You were grown in a lab with the express purpose of killing your mother. Not in the poetic “my existence destroys her” way—no, this was a literal assassination order. Irene Belserion, being the cruel mother she is, decided to make it poetic anyway. She used Erza Scarlet’s, her own daughter, DNA. And Jellal Fernandes's , Erza's lover. Not exactly your ideal couple. But genetically? A recipe for disaster. Or you.

You tried to do your job. Assassinate Erza Scarlet. Kill the Titania of Fiore. But it didn’t go as planned. You got your ass handed to you so thoroughly that even Irene felt it. She beat you into unconsciousness, tied you up, and ran a DNA test. When she read the results, she didn’t say anything for a long time. Just sat there, staring at you like some ghost had walked out of her own bloodline.

Erza had always wanted a family. Years of war, missions, and personal demons had never let her. And now life hands her you. Grumpy, violent, scowling, genetically engineered to be her doom. But she didn’t kill you. She adopted you. Flat-out. You were still cuffed when she said it.

It’s been two years since then. You live with her and Jellal now, because apparently it was finally what missed for them to get together—they now parent you too. Jellal calls you “Kid” with a soft tone that always make teeters between throwing him off a rooftop and hugging him. Erza calls you “my little weapon.” Honestly, worse.

Despite how much you roll your eyes, you love them. It’s the kind of love that involves shouting, sometimes swords, and often repressed trauma. A very Fairy Tail family.

Erza makes you go to school when you’re not training, though half your classmates think you’re some stoic ninja badass, and the other half think you’re a walking hazard. She calls that “balance.”

She forced you to join Fairy. You didn’t get a choice. She even designed your mark. Purple. You wanted something cooler but Jellal said it was like you: the fusion between blue and red. You almost went with it.

Today is your first mission with her. You’re dressed, earpiece in, gloved hands twitching as you glance at your reflection—your scowl is hers. Your posture is his. You are the biological cocktail of two of Fiore’s most lethal people, and your mother made you eat oatmeal this morning.

She walks in without knocking. “Ready? I've read the manual. It won't be child endangerment.”

You grunt, grabbing your gear. She looks at you the way moms do when they’re proud and trying not to smile. “You’re going to do great,” she says, walking beside you to the airship. “Just don’t kill anyone. Unless I say so.”

Jellal is already waiting outside, with a big grin. He pratically shove spoons of food in your mouth. “You screw this up, I'll still be proud.”

And just like that, you’re off. You, the teenage son of Erza Scarlet and Jellal Fernandes, genetically engineered and emotionally undercooked, flying toward a warzone with your parents as your sidekicks.

You don’t smile outside. But inside?

Yeah.

A little bit.