Finally caught up to the 100 YQ and very excited to see Jellal sticking around (illegally, as far as the quest rules are concerned... old habits die hard, I guess xD His lack of concern for the law will fit right in with Fairy Tail)!
Have something soft...
Jellal's steps were wobbly all the way down the mountain and through town. He could hear people talking, but he didn't see them. He didn't dare look anyone in the eye.
Soldiers were passing, Rune Knights, Council guards. They retreated to the Council, confused yet relieved. The threat was over.
How much had they been told? More importantly, how much would they be told? Would the press know? Would news of a near war between the government – the Four Gods of Ishgar – and the strongest guild of the entire continent travel? Would they be traced back to him?
Jellal trudged more than he walked. And all the while, he couldn't shake the feeling that the Council had been more than just a little afraid of Fairy Tail…
"You're home," Erza's voice came from the kitchen. She rounded the corner, smiled at him where he toed off his shoes. "Welcome back."
The words lingered in the air. Her smile faded only slowly, head tilting quizzically. She gasped when he sank against the wall.
"Jellal!" On her knees, she took his shoulders, patted his torso for injuries, cupped his face to catch his gaze. "Are you hurt? What happened?"
He shook his head, hair obscuring his eyes.
"Were you robbed? Did someone say something— oh, if it's that frog-fiend, I will chop him to pieces!"
"Erza." His voice was strained and quiet. She clamped her mouth shut. She watched him take a breath and release it. "You wrote to the Council. News about the birth. A new beginning."
"The dawn of a new era – it was quite poetic." She recalled immediately, pride swelling in her chest. His silence brought her back to the present; to his alarmingly soft words.
"Erza, they thought you were declaring war on them in the name of the guild. They were about to fire me—"
She gasped.
"And I…" Jellal pressed his lips together. Erza's eyes widened, frightened by the momentary wobble of his chin. His voice dropped to a whisper. Jellal lifted his gaze. His hands followed, closed, upturned, wrists touching. "I surrendered."
Her heart pounded, vaulted into her throat. Before her mind's eye, she saw that carriage, taking him away, locking him up for seven long years.
His breath shuddered. "I'm not okay."
He didn't ask her to apologise. He didn't blame her for the terrors he had endured, neither for the near loss of his job. Instead, he—
Erza threw her arms around his neck. "You're asking for help."
"Yes."
"I'm sorry. Thank you. Thank you," she fought a sudden sniffle, "for trusting me so deeply. I know it takes a lot for you to ask."
"I didn't want to ask. I still don't want to." His arms coiled around her, seeking warmth and approval in spite of his words. "I don't want to ask you to blow off the mission you planned, or to accept it and be unfocused, but I want to talk, just talk, as much as possible – if you don't mind – maybe at the weekend. I know I'm the problem and I need to work on myself—"
"You're not a problem, Jellal."
"I am."
His hands were subconsciously drawing further around her, at the same time as avoiding one another. Testing their freedom of moving independently. Erza wanted to slap herself for her playful suggestions that morning. He had had a nightmare and they didn't discuss it. They always took them apart. How could she have been so ignorant?
She ran her fingers through his hair. "Of course we can. We will, and not just at the weekend. Let's start today."
"I'm sorry."
"The mission isn't important. Also don't be." Her thumbs circled over his temples. "Remember the 'in sickness and in health' part? Good and bad times? That counts for me too – I'm here for you."
"But I'm only ever the one causing you trouble."
"Excuse me?" She wanted to pinch his hair. She settled with his cheek, promptly smoothing over the twinge, tracing his meticulously shaved jaw up to his ear. It was warmer than usual. "Who's the one always eliminating my pouting? Sadness isn't the only negative feeling there is. You endure my moods, you humoured me during pregnancy, for goodness' sake! There's no scale to balance our score, Jellal. I'm not helping you solely to a certain extent because you helped me in the past.
"I'm your wife and you're damn well going to have to put up with my cheering up, however long it may take!"
"Is Rosebud here?"
Her gaze swivelled around as if Rosemary could march over. "In the kitchen, yes."
"We shouldn't swear around her."
"Jellal." Erza had to smile past her scolding. Still keeping hold of his face, she kissed him, two, three, four times. "You asked me to come up with ways in which I wanted to be spoiled. Like during pregnancy but without the nausea. I came up with plenty."
"I can make dinner. Dessert."
"Cooking is a nice distraction but it's not a solution." She mellowly reined him in with a tug on his hair. She liked doing so. Her fingers were greedily busy with it. "And all those things I came up with – well, most of them – they're me spoiling you, not the other way around. I'm not pitying you and I'm not saying this because you asked for help. I thought long and hard and all of my ideas, doing you favours, buying you trinkets, giving you special attention – they made me so happy, I couldn't wait to get started.
"I love everything you do for me. But thinking about all that I can do for you – it's made me forget to want anything. Except strawberry cake."
A smile twitched at the corner of Jellal's mouth. His gaze wept though, swam in gratitude and guilt and a battle between taking his words back and asking for more.
For now, he allowed himself a sigh. Erza's palm came to rest over his chest. It rocked up, down, pressed gently on the steady rhythm of his heart.
"We're going to have to write a letter of apology."
"Of course," she nodded, "I do, not you."
"There's another thing." A spark hardened his eyes, suddenly serious. "Apparently, an employee working in the dungeons has left the country because he had received 164 anonymous letters threatening his life in the span of 4 weeks. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
She frozen for the fraction of a second. Jellal raised a brow.
She sat up a little, looking elsewhere, muttered to herself, "Did I remember to buy apple juice?"
"Erza, have you been writing murder threats to Nadal?"
"Is that his name?" Erza tapped the tips of her index fingers together.
"Please promise me to never ever send letters to anyone within or associated with the Council again. Not without letting someone have a look."
"Not even to you?"
"You see me every day in person."
"Oh, but the frog-face deserved it! And they weren't too harsh…"
"You sent a package with a knife."
"A dagger."
"Erza."
"Alright, I'm sorry, I won't do it again." She mumbled, "Soon…"
"Ever." Jellal dropped his head into his hand. Erza's lips formed a tight line, worried with how much older he looked the more he frowned. "I can already see him in my dreams tonight. I didn't need the reminder."
"I'm sorry." She enveloped his hand in hers before his thumb would crush his eye. "I won't do it again. I promise. And I'll stand watch tonight. I'll wake you if you're having a nightmare." He nodded. His head didn't rise though, breath tumbling more than it flowed. Adrenaline had taken its toll on him. Erza wove her arm around his back to help him to his feet. "I went shopping. Everything's ready – but I can cook too if you like."
"That's alright," he said without hesitation.
"And afterwards, I was thinking of a massage. I arranged the pillows to keep your neck comfortable."
Jellal hummed appreciatively, then again when finding big green eyes, staring at him from her crib that they carried from room to room. The fairy tale crib Caelum's Council had sent. He picked Rosemary up, basked in her scent. Erza started on dissecting red kuri squash while he soaked in his baby's presence.
The feeling was mutual. Rosemary kicked her little swaddled legs. Jellal set her down to tuck out the fastening end of terrycloth. Erza summoned a romper from her storage dimension, printed with mint, basil and rosemary leaves – his choice. Changed, accessorised as usual with Gray's hairpin gift, Rosemary began to paddle her legs as strongly as she could into Jellal's guiding hands.
"She seemed a little absentminded to me." Erza glanced over his shoulder. A wry smile formed, seeing her daughter having sprung to life as if she was a lawnmower and Jellal the starter cord. Loud, she had been before, popping some uhs and hahs into the relative silence of the mansion, moving her eyes and often her head too. Erza blamed it on the new surroundings.
She revised the theory when they went upstairs after dinner. Rosemary's gaze flickered to a curtain or stayed on the grandfather clock, but no more than it would on freshly bought groceries at home. Unaware of the mirrored image, it were Jellal's eyes that she sought. Whenever he glanced away, she spoke up.
He stopped in the hall.
"What's wrong?" Erza turned.
He was smiling. Cradling Rosemary to himself, he looked at Erza.
Uh.
He looked back at Rosemary. Erza frowned, advanced, and Rosemary followed the sound, found her mother's face. So did Jellal.
Uh.
He bit his lip, eyes still on Erza.
Uh-uh!
Jellal snickered. "I can't walk if I don't watch my step."
Nn-uh! Rosemary squirmed and disagreed.
Erza had to giggle. "Come on." She turned him away, grabbed the back of his shirt, and pulled him to walk backwards after her. "I'll be your guide."
"How will I sleep?" He didn't sound upset in the slightest. Erza briefly shut her eyes, a sigh lowering her shoulders. He was relaxing. He was laughing, quietly, secretly, drawn out of the tribulations of the day by the one he had always feared he wouldn't be enough for. She'd quieted with his gaze captivated at last.
Erza shut the bedroom door. Her hands rose, aimed for her waist, paired with that chiding shift of the hip to one side, cocked head, arched brow, when she bumped her elbow on thin air. A flash— a shield. Jellal's shield. Hexagonal shapes blocked off the window, just when she heard it too.
Grating. A weight— a person on the windowsill. The frame rattled. Erza summoned a sword. The window flew open, three shadows whizzing in.
"Step one, complete." A familiar voice.
Erza went to turn on the light, not yet lowering her sword. She did when Jellal groaned.
"What are you guys breaking in here for? We have doors."
Click, the light flicked on.
"Saving your butt, star boy." Erik's eyes glinted ambitiously.
Sawyer was jittery with excitement, tapping his toes. "Looks like you held them off for now. The guards are gone. We can go straight for the Council."
"And the main act commences." Macbeth sounded just as enthusiastic – in his own, sober way.
Jellal held Rosemary closer. "What are you talking about?"
"The coup!"
"Heard everything." Erik grinned, licking his lips.
"Down with the system!" Sawyer cheered.
"What? No, there's no—"
"The old geezers are going nuts. There's no way we won't win – not with Fairy Tail barging in there head first. It'll be a walk in the park."
"We are not overthrowing the Council. No one's barging in anywhere except for you three muttonheads right now." Jellal growled. "Haven't you been listening today? It was a misunderstanding."
"We've been preparing!"
"Sleep," Macbeth added importantly. "Silence before the storm."
"It wasn't very silent here." Jellal dismantled his shield. "Which you would know if you'd listened in on the Council like you apparently do. There is no upcoming war. Fairy Tail has nothing to do with it."
"Killjoy," Erik scoffed.
"Can't we at least stage a coup?" Sawyer hopped on the spot. "Or have a coffee?"
"At this hour?" Jellal handed Rosemary to Erza. Three pairs of eyes trailed his movements closely, stole peeks at the freshly‑swaddled bundle. "How can you ask for anyone's coffee after you've had Richard's?" He made for the door.
Macbeth and Sawyer followed, but Erik didn't just yet. He held out three fingers, retracted one, then another. On the last count, Rosemary began to whimper.
Leaving Erza sour but grateful, Jellal carried Rosemary into the kitchen. The crib was still there – Erza must have assumed that he wanted Rosemary close in their bed that night. He wasn't too certain. While he didn't lash out the way Erza would when having a nightmare, Jellal feared that Rosemary might be unsettled by his negative emotions.
He served them a mug of hot chocolate each. "So what's really the problem?"
Macbeth took a seat opposite of Jellal. The others remained standing. Sawyer continued to fidget. Rosemary complained, and so Jellal cradled her to himself again, held her head in a way that allowed her to stare at him. And stare she did.
Erik watched with surreptitious interest. "What's wrong with ending autocracy?"
"Autocracy is derived from the Latin word auto meaning self, thus a single person. The Council is neither an autocracy, nor are they usurpers – they were elected."
"I didn't do no voting."
"Sawyer, you were barely pardoned. Did you run out of Dark Guilds to pursue?" Jellal turned to Erik. "Are regular criminals not enough to keep you entertained? Why the sudden interest in a taxing battle?" His tone dropped to a mutter. "You don't even pay taxes..."
Erik snorted, smirked. "Very keen for someone who's had such a shit day."
"I asked you a question."
"Gee, sorry I didn't raise my hand, professor."
Sawyer snickered. Jellal scoffed, and when it made Rosemary coo with uncertainty, Sawyer retreated to sipping his hot chocolate more quietly. Jellal rubbed his daughter's back, met her eyes, rocked her lightly. She uh-ed just then, the rocking turning it into a staccato uh-u-u-un! Any and all complaints from the men died down when Jellal laughed softly.
She did too.
He froze. Heat shot through his body with the lightning speed of a gunshot, spreading warmth like blood, intense and pervading. "Erza," Jellal breathed, "Erza! Sawyer, get—"
Sawyer dashed off. His mug teetered and wobbled on the table, but before it could fall, he was back. Jellal's heart throbbed into his throat. Erza's steps thundered down the stairs.
"What's wrong? What—"
"Shh! Watch." Jellal hadn't taken his eyes off his daughter. He did then. She complained – uh! – and so he bucked his legs gently, rocked her up and down. She held her breath. Everyone held their breaths. Jellal repeated the process, waiting for her to uh, until she did uh, soon uh-u-u-un-ing on his knees. Sputtering a gawky giggle.
Erza gripped the doorframe. Macbeth winced, twitched to catch her fall but she clawed her way up, crossed over on weak knees.
"She laughed."
"She laughed," Jellal laughed. Erza laughed. Rosemary burped.
It took them a moment to calm down, Sawyer, Maybeth and even Erik beaming like sunshine.
"She laughed." Erza sank to her knees next to Jellal's chair.
"She's early. A month or more. Do you have the books?"
"We don't need a book to tell us." She tenderly ran a finger up the bridge of Rosemary's nose. "Our little prodigy." Her hand wandered to squeeze Jellal's knee. He swallowed. "You made her laugh."
"I… think I did…"