Author's Note: Shortly after watching Allison and Lillia, I scrounged around for the light novels and hoped to find someone with the novels translated to English. Sadly I've had no luck so far, but there is a movement afoot on baka-tsuki to get the novels translated (if you can read and translate Japanese please visit our forums and help us out!). On the way, I did discover the subsequent Meg and Seron novels that were published after Lillia and Treize.

For those who need a refreshing of memory, Meg is one of Lillia's friends from school who is from Sous-Beil, and Seron is her classmate from Roxche. The whole plot of the novel series involves Seron falling in love with Meg at first sight and trying to get close to her to ask her out. They join the school journalism club along with three other kids and solve mysteries for the school newspaper. It's pretty light stuff compared to Allison's and Lillia's adventures, but still very entertaining (from what little I can understand of it).

Seeing as how they fit into the A&L canon, I thought it only natural to write a story for Meg and Seron. So here they are, in their greatest adventure yet and their first fanfiction ever! Since I have no information about the books other than what I've read in reviews, some characters may be OOC and I might get some facts wrong. I apologize if that happens and please correct me so I can edit it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Allison and Lillia anime produced by Madhouse, nor do I own the Meg and Seron novels written by Keiichi Sigsawa. I wish I did though. They must be great books.

Meg and Seron: Secret of the Firefly

By Jordan Harms

Chapter One: Don't Give Up the Ship

Late March, 3306 World Calendar.

The black-haired boy's stern and stoic cobalt eyes darted around the Capital Market, looking for anything potentially to buy. He had hitched a ride with his friend Larry Hepburn on his motorcycle earlier that day since he had something he wanted to get from the market as well. They agreed to split up and find anything they fancied and meet back at the motorcycle. So far, he was not having much luck.

He was out of his school uniform, since it was a Sunday and there were no classes for the weekend. Instead he had his usual street clothes: a plain white button-down shirt, dark khaki knickerbockers and white socks encased in black oxford shoes. He wore a light brown trench coat, since he heard through the radio of scattered rainstorms in the area. It served to further draw attention to himself, however, as all others in this meeting of merchants and buyers wore summer clothes. It also called further to attention his ambiguity, his silence, his mystery that followed him wherever he went.

Since his family estate was so far away from school, he figured it made no sense to go back such a long distance every weekend. Instead he only went home for vacations lasting more than two weeks, in winter and summer. He didn't mind it at all; school and the nearby Capital was quite entertaining, especially since one person that captivated his heart and his soul studied with him there. Sadly, she was not with him this day as she was out with a classmate, Lillia Schultz. In a way it was a relief for him, since he had enough time to plan out the next phase of his becoming closer to the one girl for whom he had undertaken everything in school thus far. Perhaps in this market he could find something that would show her what she meant to him.

Springtime was always a big season for merchants in the Capital, many of them coming from as far away as Ikstova to sell their goods and services to passersby. Sometimes even Bezelese merchants would come across the river to try their hand selling foreign goods to interested clienteles. One of the stories of a continent that had finally found peace after more than a century of war played out around him as he trotted along the pavement and searched through kiosk after kiosk for something, anything, that piqued his interest.

He passed by a row of mirrors, and, noticing an imperfection in his ebony black hair smoothed it out with the palm of his hand as he walked past it. Suddenly he stopped, and noticed something in the mirrors.

In its reflection, he saw a beautiful scale model of an old ship sealed in a Plexiglas case. The ship looked to be a heavy battle cruiser of the kind that often ruled the currents of the river in the days when the continent was not free from the dogs of war. She had a red hull below the waterline and was painted in gunmetal grey. On her forward mast she flew the flag of Sous-Beil, the nation of his beloved and his despair in this life.

"Such a fine ship…" he said, as he turned around to examine the real thing.

The vendor of the ship, an elderly bespectacled man grasping a pipe in his teeth greeted the young student with a kind sage grin.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?"

"Indeed she is," he returned, not changing the stoic expression in his face while secretly, if one looked closely, his eyes were wide as saucers in amazement of such fine crafting and meticulous building.

The ship truly was beautiful, and bore a strong likeness to the object of his affections. Both were graceful, majestic and elegant. She was everything he could want in a companion, and the ship reflected all of her good qualities in it. It was not with an ounce of trepidation that the boy chose this as the perfect gift for her.

"Meg would love this," he whispered to himself.

"What's that, young man?" the bespectacled vendor asked.

"I said how much is the ship?"

"50 rubles. It's a very unique specimen. It's an old Bezelese battle cruiser that was sunk in the River War."

"45 rubles," the boy countered.


"46 and half."

"Done," the vendor said, smiling. "Yours for 46 rubles, 50 kopecks."

The vendor removed the model from the case and handed it to the boy as the boy fished out his wallet and the necessary money to pay. Just then a middle-aged black-haired gentleman with a goatee dressed in a grey coat and derby hat came by, obviously keen on buying that same ship.

"How much for the model?"

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," the vendor said, frowning gesturing towards the boy, "I just sold it to this young man."

The goateed gentleman turned to the boy with examining and dissecting brown eyes.

"I'll buy it from you. Name your price."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't wish to sell," the boy said finitely as he started to walk back in the direction of Larry's motorcycle.

"Look here, young man," said the goateed man, persistently. "I'm a collector of model ships. How much did you pay for that? I'll give you double."

"The offer is very kind, sir," the boy rebuffed, not changing his stoic expression, "but I'm keeping this ship."

As soon as the boy rejected his offer, another man, younger with auburn hair, and in a brown suit and fedora rushed over to the two men and immediately searched his coat pocket for his wallet.

"How much for the model?" he asked hastily.

"It's not for sale," the boy said, his patience beginning to buckle.

The two men hounded the young boy as he continued to walk through the market and back to his friend waiting on a street corner with his motorcycle. He never once even grew a scowl and or twitched as they threw increasingly larger offers his way in exchange for parting with this gift intended for his secret beloved. Do these men even know of the concept of gift exchange? Does everything in this world have a price?

"I'll give 80 rubles for it!" the goateed man offered.

"90 rubles!" the man in the brown suit countered.

"No!" the boy declined, his tolerance already wearing thin.

"100!" the goateed man bribed.

At that, the boy stamped his foot on the ground and turned to the two men, and in a rare moment of the boy's life, he actually scowled as his cobalt eyes shot poison darts at them.

"Look here: I bought this ship as a gift for a friend. I don't wish to sell, so please stop harassing me!"

He left the two men there stunned and confounded as he turned on his heel and carried the ship with him back to his friend Larry, who was now waiting for him beside the school-issue green Brough Superior motorcycle, carrying two cardboard boxes under his arm.

Larry likewise was out of his school uniform, and dressed in normal street clothes. A brown Gatsby hat concealed his cropped blonde hair and shielded his blue eyes from the rays of the springtime sun. Larry similarly wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and tucked into brown knickerbockers, and black calf-length socks. The boy noted how anywhere else he would fit as a newsboy of the kind seen in film.

"Find anything good, Seron?" Larry asked as he loaded his new possessions into the small basket behind the driver seat.

"Just one: this ship," Seron replied, showing the newly acquired model ship that had just before been the cause of such ire for him.

"She's a real beauty," Larry said smiling looking at the masterpiece of craftsmanship he held in his hands. "It'll make a good addition to your dorm."

Seron was about to correct Larry about the purpose of this newly bought model when he heard a familiar voice he wished would go away.

"Excuse me…"

He turned to his right to find the goateed man again, wearing a saccharine smile that mentally incensed Seron. Regardless, he did not change the blank expression on his face intent on remaining composed and keeping the patience he had just gotten back.

"I apologize, it's me again," the goateed man greeted.

"I already told you—" Seron began with a hint of agitation in his voice, but the goateed man raised a hand.

"Forgive me for being so insistent. But as I explained, I'm a collector of model ships, and I would be so very grateful if you were to sell me your ship."

"As I explained," Seron rebutted, obviously not desiring to be there any longer, "I bought it for a friend—"

"Exactly!" the goateed man interjected. "Now, I have plenty of other ships just as good as yours, and we could trade them so your friend…"

Seron raised a hand, indicating him to stop.

"Please, sir," he said finitely, "don't go on. I tell you, I'm not interested and I wish to keep this ship."

"Very well," the goateed man relented as he reached into his coat pocket. "But do think it over. I'll give you my card so you can contact me if you change your mind."

He handed Seron a small business card which he shoved disinterestedly into his trench coat pocket.

"I wouldn't count on it," he cautioned.

"Well, I shall hope."

"Good day to you, sir."

Seron got into the sidecar of the motorcycle, with the model ship still in hand. He let out an exasperated groan, hinting at how befuddled he was at the two men's insistence on getting his ship.

"Let's get out of here, Larry. Before he comes back."

"You got it, pal."

Larry hopped on the driver's seat and revved the engine before turning to the right and heading down the main boulevard, out of the capital and towards their school. As they accelerated and managed to evade the traffic around Capital Square, Larry and Seron continued their chat about the mystery of the model ship.

"Who was that guy anyway?" Larry queried.

"Like I would know," Seron retorted, sighing heavily. "All I know is I buy the ship, and not long after I buy it, two men are hounding me to sell it to them."

Larry chortled at the small anecdote.

"The nerve of some people."

"That's not what has me vexed," Seron continued. "What's strange to me is why those two were so anxious to buy my ship. What's so special about it?"

"Maybe it's a rare model. How much did you pay for it?"

"I haggled and got it for 46.50. Pretty cheap for a rare model."

"Yeah," Larry concurred, recounting some personal experience with the subject. "A family friend got a rare model once, and they usually run up as high as 450 rubles!"

"So if isn't because it's rare, then what?"

Larry laughed, noting Seron's habit of searching for the truth and how often it had gotten him and their newspaper club into trouble in the past.

"Seron, my friend, you're looking for mysteries in all the wrong places."

"Perhaps," he admitted, "but that doesn't mean I can't still wonder…"

Larry nodded and after a short pause, changed the subject of conversation with his friend.

"So you bought it for a friend, eh?"

"You should know who I bought it for, Larry."

Larry threw his head back and laughed again, this time at what was another persistent attempt by Seron to woo Megmica Straussky, the object of his affections for what had seemed like years. Seron was always trying to find ways to gain Meg's favor and bring them closer together. Being in the newspaper club and playing the part of school sleuth with her was a good start, and they were already on good terms, but he wanted something more. She knew nothing of it, and until he found a way, she had to be in the dark.

"I'm not sure model battleships are the best way to impress a girl, Seron. I'd figure something more…feminine."

"But this ship is feminine!" Seron purported. "She is everything Meg is: beautiful, graceful and majestic! Besides, it's a Bezelese battle cruiser, and we know Meg is from across the river. So it must have some appeal…"

"Okay, okay, if you think so," Larry chuckled, trying hard to concentrate on driving while listening to Seron's humorous comparisons. "All of this over a model…"

They arrived at the school campus and brought in the motorcycle through the back way into the lot marked STUDENT PARKING in Roxchean. After powering down and offloading the motorcycle, the two young boys walked towards their dormitories with their newly acquired bargain possessions in tow.

The school dorms were normally divided into individual quarters for one student each, except for suites which usually housed four or five students at a time. Larry and Seron's dorm was a 2-student suite sharing a bath, and marked by separate room numbers. Theirs was on the top floor of the building and near the stairwell. Sadly there was no elevator, a decision made by the school staff to encourage the students to exercise on the stairs. This was decried by the students who called for an elevator when moving into dorms. Many students chose to customize and add personal flair to their living quarters, particularly a piece of home.

That fact only further galvanized Seron in his belief that Meg would accept his gift. Since it was a Bezelese ship, it would surely give her a reminder of home. And whenever she looked at this ship, she would remember that it was Seron who gave it to her.

In his head angels blew trumpets of triumph and he danced a merry jig at the thought of Meg thanking him for his gift. Now he only had to find her and present it.

They entered their dorm room and Seron immediately made for the chest of drawers to set down his newly acquired ship. He hoped that Meg would not be gone all day, and he would have a chance to give it to her before the weekend was out and both were once again swamped with classes.

He wished away the negative voices in his head as he set down the model, but just then Larry accidentally bumped into the chest of drawers. The vibration caused the model to fall over the edge and landed on the floor with a crash.

"Oh no, the model!"

Larry put down his boxes and saw his distraught friend knelt down on the floor, looking over his new ship. It lay on its side with most of the body intact, but the smokestack had been broken off the ship, and needed mending.

"Larry," Seron said with urgency while still keeping a calm disposition, "can you get some glue out of your dorm room?"

"Sure, Seron. I'll be right back."

Just as his fears were taking hold, he heard a motorcycle drive up. He rushed towards the windows and looked into the student parking lot and saw the sight that made him mentally jump with joy and fill him with anxiety at the same time.

"Hurry up, Larry. Meg just got here…" Seron warned.

"I'll take care of it, pal. You go meet Meg."

Seron took his friend at his word and ran out the door and down the stairway to the front steps, catching Meg as she waved goodbye to her friend Lillia as she walked away from the motorcycle in the direction of her dormitory.

Meg was out of her school uniform and in her best Sunday clothes which served to entice and allure Seron. She had a beautiful violet dress with puffy sleeves and a frilled hemline, something that brought out the violet hue of her dark locks and her indigo eyes. As she walked towards the dormitory and ran into Seron, she smiled and waved, as Seron's heart ached and skipped a beat.

"Hi, Seron!" she greeted energetically. "How are you doing today?"

Seron felt his knees shake and his throat stiffen at the joyous and melodic sound of her name calling him. If only she could call him as he wanted her to. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he slowly formed a sentence, fighting silent battles against the enemy of nerves and anxiety in the presence of his beloved.

"I'm…fine. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm doing well. Lillia and I went to Hessler Park nearby, so it was very peaceful there."

"It sounds…that way," he eked out. "Say, Meg, do you…have a moment to spare?"

"Sure, Seron," she answered with a smile and a twinkle in her dark navy eyes. "What is it?"

"I…have something…I want to show you."

"You do?" she chirped, her voice excited with curiosity.

Seron stifled a moan at her syrupy sweet words and hesitantly took her hand.

"Come with me…to my dorm."

He led her into the boys' residence hall and up to the top floor where his and Larry's dormitory stood. He opened the door and showed her in.

"I was…in the Capital today, and I saw something…I thought you might like."

He saw the model ship (which had been repaired just in time, much to his relief), and indicated it to Meg. Meg's eyes immediately widened as she smiled in delight and gasped in surprise.

"Seron, it's beautiful! You bought this for me?"

"Yes…I thought…you would like it."

"Thank you so much! It's such a magnificent ship!"

Meg skipped over to the chest of drawers and examined the ship closely, her navy eyes the size of saucers in amazement and awe of the masterpiece of craftsmanship Seron had picked out for her. Seron was quietly tripping the light fantastic in his head at how much Meg had taken a liking to her gift. In his mind he was on his way to winning her heart and another step closer to him working up the courage to say what he felt in his heart. Then her lips parted in a gasp of astonishment, as if the ship had revealed some great unknown truth in that moment.

"Seron, where did you say you bought this ship?"

"At the Capital Market. Why?"

"It's astounding!" she said, stepping back and putting her hands on hips. "What a remarkable coincidence!"

Seron raised an eyebrow inquisitively, his own curiosity piquing as to what Meg found so remarkable about the ship. If he hadn't have known, she was acting much the same way the two men were when they were so anxious to buy the model as soon as he had purchased it. Then Meg did something that caught Seron off-guard.

She took his hand and said,

"You have to come with me, Seron! I have something to show you too!"

Seron's body shook in nervousness as he was not expecting to be invited…back to her dorm room. He had a feeling Meg would like his gift, but he never once suspected that it would be enough to warrant a visit to her dorm room. This would be his first time in a girl's room. What would he do? What could he say? And what exactly did she have planned?

All these questions sped through his brain at the speed of light as Meg led him out the back of the boys' residence hall and into the girls'. Perhaps this was it, he thought as she led him up the stairs to the third floor, where her dormitory was. Maybe she was about to come out to him and the only place where they could work out the details of their future relations were in the privacy of her dorm. Seron's whole body shook like an paint mixer at the thought of this being the final moment, the moment he had been waiting for more than a year to come.

Meg opened the door, and Seron was immediately greeted by the plush look of her dorm room and how it seemed to fit Meg's personality to the letter. There was lace and frills everywhere he turned and saw that her bed had curtains around them, like the kind seen in bedrooms of royalty and white frilled window curtains. Paintings and photographs, presumably of family, hung everywhere about the room and Meg pointed to one portrait in particular.

It was a man in his mid 50s with a black beard and full head of hair, tinged violet like Meg's, and deep blue eyes, bluer than the waters of the Lutoni River, that seemed to stare down at and right through the two young people. He wore an old naval uniform of regal white and gold piping with what looked like a officer's hat bearing the crest of Sous-Beil, the curved saber. In his hand he held an officer's sword and scabbard, much like a king with his scepter. In the background, the waves of the Lutoni River seemed to lap at the frame as a formidable ship sailed in the distance.

"Who is he, Meg?" Seron asked curiously. "A relative?"

"Yes," she answered smiling at him. "He's my grandfather, Maximilian Straussky. He was a captain in the Royal Navy of Sous-Beil during the war."

"I…can definitely see the resemblance," Seron said slowly, entranced by the stare of her ancestor looking down at him as if entrusting his granddaughter to him.

"But that's not what's amazing. Look at the ship in the background."

Seron turned his attention to said ship, and looked closely. The warship was gunmetal grey and looked to be a battle cruiser. The ship flew the banner of Sous-Beil from its forward masts with a tall smokestack amidships. If one looked closely, one could see Seron's cobalt eyes widen in surprise and his mouth part in astonishment.

"It's just like the model…"

"I know!" Meg said, equally surprised. "It's exactly the same, virtually identical! It's an amazing coincidence!"

Seron's eyes squinted as he eyed the ship's stern, finding its name written in Bezelese.

"There's a name too, written in tiny letters…"

He indicated the name to her, and Meg slowly read it out.

"Firefly…odd. I never noticed the name before."

"I wonder…" Seron pondered, "if the model has the same name."

Then he remembered it was back in his room.

"I should have brought it," he lamented. "Wait here, Meg. I'll be right back."

He exited from Meg's room and quickly made his way out the front entrance towards the boys' residence hall. It would be so funny if his model had the same name on it as the ship in the portrait. They could have a good laugh about it, and at the same time have some more time to themselves. Seron's mind raced with the plethora of opportunities of gaining Meg's favor presented to him as he trotted up the stairway and towards his dormitory, expecting to see the model ship ready to be picked up and compared.

But what Seron saw instead left him aghast and frozen in shock.

The ship was gone, and the chest of drawers upon which he left it was as bare as the deserts were dry.

A/N: Got you with the cliffhanger didn't I? Well, this is just the start, and there is plenty more adventure in store for Meg and Seron before this story is over. So where did Seron's model go? Find out next time!

Thanks for reading and please review!