Hello everyone! This is my very first story that I have released to the public. I don't want to do too long of an Author's note, I know that turns a lot of ya'll off. But I would love to hear if you all would like to hear more of this story or if I should keep it as a one-shot. I do have a deeper plot in mind and a lot more written. This idea was inspired by the wonderful Buberryz on tumblr, who drew a super cute piece of fanart years ago that inspired me to write this tale (if you would also like to see this inspiration look here: : / / . / / t a - - - f o r - ).
Now enough of my chatty self! Please enjoy the story, and of course all character/idea creds go to the wonderful Hiro Mashima.
PROLOGUE
The Kingdom of Fiore is only one of dozens in the land, but it is one of the most prosperous.
It sits nestled at the top of a towering mountain, hugged by lush forests on one side and a teeming ocean on the other. A lazy river-too small to become dangerous yet big enough to provide for the people-cuts through the Capital of Magnolia, dotted with the occasional bridge and quite empty of boater traffic at the current time of night. The cobbled roads twist and turn throughout the town with no rhyme or reason, leading to little houses and shops that have a spark of life to them even when closed. On the outside of town, perched at the edge of a jagged ocean cliff, sits a Magnificent Castle. What makes the building so spectacular is the unique rock that it is carved from, deep from the heart of Mt. Hakobe, and the way it catches and reflects light, acting as a beacon for her people.
It is inside this castle that our story begins; on a balmy night at the beginning of July, in the year of 770.
CHAPTER ONE
Jude & Layla Heartfilia, circa 770
"Throw open a window, we need some air in here! And I want all but one of you out, the less stress the better!" In response to the command a window at the highest turret was thrown open wide, and a great number of feet filed out of the royal chambers. Upon a large bed lay the Queen of this land, her normally regal face contorted with pain and soaked with sweat. She was propped up with many pillows, reclining upon them with legs spread wide for the healers in the room. Her large stomach gave a shudder at the same time she let out a blood curdling scream, and crimson began to stain the white bedding beneath her.
"What is happening? What's wrong?!" The man beside the bed could be no other than the king. He was a great bear of a man with wide shoulders and a barrel chest, his jaw strong and features regal. When he spoke people listened, plain and simple, but the stout little healer paid him no heed as she called to her one other assistant in the room.
"We're going to have to give her essence of poppy, the child is in distress and she's too exhausted to continue right now. She needs to rest. Are you confident enough to administer it?" After she received a nod of confirmation the Healer known as Merrythought turned and grabbed the King's arm, guiding him into a corner of the room.
"She is dying, your highness, and there is nothing I can do. Her recent sickness has left both her and the baby weak- they simply do not have the strength to make it through the night." The proud King sucked in a terrified breath, brown eyes wide with horror as they simply stared uncomprehendingly at the woman who had helped his own mother deliver her children.
"There must be something, anything. I will sell my soul if I must," he said feverishly, grabbing the old Healer's hand as he looked at her in desperation. She hesitated, but the look in his eyes is what prompted her to speak,"...There may be one other way, your highness, but it is a crazy way, and one that may not even exist..." Merrythought trailed off in uncertainty.
"I order you to tell me at once- your Queen's life is at stake here!"
The old woman sighed sadly, feeling that no good would come of this.
"Have you ever heard of a magic golden flower?"
Over 200 men were sent to scour the mountainside and forest, the two main places where the magical flower was rumored to be. Despite all that man power it was still surprising that it took an astounding two and a half hours to locate, discovered by a group of four soldiers famous to the Kingdom.
"Makarov, I found it! Craziest thing too, it's just sitting here in the open glowing like crazy- how has someone not seen it before?" The men gathered around it, gazing with interest at the intricate petals that did indeed glow a warm golden color. Just being close to it made one feel strong and healthy, filling them with hope for their Queen as they carefully dug it up and returned to the castle. Little did they know what lurked in the shadows, hidden between the trees with eyes glinting greedily in the low light.
Merrythought the Healer was beside herself when she was given the magical herb that had been whispered and rumored of for generations. Unfortunately there was no time to marvel over it, or even take notes, for Queen Layla and her unborn child were hanging onto life by a thread. The beautiful petals were put into a pot of boiling water, where they began to disintegrate at an unusually fast rate. When the petals were no more the water lit up brighter than a bonfire, and the mixture was no longer boiling hot but pleasantly warm. Since it would be quite useless to add any of her own herbs, Merrythought poured as much as she could into a goblet and walked carefully to the Queen's bedside. Her Majesty was gaunt, and so pale that she might've been dead if not for the sweat running down her face and the weak way her chest heaved with every breath. The essence of Poppy had put her into a restless sleep, making it easy enough for them to wake her and press the gilded cup to her lips.
Queen Layla drank greedily, becoming stronger with every gulp, until she suddenly sat up and grabbed the cup herself to continue. Golden liquid splashed onto her chest as she chugged, but it seemed to be immediately absorbed by her skin, not a drop wasted. Everyone in the room held their breath as they watched; the cup now sat empty in her lap, and an odd sort of stillness washed over them as they waited for the worst. Right before their eyes she began to fill out; no longer looking like a skeleton as flesh returned to her bones and her skin began to take on a healthy, rosy flush. Layla's relaxed expression morphed into a tired grin as a baby's cry cut through the silence, bringing everyone out of their stunned trance. Merrythought immediately scooped the child from the puddle of blood it rested in, taking it over to a large basin of lukewarm water where she washed and took the vitals of the Kingdom of Fiore's new heir to the throne.
The King drew in a shaky breath of air, tears streaming down his aristocratic features as he gathered his wife into his arms and held her close.
"I was so scared we wouldn't make it, Jude, so scared..." Layla's voice was slurred from exhaustion, nestling her head into the crook of his neck while her arms went around his broad shoulders. Within seconds of being in this position she was asleep; her soft, even breaths so much stronger than the wheezing she had been doing earlier, and he sighed in relief that the danger was over. The Healer's assistant hurriedly changed the blood-soaked bed covers while he held his wife, helping him settle her onto the mattress without a jolt once she was done. He nodded in thanks and quietly murmured that she was dismissed, pressing two fat golden coins into her hand that she took with excited eyes.
"Your Majesty- would you like to meet your daughter?" Merrythought's whispered words brought his attention to the corner by the open window, which he approached slowly and rather nervously. Before he had the chance to protest his newborn daughter was settled into his arms, swaddled in a white blanket that bore the Heartfilia crest. Her little heart shaped face was identical to her mother's, as were her cheeks and nose, but she had his eyes and chin, he noticed, and even got a little crinkle in her brow when she got upset- just like him. Jude traced a gentle line down her soft cheek, and stared in fascination as wide brown eyes opened to stare blearily up at him. Her little face scrunched up, preparing to cry, until he let out a soft "Shh shhh" and rocked the small body against his chest, talking to her just like he had when she was inside her mother. The child seemed to recognize his voice instantly, for she quieted and let out a soft coo of happiness, a tiny fist breaking out of its warm prison to grip at his lapel while he cuddled her close.
"Thank you so much, Maybelle, if you hadn't been here to help me...If you hadn't known about the flower-," It was too terrible to imagine what would've happened so he cut himself off, and simply gave her a look that he hoped conveyed the overwhelming depths of his thanks.
"You may leave us now, the hour is late and you have done all you can. I will watch over both of them for the night, and In the morning you may check to assure that everything is sound." Merrythought-who was a little flushed from the King using her first name- nodded in understanding and gave a slight bow as she turned to leave. She was about to step into the hallway when she turned around suddenly and addressed the King, "I'm sorry your majesty, but I was wondering if I could inquire about what name you are going to give her?"
King Jude Heartifilia smiled as he looked up from his Daughter's perfect face, and seemed to think for a moment. 'Love and Lucky,' he thought to himself in amusement, before his mind settled on the idea.
"Princess Lucy Heartfilia- has a nice ring to it, eh?"
DECEMBER 15, 772
The Kingdom of Fiore was known for its peacekeeping abilities, using its many available resources as a way to placate the opposition. Yet men are a violent race and despite themselves, despite how many years of peace have been achieved, they cannot help but, once again, be drawn into the maelstrom of war.
"Archers, hold! Wait for your King's signal!" General Makarov's voice boomed out across his battalion; so confident was he that his troops would obey him he didn't even turn, staring stonily ahead from his perch on the Castle wall. Not twenty feet below him his Royal Majesty King Heartfilia was conversing with King Zeref of the Alvarez Kingdom. Tensions were high, and the young-looking ruler had a rude smirk across his face as he said something to King Jude, something that made the King's face turn stony with anger. Their King shouted at his nemesis, hands gesticulating wildly, but the wind carried away all his words, all except one: "NEVER!"
The word was so loud he was sure the entire army could hear, but there was no time to ponder its meaning. The King had signaled by throwing an open hand into the air and closing it into a fist. Chaos came swift and hard soon after as archers from both sides launched their projectiles, ground troops drawing their swords with cries of valor and vengeance. Makarov prepared himself, pulling the large war axe from its resting place against his back. General Dreyar was a small man- a mere 4'6- with graying hair, a less than sunny disposition, and he absolutely loved when people underestimated him. His trusty war axe was bigger than him yet was weilded with the ease and skill of a man twice his height and half his age, dancing across the battlefield with glee as he took men down from their knees- those stupid enough to not look down were the first to go.
He had been about to launch himself into the thickest part of the fight when his arm was grabbed roughly, turning to see his King standing before him with the Royal sword of his house unsheathed and covered in blood. "Makarov, I thank you for your help thus far, but I need you to go check on something for me. Zeref said some disturbing things, and I cannot leave them unchecked-" he was cut off by a bright green ball of energy that whizzed past his face and collided with the wall behind them, causing the castle to shudder.
"Shit! They brought a magic user!" Both men turned to look for the person responsible and found her almost immediately, hovering above the battle dressed in a neon green suit that lit up along with its owner every time she lobbed those debilitating balls of energy. "I'm sorry sir, but we need to deal with this before we check on 'something'- hundreds of people will die if we leave them now," Makarov fixed him with a hard look that made the King finally nod in agreement. 'She will be safe with Layla,' he told himself as they charged into the thick of things.
Layla Heartfilia sat on a couch drinking tea as the world above her rumbled and shook, raining the occasional cloud of dust on them. Her hands clenched around the delicate china, frustrated that she was sitting here uselessly, when her eyes caught sight of her daughter. Lucy sat calmly on the carpeted floor, playing with her colorful blocks and dolls, not even flinching at the noise around her. She was a beautiful child with skin like porcelain and plump, rosy cheeks. The one oddity about her was her hair. It grew at an alarming rate-they cut it twice a week and it still hung heavy and thick at her waist- and was an unusual color; not strawberry blonde like her, or the sandy blonde locks of her father, but a bright golden color- that tended to shine when exposed to the full moon. They all suspected that these were blessings from the magic flower that had saved her life, so nobody questioned it save for an odd little nursemaid that seemed quite obsessed with Lucy's unique hair.
The Queen had just started to relax when a young squire came charging into the room, covered in sweat and dust. His eyes were wide with terror, blood leaking from his ears and a wound in his shoulder. "We-we need you your highness," he gasped out, stumbling forward and grabbing her shoulders in desperation "They brought a magic user and she is too much for us- everyone else is gone- on a mission-"
The boy could be no older than 18, collapsing into her arms before a guard rushed up and pulled him back onto his feet. He seemed to be gathering himself, throat bobbing as he swallowed then locked eyes with her, "only the King and Makarov dare fight against her- they have no chance, her power is crazy!" That was all the boy could manage before he passed out quite spectacularly, and her Guard looked disgruntled to be stuck holding such a man.
"Wakaba you will stay here, guard princess Lucy with your life, and I will go assist my husband," she held up a hand when he made to protest, her usual kind brown eyes now flinty as she stared him down, "If Alvarez and Zeref get through, if they kill our King, then they will surely reach us and we will be killed as well. I will return. I swear it." Layla wouldn't give him time to talk as she darted forward and scooped up a ring of beautiful keys from the side table before kneeling down in front of her daughter. "My little dove, be safe until I return, yes? Mama loves you," she gathered her child in her arms, cuddling her close and kissing every part of her face until she began to giggle. "Love you too, Mama," Lucy squealed in delight, wrapping her arms tightly around the neck of the woman that was currently her entire world. Layla smiled and stood up, cradling Lucy in her arms as she walked over to Wakaba. Once he had the child tears began to form in her eyes and she quickly turned away, fleeing the room as fast as she could lest she turn and go back to her daughter.
As the door swung shut the room took on an ominous sort of silence; like the very stones were holding their breath in dread of the coming battle. "You seem to have been born at quite a dangerous time, little one. We must be strong together, eh? Always look on the bright side." He addressed the little angel in his arms with a sad sort of smile, one that quickly turned into a grimace of pain as she reached up a small hand and tugged on the young hairs of his brand new beard.
His yelp amused her and she gave, not a giggle, but a full bellied St. Nicholas laugh that had him chuckling along with her. He walked to her play area and sat down with her in his lap, allowing the young princess to relax for a second before crawling off to do her own thing.
Out on the battlefield Makarov and King Heartfilia struggled against the woman in green, her high pitched laugh reaching such a level on the decibel scale that ears began to bleed. She lobbed bowling ball sized spheres of green energy that were debilitating- Makarov had seen some poor soul get hit in the chest and dissolve completely.
The old General had long since put his own power into play, now standing nearly as tall as the castle. He was so huge her power merely felt like the prick of a needle, but it wasn't getting him anywhere and he couldn't maintain it forever. The damn witch was like a fly, using gossamer wings to dart out of the way too fast to even see. If he wasn't so pissed he would give her credit for taking out nearly an entire battalion by herself.
Jude wasn't having much luck either, and seeing how he didn't have any powers, it was a wonder how he had managed to land the hits he had. With the two most powerful men engaged in a battle for their lives, the fighting force of Fiore began to fall apart. No time to give orders meant the lower level superiors had no direction, and nothing to tell their soldiers. This created a domino effect, starting with the cowardly and ending with the leaders themselves abandoning their posts. Alvarez began to retreat, their devious king having disappeared after employing one of his most distracting lieutenants. A wave of foreboding washed over Makarov when he noticed this, and his attention swept the once-crowded battlefield.
In a remarkably fast amount of time all that remained was the blood soaked grass, and the hundreds of bodies that had caused it. The sight was a wake-up call, and he realized that this was a distraction, but he did not know the reason. What could Zeref be planning? What- all thought was interrupted by a tidal wave of water roaring down the field, and the General barely had enough time to pluck the King up into safety. Water swirled around his knees, now tinted red with blood, and a startled shriek rang out. Seems like the Electric-Bitch hadn't been fast enough.
"It seems like you need to pick on somebody your own size, Uila… How about I be the first in line?" A cold, calculating grin stood out on Queen Layla's face as she strode onto the battlefield. She was still dressed in the finest silks, but didn't seem phased by the mixture of blood and dirt that was soaking the hem of her dress. Aquarius floated a little ways ahead of her with the usual scowl, arms outstretched as she controlled the water. Another muffled shriek of mingled terror and anger was her only response as the water that flooded the field shuddered and began to coalesce around her body, sticking like glue.
"L-layla...n-n-no...d-d-danger...p-p-p-p-protect," Makarov looked down as the king attempted to jump out of his arms, surprised that he was even conscious after all the electrical shocks he had been given. His hair stood on end, smoking at the tips, and every muscle in his body twitched from all the excess energy.
"Don't you worry sir, Queen Layla is whooping her ass quite spectacularly. We just need to sit back and enjoy the show," A satisfied grin the size of a carriage split his large face, and he allowed himself to slowly shrink back to regular size once the water had lowered enough to wade through. It looked like the battle was about to climax between the two mages, but the Alvarian Lieutenant surprised them all when, instead of fighting, she let off a massive surge of energy in an obvious last ditch effort.
It was enough to vaporize the water, and she flew into the sky so fast that she left a small sonic boom in her wake. Hands clapped to ears as they watched her flee, and everyone looked at each other in bewilderment; asking themselves if that had really just happened. Makarov and Layla were the only two strong enough to manage non-committal shrugs, and after waving off the incident they decided to attend to the King. It was a lot easier to think of Uila as a coward than to consider other possible ramifications.
With Jude supported between the two of them they made their way slowly and laboriously toward the castle, seeing the occasional corpse or fleeing soldier on their journey, but no enemies. Makarov thanked the gods for that small mercy, and within fifteen minutes they had the king over the drawbridge and into the hands of Senior Healer Merrythought . The main courtyard had been turned into a trauma center, and the five healers that they kept on hand looked overwhelmed by the amount of wounded soldiers pouring in. There hadn't been time to call in more from further inland before the battle had started. Alvarez was cruel that way, something that all Kingdoms in the land could agree on.
"You stay with him and get yourself looked after as well, Makarov. I'm going to check on Lucy and then return- I'm not the best healer but I've enough experience to be useful," Layla spoke up only once her husband was being tended to, and the old General could tell that she was picking up on the same uneasiness that he had felt. A brisk nod from him was all she needed to be off, weaving her way through the injured masses to the stairwell that would take her to the lowest levels.
Only a few minutes of walking the stone steps and all commotion outside was cut off abruptly, the type of silence that could only be found underground pressing upon her ears. If not for the wrought-iron torches lodged into the stone at various intervals, Layla was sure that she would've fallen and broken her neck. Her thoughts turned inward as she followed the spiraling pathway down, wondering for perhaps the hundredth time why Uila had fled.
Over the years they had faced each other multiple times, and although Layla had usually come out the victor (especially in recent years) Uila always proved to be a challenge. The fact that she would run away so early in the battle, without at least getting a few punches of her own in was just...weird. Mind-bogglingly weird.
Distraction followed her as she came to the room that functioned as a sort of living room/study for the bunker, and it was the place that Layla always liked to hide out in if she was forced down here. The room was filled to the brim with books held on shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, and Jude always joked that she couldn't be comfortable without a book in arms reach. Darkness greeted her when she opened the door, and her brow furrowed in confusion, her shock rather delayed. The idea of danger within the castle walls was as impossible to her as the sun rising in the West. It just didn't happen.
"Mama!" Lucy's terrified shriek was enough to snap her out of it, and suddenly there was a silver key in her hand, glinting in the faint light from the corridor torches. "Kasai, I call upon thee!" The panic in her voice prompted the spirit to come forth without the usual pomp and circumstance, hovering in front of her with a concerned expression on her face. She was about the size of Lucy, just a little girl, but her entire body was covered in red and orange flames that filled the room with light.
Across the way she could see the crumpled form of Wakaba, his arms outstretched as if grabbing for something, and just a foot away sat Lucy with tears running down her face. Layla had no hesitation as she darted forward, landing hard on her knees in her haste to wrap her arms around her daughter, and a certain amount of relief filled her to feel little hands grip her desperately in return. This relief was short lived, of course, and a gasp of alarm from her spirit had the summoner whipping around to see the wicked tip of a dagger protruding from the Fire spirit's stomach. She instantly released the gate so she could fade back to her own realm, and in the dying light of her flames Layla could just make out the face of their intruder: one of Lucy's handmaiden's, an old woman who was usually so polite and orderly, looked insane at that moment, her hair dirty and mussed, eyes desperate and wild as they fixed on her daughter.
The Queen only had a split second to take this in, however, for a moment later the light was gone, replaced by an inky blackness so complete it was stygian. "Sorry, your highness, but your daughter has something that belongs to me," the raspy voice filled her with terror, and a muffled pop let her know that the witch had done something. She opened her mouth to respond with something scathing before summoning Aquarius, but her words were cut off by a strange smell that invaded her senses.
In an attempt to better place the scent she inhaled deeply, only to realize that was her big mistake. The smell of poppies was overwhelming, and her eyes had already started to droop by the time she realized what was happening. "N...no...Lucy…" her voice was a tired moan, yet she managed to keep her grip on her daughter as her buckling knees took her to the floor. Her hazy brain was desperately trying to work out a plan, but she knew that the crazy woman had won. She would take Lucy.
Using the last of her fading strength Layla Heartfilia blindly gripped her ring of keys and tore off the first two. Shadows hid her as she shakily pulled away the ribbon that held her hair up, stringing it through the delicate instruments before securing it around Lucy's neck. Her next mental command was slurred, but held the power that made her such a powerful mage: 'hide, please, protect my daughter in my name until I can' . Muscles began to seize seconds later, and she was barely able to finish the last knot before she collapsed, a different kind of darkness taking her under without mercy.
Ragged breathing filled the room, and the witch waited a solid minute to light a candle that she had hidden in her robes. Princess Lucy clutched at the prone body of her mother desperately, sobs tearing from her little mouth, and the appearance of a light had her immediate attention. "Shh, little girl… Mama is here to take care of you now, she will take you from this dark and scary place," brown eyes full of innocent trust stared at her unblinkingly, confused, and a triumphant grin spread across the old woman's face as she bent and pulled the girl from her mother.
"Time to go, my little Golden Flower."