A/N: Thank you everyone for your kind words and patience! I wanted to post this chapter as soon as possible, but certain circumstances led me to delay this story greatly – my computer not working anymore is one of the more prominent obstacles.I apologize beforehand that this chapter is short compared to the others, but from this point, the plot truly begins to develop.
fantabulous: haha, she really should! Yes, in time, I'm planning to develop more of her physical abilities in combat as the story progresses.
Violet in Wonderland: Sorano was actually on a solo mission, per se, to collect more celestial keys for herself. Actually, I was planning to use Caleum in this story! I find it odd that more fanfictions don't feature this particular spirit - a shame, really - considering the potential it has. Haha, yes! A parasol! The one that ladies used to carry around in the Victorian era. Yes, a secretary for the time being, but I have a little plan in mind to where Lucy's career is heading..
I didn't expect to get such wonderful feedback for this story, if I were to be honest. All of your support drove me into continuing this, and I hope I'll have the resolve to finish this story to the end!
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/As•trum/
Noun – Latin
a fixed luminous point in the night sky which is a large, remote incandescent body like the sun.
Mercury
Intellect; Communication; Understanding
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'I'd love to.'
In what trance had she been in when she uttered those words to Yajima?
She is not cut out for this job, not one bit.
Lucy isn't qualified to be an assistant for the life of her—the only reason for her being here is because she managed to obtain a certain number of keys, and the Chairman didn't want her slipping out of his grasp.
Still, it was rather stupid of him to place her in such a dutiful position without prior training.
Already two weeks have passed since she started helping out the tiny, elderly man, and the hovering fact above her head never fails to remind her that one clumsy mismatch could potentially cause severe problems to both parties of Council and civilian Mage alike.
Lucy has never been under such suffocating stress before in her life.
Several copies of the magical protocol rest under her armpit, weighing her down a few notches. She is tired and exhausted and strained—more so than she has ever been in her life. Never had she imagined that this rather small community, in comparison, had that many rules.
Of course, being a Mage herself, she knows quite a handful of them, but the expertise required for this sort of job is overwhelming. According to Yajima, she couldn't start working on her more serious work – her work consisting mostly of paperwork and errands – before she memorizes most of the laws set by the Council.
Which leads her to her current predicament
She sneezes, if notfor the hundredth time today. The dark blue symbol of the Magic Council stitched across the white material of her standard uniform jacket stretches as her small hand comes to cover her nose and mouth alike. She rubs her nose tentatively, feeling the light swell of her cheeks from the allergic reaction the bouquet of flowers in her other hand has caused. She looks down at the lovely arrangement of colorful pollen in her grasp, smiling softly at the note attached to the stems.
'THANKS FOR THE DELICIOUS DINNER YAJI-CHAN – HINA'
It is so heartwarmingly endearing that a man of such a respectable age could find romance.
If only the gracious arrangement of flowers didn't make her head hurt.
She traverses the hallway, observing the flawlessly painted white walls that don't seem to know what peeling paint is. The interior of the Headquarters puts her own home to shame due to the uncountable lacrimas encrusted into the building that gave the whole place a magical lilt.
By the time Lucy rounds the corner to the private study areas, a damp handkerchief rests in her enclosed fist. She sneezes into her palm again, before a voice calls out to her from one of the opened studies.
"Come here." Lucy turns her head to the side, peering through the gap between the door and the wall, her curiously clear and glowing.
She hears the scribbling of a pen brushing across rough paper, accompanied by the sound of light skimming of pages. Her eyes blink sluggishly, her form shifts into the spacious room, and Lucy mouth parts in wonder. The large shelves of books momentarily catch her rapt attention, before a loud exhale makes her turn her head.
She sees the blue-haired man from before, and she realizes that this is the first time she has run into him during her stay here. His rather long legs are placed on the desk's surface as he examines the paperwork in his hands, an utterly disinterested expression painting his tattooed face; it was like he has been staring at drying paint for several hours.
He motions for her to come closer with his fingers, as if she is some kind of unintelligent animal.
Which she presumes is exactly what he thinks of her.
Lucy's jaw clenches, and her grip on the stems becomes a little too tight.
Nevertheless, she complies, coming towards his desk until the tips of her toes meet polished wood. Wordlessly, he places his paperwork atop of a stay stack of books, pauses, and finally gives her the time of day.
Lucy pushes down the urge to scoff as she imagines just what a lovely pictures she paints for him; her nose is running, face blotchy, bags heavy under her eyes, and a bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in hand.
She must look divine, for his eyes shine with unmasked amusement.
"Daisies don't seem to be working for you. I would suggest getting a thornless cactus instead—it would match your dull personality considerably."
And I would offer to stick that cactus right up your—
Lucy bites her cheek to refrain from any indecent comment flying out of her mouth because, at the end of the day, this is still Siegrain Fernandes she is talking to.
"Thank you for your lovely and unwanted suggestion, Siegrain-sama. I'll be sure to send you a bouquet of Monkshood flowers[1] to express my appreciation." She grits out, a forced smile decorating her face, and, as an afterthought, she adds. "It would match your rotting soul nicely."
It is meant to come out as a soft, quiet mutter; one that Lucy hopes doesn't catch in the Councilman's ear.
It does.
The corners of his mouth pull up into a faux, charming smile. "Is that a threat I hear, Heartfilia?"
She bites her lip as her hand unconsciously finds the belt circling her waist, where the handful of shimmering keys rattle ever so slightly. She turns to leave, refusing to let another word slip past her sealed lips.
"You forgot the papers!" Siegrain calls out, baiting the pile of complaints – all, unsurprisingly, due to the Fairy Tail guild – as the blonde Celestial Mage pauses in mid-step.
She senses this is the start of a not-so-beautiful, insult-filled acquaintanceship.
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Her presumptions prove to be correct the following week.
Wiping the slight snot from her nose with the back of her sleeve in sheer disgust and aggravation, Lucy pushes open the heavy iron door to the airy Council meeting room [2]. Her brown eyes drink in the fancy interior while her partially clogged nose picks up the fruity scent of the feast stacked upon the rounded table, which is occupied by the magical authorities.
It was scary the first time—to enter the prestigious space in which the fate of so many was, is, and will be decided.
To say that Lucy is utterly underwhelmed would be an understatement.
She thrives to find out what sorcery the Council members use to complete all of their paperwork so quickly because, as far as the Celestial Mage is aware, she is the only assistant present.
Ever.
She walks up to the tiny old man peering behind thick greying eyebrow, noting the subtle shake that his right hand makes when it reaches out to grasp one of the fruits.
Yajima is clearly catching up to his age little by little—the slight squint the muscles around his eyes make every so often indicates as much. As Lucy continues to watch him, the ache in her wrist and the lose of her sleep suddenly feel worth it when Yajima shoots her a sincere, gentle smile, his hand taking the finished papers from her loose hold.
He looks thankful and tired and pleasantly surprised, and Lucy returns the gesture with a sleepy smile of her own.
"Ah, Lucy-chan," Yajima greets with a nod of his head as he skims through the stack of documents. "I trust you're getting yourself adapted to this position?"
"Yes, sir," Lucy confirms, stepping down from the rounded table that's filled with mindless chatter rather than important discussions like the blonde thought it would be. "I've grown quite accustomed to it." Lucy quietly fiddles with the hem of her uniform jacket, mulling over her reply.
Has she already gotten used to this fast-paced occupation?
She admittedly did.
Does she enjoy it?
That question would have received a flat out no.
She thought that being inside the walls of Fiore's Magic center would be fascinating, adventurous, fun.
Instead, she was left greatly dissatisfied.
She does the same thing everyday: gets up, drinks coffee, does paperwork, takes a curt break, does more paperwork, runs errands, eats dinner, finishes up her day's due of paperwork, and, finally, goes to sleep.
Lucy feels as if her life was becoming quite robotic from the monotonous tasks that were starting to etch themselves into her brain. Even in the Heartfilia household, where she felt most caged and trapped and suffocated, she at least had the time to converse with her spirits. And now?
Now, she doesn't have the time for that anymore either.
Her life is becoming blurred and, even if she hates to admit it—dull.
Her tired gaze drags up from the basket of strawberries that had her mouth collecting saliva to the indifferent form of Siegrain Fernandes before it slowly narrowed into a slit.
She is becoming dull, just like he said she was.
Her keys heat up, and Lucy's hand shoots down to caress the metals that seem to share her displeasure.
As if sensing eyes on him, the bluenette turns to the Heartfilia heiress with a pleased smile stretched across his face.
It is the way he smiles, Lucy concludes.
The way he smiles seems so... fake. Strange, and rather creepy in a sense.
He looks like a pumpkin in late October that had its thick skin carved in by a kitchen knife. A totally artificial smile that never failed to send shivers down Lucy's spine. The longer she stares at him, the weaker her resolve becomes.
She wants out.
Or, well, in a different position at least.
Preferably far, far away from the tattooed-faced Councilman.
But something prevents her from speaking up to Yajima and pleading for him to demote her to the kitchen's or something of the like.
That particular smile – Siegrain's smile – that morphs into an expectant smirk shows her that he knows. He knows that she is slightly unnerved by him—a lot, actually, if she is to be honest. That raised lip indicates that he knows she is about to give up, just to get a breather from him and his kin. Flashes of their not-so-pleasant encounters run through her mind's eye, and she realizes that he is trying to provoke a reaction from her.
For what purpose, she does not know.
"Is something wrong?" Siegrain drawls out, placing his cheek inside his opened palm. Ultear looks mildly amused by her companion's antics, hiding a smirk of her own behind the sleeve of her dress as Lucy struggles to form words.
Of course there was something wrong.
"Sorry that I made you feel concerned," Lucy manages out as she traces her keys absent-mindedly, "I seem to have caught something yesterday," the blonde states as she purposely rubs at her nose in an attempt to make the male turn his head away in disgust by her unladylike actions.
Yet all that he does in response is lean into his cushioned seat further.
"And here I was—starting to worry that you might let a small thing like a cold stop you," he tells her as he writes down his signature on one of the many papers laid before him. Lucy purses her lips, catching up to the double meaning of his words.
'I thought you got cold feet and ran away like the coward I think you are.'
"I'm slightly offended that you doubt me so much, Siegrain-sama," Lucy admits with a faux, sad smile.
She wonders why he targets her every chance he gets.
Even at the trial, when he knew next to nothing about her, he embarrassed and humiliated her.
That had stung, it really had.
But now—even now!—when he did know more than he needed to, he comes after her with a flurry of insults aimed her way.
Lucy's best guess is that he is testing her. The reason behind it she, too, does not know, but a vein is beginning to throb in her forehead, and Lucy realizes that it is caused by the seethe she feels because of it.
She wants to reach out and smack his face for his downright rudeness, yet the only thing she does is lean over the table to enter his direct eye-line. "And it's not a cold, it's an allergic reaction," she clarifies before she goes to gather the stack of papers Yajima has just finished signing over the course of her small-talk with the younger Councilman.
"Have a good day," The Celestial Mage bids farewell, leveling Siegrain with a pointed look as she mutters, tone hard and determined and subtle: "I'll be back tomorrow with the report, Yajima-sama."
And on that note, Lucy Heartfilia turns on her heel and exits the huge room.
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A male's chuckle resounds across the shadow-filled throne room.
Jellal Fernandes smirks, delighted, as he rises from his place, stepping onto the damp flooring.
His mind is reeling, eyes flickering, trying to separate the different visions clouding his sight. Thoughts and feelings rage inside of him; it is as if he is seeing and hearing and living two separate lives at once.
He traverses the room in four quick strides, stopping toe-to-wood next to a table. The small window lets the evening's sunbeams shine down upon the wooden surface, illuminating the various pieces of glinting ivory scattered across a game's board.
The game he is playing wouldn't make an ounce of sense to a by-stander.
Yet to him...
Jellal places a figurine behind a King's piece in thought before stationing it in front of the other piece after a pause.
"I do wonder—how much will you help me achieve my dream."
Deciding to simply leave the gold-rimmed key figurine to stand in front of his own, he cages the table with his body, as if nobody else is allowed to see the inside of his plan, his mind. His hazel eyes observe the rest of the board at hand.
He already anticipates a few key players joining the game he was hosting, a sly gleam lighting his face. He walks around the table, placed in the middle of the room, before reclining back upon his throne with a hollow expression on his face.
He can see it.
The sway of golden hair retreating from his alter-ego with artificial confidence in her stride. A smirk curls on his face as he watches her walk away with a stack of papers clutched in her small hands.
He notices it; the shake of her shoulders, the slight misstep she makes.
Jellal decides, without much thought, that she is quite plain—naïve even.
Which was perfect.
He can see through Siegrain's eyes, see his partner-in-crime hide a tiny smirk pulling at her red-smeared lips. But, most importantly, he could see him.
Him.
Yajima.
Oh, how much trouble an old geezer like him could cause Jellal and Ultear alike.
Out of all of the Council members, only the old coot suspects that something isn't right with the near perfect picture he has painted.
A respectable, powerful, charming young man, who climbed to great ranks faster than Fairy Tail destroyed that unfortunate port a mouth ago or so.
The others admire him, adore him, even. He easily talks his way out of situations and draws people into the web of lies he has weaved without a single slip up on his part.
Yet Yajima still looks more intensely at him and his right-hand man—woman—with something akin to doubt and worry. It is like he has known that something was not right about them from the get go.
Jellal's jaw sets in, his fist clenching and unclenching above the surface of the armrest. If he wants his lifelong plan to succeed, he is going to need the trust of every single one of the rest of the Council members.
Which he has, mind you.
All except one.
He'll admit, he has starting to rethink several different tactics, options. But then suddenly, a silver lining appeared in front of him.
Jellal spares a hollow smile.
Or, should he say, a golden lining.
It truly is perfect.
The blonde is Yajima's only reason for staying for several more months or, Gods forbid, years. Soon enough, the Celestial mage would have absolute power over the old man, achieved through her kindness and softness and compassion. With the old coot's full trust, she could help Jellal succeed with flying colors.
All he needs to do now is gain her own trust and, by the looks of it, a kind gesture or two will be enough to gain the brat's full-out faith.
''Lucy Heartifilia, you truly are perfect," he mutters under his breath as he turns his head to stare at the newest addition to his board.
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A/N:
[1] If you didn't understand that scene – and I don't blame you tbvh – Monkshood flowers are highly poisonous, so Lucy flat-out implied that she wanted to poison Jellal, or well, Siegrain.
[2] The Council meeting room is the same as in the manga with actual chairs and tables, because the anime version of them – the council members, that is – floating on magic circles didn't appeal to me as much.