Hello everyone! This is the first chapter! It's quite short, but it's something. I had to make chocolates for Valentine's Day, so it's late. :( Sorry! Next chapter will be posted sometime tomorrow. Later on, I'll probably be working on other fanfictions, but I'll pay a lot of attention to this one. More favoriting means less time to wait for the next chapters! Thanks luvs, have fun!
Lucy Heartfilia's annual birthday ball was coming up. The entire country of Magnolia was talking about the festive event at the Heartfilia Manor. Heartfilia Railroads was the most wealthy company in all of Fiore. Being the daughter of the head of the corporation, Jude Heartfilia, Lucy was always being watched and criticized for her actions. Not that she did anything worthy of talking about, but it was known for people to gossip about her. Lucy was turning 17, which meant starting to get suitors directed to her by her father. Lucy hadn't seen Jude in months, and he obviously was too caught up in making money during her party instead of paying attention to her. She didn't want to sound selfish. Lucy didn't mind. After all, she had a whole life to waste attending to her father's needs. She was nothing but an object to be used. The preparations were over-exerting. Lucy spent her days scribbling her signature on invitations to rich families in Fiore, organizing flowers, setting up the hall, and planning everything her father overlooked. Her celestial keys were ripped away from her at 14, and were locked up somewhere by her father. In her free time, she mourned and apologized for the neglection. Lucy had loved her celestial spirits more than anything in her small world. They were here best friends, her only friends.
And they were taken away from her.
The ballroom was lined with regal gold and red sashes and decorations. Dinner tables were on magic floating platforms which were commanded to rise verbally. Jude normally hated magic and avoided it as much as possible, but to stay up to trend, he had to go along with what everyone enjoyed. It was an hour till the ball started, and the servants, maids, and butlers were quite busy. Bustling across rooms and through servant corridors, Lucy helped from time to time, carrying heavy boxes, draping tables with velvet covers, polishing the marble floor. Of course, they insisted she just wait in room, primping herself to the most for her ball. Lucy never agreed with treating other people as lower class. Sh eloved to help her friends in the manor, and it gave her something to do as she was escaping her stylist.
"MADEMOISELLE!"
Lucy cringed at the loud, strict voice that echoed through the hall. A red-haired maid dropped a basket of laundry. Lucy started to run over to help her to pick the clothes up, but a hand grabbed her elbow. She sighed and turned around, predicting the daily, if not hourly, speech that was waiting for her.
"What exactly do you think you are wearing? You are not a commoner! You should be dressed like a princess! The party is open for guests in thirty minutes! You cannot disgrace the entire Heartfilia Railroad system now! Your hair is a mess! *Dramatic Gasp* You don't even have shoes on?! Oh dear, what have I done with my life? Where have I gone wrong?" Madame Rochellé was hysterically shrieking as she dragged Lucy into her vanity room. Plopping down on the uncomfortable stool, she sat still so Madame Rochellé could fix her makeup and hair. Lucy hated wearing makeup. Makeup were like chemicals she could put on her body. They made girls "prettier" and more attractive to the eye. Disgusting. She felt painful tugs from the aggravated Madame Rochellé on her head. Her stylist was pulling her hair into a braided bun. Classic. Petite. It shows that she is regal enough to display her wealth through gold barrettes and dresses. She silently complimented her stylist's sense of fashion and representation through little things. She was one of the best in all of Fiore. Lucy felt prongs touch her scalp and she turned her head. Tears filled her creamy brown eyes and rolled down her rosy cheeks when she saw her mother's silver comb in her bun. She touched the comb and looked hopefully up to the usually frowning women who was smiling warmly. Lucy jumped up from her stool, knocking it down, and hugged Madame Rochelle. Shocked, the stylist almost pulled back, but Lucy locked her in her arms. Rochellé hugged her back and they stayed there in that position until the clock dinged at 2:30 in the afternoon.
"Let's get you fixed up."
Madame Rochellé wiped away the mascara and decided not to replace, much to Lucy's joy.
It was time.
It was starting.