Fairytale of Doom
By CrimsonStarbird
Chapter Thirty-Two – Cinderella Waltz
The royal palace of the Glass Kingdom was a sight to behold.
Its walls were a delicate pink, its towers a richer azure than the sky. So firmly affixed to the heavens were those gold-rimmed spires that it could deny its roots had ever touched the ground. Even amongst a district of mansions and lush royal gardens, it drew all the attention, always bigger, always grander, always better than those around it.
It was the pinnacle of dreams, captured by an architect with a poet's eye.
The story's perfect end.
Lucy detested it.
Those high walls separated those born into money and status from those who were not. They constructed their own little prison, enchaining the bodies of their children to the legacies of their family names. Inside, they wove a parody of the outside world, where people too wealthy to have genuine woes could create their own, by enforcing a code of social etiquette whose only purpose was to invent new ways for people to fail.
How many young girls had been drawn in by the promise of a princess's life? Of magical balls and love at first sight; of marriage and wealth and all of life's troubles solved by a royal husband?
If only they knew the truth.
The cost of entering this world was every other dream they'd ever had. There was no place for creativity here, or ambition; originality and strength had to be left at the door. In return for security, they became an object, no greater in worth than a new business contract.
Beauty mattered, because it had value to the men who could afford to pay for it. A sense of fashion and style mattered too, because every day was a performance, the truth hidden behind a mask so perfect it would one day become real. But anything they could not control, anything that disrupted their draconian rules of right and wrong – something like a girl who could go one-on-one with a member of the Spriggan Twelve and live to tell the tale, for example – had to be eliminated.
And elimination was not as easy as a fair fight. No, it was public humiliation and eternal disgrace, doors slamming shut on those who had lost the skills to survive outdoors, brutally cut off from the money and praise on which they had grown dependent; a fate that made the struggle for redemption of former enemies like Gajeel and Juvia look like a walk in the park.
Levy had told her she was overreacting.
Lucy hadn't wanted to hear that from the girl who had spent an entire journey defending the feminist credentials of Cinderella, thank you very much.
Besides, her dislike of this place stemmed from far more than jealousy towards the friend who had been given Mulan's badass role.
As the glittering silver carriage passed underneath the raised portcullis, and those pastel-pink walls cut her off entirely from the outside world, she felt a shiver run down her spine.
Inside, the very texture of the air was different. The syrupy murmur of conversation carried bubbles of gossip around the courtyard. Masks smiled at each other over flutes of champagne. Decorative lanterns swung high above the garden paths, the shadows between them the most honest things in this place.
And straight ahead, the doors of the palace proper were open wide, golden light spilling forth like the drool of a great beast.
This… wasn't where her story was supposed to end.
Everything Lucy had done was to get away from this. From practising magic in secret to literally running away from her father, from earning her place amongst her new guild to quitting the role fate had chosen for her in this fairytale world – it had all been about finding her freedom. Taking back her life. Being herself.
But it seemed the story wouldn't let her go so easily.
The carriage rolled to a halt. It had delivered her to the front of the palace courtyard, where a footman waited to meet her. At such an unprecedented event – one to which all the girls of marriageable age had been invited in the hope of finding the prince a wife – it would not be a total faux pas for a young woman to arrive unescorted. Even though said prince wasn't going to be present at the ball, given that he was currently waiting on standby with the others while Lucy carried out her mission, an event like this was a behemoth of planning and organization, and once set in motion, it would not be stopped by such a minor detail as the guest of honour's absence. The staffing on the ground reflected appropriate assistance for the scores of soon-to-be-disappointed potential brides arriving alone or with friends.
Lucy hated that she knew that.
She hated that she was here at all, after everything she had done to leave it behind.
But her guild had asked her to – the guild that was the very reason why she'd managed to escape it at all.
So she took a deep breath, rearranged her skirts, and entered her own personal hell.
The night was warm. The trees were in full bloom, petals luminescent in the lamplight. Maybe it was normal for this fictional kingdom's climate; maybe it was yet another way in which the story's climax was trying to be too perfect, to tick the boxes a naïve young girl would dream up. It didn't stop her from shivering.
She forced herself to stand a little straighter. There was no merit in lingering in the courtyards. This was where courtiers came to gather strength when they had none of their own: to meet up with friends and allies; to spy on enemies; to settle their nerves in relative safety before entering the arena proper.
A Fairy Tail mage, however, needed no such false courage.
Before her loomed the golden veil of light between the grand doors. On the other side lay the world she hated with the same vehemence she'd hated the Alvarez army as they laid waste to her home. Now, she was returning to it in order to save Alvarez's leader. The gods of irony had a special place in their hearts for Lucy Heartfilia.
Then she was inside.
And she froze. Her fierce intentions wavered; her scathing internal commentary stilled.
In that moment, she was once again a young heiress attending her first ball without her mother by her side. When those who had indulged her as Layla Heartfilia's daughter now started to appraise her as a rival. When she had seen, for the first time, the crocodile teeth behind the smiles. When there was no longer a single person in the room who thought she shouldn't have to deal with the attention of suitors until she was older. When her own childish memories of fun and her mother's laughter had been stripped away, and she was thrust onto this battlefield alone and unprepared, her celestial keys back in her bedroom, her ballgown no substitute for armour…
One glimpse of the glitz and the glamour brought it all back.
Yet something in the back of her mind was screaming. She wasn't that helpless girl any more, striving to live up to her father's impossible expectations in the void her mother had left behind. She was a Fairy Tail mage. Whether through design, alcohol, a client's request, or their own hapless blundering, there wasn't a formal event on Earthland that her guild hadn't managed to ruin.
This ball was no different. She could tear it apart, and all those cloying memories with it. Her reputation mattered even less in this fictitious world than it did in her own. She could find something to use as a weapon, charge across that dancefloor like Gildarts ploughing through a battlefield, turn this side-quest into a race against the guards, an adventure, the kind of escapade she had chosen for herself these last few years…
But.
But.
The Lucy she used to be had drawn her attention to the guards stationed around the perimeter of the ballroom, for it was only in dire times indeed that a host would order his soldiers to be visible at such an important gala. Not only was it rude – doubting the authenticity of some very important guests – but it revealed insecurities, raised the question of just what imminent threat required such a visible military presence.
And the Lucy she was now saw the guards who weren't in armour: butlers whose jackets were weighed down with hidden weapons; servants who seemed a little too friendly with the guards on duty. She hadn't been able to read the masquerade as a child, but she'd learnt the hard way to read enemies in a confrontation, and she could sense their suspicious gazes on her as she lingered at the entrance of the ballroom.
She had no doubt that Lady Tremaine had ordered the guards – both visible and undercover – to keep an eye out for anything unusual. She hadn't trusted that Gaston and his army could hold the Fairy Tail mages back for long.
Yes, Lucy could throw caution to the wind and tackle this challenge like Natsu would have done – the man who had literally stolen the king's crown at the last royal event he had been to – but she'd be stopped before she got halfway across the room.
If she wanted any chance of success, she had to do this properly.
Squaring her shoulders, she stepped forward. Her back was stiff and straight. She carried herself with great care, not least because of the glass slippers she was wearing. Tripping was never good for one's reputation at a social dance, but tripping in those could be lethal if they shattered.
That was okay, though. Her persona was an abused servant-girl who was only here through the kindness of a deus ex godmother; hesitation was part of her character. Just like Cinderella had, she moved curiously through the outer fringes of the ballroom, admiring the grand architecture and lavish drapes while she sought her target out of the corner of her eye.
The throne was set at the far end of the ballroom. Elevated by a handful of steps, it would have allowed the ruler of the kingdom to survey his triumphant gathering while not preventing him from joining in if – for some godforsaken reason – he actually wanted to. On that throne sat a familiar figure in black and white robes.
The rush of hatred Lucy had been expecting never came.
Zeref… didn't look quite right. He was slumped in the throne, like a doll who had been hastily arranged in a life-like pose. Despite the parade of colours and sounds before him, he was clearly not focussed on anything.
It was almost impossible to see him as the same man who, without fear or compassion, had threatened his own brother with oblivion in front of them-
"Quite the sight, isn't it?"
Lucy flinched. She'd forgotten how quietly people could move when they weren't wearing glass shoes. She turned – and her heart missed its footing, tumbling down into the bottomless depths.
Behind her stood Lady Tremaine. She alone hadn't dressed up for the ball, still clad in the severe, burgundy dress she had worn for her bloodless coup in the Beast's Castle. She had no need to put on airs; there wasn't a single person in the aristocracy who would dare tell her she didn't belong.
Never had Lucy felt so small in heels this big.
That was it. Caught already. The game was up.
It had always been a stupid plan, relying on the flimsiest of plot devices to hide her identity from her own stepmother…
Except, while her instincts sought an escape route with the efficacy of a rabbit in headlights, the logical part of her brain slammed on the brakes. Lady Tremaine hadn't called the guards. Instead, she was waiting for an answer, as if it wasn't a hint about Zeref's appearance but a comment about the ball in general. Maybe there really was some magic in the makeup applied by Cana's wand.
"It's- it's truly spectacular." Lucy forced a smile. It wouldn't look out of place, when everyone here was doing the same.
Lady Tremaine's expression didn't change. "I don't believe I know you, Miss…?"
"Lu-Lucinda Ashley," she stammered. "Ma'am." She dropped into a shallow curtsey, and then remembered why she had decided not to do that. They'd made a few… custom modifications to Cinderella's ballgown before sending her in on her mission. Although Cana had assured her that no one would be able to tell what they'd done, it not only had the unfortunate effect of making her look like she'd gained weight, but also made it difficult to do anything other than keep her back straight.
Tremaine didn't look impressed by the aborted gesture, but she didn't look suspicious, either. "You seem a little out of place, Miss Ashley."
Lucy bristled. No, she absolutely did not. Thanks to Cana and her wand, her hair looked as good as if Cancer had done it. Sure, they'd had to add frills to the bodice of Cinderella's classic silver-blue ballgown – cascading flows of lace that entirely concealed the figure she'd normally trip over herself to show off – but it didn't look bad. If anything, it added a bit of character in a way that even stupid high society couldn't complain about. Maybe she'd start a fashion trend.
"May I inquire as to your reason for straying so far from home?" Innocent words with a mocking undertone; oh, Lucy hadn't missed this.
But if Tremaine wanted to play, Lucy would play. "I heard that the king had requested the presence of every maiden of marriageable age," she answered, letting her gaze linger upon the lady's grey hair and old-fashioned dress. "I think the reason for my presence is clear."
"Oh, my poor dear, you must not have heard," Tremaine said, though her eyes gleamed malevolently. "While the king did arrange this ball with the intention of finding a wife for his younger brother, the prince threw his generosity back in his face. He forsook the kingdom only yesterday, and fled to distant lands. Your intentions, I fear, are misplaced."
Lucy tittered behind a raised hand. "Perhaps, if I were here to marry a mere prince. There is a far greater prize on offer."
Oh, was that a slip of shock in the aristocrat's perfect expression? "My. You're an ambitious one, aren't you? I must warn you, His Majesty took his brother's betrayal to heart. He has not been himself since. If not even the festivities are able to raise his listless spirits, I must wonder what chance you have."
Lucy's smile was sharp enough to cut. "Really? It sounds to me like a little excitement and affection is just what he needs."
"And you believe you can win his attention?"
"Too scared to let me try?" she taunted.
The corner of Lady Tremaine's mouth curled, as close to a sneer as etiquette would allow. "By all means, try, my dear. If you can reach His Majesty without causing a scene, you may of course take your rightful turn at catching his eye. I wish you the best of luck. After all, you'll need it."
It took all Lucy's self-control not to pull a face at the wicked stepmother as she walked away. If you can reach him. It was a challenge that she understood all too well. One did not simply walk up to the host of the ball, especially when said host was the ruler of the kingdom, surveying the spectacle from his raised throne. Marching across the ballroom floor mid-dance was a breach of etiquette that would see her hurled from the castle long before she could reach Zeref. If she wanted to speak to him, she'd have to dance her way across.
Lady Tremaine didn't think she was up to it. Well, Lucy would show her. She'd thrown the villainess off the scent by pretending to be as shallow and vapid as the other hopeful brides, but if she wanted to keep up the deception, she had to pull this off. She'd fight her way through what passed for combat on the dancefloor, reach Zeref, and…
And…
Did she just accept a challenge to seduce Zeref?
Amidst her irritation towards Tremaine and the re-awoken trauma of the ballroom atmosphere, she thought she might have just done that, yes.
If it had been allowed, she'd have let her head fall into her hands. Or maybe bashed it against a pillar. There wasn't a universe out there that didn't have it in for Lucy Heartfilia.
Honestly, the things she did for her guild.
And it was only for her guild that she would contemplate this – only for her guild that she would have walked into the lion's den in the first place. She was here, now. Time to roll up her metaphorical sleeves and get the job done, so that she could go back to being the badass mage she'd been trying so hard to become.
At first glance, the vast and glittering hall appeared as chaotic as any of Fairy Tail's parties. Nothing, however, could be further from the truth. Men and women moved like clockwork jewels in the great machinery forged of archaic rules, polished year after year by social convention, long after it should have been confined to the scrapheap. It was little wonder that the cogs self-policed with such draconian hypocrisy; a single faulty piece could disrupt the whole mechanism. If she made a scene, she'd be cast out.
Best to start small, then.
Cinderella was nobody before she married the prince. Just a mistreated servant whose only friends were mice. Approaching someone of rank would only result in rejection. But Lucy knew how to spot those who were only pretending about their own status: those wearing last season's styles; those flashing the gold they had used to buy connections they hadn't earned; those who were trying a little bit too hard to fit in with a rhythm that hadn't been built for them.
She caught the eye of a nervous-looking youth. He had neither wealth nor confidence; she wondered if he was escorting his marriageable sister to a ball they wouldn't have been allowed to attend under normal circumstances. He'd do. A flutter of her eyelashes later, and he was stammering out a request to dance with her.
And with that, the game had begun.
Because it was a game. Or perhaps 'competition' would be more accurate. It wasn't about making friends or having fun, like parties at the guildhall. It was about turning those ridiculous rules to her advantage.
By the time the young man had mustered up enough courage to ask her name, she was already gone. Lucy wove her way through the dancers, twirling from partner to partner, never putting a foot out of line. She positioned herself correctly at the start of the mixer dance so that the partner exchange left her paired with a nobleman who wouldn't otherwise have given a nobody like her a second glance; she manoeuvred their steps to end directly in the line of sight of another nobleman who wasn't paying sufficient attention to the round, who saw her previous partner and assumed she was a woman of prestige. For all that she hated the game, she'd learnt from the best.
Thus she wove through the room, trading onwards and upwards. Any girl who faltered before her was fair game. Her voluminous skirts were as much a weapon as any of Erza's armours, hiding her rivals from view. She cut in so smoothly that it could not be separated from the sway of a foxtrot, the glide of a waltz.
On this battlefield, the Heartfilia heiress had no peer.
Pity she couldn't imagine the Alvarez army caring. Of course she was stuck with the princess skill, entirely worthless in any real-world crisis.
Still, in this contrived fairytale world, which attributed value to the most pathetic things, it gave her a way forward.
A way that was degrading and set female mages back decades… but which, as it happened, had just carried her through the mechanical heart of the ballroom and to the foot of the royal dais.
Lucy gritted her teeth. She only had to act out this role for a little bit longer.
Just because she was close to her goal didn't mean she could let her guard down. As she stepped in perfect sync with a gentleman three times her age – but who insisted on acting like he had a chance with her – she let her gaze drift up to the throne.
Zeref had not moved. It didn't seem that he had noticed her skilful approach across the dancefloor, but then again, he hadn't noticed anything. Hell, if they'd known the fearsome Black Mage would give up so easily, her guild would have changed their entire approach to the war.
Time to end this.
As the music lulled, she stepped away. Her dance partner's expression morphed into a frown, but she did the one thing that would have justified snubbing a man of such high rank: she audaciously approached the throne.
The guards moved as she did, but they were too far away; they hadn't seen a pretty dancing girl as a threat. Nothing could stop her from marching right up to the king. "Your Majesty," she greeted, with a small curtsey.
It seemed to take an age for Zeref's gaze to shift from the ceiling to her. What was it with the Dragneel men and not recognizing stunning beauty when it was right in front of them?
As soon as she knew she had his attention – or what little of it still existed – she asked, "Would you do me the honour of a dance?"
His gaze slid sideways again. "Go away."
After what she had subjected herself to just to get here? No chance in hell. With a glance at the rapidly approaching guards, she stepped forward again, right into his personal space. In the same moment, she whipped one of her gloves off. With her vibrant Fairy Tail mark outstretched, she said, "No, I really think we should dance."
His eyes widened. For the first time, she saw a glimmer of life in there – which probably didn't bode well for the war effort, but right now, with the soldiers closing in, she was glad to see it. She could practically feel the cogs of his brain kicking into gear, trying to work out what the hell he had missed that had resulted in this; whether they had fallen into yet another universe where this somehow made sense.
Lucy knew the feeling. By now, though, she'd come to recognize it as 'normal life' for her. She slipped her glove back on and held her hand out pointedly.
At last, he took her hand and let her pull him to his feet.
The soldiers stopped in their tracks. If their king approved, they wouldn't dare interfere. A murmur ran through those close enough to have noticed what was happening: appraisal, awe, acknowledgement of their own defeat. At the far side of the room, Lady Tremaine looked like she'd been slapped across the face. That almost made the whole thing worth it.
Almost. Right up until Lucy remembered just whose hand she was holding.
And with a room full of jealous nobles now staring at this unknown girl who had somehow won the attention of their despondent king, they were going to have to dance.
To her relief, Zeref seemed to know what he was doing. Trying to explain the proper waltzing position for his hands to her greatest enemy would have been a step too far, but thankfully he managed it on his own. In fact, as the orchestra recovered from its shock and resumed playing, she was mildly impressed by the way he turned through the dance's simple steps. Perhaps the whole emperor thing wasn't just a fancy title. It was quite annoying, actually, how she had to share the one worthwhile skill she had in this world with the villain.
Even more impressive was the way he seemed to be doing the whole waltz on autopilot, as he stared at her in a persistent state of shock. "You're Lucy," he stated, still staring. "Lucy Heartfilia."
"Yes, well done," she said snappishly. "Do I really look that different with magical makeup on?"
He ignored this, which was probably for the best. "What are you doing here?"
"Against my better judgement, rescuing you."
"…Why?"
She let out a huff. "Because, somehow, despite everything you've done and yet promised to do, your little brother still feels bad about abandoning you in this world."
His mouth moved, but no sound came out.
She couldn't blame him. If anything, it was quite a controlled reaction, compared to how she and her Fairy Tail friends had acted when Natsu had first proposed the idea. He hadn't even tripped over his own feet yet.
At last, he found his voice. "He told you? Of his own accord?"
"Yup. Well, we certainly weren't going to agree to this rescue mission without an explanation."
After another long struggle, he managed to utter the obvious: "I don't understand."
"That makes two of us. Then again, having my day ruined by Natsu's crazy ideas was a staple of my life long before this fairytale universe got involved, so here we are."
It was true. While dancing the world's most stilted waltz with her guild's sworn enemy was definitely a new record, she'd known what she was signing up for ever since she'd first fled the soldiers with Natsu that fateful day in Hargeon Port. Zeref, though… he looked completely lost. Still shaken from whatever the cursed rose had done to him, and immediately swept into Lady Tremaine's coup, he was a broken mortal in a world of wolves, suddenly told that the bridge he'd doused in gasoline and painted with gleeful flames had inexplicably risen from the ashes to save him. No wonder he looked so damn vulnerable.
He's trying to destroy your guild, she reminded herself.
But it was hard to despise a man who felt like he might break apart in her arms at any moment.
"Look," she sighed. "If we're going to have any chance of returning to Fiore, we need to get back the pieces of Fairy Heart before Tremaine and the villains can use them. For that, we could use your help. Natsu said you two had an agreement to work together until we made it back home. We're willing to reinstate that, for his sake. What do you say?"
The answer was nothing, for a while. It was easier to keep dancing; those steps were logical, precise, predictable, and their conversation wasn't at all.
"A truce until we return to Fiore," he contemplated, his words sounding a little more grounded with every moment that passed in this strange new reality. "Only a fool wouldn't take it, and I am no fool. I have already proven that I cannot turn this situation around on my own. Yet I cannot see what is in it for you."
"We get Natsu off our backs about rescuing you," she shrugged.
He glanced away. "I don't understand why Natsu doesn't hate me."
"No, well, I'm not going to pretend that I understand what's going on between the two of you. His story was rather lacking in detail. But Natsu… he's the best person I know. If there's anyone in the world who can see your past and your future and still reach out to the version of you that exists between the two, it's him."
To her astonishment, a tiny smile crept across his face. Sweet, unguarded, proud. "I am happy to hear that. Very well – I am grateful for your actions, and I will help you as far as I am able. What's the plan?"
"The plan?" Lucy blinked. "Well, to infiltrate the ball and find you, of course."
"…And the next step?"
"Hey, don't look at me, it's your turn!" she huffed.
They stared at each other. Zeref was already looking like he was regretting throwing his lot in with the Fairy Tail team. Honestly, she thought she liked him more when he was wallowing in misery.
More to move the conversation on than anything else, she suggested, "Well, we know the villains need the Magic Mirror in order to escape this world with Fairy Heart's power. Do you happen to know where it is?"
"It was in the old tower, but that collapsed. Natsu and I barely made it out alive."
"They must have salvaged it from the ruins," she mused. "I guess that means they'll have set it up somewhere else. You didn't happen to notice where the other villains stored the pieces of Fairy Heart when they brought you here, did you?"
A blank look. No, he probably hadn't been up to noticing anything. She changed tack. "Then, assuming they want to keep the magic secret, is there anywhere in the castle that servants would be unlikely to go?"
"There are dungeons in the lower levels, and a host of unused towers as well…" When he tailed off, Lucy was expecting him to give up again, but instead, that candleflame of life still flickered in his eyes as they narrowed in thought. That was more like it. "That being said, neither would be easy to reach with a large glass coffin in tow. The throne room would be much more accessible, and no one is allowed in there without permission."
"We might as well start there, then."
"Then let's go."
"Wait!" Her grip automatically tightened around his hand as he tried to pull away. Cringing inwardly, she could only hope he hadn't noticed. "We can't just leave!"
"Why not?"
Her laugh was almost hysterical. "Why not? Because every courtier in this shark-infested ballroom is watching the unknown servant-girl who somehow managed to tempt the disinterested king into a dance! What will people think if they disappear off together? After only one dance, no less!"
Zeref tilted his head, a curious expression on his face. "Does it matter?"
She opened her mouth to tell him that of course it mattered – even if they knew it was entirely innocent, none of her rivals in competition for a royal wedding would believe it for a second. It was a scandal of the highest order. And sure, he'd be able to weather it, he was the freaking king, but she would be labelled easy at best and a harlot at worst, a licentious tramp, an immoral siren… she'd never be able to show her face here again.
Then it occurred to her that the last thing she wanted was to show her face here again.
This wasn't her world. Wasn't her home. If all went to plan, they would somehow be able to turn this around and get back to Fiore – and even if they didn't, what did she care what a bunch of aristocrats in a random castle thought? She'd be back with her friends, somewhere well away from here.
She fixed Zeref with the most severe look she could muster. "As long as you swear on your life that you will never mention this to another soul, then no, it doesn't matter at all."
"Believe me, I have absolutely no intention of ever admitting that this happened."
"Then," she added, throwing caution to the wind, "this might actually give us an opportunity. If we can make it look convincing, it'll buy us more time with the guards. None of them is going to risk chasing after their king and walking in on… that."
"Fair point."
They eyed each other warily, turning slowly in the centre of the ballroom, both of them able to see the logic in it but neither wanting to make the first move. Lucy couldn't help feeling a wave of empathy for this man. It was typical that she had finally found a kindred spirit in this world, and it happened to be her guild's sworn enemy.
"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," she added quickly. "Honestly, no one is more fed up than me at the things this world is making me do; I'm not going to force you if you'd rather we just walked out."
"Oh, no, I have no issue with it," he shrugged. "It's a good idea, if unorthodox. I'm simply surprised that you came up with it."
Okay, so not such a kindred spirit after all. Was he just being too polite to contradict her idea, knowing that his future depended on Fairy Tail's goodwill? Surely that made more sense than the idea that he genuinely had no issue with a deception like this.
Now that he had made it clear that he wasn't going to back down, though, she'd lost her last chance to do so as well.
"Okay, fine. Let's hope you can keep up with me, then," she dared.
"Oh?" For the first time since they'd met, his eyes gleamed with a light all their own.
He moved so quickly. Faltering steps became assured. Where his movements had followed hers on autopilot, now he blazed a path of spring through this hall of artificial gold. Had her tutors of old not drilled those same steps as deeply into her memory as the motions that opened the Celestial Gates, she would have stumbled for sure. Her heart skipped as her glass-clad foot somehow landed in the right place – and already he was pulling her onward, confident, unrelenting.
Hell. He actually could dance.
And so could she.
Lucy matched him step for step. Where this sudden intensity had come from, she had no idea, but the Heartfilia heiress found herself pushed the way Lucy of Fairy Tail was in magical combat, finding a strength and a balance beyond her limits to rewrite a contest that should have been one-sided.
Closer. Tighter. She turned in his space and he turned in hers. Static crackled every time they separated. His hand was lower on her back now, still on the right side of what was acceptable to her personally, though bordering on unacceptable for high society at a formal ball.
Neither could look away from the other for a moment. There was something possessive about it; about showing off, together, how superior they were to everyone else in the room.
It was all an act, and that was… freeing. None of this was real, and that meant she was allowed to have fun with it, to run where her pride would never have allowed her to venture, all in the name of their deception.
That calculating part of her knew the attention they were getting – could taste her rivals' defeat in the air – and it spurred her on, both of them, their characters making a new statement to the world, one which didn't care for what was and wasn't appropriate. It was electrifying, it was invigorating – and when the music stopped and he held her like a lover in front of the astonished courtiers, it was terrifying to realize that, as part of the act, it wasn't embarrassing her at all.
The moment held them, her shoulders rising and falling, his eyes both brighter and darker than polished onyx, her mind still whirling with what had just happened, herself not quite separated from the mask she wore.
In the end, he was the one who broke it. He turned, still holding her with the possessiveness of a king, and strode for the door. She leaned into him, painting a smirk of victory across her lips. The message was clear. The host of the ball had made his choice. All those other women of marriageable age could go home right now.
Then the door slammed shut behind them.
At once, he let go of her. Just like that, the confident persona from the ballroom vanished, so quickly she might have thought she had imagined it if her heart wasn't still pounding with the thrill of the performance. He seemed to waver – not just back to how he'd been when they were talking, but further still, until it seemed like he was going to fall back to the empty state she'd found him in.
"So, the throne room is…?" Lucy said deliberately.
The prompt seemed to snap him out of it. "Yes, this way."
He led her down the corridor in a far more respectable way than he'd managed in the ballroom. He was being quiet again, though she could tell from the way his eyes jumped from door to shadow just as hers did that he was still with her. It was… not what she'd expected from him at all. The way he had just turned that on, and then turned it off again just as quickly, like it was nothing, was honestly quite impressive.
"I never would have had you down as a social dancer," she remarked. "I guess the whole emperor thing isn't just for show, huh."
"No, it isn't." A half-smile touched his lips. "It is one of many things I had to learn. No matter how I try to get out of it, I am expected to put on a show from time to time if I wish to retain the respect of my enemies and allies on the political stage."
"That sounds horrendous," Lucy grimaced.
"I don't mind it," he disagreed. "It is a different kind of battle. And it is certainly never boring."
"It makes me wonder which is the real you," she reflected. "The emperor who plays the games of courtiers and directs his armies from on high, or the mysterious Black Mage, who avoids people where he can and creates demons and magic from the depths of history."
She wondered if Natsu had seen this too: the composed villain who had threatened them into submission with the Book of END, and the inexperienced adventurer who couldn't break into a tower without magic and needed Natsu to bail him out; the villain who was trying so hard to destroy them all, and yet had somehow won the guild's greatest hero to his side.
But Zeref just gave her a curious look. "Must it be one or the other?"
"Well, no one can be two completely contradictory people at-"
"Oh, we're here," he cut in. "Perhaps the psychological examination could wait?"
"…Right. Sure."
Away from the elaborate ballroom, the castle was a warren of corridors and pillars and high arched doorways: a lot of stone, a little gold, hardly anything personal. It had none of the grace of Mercurius, or the liveliness. It was an empty shell, a physical representation of the rules that governed the orbits of the sycophantic courtiers.
I don't mind it, Zeref had said.
And to think she'd thought she'd found someone who was like her! Then again, their incompatible viewpoints were probably for the best. Just because she was finding that she didn't mind being on an adventure with him didn't mean he wasn't her enemy. The less they had in common, the better.
Zeref lifted the oversized handle and pushed the door open. The room beyond was unlit. They crept inside, straining their eyes against the darkness.
"See anything?" she murmured.
"Is that something on the far wall?"
Now that he mentioned it, she could just about make out the glint of a bronze frame. When she moved, fractured shadows moved with her. A single green-tinged gemstone shone faintly at the very top of the frame.
"That must be it," she whispered, creeping forward. "It's so quiet. Do you think they've already gone through?"
"No." There was just enough light for her to glimpse his thoughtful frown; it suited him much better than the cool malice with which he had threatened them back in the other castle. "It is an artefact of this world which they are trying to fuel using magic from ours. It will take time to attune. I'd wager the coffin and the other fragments of Fairy Heart are nearby, slowly powering it up."
"That explains why Lady Tremaine was at the ball instead. Killing time until it was ready… and keeping an eye out for us, most likely. I doubt we can destroy the Magic Mirror if the collapsing tower didn't even put a scratch on it, but do you think you could interfere with it so that it won't work for them?"
"Maybe," Zeref prevaricated.
"Aren't you supposed to be some sort of magical genius?" she shot back, unimpressed.
"And if we were in a world flowing readily with magic, my answer would have been obvious. However… I don't like this. Why would they leave the mirror unguarded?"
Lucy's hand fell back to her side. He was right; this had to be a trap. Squinting through the murky hall, she tried to find something suspicious in the shadows, the mirror's void gradually filling with Fairy Heart's magic, the two gemstones gleaming from the top… two?
Not gemstones. Eyes. Yelping, she jerked back and tumbled to the ground as the owner of the eyes leapt down from its perch with feline grace.
Zeref tensed, and then relaxed again. "Just a cat," he remarked, amused, as Lucy hauled herself back to her feet.
"Not just a cat," Lucy groaned. "Tremaine's familiar. Named after the literal devil, and just as cruel as his mistress. There's no way she doesn't know we're here…"
"And why are you here?" came the mocking tones of Lady Tremaine. "Such an interesting place to pick for a royal dalliance."
Lucy's fist clenched. If only Cana had let her take the Fairy Godmother's wand, at least then she wouldn't be completely defenceless – but Cana had insisted that they didn't put all their eggs in one basket. Which was probably a sensible decision, Lucy conceded, as torches burst into life and guards loyal to the usurper emerged from the shadows, but it still left a bitter taste in her mouth. There was nothing she could do as the soldiers closed in.
"Maleficent said you were defeated, and wouldn't dare challenge us again," gloated Lady Tremaine. "But I knew better. I know how tenacious this guild of yours can be; I've seen it in the mirror. I do not know what magic you used to conceal your identity from me through the ball, but I knew I would catch any intruders who managed to slip through if I had my precious Lucifer keep watch over the Magic Mirror."
The strike of her cane rang out against the stone. "And I really must thank you both for your licentious display earlier. Not a single person will think it odd if you don't return to the ball tonight. Now, take them to the dungeons!"
A/N: Oh, was that Lucy thinking things couldn't get any worse for her than a royal ball finale? Mwahaha. The dungeons await! ~CS
