A/N: Welcome, dear reader, to a spin-off and partial sequel to What is Love?

I must emphasis that this is not the sequel I have promised you. Yes, this story is connected to What is Love? and yes, it takes place a number of years after the fic, but it's not the sequel I've been talking about since December. I have nearly everything figured out for the proper sequel so it should be out after this story is complete. Until then, I hope you can be patient and enjoy reading this.

Also, you aren't obligated to read this to comprehend the upcoming sequel, but it will help you understand a certain character more.

I hope you enjoy. And believe me, you will understand the gibberish above if you stick to the story and read the last chapter once it's out.

Disclaimer : Fairy Tail and its characters all belong to Mashima Hiro.

One might call me a coward. As the world is burning to ashes, I am sitting in a hut, merely writing. You can call me whatever you want. Coward seems to fit nicely. But I do not believe I am one. When you no longer have any reason to fight, when everything you loved and held dear was taken from you, what would you do? Fight back? I am not a fool. When the situation is hopeless, you run. Though I have no reason to really run away anymore. Humans either fight or run when in the face of danger. You fight when you have something, someone, to protect. I lost the one person I would give up my life for. I lost the one person who could ever make me happy. Make me feel loved. Losing the only reason you are alive stops you from caring. That does not make me a coward. I have no reason to risk my life for a world where even if we are victorious, there is nothing to gain. Why should I save this world when the only reason I would ever consider doing so is no longer with me? Say what you will, reader. Lose the only person you hold dear to you, feel the weight of their death, bury yourself in guilt for failing to save them, and then come to me. Come to me and tell me you're going to fight for the world. If one of those creatures finds me, I will not run away. However, that doesn't mean I will just walk out of here and willingly be flayed. On the other hand, it is just these pathetic instincts stopping that from happening.

I have no next of kin. The one I loved had once spoken of children. Had asked if I wanted any. But it was just once. She was never able to ask again. At first I thought she was taken from me. I thought that the gods wanted to punish me for my past crimes. But a part of me knew she was alive. And I was right. Seven years later, I saw her. Alive and well. But that only lasted for a few days. The city burned to the ground, the yelling, the screaming, all of it is still fresh within me. My hand slipped for a fraction of a second, long enough for her to leave my side. I wondered why at first. Why would she leave when she knew she would be safe with me? Why would she leave when she knew I would protect her, no matter what? I hadn't stopped loving her during those seven years. She meant everything to me, and I wasn't ready to lose her. I had gone back with her. I had to catch her, talk sense into her, take her somewhere safe. But I knew, I knew full well she wouldn't change her mind. She wasn't that type of person. But the whys still remained unanswered. Even to this day.

I will not get into the details of how I lost her. Not yet anyways. This story, is it even a story? No. I suppose it's a diary. Or journal. Regardless. I will repeat, I have no next of kin, and as she doesn't either, I feel obliged to write this. Though I must admit my selfishness is clear as day, as most of this will be about me. Is it such a bad thing to want to be remembered? Even if the world ends tomorrow, one day, someone will find these papers. I will make sure they do not turn to dust. And then they'll know. They'll know that a warrior, Erza Knightwalker, once walked this earth. And they'll know of her past, how she was raised, how she lived, what she accomplished. But they will also know of how she failed. How she ran away. They will know everything about her. And they will know about her lover. The short time they spent together that meant everything to her. They will know me.

I must emphasis before I begin, that I could have easily recorded this. I have never been one to write much. My actions are merely a memento of my dead lover. She was an author. I am not awfully fond of books, however, for her sake, I read her drafts. She was an excellent writer, though a bit shy. It just added to her character... Ah. I apologize for the stains on this page. Whenever I think of her, my eyes cannot help but water.

Now then. Where should I begin? I think I will start with my birth and make my way up. Though I obviously cannot recall how it went, Hilda used to talk about it all the time. Oh, that's right. Hilda was a wet nurse. Was she really? Well, she was the head maid, had been forever, and would take care of me and look out for me ever since I could remember. I guess she qualifies. I must admit this is harder than I first thought it would be.

How long ago was this...?

I am now 33 years old. Though I have stopped caring about such an irrelevant thing. The year is X798. Which would mean I was born in X765 of this world. If you need know, I was originally from a world fairly different, yet similar to this one. Edolas, it was called. I will get into the difference once we reach the time when I was 19. I feel as though I am rambling. I might as well start before too many pages are taken from this senselessness.

I will write this as I recall, through Hilda. I implore that you be patient with me. I am not an author, and I am not eloquent in my wording. If you dislike simplicity, then you will be disappointed. At least, I would assume so.

"January X765 – Edolas

My mother Zera, a 26 year old capable warrior, had suddenly fallen ill. For the first two weeks, her husband, Arez, also my father, had no idea what ailed her. She would not eat, barely drink, and felt weak overall. The doctors had said that she might have contracted a disease from traders. But they had no idea as to whatever it could be.

My father, a year older than her and a warrior as well, was a very strong but very soft person. People would comment on the irony, given his name. He would pamper her and worry for her constantly. He pulled at his hair trying to figure out what was wrong with her. She had no parents, an orphan of war, taken in by the king because of her skills. His parents had been sceptical of their union. She was of a no-name clan, while he was a Knightwalker. His family had been part of the Royal army for generations. They could have been considered royalty if they so wished it. However, when she had shown them her skills, when she had defeated my grandfather in a battle of swords, she had gained their respect. She had been accepted. Had a new family now. It may not have been through blood, but it was through respect, honour and love. That was all that mattered to both of them. They were happy together and he was not about to lose her. He was not going to lose the one person he had fought so hard for.

A part of him was very tempted to visit an oracle. They were wish granters. By taking something you held dear to you, they would grant your wish through magic. He never knew if it actually worked or not, but he was ready to take the chance.

However, thankfully for him, a few days later, Hilda went to see Zera. My mother had explained her symptoms, and apparently, it had only taken the old maid two seconds to guess what was wrong. Or wasn't, in this case. When she told the female knight that she was pregnant, she couldn't believe it. No one could. They had not bothered to check for signs of pregnancy, because Zera hadn't asked for leave. No one had expected her to be pregnant. Zera could scarcly believe it herself. They hadn't made love in three weeks. It didn't even cross her mind that she could have gotten pregnant from that last time. She was a knight and one of the top two personal guards of the royalty in the palace. She had responsibilities. Being pregnant while on the job would have left both her and the King and Queen vulnerable.

Luckily for her, the Queen was in a similar situation, and insisted Zera be granted leave. Arez asked for the same, and the King, Faust, reluctantly accepted. Even though the man was one of the best, it would not be wise to have him distracted when on the job.

As they were both on leave, with very little to do, father began to build a crib. On occasion, they would sit in front of the fire and think of my gender and a name to follow it, while Hilda would bring them something warm to drink.

One night in warm May, they were sitting in front of the fireplace. Hilda was with them, sewing clothes while sitting on a chair. Arez had his arms wrapped around his wife's belly and his head on her shoulder, as they were debating baby names. Because my father had eccentric naming skills, my mother was against taking his advice.

Their conversation had gone something along the lines of:

"Let's take both our names, mix the letters and create a new name!"

"I don't mean to burst your bubble darling, but Arez and Zera use the same letters."

As my father was a comedian, or at least that's what Hilda would call him, he would exaggerate his disappointment, always giving my mother a smile. If you looked at both of them in their current situation, you wouldn't even begin to guess that they were two of the strongest warriors in their entire country.

"Ok. I know! And I don't want your approval!"

Raising an eyebrow, she had said, "Go ahead."

"Ezra!"

According to Hilda, mother had laughed at his proclamation. Ezra, to her and possibly the entire kingdom, was a male name. He wanted to give it to his child regardless of gender, which Hilda had found interesting.

In September, when I was supposedly born without any complications, Zera decided to use Arez's idea of mixing their letters together to make him happy. I moved a lot when in her arms and cried nonstop, to which she whispered, "You're quite restless, aren't you?" When Hilda looked to her, she finished, with tears in her eyes, "Erza." "

And that is a rundown of my birth. To be honest, I am not even sure as to why I wrote about it. It was quite uneventful. I do hope you haven't burned all of this yet. I am only giving key events. Events that shaped me into who I am, or was, and clearly, my birth is of importance as it is where all of this began. If you come up to me and ask me who Erza Knightwalker is, I would say she isn't anyone anymore. She is a shell of her former self. Which isn't wrong. I wrote my birth. By the end of this journal, I may have written my death as well. I guess we will see how far I get with time. In case you're worried, I will not be detailing all my thirty three years. You can breathe.

Oh. That's right. I am writing about my mother who I hated for a great number of years. It was a misunderstanding, but I guess it was dealt with 14 years ago. I will recount it soon. But the time has not come yet. I just found it strange how easily I can think back to these stories and memories. Remember, this is a journey. A process we all go through in our lives. Should I list the ages I wish to talk about? If I do not change my mind. I will try not to. On the other hand, I will allow you to flip through the pages if you really want to find out how many instalments this journal will have, or has, by the time you are reading this.

Now then. The next chapter takes place when I was only five years of age.

A/N: I know. It's very different compared to What is love?. In any event, I hope you enjoyed it, and I would not be surprised if you felt confused.

Reviews are welcome. If you have questions, feel free to ask, but I can't promise I'll answer them if they're going to be a spoiler! I'll try my best to give you a spoiler free answer. See you next time!