A/N: There is a serious shortage of LucyxErza fanfiction. I will help to fix this travesty.

Changes to the universe: Lucy, Erza, and some other Fairy Tail women are only interested in other women. This prologue happened. The location of all the Zodiac Keys have been shuffled – Lucy has Capricorn, (sane, centaur, not!horseman) Sagittarius, and some silvers. Everything else that changes is a direct result of these alterations, like a stone thrown in a lake, with outward and ever-expanding ripples.

Someone Who Cares

by Whispers Of A Mad God

Introduction: The Princess And Her Savior

I straightened my back, holding perfect posture. I pulled tight on the bowstring, twisting with the motion. My eyes were focused and unblinking, watching the rabbit with a keen eye. I could feel the wind around us, the coarse bracers digging into my smooth skin, the dewy grass underneath my leather boots. I could hear the rustling of the leaves of the Featherhaven Forest, the pounding of my prey's heart, the rushing of his blood. I used to hate hunting the wildlife in the forest around Heartfilia Manor, and while I still find no enjoyment in taking even an animal's life, I've matured a bit.

My prey was hopping along the dense trail with no care in the world, and I mentally mapped out its momentum, direction, and the time it'd take for it to get there. I adjusted the recurve bow Mama got me back when she was still alive, made of a magical variant of ash wood, for increased durability and reliability. The bow was a beautiful gray, dark enough to stay hidden at night, and still gleam in the early morning sunlight. I felt the pull of the bowstring, the tension of the nocked arrow, and right as I was about to unleash, my satchel vibrated and alerted the rabbit.

My shot ran wild.

"Tch," I muttered, annoyed. Father always finds a way to screw something up. I dug the telecommunications lacryma out of my bag, clicked the received button, and my Father's face appeared on it.

"Daughter," he growled through gritted teeth. I blinked in surprise. Ever since Mama died, Father has been cold and distant, ruthless and unmerciful, harsh and uncaring of my happiness, but not once has he been angry. "Get to my office. Now."

The lacryma vision blinked out.

I swallowed in sudden, irrational fear.

I walked over to my fallen arrow in a daze, my mind attempting to divine the reason behind Father's apparent anger at me. I hadn't done anything wrong, not that I could think of. Well, I'm not supposed to be in the Forest, but he already knew I've been coming, so that wouldn't explain the sudden anger.

I unstuck the arrow from the root it found itself embedded in, and slipped it in my quiver. I snatched my satchel, a rustic, leather thing, and settled it over my shoulder. What no one knew about the pink-loving, warm and happy-go-lucky Lucky Lucy of Heartfilia was that, after Mama died, I had taken to woodsmanship with an almost zealous fervor.

Like all proper ladies-to-be, I had been schooled in an early age in all the proper studies: histories, dance, bloodlines, classical literature, piano, renaissance culture, etiquette, mathematics, household affairs, various other useful or pointless things, and archery.

The Manor hired a woodsman named Aldrin "Twinshot" Slarrow, who had become my archery teacher. He was a strict, cold, and ruthless man, but a master in the field. I hated my archery lessons with him, and he gave me no quarter.

Then Mama died, and Father changed. Twinshot didn't bother with the pity, or the morning's lecture or any small talk at all. Just stared me in the eyes, handed me the recurve bow Mama gave me, and told me to shoot the target.

And I did. Right in the center.

Overnight, archery switched from being a chore to becoming an escape. He began taking me out to the Featherhaven Forest, or Archery Tournaments for my age group, and taught me woodsmanship and tracking and hunting and setting a snare and all sorts of things... I could lose myself for hours in the simple action of polishing and maintaining my bow, fletching my own arrows, or exploring the Featherhaven Forest.

I ended up subconsciously adopting twin clothing styles. I still wore short skirts and cute blouses and pretty dresses, adored all things pink and embraced my vain femanine side. But I also grew accustomed to the comforting weight of the rustic leather armor Twinshot acquired for me, the earthy tones of brown and green of a thigh-length tunic, the simple yet timeless leather buckled boots of a forest-goer. And so my closet became like night and day, expensive pinks and royal blues on one side, well-made and well-worn earthen hues on the other.

Archery became my sole passion, my entire life. Even when Father fired Twinshot, he still snuck out to the forest to give me lessons, and I still snuck him jewels or antiques from the Manor in recompense. Father never noticed, we're so rich a few million wouldn't be missed. He never noticed my emergency stash of jewels in the hidden compartment I made through the far wall of my bedroom. Just in case I finally decided to run away and join a magic guild, or he found out the Secret and disowned me.

I stilled. Could he...?

I began to sprint through the forest. Mama knew the Secret, she's the one who told me never to tell Father. She loved me regardless, but Father wouldn't. He's too shallow. And if he found out, it would definitely explain the sudden anger.

The Manor came into sight. I weaved through the Orchard, dodging bushes and trees and passed through the Courtyard. I nearly smashed the doors in my haste to make it to my bedroom, my blood both boiling and icy cold in fear. I climbed three sets of stairs, leapt over a startled maid, past two corners and into my room.

I slammed the door shut and began searching through the drawers of my nightstand, under my bed, everywhere. I even checked the hidden safe. But it wasn't there.

My journal was gone.

He knew.

I swallowed thickly. I halted in my tracks, trying to come up with a plan. How many late nights have I spent plotting what I would do when this exact event occurs? Hundreds, surely? Then why was my mind so blank?

Calmly, silently, the opposite of how I felt, I began to stash my belongings in my satchel. I left the clothes in the closet in favor of the jewels in the safe, as money could buy clothes but clothes couldn't rent an apartment, or buy food. A skirt's mass in jewels could buy thirty skirts, anyways. Jewels, photo album of Mama and I, locket with our photo in it, flashlight, my sketchbook, the prologue to a novel I wanted to write, telecommunications lacryma, my beloved copy of The Starlight Sage, all in my satchel. Keys at my hip, dagger in my left boot, knife sheathed in my sleeve, Twinshot's rustic leather armor over my thin frame, travelworn midnight-black cloak over my shoulders, quiver of arrows over the cloak, enchanted ash recurve bow in my sweaty hand. What was I missing?

A pause.

My journal.

No way am I leaving that. So I'll have to face off against Father, it seems.

My fear left me, strangely enough. It was replaced with a cool-headed calm determination. I strode confidently down the halls and a flight of stairs and to my Father's office. The maids looked at me in confusion, seeing me prepared for travel. I ignored them.

I didn't knock on his door, I just walked in. He looked up from the papers on his desk and stared me in the eyes. He saw me ready to leave and didn't comment on it. All he said was the three traditional lines.

"Lucy Layla Heartfilia, heir of the Heartfilia Konzern, has been stripped of rank, title, and inheritance.

"Lucy Layla Heartfilia has been stripped of relations and family.

"Lucy Layla Daughter of None will never be seen again."

He carelessly tossed my journal at my feet, and I bent down to pick it up. Father went back to his work. He had returned to the usual frigid demeanor, it seems. I didn't know what to make of that.

I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it. How does one respond to that? In all my years of dreadful dreams, we always shouted at each other, screamed, and I had the most scathing comebacks. But it didn't turn out that way. It was cold, quiet, and emotionless. As if this was just another matter of course, another bullet point on his day's schedule.

It was terrifying. But also... freeing. Never again will I sneak around about who I am. Never again will I have to dance with the lecherous nobility. Never again will I have to pretend I will stand idly by while Father picks out a man for me.

I hugged my journal to my chest, as a single tear and a secret smile appeared on my face, the face of my Mama. I turned and left the office, and then left the Manor. Fairy Tail sounds like a nice enough place, and I've heard that they commonly took in magic children with nowhere to go. I was only eleven, but they've had younger, right? I'd be fine. They would accept me.

Hours later as I took the train to Magnolia, I read through my journal, wondering what exactly in there caused Father to hate me so much. Was it the hopes of joining a mage guild? My discontent with the life of the nobility and wealthy? My plans to eventually run away?

But I knew it was none of that. It was my dreams of being rescued by a beautiful knight, or being the one who did the rescuing. Just like in the childrens' tales of princesses trapped in towers guarded by angry dragons and evil wizards. Mama always swapped the gender of the knight for me, because she knew how I was, she knew and didn't care. She loved me all the same.

So I cried, alone and snuggled in my cloak, the last gift Mama ever gave me.