It was probably the only really meaningful gift from her father in recent times. It wasn't much — just a tiny little demon plushie. It could have easily been lost in thousands of other dresses and jewellery that he had also sponsored for her.
Had it not been for the fact the toy was a small reminder of happier times. And of her parents' love.
One of her fondest childhood memories were of when they would all cuddle together in bed while her mother told stories. In particular, one of a tiny demon that saved lost little kids, only to be misunderstood by the children's parents when they saw him with them. Her father would supply the dialogues for the angry people, while her mother would do those for the little children and the demon.
Lucy felt for the demon, and protested, insisting that she would have done her best to protect it had she had the chance. Her mother had been so pleased with the suggestion, that she would weave a Lucy into the story to do just that - and she would get to do her own dialogues. And they would go on and on until Jude reminded them of it being past bedtime.
Storytime had been her favourite way to spend time with her family - it was the one time her father and mother could take a break from their royal duties and spend time with her.
Her mother's sudden loss had been very hard on her and her father, and his subsequent attempts to cope had really dented their relationship. Lucy, now at sixteen years, still couldn't remember the last time she and her father had really spoken.
The plushie, gifted to her on her tenth birthday, two years after losing her mother, was a small reminder that despite all the evidence that went against it, her father really did care.
She had taken extremely good care of the soft toy ever since. It had a special place beside her pillow at night-time and was the last thing she saw when she went to bed and the first when she woke up. She would talk to it every day — share tales of her day, people she met, things she learnt. She would laugh with it and cry holding it. It was her closest friend, and had been for years now.
Even if it never had it replied back.
Not till right now anyway.
Lucy, the ever graceful celestial princess of Magnolia, fell rather clumsily on her bum when it — he — suddenly spoke.
"Woah, there! You okay?" came the tiny voice again, as the now animated toy (person?) leaned over the bed to ensure she was okay.
"Y-y-you're talking!"
"Hell yeah I am!" he grinned. "Finally."
"B-b-but you're a toy!"
"Oi, I'm a demon!" His face tilted to one side. "And you've always told me you're a polite person. Lies!"
Lucy blinked disbelievingly, as the little toy crossed his arms and huffed.
She crawled on her knees back to the edge of her bed to peek at the toy, see for herself if he really was…real.
And while the demon kept his back to her, pouting sulkily, she brought a finger to poke him in the side.
"Hey," he warned.
Poke.
"Hey!" His back still faced her.
Poke.
"Would you— " he got cut off as Lucy — in a bid to try and confirm once more that felt had indeed given way to flesh — unintentionally began tickling him.
"S-sorry," she said, not really that sorry. His laughter was heart-warming.
"Oh, you're gonna pay," he said, once he'd caught his breath.
