The Scarlet Reaper

by bluedragon03

Reapers are the fearsome and bloody race of the Heavens that subject humans to the Fate's justice. They are fearfully worshiped by the five kingdoms as part man, part god. The most celebrated and feared of The Reapers is known as The Scarlet Reaper. There is one, however, said to be her match, known as Heaven's Rebel. She is to be his executioner, but perhaps nothing is as it seems

1. Heaven's Rebel

*A/N- Alright! I've been working on this one for ages, and I hope you like it! I took a few liberties with the personalities because growing up in a different setting would have changed their personalities, at least a little. If you have any questions feel free to ask in my inbox, a review, or on my tumblr neverticklethissleepingdragon.

I do not own Fairy Tail.

Reapers are the fearsome and bloody race of the Heavens that subject humans to the Fate's justice. They are fearfully worshipped by the five kingdoms as part man, part god. Sent from their own realm to the human world as harbingers of death and righteousness they kill and collect souls for the Fates, the only force they answer too.

The humans don't know much about the Reapers. Their existence is shrouded in a mist of blood and fear. Even so, there are certain Reapers celebrated and famous even among the humans. Their kills are distinguished from one another by their signatures. The most feared and admired symbol is a handkerchief that as black as night, save a small scarlet skull embroidered in the corner. This is the mark of the Scarlet Reaper, who is said to have long, scarlet hair which stains the sky behind her like the blood of her victims stained the ground. Both beautiful and terrifying, she is renowned even in the Reaper world as the best, most capable warrior and servant of the fates.

There is another, however, one who is said to be her match. The people call him Heaven's Rebel, for he committed a grave and treasonous act upon his own kind, then escaped from the Scarlet Reaper, who was to be his executioner. He continued to kill, without Heaven's blessing, leaving a single scarlet S, written in the blood of his victims, as his signature.

x x x

Heaven's Rebel

X x x

Jellal crouched over his victim and dipped his first two fingers into the pooled blood, then stood and traced the single S that served as his signature. He smiled to himself, then froze as a terrifyingly familiar voice rang out behind him.

"Jellal!" It said. Jellal took a breath to compose himself, then turned to face the speaker.

His heart twisted when his eyes landed on her. He couldn't help it. He kept forgetting how beautiful she was until she was right in front of him. She was standing in the entrance of his alleyway. There was a slight breeze, rustling her clothing and hair, which painted the night sky behind her like blood. The moon was at her back, lighting her up like a dark angel, or some sort of demon.

"Erza," he said, amazed when his voice came out calm and confident. "It's been a while."

She had her scythe at the ready, it's blade so black it practically melted into the night. The only thing letting him know it was there was the moonlight glistening menacingly off it's blade. The scythe was her weapon of choice, and it was the only one he could see on her right now, although he didn't doubt she had at least a dozen others hidden on her.

"You're coming with me," she declared. Her voice rang clearly through the night, filling the still air with her fury. Jellal instinctively reached for the staff at his back, his weapon of choice. He knew he only had three options here: comply, be killed, or fight her off. He reminded himself that he'd done it once, escaped from her. He, like she, was a force to be reckoned with. He may not have as much natural talent as she did, but years of training had made him equally as skilled.

"I have no intention of coming quietly, Erza," he said.

"I know."

Erza tarried no more. She lunged at Jellal, scythe raised. Her black cloak and blade blended in nearly perfectly with the shadows of the alley, and if it hadn't been for the metal flashing in the moonlight he would have been cut in half. He leapt into the air, above the deadly edge of Erza's scythe and landed on the roof of the building behind him. He removed his staff from its place on his back and twirled it in his hand, listening to the comforting sounds of it swishing through the air.

His battle staff was heavy, made completely of Reaper Metal, the same material of Erza's scythe. She leapt after him without hesitation, slashing furiously. Jellal thrust his staff between himself and the blade of Erza's scythe. The weapons clanged and flashed when they hit, lighting the darkness briefly. Reaper Metal had special qualities that made it very durable, or else Jellal's staff would have snapped under Erza's assault.

"Running like a coward?" Erza taunted.

"Ridiculous," he replied. Jellal attacked first this time, swinging at Erza's feet with one hand while reaching into his cloak for one of his throwing daggers with the other.

When Erza leapt over his attack he flung the dagger at her. She rolled in the air and the dagger went sailing past her and clanked to the ground somewhere out of sight. When her body turned back around to face him there was a dagger in her hand as well, it sailed through the air directly at his head. He managed to avoid it, but only just. Erza was moving again the second her toes touched the ground. She lunged at Jellal, her scythe held at the ready.

A weighted chain came out of nowhere and slammed into Jellal's nose. He grunted in pain, but kept his eyes on the Scarlet Reaper. Erza stood in a half crouch, her scythe held out in front of her with the blade low to the ground. Jellal lowered himself into a ready position, not watching her weapon, but her body, waiting for the tells he knew so well. Knowing what was coming wouldn't be of much aid to him, however. Erza's movements were lightning quick. There! Her shoulders tensed, and Jellal leapt into action. He jumped back, narrowly avoiding a strike to the face with the scythe's handle, and flung a dagger at Erza's head. She jerked her head to the side, the blade skimming across her cheek.

Erza didn't react as blood began to trickle from the wound. She swung at his knees, but when he leapt into the air her free hand flung something at him. He swore as he recognized the weighted chain glinting through the air. He tried to and failed to evade it. The chain wrapped around his knees, and when Erza yanked her end he crashed onto the roof. His staff clattered to the ground next to him and he cursed. The weighted chain was Erza's secondary weapon, why hadn't he been expecting that attack? He cursed himself for letting who he was fighting affect his mental state.

The flashing of the scythe's handle was the only warning he got before the butt of her scythe slammed into the tiles where his head had been. A blow like that might have crushed his skull. He wouldn't put it past Erza to kill him like that, before even taking him back to their world. What a way to die, he thought, hated as a traitor, banished to the human world. Killed by my best friend. Jellal finally managed to roll to his feet, seizing his staff from where it had fallen and cast Erza's chain to the side.

Erza flicked her wrist and the chain disappeared beneath her cloak again. Jellal had never been able to fathom how she'd gained such mastery of the chain. He lunged, jabbing the butt of his staff directly at Erza's face, but she dodged and swung her scythe up through his blind spot so that the handle slammed into his jaw from below. Jellal's teeth slammed together as he was sent flying back across the rooftop. The wind rushed out of him when his back slammed against the chimney. His vision blurred from impact so he didn't see Erza swinging her scythe handle.

Her attack struck him on the brow, knocking him off balance and sending him tumbling off the roof. He landed painfully on his shoulder, but used his momentum to roll onto his back, reach into his cloak, and fling a dagger at the woman plunging through the air at him. His quick action caught her off guard, and the dagger struck her in the shoulder, sinking hilt deep into her flesh. She cried out in pain, falling off course and losing her footing. She twisted so she didn't hit the ground on her injured shoulder, though she still groaned. Jellal struggled to his feet as Erza sat up and ripped the knife out of her skin. They stood at the same time, each bleeding from their own wound.

Heaven's Rebel and The Scarlet Reaper stood twenty feet away from each other, locked in a face off. Erza's face was painted with hatred in every sense of the word, but Jellal's face was a mask of sadness and remorse. It wasn't the face of a man locked in battle.

"I'm going to kill you, Jellal," Erza said.

"I don't think so."

"That's what all my other victims said."

"I'm not like your other victims," Jellal replied.

"That's true," Erza commented. "You are more powerful than most of my opponents. Very few people have ever managed to draw my blood." Erza indicated her two bleeding wounds.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Erza," he said quietly.

"Then you shouldn't have killed the Prince," Erza snapped, her fury growing.

Outlined against the moon like she was, Erza very much resembled a demon. Her hair glowed almost evilly, and her dark cloak accompanied by her midnight scythe only added to the terror of her appearance. Blood flowed freely from her shoulder wound, and she made no move to stop it. It ran down her arm in rivulets, staining her skin and dripping onto the ground at her feet. The Scarlet Reaper tensed, then launched into battle again.

Heaven's Fist sprung into action as well. He whipped his staff up to block her attack, spinning on the spot when a dagger flew at his neck. His upper body swung low and his foot kicked high, knocking the dagger out of her hand. Erza kicked furiously at Jellal's head. Jellal dodged and jabbed his staff at her stomach. His staff hit the soft spot under her ribs and he heard the air rush out of her. She stumbled back, coughing and gasping painfully.

Jellal threw another dagger, but by the time it reached it's destination, she was gone. She stepped to the side and leapt back at Jellal, her chain making an appearance once more. All Reapers were required to train with a primary and secondary weapon. Although Erza was famous for being proficient with almost every weapon imaginable, she favored the weighted chain as her secondary. Jellal knocked the chain away with his arm, and in his distraction almost missed the real attack. The chain had only been a ruse.

A small needle, barely visible, sliced through the air. It was undoubtedly coated in poison, although it was probably just a paralytic. She would want to take him back alive for a public execution. No doubt if that happened he wouldn't be able to escape again. He would probably be kept drugged and under constant supervision until the big day just to be sure. They would want to make a fanfare out of his death, a warning to any who would dare disobey the Grim. Jellal knocked Erza's real attack out of the air with the back of his fist.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Erza!" Jellal cried.

"I know enough about the situation," Erza replied, "I have been briefed, and even viewed the body before cremation." It was customary to cremate Reaper bodies, but right now Jellal couldn't get over how convenient that was for his accusers. They'd burned the body, and with it any hope Jellal had for exoneration.

"I'm sure they let you see the body," he said. Swinging his staff down vertically. Erza blocked with the blade of her scythe. Jellal bared down harder, using all his strength. Erza grit her teeth and placed one hand on the back of her blade and began to push back. She was surprisingly strong for a woman with such a slight build, but then again she was Erza, so maybe he shouldn't have been surprised. "But only after they gave it a good cleaning and removed all the evidence of what really happened."

"Are you trying to tell me you're innocent?" The Scarlet Reaper asked, her voice somewhere between rage and incredulity. "You claim that you were framed?" Erza gave an almighty shove to her scythe and forced Jellal back. He jumped several feet away to regain his composure.

"I'm saying the situation isn't as simple as they would have you believe."

"So you admit you killed His Lordship the Snow Reaper?" She asked, her voice loud and commanding. Jellal couldn't imagine what the resident's of the homes around them were thinking, but if the commotion had woken anyone they weren't stupid enough to show their faces.

"You really have a one track mind, don't you, Erza?" Jellal asked. "The world isn't as black and white as you think. The Grim isn't the benevolent ruler he would have you believe he is."

"You dare speak ill of the Grim?" Erza cried, outraged at Jellal's disrespect to her ruler. "Do you have another crime you wish to add to the list that will be read at your execution? Treason, murder, resisting arrest, and now blasphemy." Jellal laughed harshly.

"Only a tyrant and dictator calls the truth blasphemy. You're so blindly loyal to that monster that you don't see what is right in front of you!"

"And what's that?" Erza asked, bringing her scythe around so it's blade was parallel with the ground.

"That the Prince was corrupt! Like his grandfather the Grim!"

"How dare you speak of the royal family like that?" Erza screamed, leaping into action, unable to hold back her rage any longer.

Jellal could barely fend off her attacks. If he had thought she was strong before, that was nothing compared to how Erza fought now, with her rage fueling her. Each attack was stronger than the last, and Jellal could barely defend himself, much less make his own attack. He was breathing heavily now, and he knew that if he didn't make his escape soon he wouldn't be able to escape at all. Erza would have him. He still wanted to plead his case with her. If he managed to win her over to his side then he might have a hope of winning the war he was planning on starting.

That was the reason he'd been calling her out with every kill he made since his banishment. He wanted to raise her ire and get her attention. He knew that if he called her out she would come for him, and if she came for him then he would have a chance to talk to her. But every day she remained with the Grim made his grip on her mind tighter. Jellal needed to win her over sooner rather than later, because later might not be possible. The more lies the Grim told her the harder it would be for Jellal to convince her he was innocent; well, mostly. He actually had killed the Prince, after all.

"Listen…to me...Erza!" Jellal hissed. "I'm...telling...the truth!"

"I'll. Listen. To. No. More. Of. Your. Lies."

She punctuated every word with a blow. Each one created a near deafening clang and bright sparks where the metals clashed. Jellal was beginning to see scrapes on his staff, and felt a blade of fear cut through him like ice. If Erza managed to break his staff he'd be defenseless against her. He had only his throwing knives after that, and even if he did manage to escape, there would be no fighting next time Erza caught up with him, and she'd never stop looking.

"It's...not...a lie! The Prince...was...killing...reapers...for...sport!"

"Lies!" Erza shrieked. She drew her weapon back for an almighty blow that Jellal knew would slice through both his staff and his neck if he didn't do something. He made a split second decision, and swooped down to deliver a bone crunching hit with his staff to Erza's knee caps. She screamed in pain and hit the ground with a thud, her scythe skidding away on the cobblestone street. Jellal took advantage of her vulnerability to pin her to the ground, hoping to make her listen to him.

He pinned her arms to the ground with his knees and pressed his staff against her throat. Not hard enough to suffocate her, but hard enough to get his point across. He took a few seconds to catch his breath and observe her. It'd been years since he'd been able to look at her this close, and he observed the subtle changes in her appearance that he supposed came with womanhood. She'd lost her baby fat, her cheekbones and jawline had become more pronounced, her lips were fuller, and of course, the burning hatred in her eyes was new as well. He briefly wondered if he'd changed like she had, but he didn't spend any time on the thought.

"Erza," he said quietly. "You have to listen to me. The Prince was evil, as is his grandfather." Erza didn't respond to this verbally. She told him what she thought of that statement by spitting in his face. Jellal closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. This was going to be harder than he had originally thought. He chanced taking a hand off the staff at her throat to wipe off his face before he continued speaking.

"He was killing Reapers," he said again. "I know what it sounds like, but it's true. I'm sure you've noticed the unprecedented outbreak of Afterlife Sickness, right?"

Afterlife Sickness was a fatal disease among Reapers that had symptoms not unlike those of the Black Death that plagued the humans. It was an uncommon illness, and not much was unknown about it. In order to prevent spread of the disease the bodies were burnt immediately, as was the home they had lived in. In recent years the Afterlife Sickness had taken a record number of people. At least, that's the story the Grim was telling people. The truth was that at least three of the cases of Afterlife Sickness, maybe more, were cover up's for cold blooded murders that the Prince had committed. Jellal had witnessed the Prince kill one of the victims himself, and before he'd figured out what he should do about it, it was announced that the victim had contracted Afterlife Sickness. The body and home were burned, destroying any evidence that Jellal may have been able to use in order to implicate the Prince.

This public announcement of a false case of Afterlife Sickness had led Jellal to the only possible conclusion: the Grim was covering up for his grandson. This was a gross misuse of power, as murder, and the covering up thereafter, were considered treasonous acts. Knowing that his Prince had committed the former of these two crimes and that his King had done the latter had caused him a great deal of distress. These were the men he'd sworn loyalty to, and pledged the use of his weapons to their service. Now he found out they were corrupt killers, not servants of justice and fate as he had originally thought.

Who did one go to when your reigning monarch committed a crime? Certainly he couldn't confront the Grim himself about it. After what he'd seen the Prince do there was no doubt in his mind that if he was actually granted an audience with the Grim he would never leave the throne room if he threw around an accusation like that. After a great deal of deliberation and prayer he came to an answer. He would kill the Prince.

As a servant of the fates and one of their named enforcers it was his duty to do so. He spent weeks planning, following the Prince and taking note of his fighting style so that he could do his job efficiently when it came time. He sat watched the deaths of two more Reapers, good men, before he felt he was ready to confront his Prince. The deaths of those two weighed heavily on his mind, and even though he knew intervening would have been pointless and would have gotten him killed, he couldn't help but blame himself for their deaths. If only I'd been a quicker study. If only I'd been stronger, those two would still be alive.

"The Afterlife Sickness was only a cover for what the Prince did! I watched him end three lives myself because I was too weak to stop him!"

"You lie! You seek only to justify your actions and escape your execution!"

"I'm not lying!" Jellal repeated. "What reason would I have to kill the Prince? What could I stand to gain from that? I loved the Grim and his grandson as much as you did until I discovered what they're really like! The Prince was a murderer and the Grim covered up for him!"

"I do not pretend to know the mind of a criminal!" Erza snapped. "Perhaps you are just deranged!"

"Erza!" Jellal shouted, his voice rising above a whisper for the first time since he had pinned her down. "You know me," he continued, lowering his voice once again. "You've said yourself I'm a terrible liar, so look me in the eyes and tell me if I'm lying right now."

Erza huffed in a very predictable way, but she did meet his eyes. She looked long and hard at him, and Jellal, humiliatingly enough, could feel color rising to his cheeks. He cursed himself and the stupid crush he had on her, but continued to meet her eyes. Her eyes searched his face for what seemed like years. He never knew what his tells were, she would never say. He'd asked her on more than one occasion how she knew when he was lying without fail, but she would never reveal her secret.

"How can I believe anything you say?" She said at last, and Jellal sighed, defeated. His shoulders sagged and he dropped his head, breaking his eye contact with her. "You killed the Prince, for all I know you've been deceiving me all these years with this exact plot in mind."

"The only one who has been deceiving you is your King!" Jellal cried, unable to keep his voice quiet anymore. "He's been lying to everyone, breaking his own laws, making exceptions for his kin. He doesn't deserve to be King! He should be set aside by someone who will do the job justly!"

"You speak of justice!" Erza cried, her voice matching his in volume, but also filled with venom. "But you murder without the sanction of the Fates! You killed your Prince and blaspheme against your King! You have no right to speak of justice!"

"I kill only those set before me by the Fates! It's true I have been banished by the King, but the Fates still respond to me! I have not been thrown from the ranks of their servants! What does that tell you about your King? Would one true servant of the Fates rebuke another?" Erza seemed genuinely shocked by this statement. She was quiet for several moments before speaking, and when she spoke her voice was quieter, although it still held venom in it.

"You claim to still be in the favor of the Fates?" Erza asked. Jellal nodded. He met her gaze earnestly, hoping that against all odds she would believe him. Jellal gulped, feeling a cold sweat break out on his neck.

"I am," he whispered, "please, Erza, I'm telling the truth. You have to believe me. I didn't want it to be true either, but I saw it with my own eyes." Erza was quiet for a long time, looking him over. He returned her gaze desperately and silently, feeling himself blush slightly again. Hopefully she wouldn't see that in the dark though.

"I'll need more than the words of a criminal to believe that of my King."

All the air whooshed out of Jellal, and he felt his hope crushed. He deflated, and found himself unable to speak. He merely released the pressure from his staff and climbed to his feet. He put his staff away and left the scene without another word, leaving Erza sitting in the middle of the street, flexing her hands in an effort to get feeling back in them.

His words stayed with her all through the day and night.

You know me Erza. What reason did I have to kill the Prince, what could I have gained from that?

The truth was Erza didn't know. She hadn't questioned it when the Grim himself had come to her and asked her to dispose of the problem. She'd only trusted in her King. She wasn't sure which she should be more ashamed of, the fact that she hadn't questioned the guilt of her childhood friend, or that her childhood friend had made her question her King. The fact that she wasn't sure made her ashamed.

She couldn't stop asking herself that question, though. Why would Jellal kill the Prince? What purpose would that serve? The Grim had made it seem like Jellal was a raging psycho, but after all the years Erza had known him had he given any signs of being such? It was true that in their training they'd been forced to spend an unfortunate amount of time apart. So much time that Erza had barely recognized him when she'd seen him again.

His baby fat had been lost, and his face was more masculine and mature. His expression was what had changed the most. After everything that happened she could see only flashes of the boy that she had once known. He'd always been so strong willed and determined before. Where then had all the desperation and pain come from? She'd never seen him wear that look before, and while she was sure the confidence he'd had at the beginning of the fight had been faked, she also believed his desperation during his final plea for her to believe him was genuine.

If he were a cold blooded killer would he be so desperate for her to believe him? In the position he'd had her in he'd had ample time to kill her and yet he hadn't. Was this a sign that he was telling the truth? If he'd have killed her the next person sent after him would be less of a threat for sure, as she was the best of the best. He had not killed her though, and he'd looked so sincere when he met her gaze and asked her to believe him, and he'd looked so disappointed when she didn't.

She couldn't stop picturing the way he'd deflated after her final rejection. He'd given up then, she could see it in his eyes. She'd kept expecting him to say something, but he'd simply gotten up and walked away. She'd been wrong again when she expected him to look back. What was that about? Was he so hurt by her refusal to believe in him? The thought filled Erza with distress, and she hated it. She hated that in this situation she didn't know what to do.

She simply couldn't believe her rulers would commit such atrocities, and yet every fiber of her being was screaming that Jellal hadn't either. He'd been telling the truth when he'd said that he was still in favor with the fates. She was sure of that. None of his lying tells had shown themselves, and he'd even bitten his lip. That was something he did when he was was telling the truth, but nervous that he wouldn't be believed. It was one of Erza's favorite tells because of the way it made him look when he did it, and she didn't think he even realized he did it. She kept it that way for a reason. If he became conscious of his tells it would be harder to know when he was lying.

That had always been one of Erza's favorite things about Jellal as children, how completely readable he was. He had a tell for pretty much everything. Jellal was an open book, and in a world filled with lies and people who were trying to use her power for their own good it had been nice to have someone that she never had to doubt. She had missed him. Ever since their training had began they'd been able to spend less and less time together, but each time they saw each other it had felt as if no time had passed.

There had also been real guilt on his face when he'd spoken of the man he'd watched the Prince kill, supposedly. Blaming himself was always something Jellal had tended to do, much to Erza's annoyance. He placed all the responsibility on himself.

"Stupid boy," she muttered, rubbing her wrists where his knees had rested the night before. "He think's it's his job to save the world, and he never asks for help."

A sudden wave of guilt washed over Erza. This time Jellal had asked for help. Begged for help, and she had denied him. At the time she hadn't thought about how much it must have taken for him to ask her for help. She'd treated him so badly. Once again the look on his face when she'd said she didn't believe him swam across her vision, and she felt her heart clench with shame. She should have at least heard him out instead of rebuking him entirely.

No, a different voice in her head said. There's no way his claims were true. He couldn't have been telling the truth. He must have deceived me for all these years.

But if it's possible that Jellal has done it, isn't it also possible that the King is?

Erza paused, her face growing dark over the armor she was polishing. She couldn't argue with that. She'd known Jellal for almost her entire life, and she'd only met the King a few times. It was entirely possible that Jellal was not the one that was deceiving her. She had to at least consider that possibility. She owed that much to Jellal. Erza made a new resolution to investigate the matter on her own before making a decision, but first, she needed to tell Jellal.

Erza spent the rest of the day making repairs and polishing her armor where it had become scuffed in her fight with Jellal last night. She couldn't deny that he was a skilled warrior. Perhaps he was even on par with her. Last night she had been confident that she was more skilled than him, but now she was not so sure. After he had neglected to take the chance to kill her, Erza had begun to consider the possibility that he'd been holding back.

"Arrogant fool," she grumbled. Jellal knew how she hated it when people didn't give it their all in a serious fight. Maybe he'd done it on purpose, just to make her angry. Maybe he hadn't realized that he was holding back out of an unconscious desire to not hurt her.

Erza hadn't noticed if his skills were below their normal level, but it had also been quite a while since they'd sparred, and her skills had grown in that time, so it was a safe assumption that his had as well. Erza thought about Jellal's new signature, a large scarlet S. As soon as she'd heard about it she'd known he'd been summoning her, and being summoned had pissed her off. She'd still gone though, and now part of her wished she hadn't. If she'd ignored him she wouldn't be feeling so conflicted right now.

Erza glanced out of her window, and saw that nightfall was still hours away. She sighed, and looked down at her fully repaired armor and scythe. She wondered what Jellal was doing. Probably the same thing she was. She knew she'd dealt him some damage to both his armor and staff. She winced as she thought of the vicious blows she'd landed on his face and head. No doubt he had a killer headache, not to mention his staff, which had taken some heavy damage. Erza looked over her own armor, wondering if the lack of serious damage was something he had done on purpose.

Erza set her armor to the side and stood, stretching her sore muscles. She walked over to her closet and opened the doors, pulling out her favorite dress. It was pretty, but also had several places to conceal weapons. Erza never left the house without a weapon of some sort. Today she carried her throwing knives and a few daggers. Nothing serious, just enough to manage in a fight if she needed too. She left her scythe laying across her bed and locked her door behind her, deciding to do a little subtle canvassing.

Remembering what Jellal had said about watching the Price kill three people who had later been announced victims of the Afterlife Sickness, Erza decided she'd walk by the former homes and see what there was too be seen, although there probably wouldn't be much. The homes and all the personal belongings in the home would have been burned. After that the ground will have been blessed, then allowed to stand for a year before the rubble was cleared away and someone allowed to build there again. It had not yet been a year since these deaths, however, so she would at least be able to look at the ashes of the homes.

It occurred to her that if Jellal was telling the truth, the area's might be under watch, and if she turned up randomly at all three places in the same day that would cause great suspicion. Everyone knew that killing Jellal was her job, and everyone also knew that they had been childhood friends. If what Jellal said was true then the King was probably having her watched closely to be sure she didn't show any signs of defecting.

While she walked she considered the areas around each of the most recent victims. Where could she go that wouldn't raise suspicion. Luckily they were all in rather busy parts of town, so it's not as if she would be heading into a residential area where she didn't know anyone. In the street across from the first victim there just so happened to be an armor shop. Erza was famed for her love of armor, which was perfect. No one would doubt for an instant that she was spending her spare time shopping for more.

Erza made her way there, acknowledging the people that greeted her. She was well liked, and well feared, by her people. Most people tried their best to stay on her good side, so there was never a shortage of friendly conversations to be had if she wanted them. It wasn't a very long walk to where she was headed, Erza didn't live far from the center of the city, and the sun was shining pleasantly. Erza passed through the bustling commercial district of the city, and continued walking down a few streets until she reached a small, but well maintained, armor shop. She glanced at her true target across the street as she opened the door and slipped inside.

The shop inside smelled of metal, leather, and grease. Erza inhaled deeply, feeling immediately at home in this place. A smile split her lips and she grinned at the shop keeper. There was no reason she couldn't splurge a little while she was there.

Erza left the shop with several new acquisitions. She'd bought some leather gauntlets, a leather sheath meant to be concealed in her bra, another sheath that fit snugly against her arm and could be concealed under long sleeves, and a new black cloak. Feeling supremely happy about her purchases, and also pleased with the fact that her bags would provide sufficient cover for her to stroll down the street and not look suspicious, Erza exited the shop and walked down the street towards today's actual target.

On her way Erza couldn't help but notice the new pastry shop that had opened across the street. It had outdoor seating, so it was the perfect place to both enjoy a strawberry cake and observe the burnt remains of the home.

x x x

A few minutes later Erza Was reclining in the shade of a provided umbrella, gazing around, careful not to stare too long at the home in case she really was being watched. When her waitress came and took her order, Erza chanced an indirect question about the home.

"Has it harmed your business any?" Erza asked, indicating the ashen remains of the building. The woman glanced over at the building, then back at Erza.

"Not really, no. We were all worried because we thought that people would be scared to come near here because of the Afterlife Sickness, but people haven't really seemed bothered. The ground's been blessed, so they feel safe."

"Indeed," Erza said. "That's good to hear, although I fear I've already forgotten what the house that used to be there looked like." Erza chuckled at her own expense, and the waitress chimed in.

"You know what, I believe I have as well!"

"Isn't it funny how quickly we forget things that have always been there?"

"It really is," the waitress said. "The most I can remember is that it was two stories, I can't even recall a paint color." Erza chuckled.

"I don't suppose it matters anymore, does it?" The waitress laughed as well.

"I suppose not. I'll just go take your order back. Strawberry cake, right?" Erza nodded in confirmation. The waitress smiled and left to take her order to the chef.

Erza leaned back in her seat and casually observed the place where the home used to be. Two stories, was is? That would make it a story shorter than the two buildings around it. If Jellal had concealed himself on the roof of one of them and looked down through the windows it would have been possible for him to observe the Prince without being seen. That part of Jellal's story checked out at least. So that was two points for him, if Erza counted none of his tells giving him away as one point. The Prince wasn't exactly around to defend himself, so he didn't really get any points. This point system wasn't really fair, so Erza decided to stop using it.

Once again Erza found herself straddling the line between believing Jellal and hating him. Why hadn't he come to her sooner? If he'd thought the Prince was a criminal why hadn't he asked her for help while the Prince was still alive? Why had he waited? Erza gritted her teeth in frustration.

"Stupid idiot," she hissed, "always trying to fix everything on his own so everyone else isn't troubled."

"What's that?" The waitress asked, setting a plate with Erza's cake down on the table in front of her.

"Oh nothing," Erza said, "I was just talking to myself."

"Alright then, sweetie, just tell me if you need anything, alright?" Erza nodded and the waitress walked away.

Erza tucked into her cake absent mindedly. Her thoughts were turned inward once more, this time directed at her earliest memories with Jellal. He'd been the one to suggest her Reaper name, saying it was like her beautiful scarlet hair. Most people assumed that it was a reference to the blood of her victims, but she didn't care, she knew the truth. Jellal's reaper name hadn't always been Heaven's Rebel, the people had only started calling him that after he'd killed the Prince. The name he had chosen when they were young was Heaven's Fist.

Some people had teased him for it, saying it was too harsh a name for such a young boy, until Jellal hit them with his staff. They understood then. Jellal packed a punch like no other, breaking bones without much effort. Erza herself had always liked the name, and she couldn't help but to hope she would hear it one day again. But In order for that to happen again he'd have to be telling the truth, and Erza certainly didn't want Jellal's story to be true.

For the first time Erza thought about just what it was that Jellal was asking her to do. He wanted her to help him take down the Grim. The Grim. That was insane! How could they ever do it all by themselves? Did he already have a plan? The Grim was their King, the most heavily guarded individual in their world, and Jellal wanted to take him out, to dethrone him. What exactly was his plan? Did he want to kill the Grim, or put him on trial and sentence him fairly? There was only one thing she could do at this point, and that was to meet with Jellal tonight and ask him about his plans. Like, who exactly did he plan on ruling the Reapers if he succeeded in taking out the Grim?

Erza spent the rest of the day strolling around the city, "happening by" the other two sites in her day on the town, and buying a few more armor pieces and a dress or two. She made it home just before nightfall, which is when a Reaper's business hours began, and suited up, deciding to put on a few of her new acquisitions to break them in. She didn't actually plan on fighting Jellal tonight, so it would be the perfect opportunity to get the feel of them without putting herself in the danger of going into battle with unfamiliar items. She wondered idly if Jellal would notice her new cloak before shaking herself.

What does he care what you're wearing? She thought. He's got bigger problems, like being a fugitive. Besides, why do you even care if he notices your cloak? You like it so you bought it.

Erza rolled her eyes at herself before finishing lacing up her boots and straightening. She loaded herself up with weapons, mixing in her new ones with older, more trusted ones, and of course packed her chain and strapped her scythe to her back. The thing was bulky and hard to conceal, but it was also sharpened so well that the softest touch of the blade would bring blood. Erza left her apartment and locked the door behind her, then set out into the night to find Jellal again.

She spotted him standing above a fresh kill, once again. He dipped his fingers into the victim's blood mechanically, as if his mind were somewhere else, before he stood and turned to the nearest wall. His fingers paused an inch away from the wall, as if he was rethinking the action. What was he doing? Was he rethinking his signature? Had he given up on calling her out? After the way she'd treated him last night she didn't blame him. She continued to watch him curiously, wondering what he would do. He sighed visibly, but then lifted his fingers back to the wall and traced out the scarlet S. Erza barely concealed her giggle as Jellal stared his S from the bottom. She could still remember the conversation they'd had when she'd saw him do it when they were children.

x

"Whoa, wait, why did you write your S that way?" Erza asked, leaning over Jellal's shoulder to look at his paper.

"Write it what way?" Jellal replied, looking at her paper. "It looks just like yours!"

"Just do it again!" Erza commanded. Jellal obliged, looking bewildered. Sure enough, he placed his pencil at the bottom line and worked his way up, forming an S.

"You started from the bottom!" Erza said, picking up her pencil and writing an S. She began at the top line and worked her way down. "You write your S weird!" Erza concluded.

"Hey!" Jellal protested, "how do we know that you don't write your S weird! Maybe I'm normal!" So they asked a teacher, and Jellal was horrified to learn that it was he, in fact, who wrote his S weird.

Several years later, when they were teenagers, they had finally gotten a day off from training at the same time, so they decided to spend it together. Jellal had taken a piece of paper and written himself a note, but looked up when Erza giggled.

"What?" He asked.

"You write your S weird," she said.

x

Suddenly getting an idea, Erza lifted herself silently off the roof and leapt into the alleyway, landing like a cat. Jellal was finishing off his S, and didn't notice her at first. Erza grinned and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms nonchalantly.

"You write your S weird."

Jellal's reaction was hysterical. He jumped about a foot into the air and made this terrified squealing sound that brought to mind a wet kitten or frightened squirrel, and he spun around so fast he tripped a little bit and nearly fell face first into his victim's blood. Erza screamed with laughter, bent double, clutching at her stomach. It only took Jellal a few seconds to realize who she was and what was going on, and he didn't look amused. Erza, on the other hand, couldn't stop laughing. She was having a hard time breathing, and there were tears streaming down her face as she clutched at her stomach.

"Oh my… grim, Jellal...what was...that sound," she managed, in between fits of giggles. She just couldn't get over it. The ridiculousness of that picture. A grown man, an infamous Reaper no less, standing over a dead body with his hands covered in blood making a sound that a kitten would have been ashamed of. Jellal crossed his arms impatiently and began tapping his foot in annoyance. The sight only made Erza laugh harder, now at the look on his face. It was so ludicrous and she was certain she'd never made a sound like that in her life.

"It's not that funny!" Jellal cried, after several minutes of nothing but Erza's laughter echoing through the alleyway. "And don't you think you're being a little disrespectful? I just killed this man, and here you are, laughing over his body." Erza had to take several shuddering breaths to calm herself before she could speak.

"Killing people is our job, Jellal," Erza said, "and if you are telling the truth, the Fates led you to this man, correct?" She looked down at the face of the dead man and saw that his eyes were closed. Jellal had always done that. Most reapers didn't bother, but it was something Jellal did without fail.

"So?" Jellal said, "it's still distasteful." Erza sighed, and nodded.

"You're right. I apologize. It's just that I don't think I've ever heard a grown man make a sound quite like that before." Jellal narrowed his eyes at her before throwing his arms into the air as if to say I give up.

"Anyway, why are you here?" His voice took on a suspicious tone, and his hand crept towards his staff.

"Relax," Erza said, drawing her scythe then leaning down to place it on the ground in front of her. She sat down cross legged behind it and placed her hands on her knees. It was the Reaper sign of non aggression. "I came to talk." Jellal stared down at her incredulously for several seconds, and for a moment Erza was worried he might cry. The moment passed, however, and instead a small smile crept onto Jellal's lips.

"Alright," he said, "but not here. Somewhere more private." Jellal turned and walked away without stopping to see if Erza was following him. Erza scrambled to her feet and snatched her scythe off the ground, and had to jog to catch up with Jellal.

"Like where?" She asked, once she'd matched pace with him.

"I rented a room at a hotel," he said.

"Wait a minute," Erza said, "You rented a room in the human world? How?"

"Well, I'm not proud," he began, and he certainly didn't look it. "But, I couldn't show my face in our world, so I've been taking money from the people I kill." He winced as he said it. It looked like the words were causing him physical pain.

"Oh," was all Erza could say.

Plundering gold from the bodies of your victims was a source of highest shame in the Reaper world. It was pure greed, and it reflected badly upon the Fates. There was no need for human currency in the Reaper world, but Jellal was right. He couldn't show his face in their world, so he had to find a way to survive in the human world. He actually did need their currency. Still, she couldn't shake the strong repulsion for the idea.

"I know," Jellal said, as if he could read her thoughts. "That's honestly the worst part of being exiled."

"Even worse than having people coming after you all the time?" Erza asked.

"Really," Jellal said. "It feel's like I'm dishonoring the Fates and everything I believe in, but I have no other choice."

"I guess you're right," Erza said. "I really don't envy you." The two walked in silence for the rest of the trip to Jellal's room. When they got there Jellal grimaced as he unlocked the door, then pushed it open and flicked on the light.

Erza didn't know what she had been expecting. The room looked pretty normal, it was obviously human, the styles and fashions of things were different than in the Reaper world. Other than that, though, the room looked ordinary. It held only a bed and a nightstand, as well as a dresser for personal belongings, but Erza was surprised by the overwhelming plainness of it. Jellal grimaced again, and took off his staff. He placed it in the middle of the floor, and sat behind it, crossing his legs. Erza mirrored him, placing her scythe on the ground between them.

Jellal blinked at her a few times, taking in her appearance. Erza felt her face heating slightly as he stared, unashamed, at her. She prayed that he wouldn't notice the color in her cheeks, or if he did that he would contribute it to something else. Curse this stupid crush she had on him. She was able to ignore it most of the time, but times like this when he was just...staring were harder.

"Did you...go shopping today, Erza?" He asked, seeming perplexed. He was eyeing her new cloak and leather gauntlets weirdly, like they were foreign appendages and he couldn't quite understand what they were doing on Erza's body. She felt her cheeks heat up a little, he noticed.

"Yea," Erza replied, "I did."

"So I told you that your Prince was a murderer, your King was a harlot, and your first reaction was to go shopping?"

"I was using it as a cover," Erza said indignantly, "I stopped by the last three places that were reported cases of the Afterlife Sickness and looked around. I bought things at surrounding stores as a cover."

"You went to the scenes?" He asked incredulously, "Erza you shouldn't have done that!"

"I took all the risks into account before I made my decision," she said. "I'm aware it's a possibility that I'm being followed. It's also a possibility that those sites are being watched. I was careful, I didn't do anything to raise suspicion." Jellal didn't look entirely convinced, but he let the matter drop.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Jellal asked.

"I'm not saying I believe you," she started, noting the slight slump of his shoulders when she said it, "but what were you doing the first night when you claim to have spotted the Prince killing another Reaper?" Jellal blinked. The question seemed to have taken him by surprise. "Well?" Erza pressed.

"I was, um, out for a late night walk-," he began.

"Liar." Erza snapped.

"How?" Jellal asked, incredulous.

"Tell me the truth or I kill you right now." Jellal's eyes widened, and he gulped. Erza was surprised when Jellal's face started color.

"I, um," he started, looking nervous. "I wanted to see you." Jellal's face was flaming now, and he wouldn't meet her eyes. Erza's eyes flitted down to Jellal's mouth, and sure enough, he was biting his lip. Erza blinked a few times, completely taken aback.

"But, the house where the first victim lived isn't on the way from your house to mine." Jellal's blush only deepened and his discomfort seemed to grow. He squirmed under her gaze, and seemed to be psyching himself up to say whatever it is he was going to say.

"I… got scared and took a different turn." Jellal's face was now so red it matched Erza's hair. She was shocked into silence by this answer, staring blankly at him. Scared? Of her?

"Scared, of what?" She asked, her voice quieter than she had meant it to be.

"That you wouldn't want to see me," He answered. This seemed to Erza to be the truth, or at least part of it, so she let it slide. In the state Jellal was in she wasn't likely to get much more from him on the matter anyway.

"Alright," Erza said, and she could see the relief on his face. Obviously he hadn't been fond of this line of questioning, though she couldn't fathom why. That was a question for another time though. "So tell me, what made you suspicious of the Prince? Did you see him walking down the street at night and assume the worst?"

"No," he said, regaining his composure. He sat up straight once more and his face began to fade back to a normal color. "I didn't know who he was at first, he was cloaked and hooded, trying to pick the lock of a house. I began walking towards him to confront him, but he glanced over his shoulder and his hood fell back. That's when I realized he was the Prince."

"And did he see you?" Erza asked, leaning forward slightly. Jellal shook his head.

"No, I was across the street, and was in between streetlights." Erza nodded again.

"What happened next?"

"He pulled his hood back up to conceal his face again and went back to what he was doing. Within a few seconds he'd picked the lock and gone inside. I knew that if I tried to interfere with what he was doing he could have me arrested and hanged, but I also couldn't just walk away like I hadn't seen anything, so I crossed the road and climbed to the rooftops so I could look through the windows without being seen." Erza nodded. Jellal's story aligned with her own theories, as well as everything she knew about Jellal. Of course he wouldn't just walk away, he could never walk away from something like this.

"Luckily, the curtains were open, or I might not have seen anything."

"What exactly happened?" Jellal met her eyes, and in them Erza saw the truth, that what the Prince had done was so awful it had disturbed Jellal, who usually had pretty thick skin. "You can tell me," she encouraged. Jellal sighed.

"It was awful. He could have killed the man in his sleep, if he was determined to kill him, but he didn't. He woke the man up and toyed with him, chased him around the house with this feral delight on his face. It was senseless. That man had done the Prince no wrong, he wasn't even an active Reaper, he was a shopkeeper. He was defenseless, and the Snow Reaper killed him just to see the fear in his eyes. There was so much blood. The Prince tortured that man."

Erza felt sick. There was no higher shame than for a Reaper to play with their kill. It was a Reaper's job to deliver souls to the fates efficiently and with as little pain to the victim as possible. Each Reaper performed their duties in their own way. Erza typically beheaded her victims or something similar, granting them a near instant death. Jellal used his staff to knock out his victims when possible so they could go into death's arms unawares. Some used poisons that granted swift and painless deaths. All of them gave their targets this small mercy, and to think that someone was not only killing other Reapers, but doing so for pleasure, it made Erza sick.

"I don't believe it," Erza said quietly, but it wasn't a proclamation of doubt as the other times had been, but one of sheer disbelief in the sense that she didn't want to believe. Jellal seemed to sense that and stayed quiet, giving her time to process this. Erza shook her head and covered her eyes with a hand. "It's not possible, the Prince was a good man."

"I thought so too," Jellal said, lowering his voice to match Erza's tone. "He had us all fooled. I never even guessed what he was really like."

Both of them had met the Prince on multiple occasions. Being considered the best and brightest of their generation had it's perks, including being on speaking terms with the royals. Erza recalled all the times she'd spoken with him, laughed at his jokes, and all the dances they'd shared at royal balls. There had been no spark of evil, no glint of madness in his eyes then. Surely someone couldn't be so terrible without showing any outward signs of it.

"He always so pleasant and kind," Erza said, her voice still quiet. She was teetering on the brink now, close to completely buying into Jellal's story, but she wasn't ready to accept it as truth yet. Erza was a loyal subject of her King and of the late Prince still, and in order to betray them she was going to need a lot more than what she had been given.

"Do you even have a shred of physical evidence to back up your claims, Jellal?" Erza asked.

"If you could even call it that," Jellal said. He got to his feet and moved to the dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled something out from under his clothes. "This letter is cryptic, and could be referring to anything, but I took it from the Prince's body after I killed him."

Erza gasped involuntarily when he turned to face her. From where she was sitting all she could see was the royal seal that had marked the envelope and a large blood stain on one corner. Jellal looked down at the envelope and winced, then looked back at Erza.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I should have warned you. I've gotten used to it, I forgot that you hadn't." Erza nodded numbly, alarmed by the sight of her late Prince's blood. Even if she was teetering on the belief that he was a killer, it wasn't like she could just throw away all of her years of devotion and admiration for the man. "Do you still want to see it?" He asked. Erza nodded again, then reached for it. Jellal held it out to her, and she took it, careful not to touch the blood stain. It just felt wrong.

I'm tired of covering for you. You need to cease this madness. This is your final warning.

There was no signature, but there was no doubt that the handwriting belonged to the King. Erza had seen it many times before, in commendations and personal invitations to balls and banquets. She stared at the note for a long time, doing her best to keep her eyes from landing on the Prince's blood. Jellal sensed her discomfort and gently tugged the letter from her hands, then stood and placed it back in it's hiding spot. Erza nodded one more time, and asked another question that had been bothering her.

"Let's say, in theory, that I believe you and decide to help you. What's the plan? What do you hope to achieve? How do you hope to do it?"

"There really isn't a plan," Jellal admitted. "I knew I couldn't do it without you, a trusted member of the court. I have no hope of getting near the King by myself, and I certainly can't take on that many guards all alone."

"So there is no plan?" Erza asked, frustrated.

"Not until you agree to join me."

"And what if I don't?" She said.

"I don't know."

"There's an awful lot to this 'plot' that you don't know."

"That's why I need you, Erza."

"Alright, say I agree, and say we manage to get to the Grim, what do you plan on doing with him?"

"I don't know yet. I've been thinking about whether it would be better to just kill him, or to put him in jail. If we kill him we run the risk of being hunted for the rest of our lives, but if we don't there's a chance he will escape and come for his throne again." Erza nodded. Jellal may not know this part, but at least he had put some thought into it.

"And who do you propose take the throne after him? The Grim has no living relatives, you saw to that yourself." Jellal winced at the jab, but didn't comment on it.

"No one," he answered.

"No one?" Erza repeated incredulously. "You propose we live in a lawless land with no authority?"

"No," Jellal said. "I think we should set up a democracy of some sort, like the humans have. Everyone gets a say, and no one is above the law." Erza considered this for a moment. The idea in and of itself wasn't bad, but she had no idea how to go about setting up a democracy.

"Alright," Erza said, "now tell me about your confrontation with the Prince, and don't leave out any details."

"Are you sure you want to hear it, Erza?" Jellal asked. Erza nodded.

She listened to Jellal tell his tale about how he'd finally confronted the Prince as he was about to enter the home of his fourth known victim. Jellal described their argument, and how the Prince had threatened to kill him, or to have him executed. Jellal described how their argument that had escalated into a brawl, and how he'd killed the Prince, then grabbed the first thing he could find on his body and hope it was evidence. He told how the sounds of their weapons clashing had awoken the intended target for that night, and that they hadn't believed him and called the authorities.

Erza sat silently for a few minutes after Jellal finished his tale, weighing the opposing sides in her mind. There was still the chance that Jellal was deceiving her, but there was also the chance that the Prince had been deceiving her. Erza thought about her own meager information collected in her day out, and the letter that Jellal had shown her. None of these things proved anything. They were all circumstantial and could be manipulated to suit the story teller how they pleased. So after everything she had done to obtain the truth, it still all came down to who she trusted more. Was it the Grim, or was it Jellal?