The honeyed tones floated to her ears, a smile tugged on her sleepy face. She could feel the warmth of the morning sun on her arm, and she shifted to burrow down into the cocoon of her blankets. Her nose tickled against the comforter and she inhaled the familiar scent that never failed to bring her happiness as she was roused from her slumber.
Home.
Ebony eyes fluttered open, a hand lifting to shield her from the brightness that filtered into the room that was suffused with light. She felt dwarfed in such a large bed, her toes barely reached the middle of the bed, and it was as if she had been swallowed by a marshmallow the way she had sunk into the soft mattress.
As her eyes adjusted to the light, she frowned as her gaze took in her surroundings. Walls of pretty pink adorned with hand-painted murals of fairy tales. A princess in a tall tower and a black fire breathing dragon that wrapped around that spiralling tower, his mouth open and ready to incinerate anyone that dared to approach.
Lucy knew that she was meant to fear the dragon, to believe that it had captured the princess and held her prisoner, but that was not what she saw. To her eye the dragon was protecting the princess, there was a door at the base of the tower and it was held ajar, not locked tight. The princess and the dragon were friends, not enemies.
A majestic black dragon with gold-flecked spikes that ran along its spine from head to tail, a beast of tremendous power and strength, and a simple fair haired princess that held her hand out and offered friendship where most would cower back in fear. A mere human girl the princess may be, but she held power over the mighty beast who would purr at her feet and protect her back for now and always.
But why was she here?
This was her childhood bedroom, and she no longer belonged here. Lucy stared in confusion at all the little trinkets that were displayed on shelves along the walls, each one held its own memories and most had been lost to her in the process of growing up and moving on.
She was walking across the floor without realising she had slipped from the plush bed, her toes sinking into the snow white carpet as she padded ever closer. A small hand reached for the glass orb that sat prominently on the middle shelf, cradling it like a precious treasure in tiny fingers. A beautiful mermaid sat within the ornate snowglobe, sat coyly on a rock with her face hidden by the curtain of her windswept hair. The brilliant blue scales of the mermaid's tail reflected the light and danced in Lucy's eyes.
Her eyes swam with tears, had this been the last present she had received from her mother? How old had she been at the time? Lucy gently replaced the snowglobe before the tremble in her hands became too fierce and she feared she would drop it.
Sweet lilting singing grew louder, she recognised it as what had caused her to stir from her sleep. It sounded like it came from down the hall. The melody was familiar and filled her with a warmth that soaked into her soul, replacing the tears that she had shed with smiles and happy laughter.
Lucy glanced down, she looked as she had aged around six or seven, but never did she go to bed dressed in such regal looking gowns. The pale pink chiffon fabric of the dress rustled as her fingers pinched the unfamiliar material. The skirt fell to her ankles and the sleeves billowed at her elbows, golden thread spread across the bodice in exquisite intricate patterns and she could not recall ever owning a dress like this.
The singing began to crescendo, calling to her like a siren song and pulling her out of her curiosity about the outfit. She moved forward, gently pulled on seemingly invisible threads that wrapped around her ankles and wrists. Lucy was a marionette, bound to do as her master commanded, and right now she was edging closer to the beautiful music.
The hallway was almost entirely pitch black, and that made no sense. Had the sun not shone in her bedroom moments ago? A door stood ajar at the end of the corridor, light spilt forth and illuminated the path that she was to take whether she wanted to or not. She chose not to fight against the thrum of power that coaxed her forward, it rippled up her spine but it certainly did not feel malicious. A timid hand pressed against the white door, it swung on smooth hinges and the song faltered for a second.
"Ally bally, ally bally bee,
Sittin' on yer mammy's knee,
Greetin' for a wee bawbee,
Tae buy some Coulter's candy."
Lucy was sat upon a warm lap, a brush being gently pulled through her long golden locks as she listened to the song she had heard a million times in her youth. She peeked over her shoulder and stared up into the face of her mother.
She blinked back the tears, not wishing for them to obscure her vision.
Her mother looked almost ethereal, bathed in a soft white light that she appeared to emit from her very soul. Her own blonde hair was pulled into a loose bun that sat atop her head, strands falling artistically to frame her delicate face. Long sweeping black lashes fanned her porcelain cheeks, and a tender smile played on her lips as she crooned her lilting song once again. Those eyes, they were not as dark as Lucy's own, they looked like rich melted chocolate flecked with swirling caramel and they froze her to the spot. She didn't dare look away, scared that even blinking would cause her to vanish from sight. Her small shoulders shook as she fought back the sobs that were struggling to escape.
Her mother sensed her distress, hands lifting to turn Lucy's gaze back to the dresser that sat before them as she resumed the hair brushing.
"Lucy, sweetie. I don't have long," her mother implored. She had so many questions, each one fought against another until all words became a jumbled mess, stuck fast in her throat, choking her.
"Beware men who accept no cups,
Guard your heart against those who seek to crush it,
Remember even in the darkest night,
Light can always be found."
Lucy frowned, it had almost sounded like a chant that had left her mother's lips, her voice was stilted and rigid. The brush was held aloft against her head but it was frozen in place, and Lucy felt the icy cold that crept over her skin and burrowed deep into her bones. She trembled and swung her head around to look at her mother, and a blood-curdling scream ripped from her throat.
Layla Heartfilia sat with unseeing eyes, milky white and lifeless as they stared straight ahead. One tear fell down her cheek, but it was no normal tear, the crimson blood left its mark on her pale skin. As the bloody tear reached her chin and dripped onto Lucy's pink dress, her cheeks started to crumble to ash, her body caving in on itself.
A black curtain descended over Lucy's vision, and in the blink of an eye, she was back in her childhood bedroom. No singing could be heard, no fairy tale murals decorated the walls and no light shone in the room.
Lucy was alone.
Lucy Heartfilia awoke with a jolt, her eyes briefly opened and noted the dark that still pressed heavily against the curtained windows. She rolled over, slipping soundlessly back into slumber and promptly forgot all about the dream and her mother's warning.
~.~
It wasn't until the sun was high in the winter sky that Lucy awoke again, her arms stretching high into the air as she grumbled and groaned. She had moved into this quaint little flat a month ago, but she was still not used to how cold it got in the morning. The antiquated windows let chilly drafts in through gaps that could not be blocked up despite her repeated attempts to do so. Lucy shivered, debating for a moment on whether she should pull the covers back up and try to force herself back to sleep, at least she would stay warm that way.
Whilst it was indeed a tempting thought, she really wasn't tired anymore, in fact, she was feeling remarkably full of beans. The thought that the last dregs of jet lag and time adjustments must be out of her system was a welcome one. Lucy had been shocked with the absolute crushing lethargy that had pressed down upon her after arriving in Edinburgh. Once the initial excitement and nerves had subsided after the gruelling nine-hour flight, she had collapsed down on her little sofa and fallen almost immediately to sleep.
That had been a mistake.
Awaking hours later in the dead of night with energy buzzing through her veins, Lucy had set down to the task of unpacking her three large suitcases that held everything she had brought to start a new life. It hadn't taken her long to realise that her floorboards were rather old, making them creak in places and she feared what her downstairs neighbour would think of the crazy Canadian that wandered her flat at all hours of the night.
But that had been weeks ago, and with each night that rolled around where she would toss and turn until the wee small hours. Each day where she struggled to keep her eyes open in the early afternoon, she had started to fear that something much worse was at play, but now it seemed that the fog had finally cleared.
As Lucy gazed up at the weird Artex ceiling of her bedroom, the bumps and ridges swirled into spiral-like vortexes and they always unnerved her, she realised she had nothing but time on her hands. Having decided to make the move months before she would start at University, and with no job or friends, it could be rather lonely at times. She refused to let such negativity filter into her mood, this had been the best decision she had ever made, the most crucial of life choices and she would do everything in her power to prove that she had done the right thing.
Lucy was proud that she had found the courage to move halfway across the world. She had always felt an overwhelming pull towards Scotland, it made sense considering it was where her mom was from, but it was more than that. Lucy could not seem to find the correct words to describe how she had felt about the country. A place she had never visited but there was an undeniable connection that spoke of more than simple heritage links, almost as if she were destined to be there.
Her mom had chosen the love of her would-be husband over the love of her home, uprooting herself and moving to Canada after only knowing Jude Heartfilia for a few short months. It had been more than just moving to a new country, Layla had cut all connections to her friends and family, and chose never to return. Despite this, she would speak of Scotland often. Lucy would listen enraptured by the tales she would tell of the exciting places she had lived and visited, the history that poured from the very soil, and sometimes Lucy had not known if her mom was weaving fairy tales in amongst her truth.
Perhaps she could do some more sightseeing? There was still so much to see and do, she wanted to make the most of her months before academia would consume her world and time. A stack of brochures and leaflets lay in a cluttered mess on the rickety kitchen table, she really needed to take the time to sit down and conjure a plan of attack, but that could wait for another day.
Lucy scurried to the bathroom, squeaking when her bare arms, legs and toes felt the stinging cold that had flooded the flat, and she wasted no time in running a nice warm bath. She scrolled on her phone as she waited for the hot water to fill the antique tub, the bathroom filling nicely with clouds of vanilla-scented steam.
Having lived in Canada her entire life she was used to the cold, although Vancouver was most definitely warmer than other parts, she still saw her fair share of snow and freezing temperatures. Somehow Edinburgh was different, the cold here had a way of settling deep into her bones, and making her feel like she would never truly warm up again.
Not to mention the rain, my goodness she had never experienced rain like it in all her life. There had been a solid week where the downpour had never halted for even a second. Lucy had never considered how much variety that rain held. In that week she had experienced the faint spots of rain that no one seemed to acknowledge, great lashing sheets of rain that crashed against windows as if caught in the middle of a raging sea storm, and most dreaded of all, the drizzle that looked light but soaked you to the skin in minutes.
Moving here in December possibly wasn't the best idea, she could have held off until the spring months but once Lucy had a goal in mind, nothing would dissuade her until she saw it through. A trait that most certainly she had inherited from her father, not that she was willing to acknowledge that fact, only further cementing her own stubbornness.
Speaking of her father, not even a year had passed since he had lost the battle against his broken heart. What startled her the most about that realisation, was that she did not miss him. To Lucy, she had lost her father on the same day that she lost her mother.
To Jude Heartfilia the unbearable likeness that Lucy held of his now-deceased wife was a constant reminder of what he had lost, and he avoided Lucy like the plague. A permanent wedge had been placed between them, and in the end, nothing had been able to overcome it. Not even on his deathbed had he welcomed his daughter, his only child. His private doctor had broken the news to her of his passing and she hadn't known what to say, she had been numb to it.
Now at the age of twenty-three, she was without any known family and living halfway across the world from where she had grown up. It may seem like a scary prospect to most, but to Lucy this was freedom. Here no one knew her, didn't feel the sway that her family name held back home, and she could do as she wished. Lucy no longer had to analyse whether friends were actually only friends with her because of the power of the Heartfilia name. Too many times had her fingers been burned by the vultures that clawed their way to her side in the hopes of gaining a little of that status for themselves. Acting like poisonous snakes that fought amongst each other to gain her favour, it had been sickening to witness.
Dear old dad would probably roll over in his grave at the thought of his sole heir abandoning the family business, putting it in the care of the board of directors and effectively wiping her hands clean of the whole sorry mess. He had never entertained any of Lucy's ideas for career choices, it had been preposterous that his daughter would not take over from him when he retired, or more preferably, a son-in-law. Even if he refused to acknowledge her physical presence, Lucy was still a Heartfilia and she had duties to fulfil.
Can you see me now, dad? Fuck the business!
Lucy had spent so long trapped within her own mind that the bath had almost overfilled before she realised. Water had sloshed over the sides as she sank beneath the surface, but she didn't care, the heat was far too soothing to be concerned over the mess she would have to clean up later. That was future Lucy's problem.
~.~
Lucy had dressed as warmly as she could. Thick woollen socks tucked both into her jeans and black boots, a cream sweater layered under her winter coat and a matching cream hat with a fluffy pompom atop was pulled down until her ears were covered from the elements. She rechecked her bag, rifling through it rather carelessly before she threw it over her neck and fumbled for her keys.
The key got stuck as it always did, she jiggled it around until it finally became free and she rolled her eyes at the nonsense routine that she had with this damn door. With her phone tucked deep in her pocket she began the careful descent down the worn and uneven spiral staircase that would lead her outside.
It was a beautiful day in the capital, the sky was a bright blue and the sun peeked through the sparse fluffy white clouds, blinding pedestrians as they busied along the streets. It was, however, freezing cold and puffs of misty breath rose in front of her face as she stopped to get her bearings.
The Old Town was twisted and winding, with hidden closes or 'wynds' as they were called here, treacherously steep steps, and cobbled roads and streets. It almost felt frozen in time, the shops were so vastly varied as they ranged from a year-round Christmas shop to alternative clothing stores to quaint little boutiques that catered specifically to clothing for dogs! She had spent a great deal of time exploring each of the stores that stood just outside the close to her flat.
There were some gorgeous little coffee houses, and Lucy had spent a fantastic night inside The Piper's Rest, a warm welcoming local bar and restaurant.
~.~
It had been blowing a gale on that particular evening, Lucy had been entirely unprepared as she had ventured out to explore her new surroundings and had eventually dashed inside the nearest place that was still open.
She had been greeted with a warm smile, a beautiful white blonde haired girl had hurried forward and taken in the sorry state of Lucy with a chuckle. "Did you get caught in the gale? Poor lass, come me with and we'll fix you right," she had said, gesturing Lucy to follow until she was seated near the main bar.
The room was filled with dark antique woods and well-worn leather seats. The walls were lined with the lids of whisky casks embedded within them, light spilling forth from the edges. The opposite wall from where she sat was scattered with black and white photos and pencil drawings of faces she did not quite recognise, and various antlers of every size adorned the walkway.
Her fascinated gaze turned to where she had come from, the jutting ceiling beams had words written across them in white paint, the one nearest had read, "Every man Dies, Not Every man Lives". The bar smelled of peaty, smoky whisky, comforting food and a hint of lavender. Lucy found the place instantly calming, and despite the dark interior, it was lit with a soft glow that poured warmth in an abundance.
It felt like a place that both locals and tourists alike enjoyed, sitting side by side as the world passed on by outside this bubble of peace. On this wild evening, there were not many people to be found, and she had promised to herself that she would return another night to experience the true buzz of this bar.
"I'm Mirajane, but you can call me Mira, everyone does," the friendly blonde had said, pulling Lucy's attention back to her presence. "Would you like a drink?"
"Oh, yes, please. Something warm, coffee maybe?" Lucy had gushed, the chatter returning to her teeth as she remembered how freezing it had been outside. The wind whipped against the door, rattling at the windows and leaves were being hurled full force in the dark night. It was indeed a night where very few would dare to venture out, although there were those that moved about in the darkness to avoid the prying of curious eyes.
Mira had giggled, "how about something else, let me treat you to a house special. It'll warm you right up, I'll be right back." With those faintly ominous words, she had bustled behind the bar, turning away from Lucy as she lifted various bottles and mixed this 'house special'.
She had only been gone minutes before she returned with the drink in hand and a menu held under her arm. "Here you go, Sláithe! I'll pop back in a few, have a look and see if you fancy a bite whilst you're here," she had enthused, rocking merrily on the balls of her feet as she handed over the menu then disappeared.
Lucy had eyed the drink, it was a cloudy yellowy-orange colour with a slice of lemon floating on the surface, and she hadn't been sure if this was a good idea or not. After a moment of debate, she lifted the cut crystal tumbler and had been shocked to discover it was warm to the touch.
With caution she had put her nose to it, the intense scent of cinnamon, cloves, lemon and honey wafted into her head and wrapped her senses in a cozy blanket. She braved a sip and sighed in delight, the taste danced happily on her tongue. Warming spices mixed with the sweetness of aromatic honey and the tang of the citrus, it was delicious and then the kick came. Lucy had coughed as the back of her throat was hit with the whisky, it was strong and it burned for a moment before the soothing honey and lemon swept the burn aside.
Mira had certainly been correct, this definitely worked on improving her mood as well as heating up her cold body.
It had been a night of many firsts; her first ever hot toddy which is what the house special turned out to be, her first visit to this inviting bar, and her first ever taste of haggis. How Mira had managed to persuade her into trying the dish, she would never know. Perhaps the fog of alcohol had been quick to descend on her after a life of mostly sobriety, or maybe Mira simply had a silver tongue that nobody could refuse her suggestions. Either way, it had tasted like nothing she had ever eaten before, and if she didn't think too closely over what it was made of, she had to admit she had liked it a lot.
Lucy learned a lot about the lovely Mira that evening, she owned The Piper's Rest along with her younger brother and sister. It had once been a dank little pub that only the most hardened of men dared to step foot into. Known for bar brawls, pickpocketing and all manner of debauchery, Mira and her siblings had worked hard to rebuild it from the foundations into what it was today.
She had been so easy to talk to, the gentle blonde offered unconditional friendship and Lucy had felt comfortable enough to share a part of herself too. It felt like she held the kindling of her first new friendship, Lucy vowed to protect that kindling and feed it often until it blazed brightly.
She had returned to her empty flat in a much better mood, overjoyed with having discovered the potential of a new friend and full from her hearty meal. The cold could not touch her on that night although it tried its best. Lucy fell into bed with a grin on her face, sleep overcame her fast and if someone had been looking upon her, they might have noted the faint glow that seemed to burst from her soul.
~.~
Lucy rubbed her hands together, bringing her thoughts back to the present as she stepped from the close onto the cobbled street. With her destination in mind, she turned in the direction of Calton Hill and smacked right into a walking pile of books with tufts of wild blue hair peeking over the top.
"Shite!" came the angry cry from a soft feminine voice that sounded far too gentle to be speaking such profanity.
The human pile of books and Lucy crashed to the cold pavement.
