FAIRY TAIL: What If Natsu Never Rescued Lucy from Phantom Lord?
What If Natsu Never Rescued Lucy from Phantom Lord?
Lucy Heartfilia ran away from home to join Fairy Tail, chasing freedom and a place to belong. But when the dark guild Phantom Lord sets its sights on her—and on Fairy Tail itself—the boy who was supposed to come for her is already gone, training far beyond Magnolia.
In a world where Natsu never returns in time, Lucy must face the shadow of her past alone. With the guild she loves under siege and her own secrets dragged into the light, she'll
FAIRY TAIL: What If Natsu Never Rescued Lucy from Phantom Lord? - The Captive Celestial Spirit Princess — An Unreachable Voice, Yet the Key in Her Hand
Morning light was beginning to spill across Magnolia's white cobblestones.
The surface of the Fiore River glittered, and the row of magnolia trees along its bank swayed in the morning breeze. The sounds of market merchants opening their stalls, wagon wheels rolling over stone, and children's laughter drifting from somewhere far off.
It was a Magnolia morning like any other.
And yet.
On the first floor of the Fairy Tail guild headquarters—the guild tavern—this particular morning was strangely quiet.
Normally, you'd hear the shouting of the crowd who started drinking at dawn, or the brawling over job requests. But now, even with people seated at tables all across the twenty-table hall, not a single one spoke.
A heavy air had settled over the entire room.
Behind the counter, Olga the bartender polished glasses in silence. Only the movement of her hands, oddly rhythmic.
"...Hey, Lucy still isn't here?"
The one who said it in a small voice was a petite girl with short-cropped blue hair.
Levy McGarden. A mage of Fairy Tail, a clever girl skilled in decoding ancient script. Behind her large round glasses, her eyes wavered with unease.
"She hasn't been seen since yesterday evening."
The man standing beside Levy—a mage called Jet—answered low, arms crossed. He was a member of the same team as Levy, Shadow Gear, a young man whose weapon was his blinding speed.
"They say her pouch was found behind the guild."
"Her pouch—the one with the Celestial Spirit keys?"
Levy's voice trembled, just slightly.
"Yeah. And there was some weird pattern burned into the ground, too. Purple, like a magic circle."
"A magic circle..."
Levy gripped the hem of her skirt tight.
Lucy Heartfilia. The blonde Celestial Spirit mage who laughed with her twin-tails swaying—bright, a little clumsy. She'd only just joined the guild, and she still failed plenty of jobs, but she was kind to everyone and cared deeply for her comrades.
And she hadn't come back since last night.
"Is the Master here yet?"
An irritated voice rose from another table.
"Calm down. He's contacting the Council right now, isn't he?"
"How am I supposed to calm down?! Lucy's been taken!"
"We don't know for sure she was taken—"
"What else could it be?! That magic circle was obviously a teleport type!"
The arguing grew louder, bit by bit.
That was when it happened.
From the top of the stairs leading to the second floor came the tap, tap of a cane.
Everyone in the hall fell silent at once.
Standing at the top of the stairs was a small old man.
White hair. A long white mustache. Barely a hundred and fifty centimeters tall. But the presence radiating from his body weighed heavier than anyone else in the hall.
The Third Master of Fairy Tail, Makarov Dreyar.
Counted among the Ten Wizard Saints, he was the absolute pillar of this guild.
Makarov descended the stairs slowly. One step, then another. Only his footsteps echoed through the hushed hall.
Reaching the counter, he gave Olga a look. She silently offered him a glass of water.
Makarov didn't take it. Instead, he swept his gaze across everyone in the hall.
"...My precious children."
His voice was low and carried well.
"This morning, I received reports from those who searched the warehouse area behind the guild. What was carved into the ground was a highly advanced trap magic circle combining teleportation and binding. It took all night to analyze."
A stir ran through the hall.
"I also checked the communication lacrima records. The last lacrima Lucy used was logged. The destination... was northeast of Magnolia, toward the border."
"Northeast means..."
Someone murmured.
"Gran Noir."
At Jet's words, the air in the hall froze instantly.
Gran Noir. About a hundred and eighty kilometers northeast of Magnolia, a ruined mining town at the foot of the Vermillion Mountains. No decent person lived there anymore.
And it was—a lawless zone rumored to be the stronghold of the dark guild Phantom Lord.
"Phantom Lord... the one where Jose, one of the Ten Wizard Saints, is the master..."
The blood drained from Levy's face.
"Yes. There's little doubt. Lucy was taken by Phantom Lord."
At Makarov's words, the hall went silent for a moment.
And the next instant—
"Are you kidding me!!"
A young mage kicked over a table. Wooden plates clattered to the floor with a loud crash.
"I don't care if it's Phantom Lord or whatever—you think you can snatch one of our own and get away with it?! Master, give us the order to charge in right now! We're going to save Lucy!"
"That's right!"
"I'm going too!"
"Let's get Lucy back!"
Angry shouts rose from all corners.
The guild's motto was "believe in your comrades." If one of their own had been taken, these were not people who could stay silent.
But.
Makarov listened to that wave of fury, quietly, without a word.
At last, he spoke.
"...I understand your feelings well enough."
His voice was far lower and heavier than before.
"But listen. Gran Noir is a fortress built from the tunnels of an abandoned mine. There's only one front entrance. Cliffs surround it on all sides. Watchtowers stand everywhere, and there's even a barrier that detects intruders from outside."
Makarov paused there.
"On top of that, right now this guild has neither Gray nor Erza. Both are on distant assignments and can't return quickly. Natsu and Happy are still away training. Our fighting strength is far too thin."
"So you're telling us to give up?!"
"I said no such thing."
Makarov's voice cracked through the hall.
"I am now filing a formal report with the Kingdom's Magic Council. If Phantom Lord's involvement is confirmed, we can request the Council dispatch the Rune Knights. But that will take time."
"Take time... and what happens to Lucy in the meantime?!"
"I told you I understand your feelings."
Makarov's eyes narrowed.
"But tell me—if we charge into Gran Noir on our own authority now and fail, what then? The guild would have its license revoked for private war against a dark guild. In the worst case, disbanded. If that happens, far from saving Lucy, all of you would lose your place to belong."
"Th-that's..."
"I am the guild master. I bear responsibility for each and every one of your lives, and for this guild's survival. I cannot act on emotion alone."
No one could argue against Makarov's words.
Everyone bit their lips. Clenched their fists. Anger and helplessness filled the hall.
"...I will not permit anyone to act rashly. Understood."
With only that, Makarov turned on his heel and climbed the stairs.
His back looked smaller than usual.
A heavy silence remained in the hall.
No one could say anything.
Only Levy whispered, softly.
"Lucy..."
Her voice reached no one.
———
Elsewhere—Gran Noir.
Third underground level.
Inside a cell surrounded by dark rock walls, Lucy Heartfilia woke.
Cold.
The stone floor against her cheek was cold as ice.
She tried to sit up, and the iron shackles around her wrists clanked. The chain was fixed to the wall; she couldn't move freely.
"...Here again."
Her hoarse voice didn't sound like her own.
Her throat was dry. Her lips were cracked and split. A dull ache throbbed deep in her head.
(How long was I out?)
The light through the small window was the same orange as yesterday.
No—that had been evening light. Now it might be morning light.
(I can't tell.)
Her sense of time was completely broken.
Lucy slowly looked around.
A narrow stone room. Iron bars. A small window high on the wall. The smell of mold, rust, and something rotting.
Nothing had changed.
The same cell as yesterday.
"...Hah."
A sigh escaped her.
She reached for the belt at her hip. The feel of the pouch.
(The keys are still here.)
The pouch with her Celestial Spirit keys was safe.
But.
(My magic... hasn't recovered at all.)
The shackles on her wrists were still draining her magic. The mana in her body was empty—she couldn't summon a spirit, couldn't even cast a simple spell.
That was when it happened.
Tap, tap—footsteps came from down the corridor.
The same as yesterday. Multiple sets of footsteps.
Lucy pressed herself against the wall. The chain clanked.
Beyond the iron bars, the figures of men appeared.
Not the same two as yesterday. One was tall, draped in a black robe. The other was stout, holding something in his hand.
"Oh, you're awake, miss."
The tall man smiled at her through the bars. His tone was polite, but his eyes weren't smiling at all.
"...What do you want?"
Lucy glared at him with all the bravado she could muster.
"Now, now, don't make such a scary face. Today I've come bearing good news for you, miss."
"Good news?"
"Yes. It's about your father—Lord Jude Heartfilia."
Lucy's body went rigid.
"Father... what about him?"
Her voice shook.
"Lord Jude is currently bedridden with illness at his estate in the capital. A rather serious illness, I hear."
"...What?"
Her mind went blank.
Her father. Ill.
"Well, hearing that much, any daughter would worry, wouldn't she? That's why our master is saying—if you answer our questions honestly, he'll let you see your father."
"...Answer your questions?"
"Yes. For example, about the 'treasure' passed down in your family."
The tall man's eyes glinted.
"...Treasure? What are you talking about? I've never heard of any such thing."
At Lucy's words, the tall man shrugged.
"Well, it's fine if you can't answer right away. We have plenty of time. Though I can't say whether your father's life will last that long."
"—!"
Lucy shouted, flushing with rage.
"Don't you dare! Using my father as a hostage—that's the lowest! You think I'd do what you say with a trick like that?!"
"Oh my, such spirit. But you see, miss—you have no right to refuse."
The tall man signaled to the stout one.
The stout man tossed something through the gap in the bars.
It was bread.
No—calling it bread was generous. A black, hardened lump. It hit the floor with a dull thud.
"Today's meal. Eat it all, please. If you're not healthy, we can't keep our promise to let you see your father."
The tall man said this and chuckled.
"That's right. And also—that pouch at your hip. It has Celestial Spirit keys in it, doesn't it?"
Lucy instinctively hid the pouch.
"No need to hide it. We know we can't take it from you anyway. Celestial Spirit keys respond only to the will of their wielder. Force them away and they're just lumps of metal."
"...Then what do you want?"
"Just a confirmation. Whether you've let go of the keys or not. Well, I'm relieved to see you haven't. The master has taken an interest in your keys."
A chill ran down Lucy's spine.
Jose.
The master of Phantom Lord, whose smile hid who-knew-what.
That man has an interest in my keys.
"Well then, miss. Think carefully about your father. I look forward to a wise choice."
Leaving those words, the tall man departed down the corridor with the stout one.
The footsteps faded.
At last, all was silent.
Lucy stayed slumped against the wall, unable to move for a while.
"...Father is ill."
She murmured it aloud.
Her father, Jude Heartfilia.
A shrewd merchant who had grown the Heartfilia trading company into a powerhouse in a single generation.
After her mother died, her father had seemed interested only in work. She'd felt he saw her not as a daughter but as a tool to carry on the family.
An arranged marriage.
When that match was forced on her, she ran away from home.
She hadn't seen her father once since.
(I thought I never wanted to see him.)
But.
(But I never once wished for him to die.)
Lucy squeezed her eyes shut.
Something tightened painfully in her chest.
Her father had fallen ill.
Whether it was true or a lie, she couldn't tell.
Knowing those men, it could be a lie to shake her.
But.
(If it's true—)
If it was really true, if her father was gravely ill with not long left—
He might die without ever seeing her again.
"...No."
Lucy shook her head.
(No. That's exactly what they want.)
Using her fathe
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