You wanted another court case, you're getting another court case. Enjoy!
Murmurs scrooped along the hallways. Clusters gathered around the extravagant crystal lamps on the walls, warty faces buried in glossy pages. The sun wasn't up yet. Jellal felt uncomfortable with the researchers' gazes rolling after him over the rims of their magazines. They weren't judgemental, they were…
He sighed. That darn photoshoot after the race he'd lost – his sweaty shirt, Erza's bare thigh with the slit of her dress falling open where she had planted her knee between his, her braid flowing through his fingers while their lips hovered enticingly close. Why again did the Magic Council have an exclusive right to soon-to-be-published editions of magazines? Newspapers, he understood, but magazines?
The researchers certainly made full use of their privilege. Jellal didn't spot a single anthropomorphic amphibian without their own copy of the Sorcerer Weekly. Hidden amongst paperwork or in plain sight, they huddled around the centre spread. Of course, Jason had not only made the endurance race the front page, but plastered 'Fiore's most spicy couple' as he called them right across the middle in full colour.
Jason also had to wait until a few weeks after the race, when Jellal was back at work, didn't he?
And as if the staff wasn't bad enough…
"Morning." Wolfheim's tone had yet to thaw after the trial about Erza's letter. Jellal felt his brow twitch nervously. Rolled up under the tiny man's arm was the Sorcerer Weekly. Rolled up from the centre. A peek of Erza's heel showed, and the deep blue of her dress.
"Good morning." Jellal contemplated using an honorific, but Wolfheim strut past him and away. There was a tsk in his stride, like an angry girlfriend letting you know she was upset without telling you why. Jellal knew why of course. He could also imagine just why the shrinky grumpy geezer didn't have a girlfriend but kept the thought to himself.
Just a year back, Jellal wouldn't have believed that he himself would have a wife. He was glad that at least his co-worker understood, seeing as not one of the Council members was married. Surely even then, they wouldn't let themselves be photographed with their spouses for the entire country to see. Not in the way Jellal did.
But Jellal didn't just have a wife – he had Erza.
Counting doors, he focused on the present. Ambrose was back from his short 'holiday'. A business trip really, to check whether the rendered punishment for a past case was being implemented. Jellal had a hunch that Ambrose volunteered for such field work to save Jellal from having to tow his family across the country.
He stopped short in front of his colleague's office when hearing her name.
Erza, he heard, somewhere. "Titania," someone said, and "would have won for sure."
The race. Jellal relaxed. Researchers bowed their heads to him, one of them hastily stuffing their copy of the Sorcerer away. As if he wouldn't notice. Uninterested in seeing any more of his own crinkled face, Jellal entered the office. He couldn't help a glance out the window overseeing the courtyard. The bench stood there under the tree that now blossomed, where she had awaited the outcome of his negotiations, frozen, unknowingly pregnant.
"I believe congratulations are in order." Ambrose was smiling.
Jellal smiled back. "We already spoke on the phone."
"This bizarre thing? Nonsense." Ambrose dropped his lacrima that he had been holding upside down on his desk. He stood with a bit of effort, an old joint popping, and crossed over to Jellal. Ignoring the file in Jellal's hand, Ambrose surprised him with a crushing hug. "Congratulations, son. Nothing's more exciting than the first born."
"Not even the second one?" Jellal couldn't stop smiling. His first born. He knew they were getting off topic – his favourite topic! – but then again, he hadn't started it.
"It's a little early to say that," Ambrose laughed.
"So I've been telling her…"
"Then you have a little angel if Erza is getting enough sleep to even consider having another."
"Oh, she's considering alright." Jellal sank down in the chair opposite of Ambrose's desk. "She's very confident that parenting will be a piece of cake. I think she skipped the chapter on 'puberty'."
"Or didn't take into account how much trouble she was at a young age. Not as much as today, thank heaven." Ambrose fanned his face. Jellal cringed at the reminder. "I still remember the cases. She and the She-Devil got into a lot of tangles in their early teens. There was one case of the destroyed city hall in Clover, burned and crushed with spikes of ice. She claimed it was her."
"Did you investigate?"
"We weren't allowed, having a confession. We lowered the age of immunity of persecution to thirteen afterwards."
Jellal wanted to face-palm himself. "Any more law changes thanks to Fairy Tail I should know about?"
"Oh, countless. The old Council kept a list but it was destroyed when the building was blown up. Your sweetheart didn't start the era, but she is part of most of those changes." Ambrose laughed. "There was this one incident – we called it the 'annexation of Mount Waas' – where she accidentally relocated the border—"
"Sir!" A knock on the door.
Ambrose didn't get up, allowing the man entry. An amphibian messenger. Jellal found himself searching for an edition of the Sorcerer Weekly in the man's hands.
"Excuse the intrusion." The messenger's eyes met Jellal's. "Master Fernandes, there is someone at the entrance for you."
"Someone?" Jellal rose to his feet.
"Erza Scarlet—"
Jellal didn't listen anymore, only rushed down the hallway. He nearly ran a few people over, sending papers flying. The door to his office was open. He caught himself on the door frame, scanned the room, and when finding no one, not even on the couch, continued down the hall.
Rosemary wasn't yelling anymore. Exhausted, her cries were becoming hoarse. Erza was rocking her on her arm, pacing, looking just as tired but more than relieved when Jellal hurried down the curved stairs of the great entrance. He didn't bother with the handrail, and it cost him a stubbed toe where he barely made it down without stumbling.
A guard's gauntlet clattered at the top of the stairs, perhaps a reflex of trying to catch Jellal's near fall.
"What's wrong? Did something happen?"
Rosemary ceased crying immediately. She nnnh-ed and hun‑ed into Erza's shoulder, moving her little head as much as she could.
"I don't know what to do anymore," Erza whined. "She won't eat, she won't sleep. She's been having hiccups all morning, and she cried the entire way here – she loves walks. Nothing will get her to—"
Rosemary stilled her protests when Erza detached a with tears and nasal mucus sticky face from her shoulder. Green caught green. Erza's eyes widened, and so did Rosemary's. She blinked the tears from her eyes, cleared her vison as it flashed up from blue hair to green eyes and back.
Uh, uh, uhn! She thrashed about in her swaddle.
Erza freed her arms. "You have to be kidding me…" She handed Rosemary over. Tiny hands flimsily groped for blue hair. She reached them easily, seeing as Jellal squished his face to her belly, inhaling deeply before settling her in the crook of his arm. "And you were worried about her bonding only to me." Erza traced her thumb below Jellal's eye before his tear could stain his cheek and summoned a handkerchief to clean Rosemary's face. "I'm just a means to an end to you, aren't I?" She poked her.
"I missed you too," Jellal whispered to his daughter.
Erza's foul mood evaporated. She smiled warmly, rose to her toes to peck his cheek. "You're our number one."
"You relocated a border when you were a teenager?" Jellal broke free from his trance. Rosemary for once didn't scold him – her lids drooped shut. Her nose whistled faintly, slowing breaths pushing past the clogs of her tantrum.
Erza stiffened. She herded Jellal up the stairs. "Remember when you said you didn't want to share me yet? It seems the tables have turned."
"Digressing."
"Oh, look, the Sorcerer Weekly. I didn't know it was out yet." She plucked the magazine out of a baffled researcher's unwebbed hands. "There's an article on Holder Magic. I've been thinking – wouldn't you like to have a staff like the ones you used when imitating Mystogan's Magic?"
Jellal stopped. Erza bumped into him, pretendedly engrossed in the article. A single drop of sweat trailed down from her temple to her jaw. She pouted over the edge of the magazine when seeing his smile.
"I might have… cut a rift that redirected a river… which changed the border to Seven. But only by a few meters!"
Jellal chuckled. He took Erza's hand, pulled her into his office, shut the door and – minding Rosemary – pinned her to the wall for a kiss. Erza groaned into his mouth. She nearly slid down with her knees wobbling. He planted himself between her legs, nipping at her lip.
"Just so you know," he kissed the bridge of her nose, "I missed you too. A lot."
"Are we finally going to do it in your office? I was thinking of the balcony—"
"No, Erza. We are not doing it in this building. Ever."
"You started it," she mumbled.
Steps came and stopped in front of the office. A knock. Jellal moved away, considered handing Rosemary back, when Erza grabbed his collar and captured his lips. Two, three times, she gathered them with her own, licked them roughly before tasting his tongue.
Jellal gasped for air as quietly as he could. The look she gave him made him swallow thickly.
Another knock. Erza retreated into the corner when he opened the door.
Ambrose had his brows raised, but any incoming reprimands died out at the sight of Rosemary. He shut the door behind him. "Oh, and there she is. You ought to be more careful." He spotted Erza immediately. She folded her hands behind her back, lowering her gaze. "The Council hasn't signalled any forgiveness concerning your apology letter. Thank goodness you wrote it," he told Jellal. And outstretched his arms. His hands opened and closed meaningfully.
Erza nodded, and so Jellal dared to part with his baby. Ambrose held her with practised ease.
"So heavy," he laughed. "And what focused eyes."
Rosemary stared at him, then at Jellal. The corners of her mouth pointed southward. He shrugged helplessly. It didn't mitigate the intensity of her stare. Take me back, she seemed to say. Erza had to chuckle at the sudden grumpiness.
Jellal worried how they would manage with Erza not quite allowed into the building anymore and Rosemary protesting the moment she became separated from him.
"I see you already have a strong bond," Ambrose praised. He handed her back before she would raise her voice. "But you know, you need to tell her 'no' too."
"Why?" Jellal frowned.
Erza snorted at his bewilderment.
"And it were two point seven kilometres, not a few metres." Ambrose successfully stifled Erza back into submission. "Marble isn't particularly sound‑absorbing. You might want to keep it down in the corridors or wait to close a door."
"The guards didn't seem alarmed. No one tried to keep me out – not like they did during the interview," Erza recalled sullenly.
Jellal had to wonder at her timing. How he had considered that day just a few minutes ago. A coincidence surely, the reminder of being kept out. He glanced from Rosemary to Erza. His daughter was fifty percent of him. He dallied over her as much as she did over him, he carried her everywhere, bent her ears with science and nonsense and stories about Erza.
To Erza, for a reason he couldn't explain, his connection seemed even stronger. Intense, subliminal, visceral.
Her eyes flashed to him when she felt his gaze.
"It's best not to try their patience." Ambrose turned back to Jellal. "The trial."
"Right." Jellal handed Rosemary to Erza. Rosemary used the freedom of her arms, but her grip was too weak to attach herself to his shirt. Jellal moved with her of his own accord. "Two minutes."
"I'll read the conjuncture slowly." Ambrose shut the door behind him. His shoes clacked down the hall.
They listened for another moment. Erza sighed first. Exchanging a glance, she nodded for him to go ahead. Rosemary cooed, but when Erza retreated behind the walls of shelves, new sights distracted enough to miss Jellal leaving the office.
The Council watched him walk to his desk in the very back with a reserved silence. The defendant – a blonde woman – turned, watching too. They demanded her to face forward when Ambrose began to read. Jellal slid his glasses up his nose and read along.
"Hara Apatia, 34 years old. You have been called to bear witness before their Sovereignties, the Magic Council of Fiore, in the case of three break-ins and one robbery. You may speak the truth and only the truth."
"Do you think I'm lying, old man?" The woman – Hara – spun around. Jellal glanced up but Ambrose did not bat an eye. "Of course, I'm telling the truth! I saw everything! These are dangerous criminals that need to be caught. You could never do it without my help."
Jellal turned a page. 1,000,000 Jewels reward for turning in the culprits. And while she hadn't captured anyone, hints could get her parts of the money. The more helpful the information, the bigger the portion.
He narrowed his eyes at her back. How convenient that she knew precisely where the supposed hideout of the thieves was. Even more convenient was that she had apparently forgotten that fact when interviewed by the police, insisting to see the Council personally.
They hadn't considered simple thievery important enough though, not until she had recalled a certain detail.
She spoke a lot and gestured even more. Fifty, sixty, no, one hundred men! Very dangerous, illegally trading black magic and prohibited artefacts. "Lullaby," she said dramatically. Wolfheim exchanged a serious glance with Draculos. "The mass murder instrument, forged by Zeref himself."
"It was destroyed along with the previous Council building," Warrod pointed out.
"A demon made by Zeref, destroyed in a measly fire? I've seen buildings explode where dark mages stole it from one another to trade it on the black market – not a scratch!" Hara yelled. She took a breath, hands already in the air for more wild gestures, when there was another yell. A cry.
Jellal shut his eyes. Not now, please!
A guard from outside the door entered the courtroom. The bailiff frowned, but carried the message to the high desks of the Council. The crying was louder with the door ajar. It made Jellal's heart bleed, but he didn't dare stand up and leave. Wolfheim's eyes were boring into him with disdain.
Jura waved his hand before either of his colleagues could pass sentence. The bailiff hustled back to the door, whispered to the guard who left the room. A moment later, he re-entered, Erza in tow. She had signed a pledge of secrecy once, but no one continued the case.
Jellal had a feeling it was the baby more than the delicacy of the trial that kept their tongues in knots.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. Jellal got up to take Rosemary. Whimpers became coos. Arms still free, she reached for his face, babbling until he let her touch his cheeks. Prodding the mark under his eye, she made a happy noise. It softened the tension in the atmosphere. Warrod let a small sound of adoration slip.
Hara turned around, confused, truculent. "Your Honour the Magic Council, how can you allow this?"
"Silence." Draculos tore his gaze away from Rosemary. He straightened in his seat, commanded attention to the front. "That is of no importance to you."
"It's darn well important if that man is on baby duty during my hearing, just 'cause he can't please his wife with protection."
"Your Honour the Magic Council," Erza cut in, "I assure you that this man pleases me to my utmost satisfaction."
Jellal choked on his spit. So did Hara. Erza and Rosemary looked at Jellal, equally clueless. Warrod bellowed with laughter. Ambrose allowed himself a snicker.
"Erza," Jellal hissed. His face glowed with the colour of her hair.
"What?" She tilted her head. It cracked up Jura, who had been embarrassed on Jellal's behalf until then.
"Just—" Jellal struggled for words, jerking his head towards the door.
"Right." She briskly made her way out. The bailiff didn't move away from the door though. She followed his gaze to the high desk.
Draculos nodded at Jura after a moment of contemplation. Wolfheim was shaking his head, tutting as Jura invited her back with a gesture. Warrod was still cackling into his branchy hand.
"Erza." Jura was adopting the Council's aloof tone, but Jellal could tell that it didn't come naturally to him. "You were amongst those who defeated the Etherious Form of Lullaby ten years ago. Is it possible that it could have withstood the explosion that destroyed the former Council building?"
He was giving her a chance. He was vouching for her where the rest of the Council had had their trust impaired.
Jellal flipped to the first page of the trial. The mention of ten years – seven long years of her absence, of prison, Nadal— Jellal shuddered for a second. Rosemary's eyes grew, but he pushed the feeling down. They had to make this count.
He was about to read her the facts when Erza planted herself in front of Hara.
"I would like to hear it from the witness."
Wolfheim growled at her dominant tone. Jellal sank into his chair slowly, very slowly, hardly breathing. She couldn't screw this up. And she didn't even know about the Council's suspicion that the woman was a deceiver. The comment about her husband didn't put her in a good light, and Erza knew Hara as a witness, not as a defendant.
Hara crossed her arms. "Your Honour the Magic Council, I do not wish to—"
"Do it." Jura's voice wasn't half as smooth as that of his colleagues. He too was seeking to rectify the situation – for old times' sake perhaps – but all he could do was hope. It was perfectly audible. Jellal felt an uneasy twist in the pit of his stomach.
Hara glared at Erza. "Well, I was there when they broke into a building."
"They?"
"Hooded mages. Many of them. Dark magic wielders."
Jellal frowned. The woman had no magic power within her, that much he could detect. How was she supposed to know about a person's magic power if she didn't possess any herself?
"How did they break in?" Erza asked. Jellal wanted to signal her; to share his insight, but she wasn't looking.
Hara proceeded cautiously. "They used magic. Broke down a wall."
"An entire wall?" Erza sounded impressed.
"Yes, yes! It was incredible. Debris was flying everywhere. And when they broke the giant windows, shards rained down everywhere – they got stuck in the mud, they were so forceful. Here, they cut me!" She slid her sleeve down to her elbow, revealing tiny crusted cuts. "That was when I saw it: Lullaby."
Erza gasped. "The cursed four‑eyed flute? The real one?"
"Exactly!" Hara barged on. "They didn't play it, but they took it from inside some chest. Robbed the entire mansion empty! I saw them using this to kill a man who witnessed everything from atop a hill. They burned him." She presented the weapon that had been leaning next to her stand. A bow.
"Oh," Erza received it a little clumsily. Not a weapon of her choice. Jellal died a thousand deaths at the way it flung downwards when she held the middle, the side with the bowstring bouncing, dangling. "How did you get this?"
"It was next to the body. They must have thought it would burn too. Erase evidence."
"I see… It was next to the body? What did the arrow look like? Did it use one or two feathers?"
"Three, like all arrows." Hara chuckled confidently. "But like I said, it burned with the body. Nothing left."
"That's all I needed to hear." Erza turned to the Council. "Your Honour the Magic Council, I find this woman guilty of fraud and possible murder."
"What?!" Hara shrieked.
Erza tossed her the bow, and Hara scrambled to catch it. "You've used a bow before. No amateur would automatically hold a bow by the riser, right below the shelf like you did when handing it to me." She took the bow away, pointing at the middle part. "You did it again just now. You knew about the number of feathers. What you failed to incorporate in your story is the fact that the arrowhead – be it stone or metal – wouldn't burn to ashes like the man you invented. Unless there was someone reported missing or scorched bones found?"
The Council shook their heads. Jellal felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth.
"Debris isn't sent flying every which way when you break into a building. The glass too should stay on the inside, not spike into the earth, given that you enter from the outside. I speak from experience."
The Council nodded their consent at the last part. Hara gasped for words, her mouth opening and closing like that of a fish.
"Next would be the flute of Lullaby. If debris was falling, it would create dust and cloud your vision of your mysterious chest. And Lullaby has three eyes, not four."
"It— it was raining! There was no dust!" Hara pleaded with the Council. "I saw it all, I swear."
"Had there been rain, no man could have burned to dust." Brushing the comment off, Erza raised the bow, inspecting the nock and limbs. "I'm guessing Oak Town. There is a Black Smith who crafts custom weapons – his name is Dael. He might have forged this weapon as it seems to be made for short-range combat only."
An arrow appeared out of thin air. Erza's stance widened, her hair whipping over her shoulder as she aimed the bow. The summoned arrow fell into place. In the split of a second, she had it nocked, the string drawn, and fired. The arrow released with a whistle. Never reaching the high ceilings, it wavered downwards in a tenuous curve. The light clatter of its impact echoed off the white marble floor.
"A short-range bow such as this could have never killed an onlooker on a faraway hill."
"He wasn't that far away!" Hara screeched.
"Did you see his face then? Did you see someone set him on fire and lying their bow next to him? If not even the string of the bow snapped from the nearby heat of your supposed fire, that fire could have never burned the entirety of a man before you had gotten there. What did he look like?"
"He didn't—! I don't—!"
"Enough." Draculos set down his glass of milk with a sharp clink. "That's quite enough." He snapped his fingers, and the bailiff came forward. He received the bow from Erza. "Keep an eye on her. We shall discuss."
And with that, Hara was taken to another room. A guard took the place of the bailiff at the defendant's stand. Draculos returned the man's gaze. Jellal twitched in his seat. He didn't get up when Erza was wordlessly escorted out of the courtroom. Ambrose waited for him at the other side of the room, where the Council was preparing to review the case in private.