No pressure to review but I've been thinking of my OG-Jerza-Gang: Somnolent Sushi Roll, Mitzy123, foxydame, Isanien, damnyousillygoose, Mikasa-Chan, ;) KiraKate, Miss Panda, pilikali (despite the language barrier), Goku275, Cheesy Delphox... Hope you guys are doing well :)
Anaira-V, thanks so much for your input! I find it so interesting that you say Jellal is stronger than Erza - I've read that plenty of times before even though his full potential is never shown in the manga (sadly). (Also your wish/assumption shall be granted shortly... ;D)
User312308102004, thank you for pointing that out! Who doesn't miss it? I definitely do.
Sorry this is all taking a while but I'm actually attempting to write an original novel and not Fanfiction for once. Doesn't come as easily ':D (as not to say not at all...)
Hope you enjoy!
Cutlery clinked in the sink. Porcelain plates clattering with forks and knives, disappearing beneath soap bubbles, leaving soaked crumbs, bits of confiture and bacon grease on the surface. Erza shoved her sleeves higher. Stalling, she chided herself, finally plunging her hands into the dirty water. She had promised him – and herself – that she would be a better help around the house.
"Alright then." Gray's bag rustled as he slung it over one shoulder. "We're off."
Lucy, Natsu, Happy, Wendy and Charle crowded the hallway. For nearly two weeks, they had been confined to the mansion, forced to do the odd little job here and there around Era that Mira sent them or gone around helping citizens with their destroyed houses.
"I don't know," Lucy muttered. "We can't just leave the people to clean up this huge mess by themselves."
"We can't?" Gray raised a brow. "Last I checked, we're not to blame for it – for once."
Natsu nodded. "Yeah, Erza is."
"The Council," she shrugged.
Lucy didn't look appeased, so Gray continued, "Look, if it'll make you sleep better you can stick around to sweep someone's walls off the street, but I need to make a living. Juvia will soon be back from her mission with Meredy." He bit his tongue, but it was too late so he went on past pink cheeks. "I'm gonna earn some money to get groceries."
And for whatever else tinged his cheeks. Erza smiled to herself. He saw, leaving promptly with the excuse of slipping into his boots.
"Rent money." Lucy was swayed at once. She glanced from an indecisive, perhaps merely clingy Wendy to the boys. "Shouldn't we at least wait until Jellal's back from work? We didn't see him at all this morning."
"Aren't you coming to Magnolia, Erza?" Natsu poked his head back in.
Erza dried off her hands, something she would regret in a minute since it built up the hurdle of touching food‑water all over again. Why wasn't there a spell for dishes to do themselves? "We will, I think. But it depends on Jellal."
"He asked about Meredy," Wendy reminded.
"He's just worried because she hasn't called."
Lucy tapped her portable lacrima in her skirt's pocket. "But she texted last week, didn't she? Juvia wrote Gray – I thought that included greetings from Meredy."
"It's not the same," to Jellal, Erza said, implied. He could read Meredy's tone like no one else. It hardly mattered what she said, if only he heard her say it. Erza wasn't worried; Juvia had seemed happy. Jellal was not as easily appeased of course.
"I'd like to say goodbye," Wendy piped up. "If you don't know when you'll be coming to Magnolia…"
"We can stay another day," Gray sighed. "But only one. Then I'm heading back."
"Thank you!" Wendy beamed.
He dropped his bag in the corner, leading the way into town where they would look for lunch and inevitably help a few citizens.
Jellal halted in front of the door. Shoulders back, he tried in vain to straighten his shirt with the stack of documents pressed against his chest. It didn't matter. No matter how obviously he hadn't had time to iron his shirt, no one paid it any mind.
Wolfheim grunted more than he bade entry. He was hunched over his desk, eyes like cones where they fixated on what he was reading. He lingered on the last paragraph before turning a page. Jellal shifted in his shoes. After a minute, he cleared his throat. When he did so a second time, Wolfheim vaguely waved his hand and Jellal set down the stack next to the desk. Next to the other stacks.
He ignored the contempt grumble as he made his way out. He couldn't blame him, although he appreciated the way the others at least kept their frustration off Jellal.
For the most part.
Two weeks in and he had yet to encounter a single friendly face. Ambrose was closest, though hustled and overworked too. Jellal considered adding pigeon to the list to have at least one friend around who was happy to see him.
Pushing hair from his sweaty forehead, he returned to Ambrose's office. A new pile of files was ready to be delivered. The note on top read: Council. Great. Not the Magic Council, the current assembly of royalty and dejected Wizard Saints. Former Wizard Saints.
At the urging of every single ruler across Ishgar, Queen Hisui had temporarily dissolved the title system. Apart from that, not much had happened – no conclusions reached, only squabbles, squabbles, squabbles. Jellal dreaded having to enter one now.
Profiles, he knew he was carrying, of famous and powerful and dangerous mages. Whatever the council was up to, Jellal saw the freedom of his family and guild impaired.
He knocked. Voices raised behind the enormous double doors. Jellal adjusted the files on his arm. King Farhang's voice was most prominent, then came the King of Bocso. Queen Hisui was never heard through the thick doors.
Jellal knocked again. A scribe opened the door a slot wide, about to send him away, then his head jerked frantically to make Jellal hurry over. The files, the files. He set them on the edge of the table, stepping away from grabby hands.
He was almost out the door again when Hisui spoke, "Jellal Fernandes."
Briefly shutting his eyes, Jellal composed his tired features. Grim faces, one worse than the next, greeted him around the table. Draculous looked prone to bundling himself up in his cape. Jura sat politely, stiffly, longing to leave. Warrod was the least concerned, yet weary with helplessness.
Hisui seemed even more tired than Jellal. "If you could spare a moment after the conference?"
Jellal nodded, then left. In Ambrose's office, he borrowed his co-worker's lacrima to write to Erza.
Going to take a while longer. Miss you (and your aversion for cleaning the dishes).
He added a heart for good measure. He hadn't found the off switch yet when dots appeared in the chat. Erza was typing. It brought a rare smile to Jellal's face. Noticing only when Ambrose chuckled, Jellal distracted himself with the closest book.
His attention was swayed quickly, secretively.
Train leaves at eight. I'll see them off in your stead.
And right she was – Jellal didn't make it out of the building until the clock struck midnight. His gait was a quiet tumbling, slightly baffled, otherwise almost indifferent. How frightening it was to be called for an audience with the Queen again, how touchy the topic. For the first time, Jellal felt himself immensely looking forward to Fairy Tail – to nonsensical celebrating, an upbeat, laid‑back atmosphere, brawls with no meaning or dire consequences.
Most of all, he couldn't wait for Erza and Rosemary.
The light in the kitchen was on, her silhouette drawn against the window. She disappeared as he crunched down the path to the door. It opened, a smile, finally a smile, greeting him.
Erza huffed when Jellal fell into her.
"Jellal?"
His arms wound around her, his forehead dropping to her shoulder. She snuck a hand over it, feeling his temperature. When finding everything in order, Erza returned the hug with vigour. His spine popped.
"Sorry." She withdrew.
He kissed her, squeezed her into a second hug.
Erza warmed up a late dinner while Jellal guided out a moth that had entered with the door wide open and the lights on. In the kitchen, he slumped into his seat. His stomach rumbled, bewailed its emptiness. Food landed on the table – takeout from a restaurant, thank goodness – the zesty freshness of lemon on broiled zander enticing Jellal to eat.
He looked on for another moment.
Erza sat to his left, waiting, watching apprehensively. She didn't stand the silence for long. "How was the private meeting?"
Jellal's eyes flashed up at her, then went back down. Dill fronds swam on the plate. "Jura was there too. And the others." With his fork, Jellal combed juice from a slice of lemon. "They said it was a matter for Ishgar alone – that they didn't need the other monarchs' consent."
"Consent on what?" She tried in vain to read his tone.
Jellal poked the zander. "I'm a Wizard Saint again."
"They returned the title to you?"
"Said that when you and I were fighting the four and the Queen heard of it, renaming me a Wizard Saint was already on the table – posthumously, of course. They were certain I'd die with the Council going berserk, but when I didn't, her Majesty said she saw no reason to wait. Caelum gave the final nudge." A shove, really, a big, fat, overjoyed shove.
"That's amazing, Jellal!" Erza's chair squealed across the floor as she got up, throwing her arms around his neck. "Congratulations! You deserve the title, you do." She shook him a little when he didn't react any more than by rolling sprouts from one side of his plate to the other.
He didn't reply.
Erza crouched next to his chair, keeping her arms around him. "Did the title come with extra clauses?" She inclined her head, tried to catch his gaze. Her voice lowered gently. "Did it remind you of the past?"
"They aren't giving you the title." He dropped his fork and it clattered more loudly than intended. Jellal picked it up to set it down more carefully. "I asked, I demanded they give it to you too if beating up the Council was their benchmark, but they said 'it doesn't work like that'. That it's not about eliminating foes with brute force – as if you're some kind of hooligan."
"I kind of am." Erza offered a smile.
He didn't return it. "It's not fair – I don't want the title if you don't get one."
"Who ever said I want it?"
"I—" He interrupted himself. Finally meeting her eyes, Jellal frowned.
Erza pushed the plate aside, and Jellal understood, scooting away from the table for her to arrange herself on his lap. Chin forced atop her breasts, Jellal strained it to perceive her heartbeat, meandered his arms around her back to feel the ups and downs of her breath.
She pressed a long kiss between his brows. "Are you upset because you think they are doing me injustice or because you think you are doing me injustice?"
"I can't accept it for myself…"
"You can. You should, Jellal. You earned it."
"You're just as brilliant a leader as I am – you're the brains of every operation of your team—"
"I know that." She took his face in her hands, rising his eyes. "Jellal, I'm not offended that you have a title I don't. I'm not jealous, I'm not sulky, I'm proud, so very proud of your achievements. I'm over the moon that someone is seeing your value and showing it to the world. It's a great honour. You should be proud too."
"It'll only attract Jason…"
"It very well should. You're an amazing wizard and tactician. Not to mention sexiest man in Fiore."
"And outside of Fiore?"
"And outside of Fiore."
"No, I didn't mean—"
"I did, I mean it. We can be glad there's only Jason – if I were a reporter, I'd stalk you to the end of the world."
"You did; you moved into my house."
"You gave me the key – we've been over this."
His smile returned, toothy, silly. Erza reciprocated with a warm glow. And how could he remain sour when she was so proud of him?
His stomach gave whale noises another go. Rosemary joined in from her crib, and Jellal held out for as long as he ate not to answer her cries, solely because Erza formed an immovable barrier. She was right, of course, but he disagreed. He always would, he feared, she feared, and become the parent Rosemary turned to in order to get her will.
No one noticed when Lucy let herself in. It was cruelly early, but she knew she had to hurry if she wanted to succeed. Luckily, she still held the key to the mansion that Erza had given her during their long stay.
A Wizard Saint. Master had betrayed the information to the team. Caught up in the excitement of her guildmates, Lucy had accidentally sent out instructions to the upcoming party to everyone, including Erza. Erza could keep a secret if she had to – she had demonstrated well with her pregnancy, though less well in the beginning of her clandestine relationship with Jellal. Still, she would tell him, Lucy feared. She had become unpredictable when it came to throwing him in at the deep end.
And so, deleting the message was in order. Something only possible, so Warren had said, from the lacrima of the recipient.
Sneaking up the stairs of the mansion, Lucy kept Taurus ready. If Erza struck out of defence, Taurus was her safest bet to keep her from being chopped in half.
The bedroom door was merciful and didn't creak. A single slit in the curtains drew dim shapes of the bed, the crib behind it, and the nightstand. Bingo. Now all Lucy had to do was open her chat on Erza's lacrima and delete the message.
Jellal had developed a healthier sleep thanks to Rosemary, and Erza always slept like a rock anyway. Rosemary kept on snoring quietly. For a moment, Lucy didn't believe her luck, but then she praised it, Erza's lacrima sliding into her hand.
A dumb idea, the praising. Lucy froze when Erza stirred. Lucy followed the motion, a fatal mistake since now, if Erza decided to open her eyes, she might feel Lucy's gaze. Also Lucy wasn't sure how much clothes either of the couple was wearing. She caught glimpses of Jellal's shirt, a regular shirt, no buttons, too casual for the Jellal she knew.
Erza kicked the scrambled blankets she had horded in her sleep. One of them fluttered, swished in time with Erza throwing her leg over her husband's hips. Shuffling drew Lucy's eyes against her will. Erza was fumbling beneath the blanket. Her hands appeared, cloaked in Jellal's shirt as she ran her fingers up his abdomen, ribs and chest, freeing it.
Half-asleep, Jellal complied, lifting his arms. The shirt was off, but Erza left it at his wrists, and left his wrists above his head, giving them a push to stay put. The white of her teeth flickered in the dim light from between the curtains, cuspid catching on her lip.
The corner of Jellal's mouth tugged upwards. He peeked one eye open when feeling her breath on his cheeks.
A chuckle, one that brought a flashing grin to Erza's lips. His eye closed again.
"It's ten to six," Erza claimed without checking. She sounded as drowsy as him, though insufferably avid.
He slurred. "Is it?"
"You promised, Jellal."
Erza's pyjamas glowed. Lucy felt her eyeballs freezing over like her body, hoping they would glaze or blur or anything to keep her from seeing if Erza was requipping into something indecent or unequipping her clothes altogether.
"I did…" Jellal mumbled.
Erza leant down further, passed his face, and he cussed softly when her tongue tickled behind his ear. Making her way down, she switched to nibbling, occasionally suckling with her brows knitted together as if he tasted of sweet strawberry and vanilla.
"My collar is only so high, Erza…"
"Think of it this way," she murmured, the skin of his neck between her lips. "Now no one at work will have to ask what you've been doing on your time off." A smack released him, leaving proud red-purple behind.
"Erza," Jellal protested, laughed gently when her hands ghosted down his sides, aiming to distract from the next patch of territory she marked.
She yelped when he toppled her over, onto her back. A push gentler than hers though firm enough told her wrists to stay locked above her head.
"I thought you said that I was the one who promised." Bare chest to bare chest, Jellal kissed her cheek.
Erza opened her mouth, mischief dancing on the tip of her tongue when the new angle made her eye catch on something unusual.
Lucy's lungs collapsed inside her. Her face was boiling, melting miserably off her skull. Two dozen blades thawed her enough for a shriek.
Rosemary hiccuped awake. Jellal had his turn of freezing up, eyes popping, temperature right on Lucy's heels.
"I, uh— H-h-hi, Erza." Lucy trembled, slightly, very slightly, like a mouse under a cat's nose, to avoid piercing herself on the surrounding blades. They disappeared, but any sigh of relief had gotten stuck. "I was, uhm, just, well, you know, for the— the guild, uh." She held up the lacrima. "I needed it—" She stared at the device, at Taurus' key in her hand. She had thought of an excuse, but all her brain had to offer now were hoarse flirts and lovebites.
"Sure," Erza said. She didn't move like Jellal who retreated, cleared his throat, felt his face unsuspiciously, fearfully that it might explode perhaps.
Lucy shared a similar dizziness. The click of the door into the lock set her free and she ran – ran down the stairs, out the mansion, through unscratched avenues and debris in town until panting her lungs dry at the train station. She bought the first magazine she found, overpronouncing every word she read – politics, economy, gardening tips. Not a single word set her free.
She swore it would be the last time she let Mira talk her into breaking into a married couple's bedroom.