A/N: Thank you everyone for your support!

OnLyMinO: Thank you so, so much, hun! To clear up any confusion; Lucy has 8 golden and 5 silver keys. As of now, she possesses the silver keys of Crux, Horologium, Lyra, Pyxis and, since recently—Caleum. Since birth, Lucy has Aquarius, Taurus, Cancer – Capricorn too, but it's too early for him to come into the picture – gate keys. In this AU, I made Jude slightly more caring for his daughter from the get go. So, in this version, he has gifted Lucy with Virgo's key, which he had bought and/or traded from Everlue. Lucy received the keys to Scorpio, Aries, Gemini, and Leo by defeating Angel. In this version, the cause of Karen's demise wasn't from her magic's overdose but, rather, from poisoning. Due to this, Loki is not responsible directly, or in his case – indirectly – for the death of his previous owner. Hope that clears some things up!

Cloudie: Thank you for taking the time of day to review this story! Haha, yes, a beta is a very good suggestion, considering English isn't my native language. I hope that my grammatical errors don't turn off readers all that much. I have planned plenty of interactions between Lucy and her spirits, so you can look forward to that! Lucy is a tough cookie to crack – even in canon – so Jellal is in for some nasty and aggravating surprises along the way, I can assure you. ;)

Kyogre: Thank you very much! Powerful and strong-willed Lucy is a religious experience—well, if it happens gradually and not overnight. I was a little stuck as to how the two would interact with one another, but Jellal's behavior prior to Tower of Heaven seemed to answer it for me, lol. Haha, you'll just have to wait and see!

Violet in Wonderland: Merry Holidays to you as well, sweetie! More like creepy tension! Yikes, guess I'll have to go back and fix some errors. It's good to have knowledge of things that are deadly to us, so I don't find anything weird about that. That's our Jello cake—imagine him playing monopoly instead of chess in his current, brain-washed state. Shudders. Jellal doesn't understand the complexity of Lucy; he thinks she's just some pampered little girl living off her father's fortune. He doesn't see her as a threat. Yet. Yeah, the anime version looked hellishly rad, but I couldn't figure out that room's functions, so I just went with the plain ol' circle table. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!

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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.

Moon

Emotion; Mystery; Intuition

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Lucy pulls the soft, white material of her uniform's skirt over her ankles, stretches out, and relishes in the satisfying popping of her stiff limbs. Placing one leg on top of the other, she leans back into the soft leather of her very own armchair. Her father – oh, so generously – had installed an office, just for his heiress, inside the walls of the ever prestige Magic Council's Headquarters. The room, even the tapestry, is a nearly exact replica of the bedroom she had been caged in for most of her life.

A not so subtle remainder to her – and anyone concerned – as to who she is.

Lucy doesn't know if she should feel nostalgic or depressed but, nevertheless, she feels safe and comfortable in her familiar haven, filled with re-read books and worn out collectibles.

The chest, containing certain letters, included.

The blonde isn't required to run back and forth between Yajima's office and her own living quarters anymore; which is a true relief for her untrained muscles and the armpits of her shirts in this heat stroke. Sure, she still runs errands and has stacks of paperwork under her arm, but it wasn't as hectic as before.

Or maybe she just got used to the horrendous pace that the government of magic ran.

Either way, she is content for now.

Barely.

The keys attached to her belt tingle in contrast with her good mood, making Lucy bite the inside of her cheek.

Just for how long has she not summoned any of her friends?

She knows how eager they were to help her out, or just to spend some quality time with her—even Aquarius. Her daily schedule doesn't really leave her much room for such a luxury; which, min you, she is determined to change as soon as she is able.

She misses her friends.

Even the ones she had conversed with only once or twice.

They were hers—in every aspect except the universal one.

She is their acquaintance, companion, friend—she is willing to die for them if needed, and vice versa.

In her opinion, that's how it should be—the ideal relationship between owner and spirit.

Sighing, she directs her attention to the complaints laid down on the polished, cherry wood table, with the standard symbol of the Magic Council embarked on either sides. The delicate smile turns downwards at the amount of writing her already sore hand has yet to do.

Pushing a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear, she gets to work.

Every word she drinks up, every angry stroke a person has made in their complaint while writing seems to revolve around a certain reoccurrence that never failed to spike up her interest.

Fairy Tail.

"Stolen underwear…" Lucy mumbles to herself as she scribbles down the specified complaints onto an empty sheet of paper, "…assault for a harmless comment… sending drinking tabs to the Council…flirting with Council Member Reiji's granddaughter aga—" Lucy slams down the pen she held between her fingers in defeat.

What was wrong with this guild?!

She recalls several mentions of the guild dashed across multiple magazines she had managed to smuggle in during her youth, cutting out clips and articles that had mentioned several powerful mages that she aspired to be like.

The 'Salamander'. 'Beast-arm' Elfman.

Especially Erza 'Titania' Scarlet.

She never imagined a female to be such a powerhouse Mage until she stumbled upon her not-so-appreciated achievements of destruction.

It had made her jaw drop then.

But now, her pretty little jaw needs to be oiled to perfection because the Magic Council, she noticed, reacts quite delicately when it came to the name Fairy Tail.

And she will also do the same in order to preserve herself in this position.

Whether she likes it or not.

Still.

A knock rings across the room as someone raps their knuckles across the wood of her door.

Lucy scrambles to recollect the previously tossed pen in her hand, trying to look the part of a professional secretary, who is indulged in her work like her life depended on it. She clears her voice, schooling her features into a prim and proper façade like any good heiress should, before calling out a curt 'come in'.

Her shoulders slump slightly when a greenish head of a servant peeks through the crack of the door. However, Lucy eyebrows slowly raise when the object in the humanoid's outstretched hand comes into her line of sight.

"Miss Heartfilia, uh, this…"

She grips the pen with more strength than necessary.

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"You… You find this hilarious, don't you?"

Yet the only response she received is the rustle of paper.

She hovers over his form, but the tree leaves have already shielded him from the afternoon's sunlight. He doesn't look at her; he doesn't even spare a glance. She twitches, the crease in her frown deepening in annoyance at his childish antics.

The Councilman ever so slowly places a bookmark between the opened pages before snapping the book shut, placing it on the coffee table next to him. Lucy cranes her neck, catching a glimpse of the title of the book stitched into the worn out spine.

"CHARMS".

He certainly lacks them. Maybe she should send him some self-improvement books as a repay for his own gift.

Lucy's upper teeth graze the skin of her lower lip.

Speaking of which.

Siegrain raises a cup of tea to his slightly chapped lips, enjoying the look of indignation etched across the blonde's face. He takes his time; taking a long slurp of the lukewarm liquid, wording out the unspoken response in his mind with delicate care. Placing the porcelain cup back on the table's surface, the minty scent that previously clogged his nose is replaced by the clearly expensive perfume that the Celestial Mage wears. His brows crease from the strong scent, but he does not to comment.

Instead, he turns his body slightly to face her, draping one of his legs over the other.

"Whatever are you referring to, Heartfilia-san?" He questions, raising his chin up at the seething blonde.

"This," Lucy hisses out, shoving the plant into his tattooed face. Siegrain slowly raises a single brow in response.

"I was under the impression that you were capable of recognizing the simplest of plants. I guess you have proven me wrong once again."

"I know that it's a cactus," —you dumbass—"What I meant to ask is—Why?"

"Why, what?"

He is playing dumb, they both know it.

"A cactus!" Lucy raises her voice, yet each syllable looses its volume when she notices the prying eyes and ears of the workers scurrying around the makeshift park.

"Oh, that," Siegrain stands up, towering easily over her with his superior height. He places both of his hands on her white-clad shoulders, making Lucy lean backwards a bit from the loss of personal space, "for your information, cactuses symbolize endurance," he starts off, the mocking undertone as clear as that day's sky.

The muscle under Lucy's right eye twitches.

Since when was horticulture in her job description?

Clearly, Siegrain Fernandes is in the wrong business.

"—passed our test."

"Huh?" The blonde blinks slowly, having turned a deaf ear on his rambling words. The tips of his fingers dig into her shoulder blades in a short moment of overwhelming irk, but a false, half-hearted smile reaches his lips as he emphasizes every single letter of his repeating words.

"You passed our little test."

"Test?" She asks, voice meek and confused and dumbfounded. She cradles the small, spike-covered plant in one hand, brushing her bangs to the side in response to the blowing wind. Siegrain eyes the humanoid workers passing through for a moment before looking down at her once more.

"Really, Heartfilia? One might assume you're rather dimwitted," He teases lightly, releasing his hold on her aching shoulders. As his hands leave her person, she rubs the sore spots with her free hand, a confused look on her delicate face.

"What sort of test? And who's apart of this 'our'?" The Celestial Mage spits out question after question whilst failing to notice the amused glint in the depths of Siegrain's eyes.

"Ultear and I," He cocks his head in the direction of the tall building, which housed the important individuals of the Council. After a brief pause, he continues, "Thought it would be a good idea to check if our newest employees worked well under pressure," he explains further, "It was a social experiment, really. And you seemed to have passed it with flying colors—even though you weren't aware you were participating in the first place."

His hands find hers, or rather—the pot filled with soils and the cactus he has gifted her this morning. He carefully caresses the spines of the plant she clings onto like a lifeline for comfort.

"The way I treated you—" His usually deep voice lightens up a few notches as Siegrain stares into her chocolate doe eyes. "—was very wrong, I'll admit. You deserved none of that, considering your predicament. I know it will take some time to accept my apology for our more than rough start, but at least keep the cactus—it will always remind you that you can achieve anything you put your mind to."

Lucy blinks once.

Twice.

She nods dumbly, trying to process the complete change in the Councilman's demeanor over the span of a minute.

He is close, too close for what is usually appropriate. The vague smell of mint enters her senses, and the sudden urge to succumb to his charm—which made its debut on that very day—is quite overwhelming.

But she knows better.

Far better.

His eyes.

They speak the unspoken words that will never leave his mouth.

The insincerely, the thrill of the kill.

That unnatural empty glint is all too clear in this proximity in those hazel hues.

He is close.

Too close.

And for that, his venomous words do not reach her heart.

She knows men like that better than anyone. The ones who use their sleek little tongues to charm their way into her fortune like a serpent.

She has been dealing with the likes of those ever since she was a child. Even her own father is a golden archetype of a deceitful, gain-driven person. It came to no surprise that the likes of such people were infested inside the walls of the Magic Council. The power that comes with this position could drown a fish in water, after all.

But some things do not add up.

The stitched, blueish circle on his left breast indicate that he has power already—and not only the political kind.

He is probably well-off anyway, being one of the Council Members and all.

So where does she fit in all this?

She is an heiress, yes. But the gut feeling she always relies on tells her that money or lands is not something he desires from her.

Power and influence? He has far more than she'll ever have.

Her keys? No, that isn't right either.

He wants something out of her, she is sure of it.

The only question is—what?

Several other probabilities pops into her pondering brain, but the telltale look of lust is missing as well. It is frustrating, it really is. He is an enigma—a puzzle she isn't even sure she wants to solve.

But the almost complete lack of anything in the windows of his soul speak otherwise.

He is hollow—like a turtle's shell. The only difference is; nobody is home inside.

She stares at him, ignoring the fact that she might look like a total creep. The longer she looks, the more goosebumps her skin develops under her uniform.

He is flawless—in a physical way. There isn't a blemish in sight, and the clashing colors of his hair and the unexplainable tattoo seem to blend perfectly together. His physique, Lucy decides, fighting off the warmth in her cheeks, is apparently good too, if his contours are anything to go by.

But the point is—he is hollow inside; it is apparent.

His face is expressive, annoyingly so. He could feign any sort of emotion, ranging from happiness to sadness.

But his eyes—they are as expressive as a rotting corpse.

He is like a doll, she concludes. A porcelain one. Those are the ones that creep her out the most.

Just like he does.

But the fingertip brushing across her thumb is not made from porcelain, nor does it resembled the smoothness of a shell. In fact, his skin feels soft, just like hers—albeit a bit rougher.

"I…" Lucy clears her throat, noting that he was just as deep in thought as she had been, "Accept. The cactus that is." Her voice does not waver no quiver, and for that she is thankful.

The bluenet untangles himself from her; instead, he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning on the nearby wall with his signature, ever so infuriating smirk plastered on his face. But this time, his posture is civil—warm, even.

She cracks a smile for him.

Not a half-assed, half-hearted one. No—Lucy curls her lips in a way she knows will make her face look tender and friendly and genuine.

He nods his head at her acceptance, his smirk morphing into a small twitch of a smile that makes his tattoo stretch slightly. Lucy, under his heavy scrutiny, tries to stop the twitch of her eyebrows, but finds that she simply can't.

It's like a small spot on her face— virtually unnoticeable but, once you squint and see it, you can't help but stray your attention to it just because you know it's there.

And Lucy knows that there is something not quite right with Siegrain Fernandes, and she's reminded of it every time she notices those hollow eyes of his.

"Well then, good day to you, Siegrain-sama," Lucy manages out over her shoulder as she rotates her body away from him.

Unbeknownst to her, something in his eyes does spark to life at that moment.

After all, he always notices the little details himself.

"Have a lovely afternoon as well, Lucy-san!" He calls out after her, enjoying the sudden tension in her shoulders at the use of her first name.

He continues to watch her like a hawk before she disappears out of his line of vision, and when he is sure that she's gone for good, he releases a laugh laced with disbelief;a splutter that's an echo of the sound his real form makes from miles away.

He has truly underestimated the Celestial Mage's observation skills.

For a second, he had stumbled.

Stumbled from the searing look she had cast him.

It was as if she had stood before him—the real him—inside the walls of the Tower of Heaven.

It makes adrenaline course through his veins.

It had seemed as if at that moment, she could've found out everything there is to him, and Siegrain—Jellal—had felt threatened.

Threatened that his plan was in ruins before he even took his first move.

Threatened that she already knows the truth about him.

Threatened that there's a possibility that, currently, his true intentions are being revealed and Rune Knights will soon flock the small patch of grass to lock him away.

But no.

It was just an illusion.

She knows nothing.

But she still suspects something.

And that is more than enough to make him feel exposed—vulnerable.

Of a silly girl!

He collects the scattered tomes laying across the coffee table, leaving the leftovers of his afternoon snack for the servants to take care of. He walks over to the indoor entrance, his steps unusually unstable.

When his hazel eyes find his balled-up hand, then—and only then—does he notice it is shaking; the already pale knuckles are white as the snow sheeting the mountain tops of Era.

And at that moment, Jellal Fernandes realizes that Lucy Heartfilia isn't going to be an easy target as he originally presumed.

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