"You have been summoned here today, Lord Seigrien, to face charges of a traitorous nature." The high pitched, haughty and nasally voice of the high court speaker rang out in the long, richly decorated audience chamber, its occupants sitting grim and still in their allotted seats. Apart from the speaker's voice, not a pin drop could be heard in the deathly silence pervading the hall.
The man so solemnly addressed simply sneered at the assembled crowd, his gaze only growing uneasy when it fell on the hidden throne, the ominous female figure draped in shadows causing him some discomfort. He chanced a brief look at Erza out of the corner of his eye, before addressing the speaker, his voice dripping with intentional venom and boredom.
"I am an Alvarez spy, yes. But apparently, you 'brilliant' Pergrande nobles have known that for quite some time - why the sudden interest in me now?"
The speaker glared at the blue-haired man, glancing at the Princess's Counselor on Internal Affairs before continuing. Sir Loke gave him a brisk, encouraging nod.
"You have been tracked, Sir Seigrien. And it has been brought to our attention that your status as a spy was simply a ruse to distract us from your true purpose."
Jellal just regarded the man cooly, a hint of chagrin sneaking into his bored tone.
"And your point is?"
"That your true purpose was to steal from our Princess - to steal a special weapon she keeps in the dungeons for safekeeping."
Jellal said nothing.
The speaker stood back as Sir Loke stepped forward.
"We found you at the scene of the crime, the bodies of two men nearby, with the safe wide open and you threatening one of our most beloved and loyal of knights. Why were you there? Who sent you? And how did you retrieve these keys?"
Jellal closed his eyes and grit his teeth, as if struggling with an internal debate. Suddenly he let his eyes fly open, letting out a harsh and bitter laugh as he locked gazes with Sir Loke.
"Well, since my plan has been so thoroughly botched, and my allies as good as dead, why not go to hell with my head held high? As you've suspected, I was indeed sneaking in your dungeons Sir Loke and my mission was indeed to steal your precious weapon. The two bodies you saw by my side were my colleagues - I suspected they would double cross me, and I rid myself of them before attempting to take the source. I had already stolen the keys from Erza, by tricking her to my room, fighting her and rendering her unconscious…" Jellal ignored the small, soft gasp that issued from the woman a few feet away from him. "So it was simply a matter of opening the safe and taking my prize. I would have gotten away with everything too - if this blasted knight of yours had not come too at the last moment and thwarted me…" Jellal leveled a vicious glare at Erza for good measure, desperately controlling his reaction at observing the tears in her eyes. He pleaded with her to play along with his tall tale, the frantic look he threw her halting her immediate reaction to negate everything he had just uttered.
Instead, a new voice spoke.
"Your story is well crafted, Sir Seigrien." The oily voice of King Hector interjected. "But there are a few glaring points that need to be addressed. It is obvious that the battle that took place in the dungeon was magical in nature - and we have long suspected you of being a mage, Sir Seigrien. If you, who are a mage, and one powerful enough to defeat your colleagues who we have also recognized as powerful and feared dark mages, could be defeated by our brave, talented yet purely human knight… does it not speak of foul play? Either you did not really fight her, and she is your accomplice in all this, or…"
The man fixed Erza with a cruel, triumphant grin.
"She is a mage."
"NO!" Jellal screamed, his eyes glowing red with his fury as he struggled against his magic canceling restraints. "LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS, YOU BASTARDS!"
He took a deep breath, willing himself into a semblance of calmness as he addressed the Counselor on Internal Affairs.
"I will not have her good name besmirched on my behalf. Erza, a mage?! Hah! She, who is the most honest and straightforward person amongst these twisted minds of the palace, could not possibly keep up such a double act for years. Do you honestly mean to say that this entire court was fooled by the upright, painfully honest Erza Scarlett?!"
The murmurs from the crowd were wary and confused, and even Lord Hector looked flummoxed. Jellal scoffed, his concentration still solely on the orange-haired, impassive-faced man who stood stoic and still next to the shadowy throne.
"For the same reason, I can assure you she could never have been my accomplice. But did I fight her for the keys? No. I seduced her and stole them from her. She was righteously upset when she accidentally uncovered my true purpose, and attempted to stop me - that was when your soldiers barged in. I have no love for her, but I cannot help but respect one who is so talented with a sword, despite her foolish steadfast devotion to this country…"
"Enough."
The soft yet stern voice caused the entire hall to fall into a deathly hush.
"If I offered you a deal, would you take it?"
"I-It depends in the deal, your majesty."
"Very well. I will spare your life, if you tell me all you know of Alvarez and…"
The voice paused, the tone lowering.
"... You denounce Erza Scarlett as a spy, to be beheaded in your stead."
"No."
Jellal's refusal was swift and sure - stunning the assembly around him into a bout of frenzied whispers.
King Hector coughed delicately. "Pardon me, Sir Seigrien. But why not? You have claimed that you do not care for her. Then surely a cold-hearted, practical spy such as yourself would not mind having her killed in your stead?..."
Jellal's stubborn silence spoke volumes. Loke leant into the shadows, conversing in a hushed tone with his ruler for a few minutes before respectfully drawing away.
The figure on the throne shifted slightly, facing Erza's direction instead.
"Lady Knight Erza Scarlett?"
"Yes, your Majesty?"
"Do you love this man?"
"... I do, your Majesty."
"And if I were to ask you to choose between Pergrande or him, whom would you favor?"
Jellal prayed to every damn God he could think of that she would say her country's name. If she did, she would be safe. It would mean he would be beheaded for sure, but if it also meant Erza would be spared, then it was a sacrifice he would be more than willing to make. After all, he thought wistfully, there was no chance she would choose him anyway, especially after the way he had hidden his true purpose from her, essentially betraying her trust. It would be best if she chose her ruler over his own worthless life, for then she would live…
"... I would choose him, your Majesty."
The silence spiraled until it was finally broken by a soft, billowy sigh that issued from the shadowy throne.
"Very well then. Hear my judgment, ye of my high court…"
The assembly stood, all eyes on the dark corner of the room, and an eerie silence descending upon the chamber.
"Erza Scarlett. You are accused of unwillful treason."
The hall broke out into hushed mutters, a few of the nobles leaning forward in their eagerness.
"Your punishment will be the walk of shame, followed by banishment."
Jellal let out an involuntary sigh of relief. The walk of shame was humiliating, no doubt - but it was neither painful nor harmful. And banishment would mean she would be free to run as far away as she could from the vicious nobles of Pergrande. He chanced a glance at his scarlet-haired lover. His heart lurched in grief at the sight of her bowed head and defeated look - a few silent tears escaping down her cheek.
The hall's murmured conversation grew slightly louder as the figure of their monarch turned to Seigrien.
"As for you Sir Seigrien, you are accused of wilful high treason."
The voice paused, a note of sorrow and apology in it.
"You will be beheaded."
An inhuman shriek followed her words, as Erza leapt to her feet, immediately restrained by Sir Brom and another knight before she could approach the throne.
"NOOOOO! Your majesty please, I beg of you, do not spare me if you cannot do the same for him! I cannot live without him… please! Your Highness! Your Majesty! Lucy…"
Sir Brom swiftly placed a hand over her mouth, abruptly muffling her voice as he and his assistant struggled to drag her out of the hall. With much flailing and fighting, she was unceremoniously escorted out, her heart-wrenching sobs echoing in the silent chamber long after she was gone.
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A graceful, beautiful figure with a head of luxurious aqua-colored hair swept through the halls, her burning gaze carefully avoided by all those who passed her. The beauty paused at the end of a deserted corridor, pressing her hand into a brick to reveal a hidden passageway. She slid into the dark, narrow passage, waiting for the door behind her to close before making her way swiftly through the twisted labyrinth. After a few long minutes, she reached her goal - she found herself at the scene of the crime, quiet and undisturbed after the flurry of events it had borne witness to just an hour before.
She picked her way through the debris and dust, throwing an accusing scowl at the still open, still empty, safe. At last she reached her goal, bending down to pluck the simple keyring with three slender, intricately patterned keys from the grimy floor. She huffed in annoyance, carefully examining her prize for scratches or bends. Finally satisfied that they were in perfect condition, she pocketed them, glancing around the chamber before slowly making her way back to the secret passage.
Humans were such fools. That red headed idiot had almost lost the keys in all the drama she had got caught up in. She, Aquarius, had warned that stubborn, bratty Princess not to make that stick-in-the-mud the keeper of the keys, but would the girl listen?! No! And look at what had nearly happened!
Thank God all humans were fools. Not even one of those idiots had realized the truth. The source of primordial magic had never been in that safe. That safe had always been empty, ever since Makarov had first placed it in that dungeon room as a ruse to trick all those nosy noblemen.
The true source of primordial magic was in her pocket right now.
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The capital of Pergrande was unusually quiet. The atmosphere was one of grief and fear, as the solemn peasant folk gathered on the streets to witness the dreaded walk of shame. An event that would normally be a cause for gossip, or righteous opinions delivered in the comfort of their warm taverns, was instead a source of shock and sorrow. Never had the people thought they would see the day that Erza Scarlett - the bravest, noblest, kindest knight in all of Fiore, the champion of the people, beloved by all the common folk - would be subjected to such a demeaning ritual.
And yet, she endured her punishment with a regality and dignity that only Erza Scarlett could. Stripped of all her armor and knightly attire, she walked barefoot on the hard, hot stones of the cobblestone streets, a rough, dirty, torn cotton shift draped over her form and only covering her tall structure up to her knees. Her hair had been chopped short, and her hands shackled. A grim-faced guard marched before her, leading her by the chains attached to her manacled wrists. Despite her disgraceful situation, she walked with her head held high, a fiery look in her eye as she gazed straight ahead. The simple peasant folk watched her in awe, many beginning a silent procession behind her as they followed her to her destination.
The execution grounds.
As they approached the looming archway of the stadium of death, Erza felt a sense of trepidation for the first time since that morning. Not even when she had been subjected to her ignominious punishment, has she felt this badly affected. But the fear and grief that threatened to engulf her now was overwhelming. Her once sister must hate her indeed, if she had insisted on her observing the beheading of the man whom she loved with her heart and soul.
A full body shudder wracked Erza's frame, as she vigorously shook her head to clear her head of her morbid musings. She bit her lip, struggling to contain the tears that threatened to spill from her good eye. She knew that her attendance of this morbid event was simply an attempt on Lucy's part to diffuse a potentially tricky political situation - once news of her sentence had spread, some nobles in the high and lower courts had demanded that her punishment be increased to something more severe. This show was the Princesses way of appeasing their egos. At least she hoped that was all it was… had she lost her sister in the process of defending her love?
She had no more time to contemplate her circumstances, for the time was upon them.
She walked with weighted steps up the stairs to the raised dias she was being led to. The soldier leading her stopped at the top - turning around to remove the chain from her shackles, and chancing an apologetic look and a nervous, quick incline of his head to offer his respect and condolences.
Erza just stared straight ahead.
From her higher perch, she had a perfectly clear view of the chopping block, behind which a bulky, black-cladden figure stood sharpening his massive axe. Erza observed the weapon with the practiced eye of a warrior, noting with despair the solid metal and perfect cut of its blade. It was, without a doubt, capable of being an instrument of swift and certain death.
This was truly happening.
There had been some small part of her that had hoped - Nay, prayed - that Lucy had a back up plan. That she would spare Jellal, since she must have understood his innocence. His refusal to let her die in his stead would surely have tipped her clever sister to the reality of the situation - and then it would have simply been a matter of Lucy using her numerous, ingenious resources to uncover the truth. How he had fought by her side instead of against her. How he had begged her to run so that he may take the blame. How he cared for her as much as she did for him…
The tiny sliver of hope that had arisen in her heart died, snuffed out by the overwhelming grief threatening to crush her. She could hear the satisfied whispers of so many of her enemies in court - folks jealous of her bond with their ruler, and those that feared her strength and skill - as they observed her truly defeated expression. She could also hear the enraged comments and soft sobs of her few friends. None of it truly registered in Erza's tired, grief-stricken heart. Her full attention lay on the monstrous set up just a few yards in front of her.
The air stilled as an ominous hush suddenly overtook the large audience. A tension filled moment passed before a single beat from a drum resounded loud and clear in the now deathly quiet stadium.
Dadum dadum dadum
The drums beat on, a steady, loud, slow, and pulsing rhythm. With every beat, Erza's heart stuttered, her eyes glued on the shadowy doorway to the left of the execution block, that she knew led to the dungeons below the castle. The dungeons where Jellal had been kept.
He came out slowly, his head of brilliant blue hair held high. He looked nowhere in particular - he just stared straight ahead, his face completely devoid of emotion. Erza could not control the tears that streamed from her good eye as she watched the man she adored walk up to the execution block. He paused a few feet away from the executioner, his gaze suddenly scanning the crowd a little frantically. He finally found what he had been looking for.
His gaze locked on Erza's - a soft, tender glint within them. He mouthed a single word - one that Erza could have guessed easily enough just from the expression on his face.
Sorry
Erza's knees trembled as her tears blinded her vision. She gave a brief, jerky nod that seemed to satisfy the bluenette - for he turned away again as he was roughly pushed forward by his soldierly escort towards the harsh stone slab that was soon to spell his doom.
Erza watched in numb disbelief as the soldiers who had led Jellal out, forced him to the ground and roughly shoved his head down against the hard rock in front of the executioner. They stepped away as the black-cladden man stepped forward, swinging his axe a few times for practice. The drum beats stopped.
The executioner lifted his weapon.
swiiish
Erza fell to her knees, a heart-broken scream ripping out of her throat. She just sat there - staring at the headless form of her childhood love, her mind and heart senselessly numb. It was in a strange, unbelieving daze that she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder a few minutes later, coaxing her to rise. She followed the voice - unable to do much more, as she vaguely felt herself being led out of the grounds and into a peasant's carriage.
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The bumpy, short ride to the entrance gate of the city did nothing to lift Erza's comatose state. It was only when she was led out of the vehicle, a few feet outside the gates, that she slightly acknowledged her surroundings - gazing with a tiny flicker of curiosity at the pair of women waiting patiently for her.
"My name is Ultear, and this is my friend Meredy." The older of the two women addressed her gently, a friendly smile upon her face. "And you are the famed Erza Scarlett, are you not?"
"Nay." Erza responded vehemently. "Only Erza. Scarlett was his name for me. And it died with him."
With that, Erza's world flickered black as she finally succumbed to the blissful escape of unconsciousness.