I KNOW THE TITLE IS LAME. I HATE IT TOO.

Anyways remember two years ago, when the idea of Jellal becoming the next Emperor of Alvarez was kind of a thing? No? Was that just me? Oh well. AU Jerza. May seem OOC.

"That boy," she heard, "is going to make one fine ruler."

One laughed. "You think so?"

"You fool. I never think."

"Then what makes you so sure?"

One scoffed. "Tell me, have I ever been wrong? Take a good look at him," both paused, "and then let me hear your doubts."

"But, he isn't of noble bloodline."

"Oh, to Hell with bloodlines. They're silly and inefficient. Besides, what a line of asses that'd be with the last emperor."

Erza listened to them bicker, rubbing the face of her wine glass with a restless thumb. She thought she'd chosen a safe place to sit, underneath the farthest string of lights from the horde of guests ahead. Her feet would not be stepped on here. Her thoughts, she'd thought, would not be interrupted here.

"Hey Miss, what do you think?"

Erza only looked up from her glass after the second call, and shuffled in the auburn drapes that weren't her own. "I'm sorry?"

"Emperor Fernandes," the lady said. "What do you think of him?"

The other wacked her with a fan. "Stop that. You're just bothering people now."

"It's possible not everyone thinks the way you do."

The elder smacked her shoulder again. "As I said before, I am not thinking. This man is what Alvarez has been lacking. I told you to look at the boy. Even with a crown, he carries himself humbly. His speech—did you hear his speech? I don't think I've ever felt so safe. He will repair our country. Now, enough with your objections. Leave this nice lady alone."

The woman frowned. "But—"

"No," Erza said. "She's right."

Erza kissed the rim of her glass and sipped more of her wine.

She felt the women's eyes on her, but she did not look farther than her reflection in her glass. She did not go past the councilmen, the guests, the tables of food, the tables her friends remained at—she would not tempt herself.

Instead, Erza wondered if there was a greater way to provide her wine salvation when the alcohol did not taste as sweet as it once did.

She pretended to drink more. "He will."

Knock.

Pause.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Who is it?"

"It's-–"

Pause.

"-–It's me, uh, Erza Scarlet."

Silence.

"Erza?"

"Can…can we speak?"

Click.

Erza took a step backwards as light sprung from underneath the doorway. Jellal soon appeared wide-eyed and messy-haired amidst the threshold, and Erza sucked in a breath, embarrassed. It'd be their first conversation today.

"Hello," she said.

"Hi."

"Forgive me for disturbing you in the middle of the night. I need to discuss something with you."

Jellal stared at her for a moment, and Erza looked up and down at his figure. He was still in the same garb he had worn all day. When she saw his eyes again, he shook his head and stepped to the side.

"Please," he said. "Come in."

She glanced into the suite. "Are you sure? You're not in the middle of anything?"

He scratched his head. "It's perfectly fine. I couldn't sleep anyways."

Erza offered a little smile. There was some relief in that—how she wasn't the only person who had trouble sleeping. "Thank you," she said.

Erza quickly walked through the space. After a few steps, she stopped and raised her head to her surroundings.

"I've only imagined this setting once," Erza murmured, still smiling. She looked at each piece of furniture carefully, though the opulence of her surroundings bothered her the least. She felt her stomach tense just from thinking about how tremendous the room was. "I didn't have much of an opinion as far as the kind of person Mystogan was, mostly because he'd come to the guild one day and within the next minute, he'd be gone again. But after we left Edolas, I was happy for him. I didn't know him very well, but I was proud."

Hearing the door click, Erza frowned. Somewhere inside of her, she wished he hadn't closed that door as fast as he had opened it.

"Mystogan?" Jellal said.

"Yes," Erza said, turning to him. "It wasn't as if I could stop myself from imagining what would happen if—if you had become a king. You two are identical, after all."

Jellal smirked, looking towards his feet. "Did you ever believe in it?"

"I'd only thought about it once."

"And?"

Erza smirked back. "No, I didn't believe in it all."

"Well," Jellal said, "it wouldn't make sense if you did."

"No," she shook her head. "But I had other hopes for you. They came true as well."

Jellal furrowed his eyebrows a bit. "Would you like to sit down?"

"I'm fine standing," she said, "but thank you."

Erza brushed a piece of her bang back, bit her lip, and looked somewhere to the side. As silence once again sprouted between the two of them, she felt it then—that strong, unbidden need to reach out to him and…and…and she did not know what. Erza pushed the feeling down and when her eyes met his—oh, there it was again—it couldn't have felt more mournful, seeing the seventeen years that had passed fugitively and without regard. He grew out of all her expectations and it hurt her to admit that she knew more of the man in pain than the boy who dreamed of heaven.

She took a deep breath and laughed. "This is crazy," Erza breathed. "Things have really changed."

"Yes," he said. "I completely agree."

"How do you feel?"

"Truthfully? Worried."

She shook her head. "Don't be," she said. "You were always a great leader."

Silence.

He took a step forward. "How do you feel?"

Erza smiled. "I'm proud of you," she said, genuinely.

"No, not like that."

"What?"

"I was looking for you earlier, but they said you weren't feeling well."

Her cheeks felt hot. "Guess I had too much wine," she said. "I've been told I'm not very skilled at holding my liquor."

A laugh. Another step forward. Then, a little too seriously, he said, "I was hoping to dance with you."

Her heart skipped.

"I apologize," she said. "Rest assured I would have accepted your request."

He smiled. "What about now?" He asked.

Erza gaped. "Now?!"

Jellal nodded, even chuckled. He was doing a lot of that tonight. He held out his palm, and Erza paused about for only a second, sucked in a breath and touched it, feeling much like a baby bird perching on the edge of a nest. Jellal's fingers folded warmly over hers, and Erza would stare at their hands, stare back up at him, and then she would be the one to step closer only to not think about how or when or whatever the reason she did so apart from understanding that she just wanted to see what it would be like.

The characteristics of slow dance soon befell them. He touched her lower back, she touched his shoulder…their free hands grabbed for each other, and their footing mirrored. Erza thought perhaps there should have been music, but she could not argue the dimmed thrum of a long celebration still yet to end, the shuffle of their clothing, the ticking of a clock somewhere in the room, her own heart, his laughs from earlier and all of himself, breathing in front of her, solid and strong. It was already so loud.

Erza pressed her face into his shoulder and sighed. "Jellal," she said,
"this is…"

"I'm sorry," he said. "Just one dance."

"I came here to tell you something…I…"

"Yes," Jellal said. "I know."

She shook her head. "I meant it when I said…I am proud of you. I am so, so happy for you, Jellal. You shouldn't be afraid. I can't possibly think of anybody else more suited for the position. You've always been capable of great things…I…" Erza took a deep breath. "…I want to be honest with you," she whispered.

Their swaying slowed. As Erza waited for a reply, she thought of all the ways this could go wrong. How would his eyes look afterwards? She could back out now and regret it immediately after. She would remain here and regret it anyways.

The hours she spent in her guest room toppled over into nothing. Erza didn't like the room but she should have never left it. It was beautiful like everything else but she still wandered from bed to window to bathroom to window even when all her initial curiosity wilted. The passage here was just as clogging. Her restlessness had felt like a rash, and she recklessly turned her affections into incentive without thinking about the possible ramifications of just standing in front of him.

But her guilt burned differently from a rash. She knew what it was. Her fingers began to itch and she didn't stop herself from pushing her nails onto his shoulder. Her breaths grew smaller, quieter, and her eyes heavier. When she scrunched them shut she saw bright colors that reminded her too much of a certain fire.

Erza waited for his voice for a long time. It didn't come at all and his lack of response as they danced suddenly meant too much to her. Her small breaths trembled for a moment. He was so warm and she didn't know what to do with herself. She dug her nails in deeper and sighed. It no longer felt as simple as pressing her face into his shoulder. She hid it—buried it. Boxed herself in with the quiet and warmth. Erza closed off her thoughts briefly and allowed a simpler weariness to take her, and he said nothing.

The dance did not stop even as she latched onto him. Erza felt like she had already fallen off the nest and she vaguely wondered when she would hit the ground. Every bit of her conscience dripped down into her heart. The warmth in her fingers reminded her of when she had enough of her own magic in her hands. She felt the precautions of going past her limits, but the way her pulse sprinted made her feel as if there would never be an end to the possibilities.

Jellal raised her hand above them. With one spin, he changed her loud overthought into more music, more affection, and more confusion. The edges of her eyes stung as she saw his face and wound back into his chest, and Erza thought maybe she had already hit the ground. As everything continued to spin afterwards, she decided this was where she would lose it.

Erza couldn't recall who kissed who. The kiss numbed her mind and burned her lungs but she enjoyed the pain just as much as the taste of air. Wrapping her arms around his neck she took one large hot breath against his lips with a greedy claim. His arms coiled around her waist and brought her closer. They held each other and paused here.

Erza worked up the courage to open her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered upwards to the nervous beat of her heart and she saw his. They were beautiful and green and promising but she immediately felt she was missing something. She glanced at his lips. For a man of little words his silence felt out of place now. He touched her forehead with his, closed his eyes, and didn't speak, though he looked like he wanted to—he always looked like he wanted to tell her something. His hair tickled her face and she thought he was trying to hide behind it. Erza scowled at their mutual secrecy. Nothing seemed to fit where they should have.

Big and fancy things of a different world surrounded her. It was when Erza could see his eyes again—all of it, as he opened them back up for her—that she confirmed her suspicions. But his arms were still wrapped around her waist and his eyes told her to ignore them.

"Then be honest with me," Jellal breathed.

Erza bit her lip and this time, she remembered who kissed who.

Her heart took what it could and he helped her. How could she leave now after always wanting to be here? How could she let him go without holding him first? Erza didn't let herself be surprised when he took her to bed. The silk sheets welcomed her skin and she soon forgot herself. A Jellal she never knew before filled the palms of her hands with the vulnerable parts of him she never stopped wishing for, healing her with what would ruin her later. The desperation finally dripped down her face, and he wiped her tears with his lips. His lips smelled of expensive wine that tasted bitter in her own mouth but felt sweeter in her neck and down her body. The dancing never stopped. The dance was different but the music was the same, only louder.

In the back of her mind, she remembered how much she hated her accommodations. She familiarized herself with nothing and the size had suffocated her. This room was no stellar exception but at the very least, Erza reasoned that the bed deserved more praise.

Shuffle. Shuffle.

Creeak.

"Are you leaving?"

"…Who told you?"

"Nobody. But, I—"

Pause.

"—I knew I couldn't ask you to stay."

"Jellal, I…I won't pretend as if there's a place for me here. I—"

"I understand, Erza. I always have. I want what's best for you."

"What we did—"

"It's my fault too. You didn't do anything I didn't encourage."

Silence.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize."

"I…I want to."

Silence.

"Will you help me, Jellal?"

"…I will."

"Thank you, I…thank you."

Nod.

"Of course, Erza."

She shrugged on the dress she wore all day yesterday and didn't fix her tangled hair. He watched her hastily leave the room and when the door clicked shut, Jellal sat up in bed, clasped his hands over his lap, and looked towards the window. The sun was barely coming in. He watched each ray as they moved up the large walls and hit the polished tiles of the bedroom floor. Before he knew it, hours had passed and one of his advisers knocked on his door. Jellal didn't respond right away but when he did, he asked the man when the next ship to Fiore would sail.

Note: Fun fact! I've had this prompt in my drafts for over two years. I lost the desire to complete it for so long but I finally did and here it is now. I had a lot of creative freedom here so I wrote ruthlessly. This was angst and I had fun writing it. I don't know if I'll continue it.

Also, I am aware I already posted this on Tumblr a number of weeks ago. I just never gave this a title in the first place but I needed one for here. It's incredibly forced.