Summary: In a different world, our fair-haired, doe-eyed protagonist finds herself ditching the heiress lifestyle a near decade before she's scheduled to: and this time, it's not by choice. [AU.]
Warning: swearing, violence (involving a young child), death, and dark themes ahead.
Disclaimer to encompass this entire work: I do not own Fairy Tail nor do I claim to hold any right to its characters, plot, or design.
seek out the author's note at the end for a bigger picture yo
disappearance
I.
The moon hung low in the sky, pale light spilling through the withered branches and illuminating the forest floor. A brisk blast of wind cut through the air and sent cyclones of decaying leaves twirling across the musty earth. It was a bitter night, the weather cold and dreary, even the birds reluctant to leave their nest and fill the darkened sky with song.
The carriage moved slowly. Meticulously. The road was riddled with holes and debris: fallen limbs, rocks, and vestiges of former caravans all littered the path. Two guards guided the coach through the twisted forest, carrying flickering lanterns to light the way, the flame reflecting off their hefty armor. One followed in its steps.
Shadows danced along the ground; the horses whined, throwing back their heads. The driver, a stout, wrinkled man with flushed cheeks, tugged on the reins and sniffed.
It was not an ideal place to be, a horse-drawn carriage in the velvet night. The horses were easier to spook and the likelihood of getting lost was increased tenfold, as the malevolent sky cast a veil over the woods. A myriad of obstacles had halted the journey throughout the day, ranging from a broken wheel to a collapsed bridge forcing the caravan to resort to a forgotten, worn path near double in length.
Irritation washed over the driver.
His client would be late to their destination, and there was no doubt in his mind that he would have a docked pay for such lateness, even though he had absolutely no part in their delays. In fact, he had worked more efficiently than any coach driver in all of Fiore would have: who was it that fixed the wheel? That calmed the horses when they were spooked? That located another path to take instead of twiddling his thumbs at the crumbled bridge?
It wasn't as if he wanted to be late. He, himself, would be arriving home far past the time he had given his wife. Perhaps longer than a whole day. And while the woman was certainly lovely, and while he certainly loved her very much, she was quite adept in chewing his ear off. He wondered what it would be this time: no dinner until he apologized or the cold shoulder for a week?
Another slice of blistering cold wind blew through the air. The man stiffened, and the carriage lurched as it passed over a patch of scarred land. He sent a seething glare towards his two "guides". The men paid him no mind.
What a horrible night, he thought bitterly, adjusting his coat.
So caught up in his own vexation to notice the figures hidden amongst the forest trees, swathed in darkness, watching the man with cocked heads. They were like bats in a cloaked sky, unable to be seen, save for the slightest fluttering of wings.
Perhaps, there was a faint moment, a moment when the driver saw such a slight gasp of movement, heard a faint whisper slip from the shadows, but he was quick to dismiss such foolish thoughts.
For the wind was howling and his eyes, surely, were playing tricks on him.
The carriage moved forward.
II.
He stopped next to his companion. There was a stagnant quality to the air, almost as if they were moving through a still lake. They were careful to move quickly, efficiently, stepping silently on dead leaves and rotten twigs.
A dark mask was draped across the nose of his companion, effectively covering the bottom half of his face.
He glanced upwards. The moon was barely visible among the gnarled tree branches, and it lazily crawled towards the crest of the sky. His gaze slipped towards the earth.
Horse's hooves clattered against the rough dirt path as the carriage moved steadily ahead.
He looked to his partner, aware of their other comrades, littered about the woods.
He arched a brow.
Ready?
And though his companion's features were covered by a mask, his serpent's grin was still visible through the thin fabric, as a shadow overtook his face.
III.
"Miss Lucy, are you alright?"
Ami's eyes reminded her of cold seashells.
She felt very hot. She felt scared and she did not want to be in the carriage, she wanted her parents, she wanted her dog, she wanted someone to pick her up and hold her close.
"I'm fine."
Lucy did not like being in the carriage alone.
There were two others seated beside her in the coach: a gruff man who wore shiny armor, and Ami, her maid for the trip, because Miss Spetto was sick and had to tend to the Estate while everybody was away. She felt like she was stuck in a sandwich. It was hot and sticky and she wanted to take her coat off, but the last time she started rustling around, the man gave her a short look and Ami softly reprimanded her.
She wasn't really alone, because when you're really alone, you're the only person there, just you— but Lucy was acutely aware that she was lonely within this coach, that she was facing her problems by herself, and that neither of her companions knew her or would help her or smile or talk to her. Not like Mama would.
Mama usually road in the coach with her, but Mama was with Papa, out in the mountains at the… the something Estate. She couldn't remember the name.
And that was where she was going. Up in the mountains, where there would be a party. Mama and Papa had been telling her for weeks and weeks that this was an important party, and she had to be on her best behavior for it.
Parties were stuffy. She didn't like them that much, but they could be fun, sometimes. They were better than the carriage, at least.
She shifted nervously in her seat. The coach's windows were guarded by red curtains, the nice kind like the ones in the foyer that she wasn't supposed to touch. Those were taller, longer, stretching up towards the ceiling like lengthy fingers.
Lucy was pretty sure they were in the forest, but she didn't absolutely know. Couldn't, not without peeking outside.
Her fingers twitched. She'd have to reach out, across Ami, who'd probably let her because the maids mostly let her do anything, but the woman would still get mad about it, even if she didn't tell Lucy. She'd just give a tight smile and eye her carefully, the type of look that made her squirm. The girl didn't like it when people got mad at her.
Besides, Papa was the one to scold her when she got caught in the curtains at home, and if Papa could get mad at her for touching the curtains, what would the man beside her do?
She spared him a glance.
He was big and strong and was much like many of the men who her father had hired in the past. Her gaze found his armor. It was supposed to absorb magic— someone had explained to her once (Mama? She can't remember) that if anyone tried to cast a spell against the special armor, it'd drink it up like a glass of water.
She shivered.
That scared Lucy. That made some sort of wrongness stir in her tummy, because how could something eat magic like that? The young girl was proud to call herself a Mage just like her mother, and though she couldn't… feel the magic in the air, she was constantly aware of something there. Something that stirred in her fingertips and flowed through her veins and sang along to the beat of her heart.
Magic was apart of her, even if she really hadn't used it yet other than some toys— Mama said that she didn't have enough magic inside of her to use one of her keys—and the fact that someone could just… take it away like that made her skin crawl.
She realized far too late that she was staring at the man, and he turned, giving her a glare. She jumped and looked at her hands.
It'll swallow you right up, said a whisper at the back of her mind, you try and touch that curtain, Lucy, that armor will eat you up.
Panic seized her heart and she pressed against the carriage's velvet seat.
That's silly. No it won't.
She had never heard of someone getting eaten up by magic-absorbing armor. It seemed farfetched and outlandish and besides, Mages sometimes wore that type of stuff, right? The ones in the military or in guilds, who were still very much so alive.
These thoughts quelled some of the girl's anxiety, but she still found herself shrinking away from the man, jumping whenever the carriage tottered a bit and the girl knocked against his form.
It's gonna swallow you whole, Lucy…
She shook her head. Ami gave her a puzzled, slightly vexed look.
"I'm sorry," Lucy murmured, staring at her feet. "I just, um," say something! "When do you think we'll get there?"
Ami tilted her head. "I don't know," she said. She gave a very plastic smile. "I'm sure we'll be there soon enough; you should sleep, Miss Lucy. It's far past your bedtime."
She didn't feel that tired because she had fallen asleep earlier, after lunch but before the carriage stopped at the bridge. And besides, with the creepy stupid armor of the guard and the stuffiness of the coach, she didn't think she'd be able to go to bed, anyway.
But she still nodded, and Ami, seemingly proud of herself, turned away.
Lucy let out a sigh. Her eyes slipped shut and she attempted to ignore the stiffness of her coat, but the air felt heavy and stifling around her, only amplifying the uneasiness swirling in her gut. She tried counting Nikora to help her sleep, or at least pretend sleep, picturing the tiny Celestial Spirits passing through her brain.
She reached 47— but she did lose count once or twice— when the movement of the seat beneath her rolled to a stop. Confusion marred her thoughts.
"What— again?" Ami's face crinkled with annoyance. The carriage seemed to skitter on the bumpy road for a few moments, before completely halting.
"By the time we reach the estate, the sun 'ill be up," grunted the man, his foot tapping against the floor. "This whole trip's been a damn farce."
Ami let out a gasp, and Lucy felt the urge to giggle at such a naughty word.
Damn.
If Papa ever heard her saying that, she'd get grounded for a month!
"The hell's going on, old man?" the guard called out to the driver, through the carriage's thick wooden walls.
She let out a muffled laugh into her hand, and scandalized horror seemed to radiate from Ami's form.
"I'd appreciate that you wouldn't use such vulgar language in the presence of the Young Miss." Ami simmered.
The man snorted. "Looks like we got bigger problems on our hands than some swearing, princess."
Ami bristled, but the comment elicited a sense of uneasiness in the woman. "What do you mean?"
He grunted. BANG, BANG, BANG filled the air, as his fist rapped against the wooden paneling of the carriage. "Hey, you listening to me?" he yelled.
No response.
Ami shot him a concerned look, her features contorted with worry. "Is everything alright?"
"Don't know, sweetheart," he grumbled. "Stay inside. I'll go check it out."
She didn't respond.
Lucy watched the conversation, confusion bubbling in her stomach. "Ami, what—"
"Be quiet, Miss Lucy."
Her lips clamped shut. The man's fingers ghosted over the door handle as his ear pressed against the wood, attempting to hear any snippets of conversation from outside. It was silent, save for the wind, which blasted against the side of the carriage and whistled through the trees. His expression seemed grim.
As he carefully pulled the door open, Lucy noticed Ami open her mouth as if to say something, but the words were like glue on her tongue. Cold air seeped inside as the man slipped away. Lucy noticed a strange, quieted expression on her maid's face, but couldn't place it.
It made her afraid.
And she felt cold, all the heat and the stuffiness escaping through the door, like there was ice blooming in her belly and snow filling her brain. Her fingers disappeared into the furred lining of her coat. Ami shifted in the seat beside her, a bit closer, as if seeking the same warmth as Lucy did.
She wondered why the carriage had to stop again. It was rather silly, the number of times they had to make a pitstop during their trip. Mama said that she'd only have to ride in the carriage for half a day, and yet, it was past her bedtime already! Her thoughts slipped to her parents, and if, perhaps, they were worried for her; the driver had told Lucy that a messenger had been sent ahead, to alert Mama and Papa of their delays, but she believed that surely, her parents had to be stressed to some degree because of—
BOOM.
The entire carriage rattled, lurching forward.
Lucy let out a shriek as the force of the blow ripped her from her seat. Her head knocked against the floor, and for a moment, the world went dark. Ami screamed.
"Oww," the young girl cried, hands flying to cradle her head. Her hair was damp, something warm and sticky seeping past her fingers as sharp, red-hot pain flooded her senses. She sniffed, tears slipping down her cheeks.
She felt hands fly over her form. "Miss Lucy!" a shrill voice cried. The words were loud and painful. She sobbed, curling into herself.
There was a crash and a blast of cold, cold air, and Ami let out a shriek.
"W-who the hell are you?" the young woman cried, and if Lucy weren't keeling in on herself, she'd balk at such a phrase coming from her maid's mouth. "What did you do?" Ami's words were fearful.
But Ami was an adult and the adults didn't get afraid. They weren't supposed to.
Lucy sniffed. She lifted her head, and the movement made the world spin and a sharp pain shoot through the back of her skull.
There was someone standing in the open door.
They were tall, and it was hard to see them in the dim light, but she found they were dressed in dark clothing and their face was near entirely obscured by a mask. But eyes, she could see, gleaming eyes, cat eyes, watching her every move.
Ami was on the floor beside her, back pressed against the carriage's bench. She sat between the open door and the girl sprawled out like a cluster of twisted weeds. The young woman was pale as a ghost and trembled something horribly, cheeks glistening.
The person— a man, Lucy noted dully— tilted his head to the side. Like an owl twisting its head to get a good, good look at her. His arm stretched out, hand facing upwards. Ami flinched. Slowly, meticulously, his index finger curled, beckoning them— the broken heiress and the whimpering maid— out into the darkness.
Lucy's already shuddering thoughts rolled to a complete stop when she noticed the small, gleaming, sharp knife clamped between the fingers of his other hand.
Ami's seemed to, as well, as the woman let out a terrified cry, hands flying to her mouth. Her eyes were wide and dark and terrified. Lucy let out a quiet sob, inching backward.
The man's stare followed her. Watched every twitch of her muscles, dissecting her movements like she was a patient on an examination table.
Once again, his gloved finger curled backward.
Come here, little girl.
(It's gonna swallow you whole)
"I don't wanna," she whispered, quivering. "Leave me alone!"
His head tilted to the side, and his hand— the other one, the one with the knife— moved forward.
Ami let out another frenzied cry. "We'll come!" she yelled, voice warbling. "Don't— don't hurt us! We'll come, okay?" She edged ever-so-slowly towards Lucy, arms wide, stare following the man's weapon. "Miss Lucy, come here."
She didn't want to, she didn't want to, she didn't want to! She wanted her Mama and her Papa and her dog, and she wanted someone to pick her up and hold her close—
"Miss Lucy!"
She clutched tightly to the velvet of the seat as she pulled herself to Ami. She collapsed into the woman's lap, head aching and neck damp with the same, warm liquid staining her hair. She hoped whatever it was didn't get on Ami's clothes.
(She didn't want Ami to be upset with her.)
Lucy's arms were wrapped around Ami's neck. Her head pressed against her shoulder, still hurting and hurting and hurting.
The man watched them with an impassive expression.
Ami scooted towards the open door, form shaking. The man backed away as to allow them entrance to the blistering cold. The maid's legs, dressed in the simple black shoes and matching tights of her uniform, swung over the edge of the doorway, trembling feet planting against the uneven earth.
The man gripped Ami by her coat's collar, throwing the woman to the ground.
She let out a cry as Lucy flew from her arms, the child thudding against the dirt. Sticks and pebbles dug into the girl's skin, and she felt more tears streak down her face and snot drip from her nose as pain raced through her form.
She wanted to stay on the ground and disappear.
Lucy wanted to melt away, but then Ami was screaming, letting out a blood-curdling cry that made the air quiver. The young heiress was then aware of something on the earth, getting onto her face and seeping into her clothes, warm and red and terrifying.
She let out a squeak, words caught in her throat, as she was met with the image of the gruff man, the man with the scary armor, just a body on the ground. Blood leaked from his form and his eyes were hollow and gray.
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—" Ami repeated over and over again.
Lucy shook. The tears came faster, and her sobs were louder, filling the air as the young woman continued to cry beside her.
There was Mr. Driver, his form slumped against the ground, and the other guards, too, not moving and covered in blood. More figures, men, dressed in dark cloaks and masks, hunched over their fallen forms, hands rummaging through their pockets. Another was peeking inside the carriage, eyeing the adorned interior with interest, and one by the horses, patting the animal's necks with a gloved hand.
"Please don't kill us," said Ami to the man. "We'll give you anything you want, just please don't kill us!"
Lucy's murky gaze slipped back to the tall man with the knife. He loomed over the two, his face covered by the darkened sky.
He seemed amused.
Why weren't the guards getting up?
What was this person doing?
(Lucy knew what it meant to die. Once, one of the older maids passed away, the one Mama said she and Papa had known since before Lucy was born. She was gone quickly and Lucy never saw the woman after she died, but she remembered the funeral, rainy and sad and lonely.)
Ami's clothes were stained with mud the color of her hair. She stumbled to her feet, her expression manic. She backed away from the man, head turning and attention flying to the woods behind them, dark and empty and inviting.
"You can take anything," she said. "But you don't have to kill us. There's no reason to."
The man's head cocked to the side.
"You don't have to."
He smiled beneath his mask.
"There's no need to—"
And Lucy was on the ground, drenched with mud and tears and blood as she watched the man moved forward quicker than the human eye could track, as his knife dug into Ami's chest and twisted about. The woman's mouth fell unhinged. Her eyes were blank and horrified as the blade slipped from her body, and she fell backward, red blooming onto the front of her coat.
Her mouth opened to say something, but all that came out was a gurgled breath.
She thumped against the ground.
Lucy screamed.
The man's eyes, so full of pleasure and mirth, slipped to her form.
"Now Lucy," he whispered, suddenly beside her. She backed away, letting out another sob. "There's no reason to shout, now, is there?"
Then a rag was forced over her nose and mouth, hands locking around her torso.
She let out another shriek.
And then, Lucy slept.
IV.
The girl laid limp on the ground, wrists and ankles bound. Her lilac coat was smudged with mud and dust, and red stained her entire form, oozing from the wound to her head. He wiped the blood from his blade, slightly irritated by the dirtied dagger.
"She's not going to die, is she?" one of the men asked, eyeing the heiress with distaste. "Last time I checked, the job was to get the girl alive, not soaked head-to-toe in blood."
"She'll be fine," he replied, sheathing his weapon. "Simply a bit damaged by the abrupt stop."
Your fault, was said beneath the words. His companion stiffened.
"Wasn't my damn fault. Soon as we take the guards out, those horses started bucking around like it was a goddamn field day."
The sheer incompetence of the statement sent yet another trill of vexation thrumming through the man's core. He fought the urge to sigh.
"Did ya see the inside? Entire thing near plated in gold," another stated, hauling a bag over his shoulder as he approached the two. "The hell would you even need that much gold for?"
The other whooped, hand slapping against the man's shoulder. "Doesn't really matter, considering the huge payday we'll be seeing soon." He cackled. "God, think of the fortune we're gonna make from the carriage alone: I heard armor-absorbant magic is on the market for 300,000 jewels." His eyes slid to each of the fallen guards. "And that's not even counting the major payload the little brat's gonna land us."
The girl's blonde hair was limp against her head, and her form seemed frail beneath the pale moonlight.
"Where do you think she'll land?" one asked, curious.
The first man let out a hum. "Heard the next caravan out is headin' to Bosco," he said. "But hell, with a lineage like hers and that doe-eyed look, I'm sure she'll be getting bids from all over the continent."
"It doesn't really matter."
The two men turned to look at him.
"What does," he said, leaning down and picking the girl up, "is making sure we leave the area with as little a trace as possible."
They blinked, grinned, and nodded, scooping up bags of their own. The entire carriage was stripped of every ornament; the guards, driver, and maid looted of their worth and placed carefully back inside the vehicle; the horses put to sleep by a charmed ring. The band of figures, each holding his own, fair share of goods, disappeared into the woods, save for him, placing his hand against the carriage.
There was a moment of still silence, before a red circle glowed beneath his hand. The carriage erupted, a beacon of flashing light that burned hotter than the sun, flames twirling up to the heavens.
He backed away.
The flames died down. It was as if the coach was never there, the only hint of something existing in its spot a sizable scorch mark. Not even skeletons remained. Bits of ash danced through the air. The wind howled.
The wind howled.
V.
It would not be until the late afternoon the next day when a group of soldiers would stumble upon the scene. The air would be tinged with the scent of smoke and the ground would be dusted in soot. There would be a mad dash to the nearest city and lacrima, where the head investigator of the case would alert the families of the missing about the discovery of the clue, and every official in all of Fiore would scramble to find the next missing puzzle piece to the abduction.
They'd work, determined, without sleep, picking apart every crevice of the woods.
It would be a fruitless endeavor.
For Lucy Heartfilia was already gone.
[a/n]:
wow, what a great, totally-not-conspicuous ending! great also lucy is not dead just so you know
hello! Thanks for reading the first chapter! I know that long author's notes can be a bit irritating, but I need to make some things clear before this story really starts.
Honestly I'm not too sure where this plot is headed, but in essence, if you couldn't get it from the vague summary and odd little first chapter, this story pertains to Lucy being kidnapped and taken away from her home at a young age. I want to make it explicitly clear that this story isn't to "bash" canon Lucy or write a "Lucy gets strong (and pretty OP)" story. I absolutely adore Lucy Heartiflia and her character in canon and think she's pretty badass! Simply, I wanted to see what would happen if she grew up in a completely different environment, how her personality would change, et cetera. That being said, for obvious reasons she'll be using different forms of magic and fighting styles and her personality will be different, as well, but I will do my very best to prevent her from morphing into an outlandish Mary Sue or OC.
There will be some OCs in this story. Literally, everyone in this chapter except for Lucy is an original character. I know that some people get pretty turned off by a hefty bit of OCs in fanfiction, but bear with me? It's kind of hard to avoid in a story like this. Obviously, when we reach the start of the Fairy Tail plotline and our familiar friends come into play there won't be near as many, but until then (which will be a bit because haha man my pace is slow as hell) be prepared for some original faces. For example: I put Ami in this chapter, simply put, because Miss Spetto is really the only named maid for the Heartfilia's and I didn't feel inclined to kill her off lmao
Whilst this story is rated T at the moment, it may be bumped up to M if issues arise.
Any ships within this story will not make an appearance for a long while.
Also, just a precaution...? I haven't looked within the Fairy Tail fanfiction section for awhile and I am unaware if anything like this story currently exists, and if it does, I have no intention of plagiarizing or stealing ideas. That basically goes for anything within this story.
And lastly, please review! It helps me know how I can improve my writing and keeps me motivated.