.

Before she could finish collecting her thoughts, the doctor returned with a somber face.

"Mrs. Clive," he said quietly.

She shook her head. "It's Miss Alberona now."

That made the doctor look even more severe. "We got some tests back. It seems...you're pregnant."

Thoughts drained out of her, and she blinked in confusion. "But...the injury?"

"I've discussed it with our top obstetricians, and they assure that we can deliver the baby by cesarean. The damage may cause some complications, but the fetus is currently not in danger."

Tears came to her eyes. She looked out the window. Cornelia wanted to tell Gildarts right away, but she realized that he would also be too scared that he might hurt his own child.

"Because of this development, we would like to request that you stay here at least a week for observation."

"I understand," she said quietly. Right at that moment, she decided to keep the baby a secret, both from Gildarts and from Makarov.

It was best that way.

Six years later, Cornelia knew she was dying. Cervical cancer, the doctors diagnosed. They said it was related to the injury she received long ago.

She could have blamed Gildarts, but she didn't. After that week in the hospital, when she finally came home to an empty, dusty house, she noticed two things. One, he took the cloak she bought for him. That made her smile, hoping it kept him warm, like her arms wrapped around him no matter where he went. Two, she saw he took half the cake. She would not have minded if he took the whole thing, since what was left was stale. However, it meant he still wanted to share things evenly with her. He knew how much she loved cake and sake. It meant a lot to her that at least he had enjoyed what she worked so hard to make.

The letter also meant a lot. She burned it when her daughter Cana got old enough to read. A girl like her didn't need to know about such a pained past. She simply never talked about Gildarts.

But now it was time.

"Little Cana," she sighed weakly. The girl was too young to understand, but she knew enough. She knew her mother was sick, in pain, and would leave forever. Cornelia saw the fear in her daughter's eyes, and she understood just why Gildarts never wanted to see that expression in her. "My daughter, there's so much I want to tell you." She handed over a key. "There is a safe under my bed. In it is information on your father."

The little girl looked up in surprise. "My...father?"

"Please find him, Cana. He's a good man. I know he'll protect you."

"Mama," she cried.

She leaned her head back and recalled his face, that gruff jawline, the long hair, the smile that made him so wild and dashing. She knew Gildarts was fearful of his strength, so she silently prayed he would use that immense power to protect their daughter.

"He always wanted...a family," she sighed with a smile. "Cana...I hope...you'll come to love Gildarts...as much as...I love him." Then, still smiling with the memories of those three years they shared, Cornelia passed on.

Twelve years later, Cornelia's spirit looked on as Gildarts and Cana faced one another on Tenrou Island. She smiled as she saw that he still wore the cloak she gave him. It was ripped and dirty, but he still had it. Finally, her daughter was acknowledging that Gildarts was her father. She could hardly help but chuckle at the comical faces Gildarts made as he slowly accepted this revelation.

"My dear Cana," the ghost said, "you turned out to be as stubborn as your father, deciding for yourself what's best and hiding your relationship from Gildarts for so long. What a headstrong and wild girl!"

There had been moments when the specter wanted to reach beyond Death's veil and smack that girl up the head. She really could not hate her excessive drinking—after all, Cornelia was known to out-drink Gildarts and Makarov together—nor could she scoff at her blunt manners, foul mouth, and loud voice. She admitted, her daughter inherited those manners from her.

Her scant outfits were another issue!

And hiding her heritage for so long!

"Then again," she admitted, "I guess I did the same thing, never telling Gildarts that he had a daughter." She laughed softly. "Guess you get that stubborn, prideful streak from both sides of the family."

Then he began to list his women. Flames were ready to burn that veil separating spirits from the living. Just how many women...

"How many women have you been with?" shrieked Cana.

Yep, they even thought alike!

Well, she couldn't blame him too much. They were divorced, she was dead, eighteen years had passed.

Then he leaped forward, his arms wrapped around Cana, and in a tender voice, he realized, "You're Cornelia's daughter."

She smiled that Gildarts could finally embrace someone without the hesitation of fear on his face. The way he held Cana so tightly...that was a level of closeness she had always wanted for herself. Seeing such tenderness and closeness being shown to their daughter freed the spirit from her worries and doubts.

"Cornelia was the only woman I truly loved. She was also the only woman I married."

Hearing the tenderness in his voice made the ghost smile. Of course, he did not mention that day. It was probably too painful to recall, and their daughter did not need to hear about the gory details. It was enough to say he left. Gildarts was a wild and free man. Cornelia understood this better than anyone.

"I'm glad I got to meet you, Father."

Cornelia watched as years of emotions and memories brought tears to that lovably gruff face. When he yanked her into his embrace, the ghost felt just a moment of fear, residual memories of pain. Her daughter! But no, he must have learned at least a little control. He held her tightly as he cried. Even with his emotions leaking out, he could embrace her and declare his love for her...as his daughter!

"Let me have the right to love you!"

His bold request brought smiles to both daughter and ghostly mother.

"See, my dear," Cornelia whispered as she finally felt free enough to truly pass on without any regrets. "You're not too strong to love!"

The End
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Too Strong to Love