Hello! Thanks to ImUnknown321, I have regained my SPIRIT!
While I cannot promise regular updates, I've overhauled the outline for the story and started writing chapters again. Thank you so much, ImUnknown321! If this were a novel, I'd be dedicating it to you!
"A Wizard Saint – worthy of the Council."
"An equal among our midst."
"But not a father." Draculos' voice.
"No," Jura concurred gravely, "there is no room for a father."
"Ridiculous." Wolfheim held out his palm. "Here." An in between of an order and an invitation where he pointed downwards. Jellal followed the gesture with his eyes.
On an artificial-looking patch of grass, there was a metal-wired box. A cage of sorts – square, reaching the height of his hip. It could have only just held a sturdy watch dog, disabling the poor creature from so much as turning around. Indisputably unsuited – for a dog as much as for a child. Jellal swallowed.
Erza, he thought. He would have to hand the baby to her or he might lose his job. Rucking Rosemary up on his arm, he searched the halls for his wife, finding her nowhere. He needed his job; if he did not earn money, the only thing left was going on missions, and that was exactly where his beloved had…
Why he couldn't find her. The reason he would never see her again.
He shuddered.
From the corner of his eye, he saw that the Council had started to leave, backs to him. Fleetly, his heart in his throat, Jellal hid his daughter under his shirt. He caught up to them, his pulse accelerating drastically, throbbing against the inside of his skull when Jura regarded him suspiciously.
"Is everything alright?"
Jellal tightened his hands where they supported his baby, pretending to hold his stomach in pain. "The annual flu."
Jura appeared to buy the excuse, and Jellal found himself wondering how something so unrelated had saved him from getting fired. Ambrose dancing around the salad bar was a huge help, diverting everyone's attention away.
If only…
Erza. It rung in Jellal's head when he woke up.
If only Erza was there, he heard his thoughts whisper, a silent knot coiling in the pit of his stomach.
She washed the unease away, untangled his constricted chest, her breath venting warmly into his ear. Her nose was whistling, making him smile. She must have been squishing herself against him again.
It helped him ignore the pounding of his heart.
With a deep sigh, Jellal relaxed into the mattress. He cupped her hand over his chest. The way she clung to him, no matter how immobilising and at some point uncomfortable, was still the best thing to wake up to. As if she felt the oddness of his dream, pulling him into the light even while asleep herself.
Erza didn't take a weight off his shoulders, she pounded him into the ground, tightly bound his very spine to the earth; to reason.
A kiss landed on his shoulder, long and lazy and sloppy. Jellal's smile widened. Giving her hand a squeeze, he was about to bring it to his lips to return the favour, when frowning instead. She had yet to stop. Her mouth was relaxing, but nowhere near leaving. He snorted quietly. She was soundly asleep. Truly reassuring him in her most peaceful slumber – and obviously enjoying more pleasant dreams than him.
"You're an anchor in more ways than one," Jellal muttered. His leg was buzzing painfully, the blood flow cut off.
"Wha…?" Erza slurred. She had swallowed enough amidst making out with his shoulder that her voice lost its hoarseness.
"An anchor," he said, knowing it was useless. Rosemary had been keeping them at home for over a week with stomach aches, so Jellal enjoyed every moment of jauntiness he could get. Coaxing sense out of his drowsy wife was a favourite of his guilty pleasures. "To keep me down."
"I could tie you down," Erza babbled. "Spice things up."
Jellal's face heated drastically. His blush streamed all the way down his neck when she cackled quietly.
"You were awake?"
"Only for a moment." Erza yawned. "Has it never crossed your mind how convenient the bedposts are?"
She laughed when he wriggled out from under her. She caught him around his abdomen, let herself be towed across the floor. Flustered, Jellal stopped only reluctantly on the threshold to the bathroom.
"Would you mind?"
"I've seen you tinkle before."
"Erza."
But Erza only laughed some more, clung some more, let him go about his business for just long enough that his morning glory hadn't quite vanished, helping them both to a more relaxed start of the day.
His hair a sinful mess, Jellal threw a glance at her lacrima on the rim of the sink. "It's only five."
"Time for a second round?" Erza stepped out of the shower. He didn't hear her close the curtain – an invitation, no, a scheme. "I thought we'd use silk so that it won't cut your wrists and ankles—"
"Enough with the kinky tying— thing." Jellal's stutter drowned into chuckling. She grinned, wove her arms around his equally naked chest. "I was supposed to be at the Council ages ago. I need to keep my thoughts somewhat clear."
"It wasn't our fault she got sick. Dehydration is no joke for a baby."
"I know that."
"They do to. You have your colleague to vouch for you. He had a son." Her fingers circled dangerously close to his dug, teased his ribs, sending fuzzy tickles through his core. "If whatever they are having troubles with would be so important, they could have sent someone over. Like they sent someone to pick up your files that one time."
"I suppose you're right…" Jellal slapped Erza's hands to stop tickling. She grinned over his shoulder with feigned innocence. He gave her a look in the mirror. It lost its edge soon, and he averted his eyes. Without teasing this time, Erza squeezed him encouragingly. "I… might worry more about going back than I thought. I dreamed they rejected Rosebud."
"Whyever would they do that?"
"It's ridiculous, I know." He tapped the lacrima to view the time again. Four minutes had passed. Two hours and 46 minutes until their train departed. He checked again. Two hours and 45 minutes. Platform three. Wagon twelve, seats nine and ten.
"Worrying is not ridiculous. But you know the Council trusts you. Why else would they be calling you back so frantically? They rely on you."
Jellal pretended he didn't have the urge to look at the time again right away. He waited to do so until Erza left to get Rosemary for an early breakfast, and then again when Erza shovelled mountains of egg and yoghurt with fruit into her mouth. While noting down their shopping list, Jellal realised more than ever that he had to return to Era.
Erza would eat them out of house and home.
"You're really leaving?"
Jellal was getting Rosemary dressed for the journey when he heard Wendy's voice. It travelled from the entrance to the kitchen, following Erza who went back to packing every last item from the fridge as 'provisions'.
"I'm sorry I had to cancel the mission. The Council made it quite clear that there can be no more delays."
"Also they want to go on their own mission for some alone time," Meredy snickered.
Wendy's silence spoke of ruddy cheeks.
Meredy softened her tone. "You know…" Jellal rounded the corner to see Meredy place a hand on Wendy's shoulder. "Your Erza is my Ultear, and she isn't exactly here either for the week. How about some daughter‑daughter days?" She offered a grin. Wendy smiled, then nodded more and more happily.
She hugged Erza for a long moment. At the station, she and Meredy waited for the couple to have found their seats, waving them goodbye from the platform.
08:02. The train was late. Not by much, Jellal tried to tell himself, but his fingers wouldn't stop drumming on his knee.
Erza stilled his fraught movements by cupping his hand over his knee. He flashed her a brief, grateful smile. Draculos' voice still echoed in his mind. He didn't remember his dream in detail, but the queasy feeling wouldn't make itself scarce.
Worst of all, his dreams of losing Erza were becoming more frequent.
No omen, no omen, Jellal repeated like a mantra. Fate was always against him anyway – if he dreamed up something bad, the universe would conspire in his disadvantage – so in this case, in his advantage, not making his fears come true, right?
"You're brooding."
"I'm not brooding."
"Your face says otherwise." Erza rubbed between his brows, forcing his brows to un-frown. To a certain point. "You're trying to make the silk ties work in the mansion's bed, aren't you?"
The elderly woman across from them choked on her sandwich. Jellal glued his eyes to his feet when she got up and shuffled away, mumbling something degrading.
Erza squinted after her. "Appalled but knowing immediately what I was referring to," she tutted. "Not so innocent—"
"Erza," Jellal nudged her, "getting my head in the game."
"Right, right, sorry. I'll get back to you on my ideas tonight then. I need to measure the desk anyway."
"We are not doing it on— Erza, stop."
"Right, sorry." She straightened her back as if good posture cleansed dirty thoughts. "The footstool then…" She winced when he nudged her harder, and they both cleared their throats. Erza gave each staring passenger an evil glare, while Jellal pretended to be completely absorbed in a book. Absorbed enough for the hardcover to swallow his crimson cheeks.
Focusing on reading proved impossible though. Erza saw through him easily. The second he let the book sink into his lap, she took it aside, gathering up his hands in hers.
"You know I'm joking." She gave a squeeze. "We don't use that kind of thing for a reason. Jellal." She tilted her head, leant down slightly to catch his eyes. "Whatever you're concocting, it won't be like that. There won't be another arrest, they won't fire you – it's fine. What's the worst that could happen?"
Jellal sighed. A wry smile tucked at the corner of his mouth. "Arrest is pretty close." He was just as tired of his own wretched scenarios as her.
"You work in a courtroom. You're not actually on trial."
Jellal felt a chill run down his spine when the guard pointed at the defendant's bench.
The Council had stationed what Natsu would call a shit ton of guards all around the building, around the mountain and around Era. They patrolled the streets, watched the skies, yet no one had come to pick them up at the station. Jellal hadn't dared to ask, not wanting to seem clueless. Now he wished he had.
The heavy doors rumbled shut. Some six guards stood on either side – and in the corridor outside, there were another few. Framed like a condemned criminal, they had brought him up to the courtroom. Like the condemned criminal he was, it thundered in Jellal's mind.
No! Wrong! He tried and failed to calm himself. When had it become so hard again to believe in his own innocence?
The side door opened and the Magic Council approached their seats. Draculos cape swished, fanned out to allow him to sit comfortably. It hung in the air, the second hand on the great clock above standing still.
Jellal's eyes darted to the door. The courtroom had no windows. He didn't want to harm anyone, so the ceiling would have to do. The walls were thick. The ceiling too – security reasons. There was an office or conference room above, he couldn't quite recall. One possible casualty against six plus the few outside.
Meteor. Through the ceiling; through the roof. To the mansion, grab Erza and the baby, and get out. What luck that Erza hardly unpacked. Requip magic.
She wouldn't leave. She had a family. She wouldn't just run.
She'd said she shouldn't.
He couldn't. Not anymore. Not with Rosemary.
No, not with Erza and Rosemary. He couldn't. He had promised.
The second hand continued towards the twelve. Draculos' cape fell into place.
Jellal's little finger flickered over his wedding ring.
"Jellal Fernandes," Wolfheim raised his voice. It echoed from the white marble, vibrated in Jellal's ears. He briefly shut his eyes. "You have been called to the stand – with much delay—" He sounded irritated. Unsettled.
A phantom weight clung to Jellal's wrists. He tore them apart, noticing his subservient posture only now. His hunched back refused to straighten.
"We have reason to be deeply concerned," Draculos cut his colleague short. "Deeply. We have not yet replied to the declaration, nor have we contacted Makarov."
Makarov?
"We understand that you are only a recent member of Fairy Tail, but we cannot let this stand."
What's the worst that could happen? Being forced to leave Fairy Tail hadn't even crossed his mind. Could they do that? Would he be kicked out and lose his job? Would Fairy Tail take him back if he didn't quit? Would they take him back at all…?
"Declaration?" Jellal didn't recognise his own voice.
Or perhaps he did.
Erza, he had whispered, rasped into the reclusion of his cell, tortured into a motionless heap of pain and bitter memories.
"It's outrageous!" Wolfheim barked. The uncertainty still rattled his tone.
Jura lied his palm flat on the podium. "It's an outright declaration of war, Jellal. We cannot ignore this."
"War?" Jellal's gaze darted from one to the other. But he didn't— There was no time for war! He had a baby to protect! Not to mention, they seemed to find him at the source. They had only just ended a war, won against Zeref. What bigger threat was there?
Jellal's eyes stayed glued to the guard sent forward. He was carrying a sheet of paper. A dismissal? An expulsion from the guild?
His back straightened at last, and he stood ramrod still when the man cautiously slid the document onto the defendant's desk.
The declaration.
Jellal's eyes flitted across the page. A single page, folded twice, almost like a letter sent by mail… He hadn't even gotten past three words when his knees sought the ground. Jura winced slightly in his seat.
Wolfheim became impatient. "What is the meaning of this?"
They were panicking. Jellal near collapse, and all those guards! All the preparations! The lingering pressure of powerful magic beneath the building, Jupiter or perhaps even a precursor to Etherion? A war between guild and Council – none of it—!
"Hypoglycaemia?" Warrod muttered.
Oh, he wished. Jellal wished nothing more than to simply pass out, wither away, vanish into thin air or the floor or anything else, never to be seen again.
They might still fire him if he told them…
"This is…" Jellal swallowed. The declaration shook in his hand. Never in his life had he been so humiliated. Not even during the Grand Magic Games, not when turning human after having been a cat, stark naked in the Guild Hall, and not when Ultear and Meredy had called him out on his cowardice on that beach. "It-it's a letter from Erza."
"We know that!"
"It's not a threat, only…" Jellal longed for a deep breath, but all his lungs managed was a shuddering inhale. His entire body was aflame. "She has a… special talent for writing."