#overblotters get little mini fics now they are special I guess

[pencilofawesomeness]

Erza gripped the scepter hard enough to make her metal gloves creak. However, neither the hum of the magestone nor the act of using her strength to the fullest could placate her, and neither could it solve this matter.

“Jellal,” she said—slowly, carefully. Erza was positioned between him and the mirror, and she trusted her reflexes, but she still couldn’t help but to doubt her ability to stop him from escaping. Or, rather, from throwing his life away. “Let’s talk this through.”

Jellal chuckled dryly, without mirth. The bags under his eyes appeared darker in the light of the dorm courtyard. “There’s nothing to talk about. We both know that the Arcane Response Unit won’t be persuaded. I’m going.”

“The Headmage is speaking to them now. This is all just a misunderstanding. We’ll work this out.”

Erza absolutely hated not being able to do more. Her respect for the ARU and the role they played in this world absolutely did not diminish that this whole situation was bullshit and Jellal was being wrongly scapegoated. It was unjust and plain wrong. If Erza thought that marching up to the captain (a second time) and demanding this bogus investigation to be dropped would work, then she would have done it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, even she knew that this could not be solved with violence—or with caving in. They had to stand their ground and play this right, and that meant keeping her dorm here while the Headmage worked her wits and magic. 

Surely, everyone else would see the reason she clearly saw—even when Jellal himself doubted it. 

Jellal was only eight when he came to the Queendom of Roses. Only eight when they met. He was a shy and awkward child, and he refused to talk about where he came from. That was alright though, because even Erza knew that it was sad. That was why he had been sent to Grandpa Rob. Erza had just been thrilled for another fae child to join Rob’s home for orphans, because it had meant that there was at least one other kid she could play with without fearing their fragility. 

He was her best friend, and he was a good man. Erza wouldn’t have made him her vice housewarden otherwise. Jellal helped people and he was kind and he was careful and conscious of those around him, and he sought peace and balance above all else. And people seriously thought Jellal, as a child no less, was somehow responsible for an attempt to overthrow the Kingdom of Heroes’ royal family. It was utterly absurd. 

It was even more absurd that Jellal was willing to accept it. 

“Erza, I have to go. I— I did do those things. I can’t continue to ignore it.”

He might have succeeded in making that declaration cold, but the crack in his voice belied his fear. Erza’s determination settled. She swore to protect the people of Heartslaybul, and to lead them down a victorious path. She would even protect them from themselves. 

“I am the Queen here,” she declared, throat tight. “My word is law. And I say you stay.”

Jellal shifted into a ready position—to fight, to flee. The movement alone cut her to her core. “Erza, I’m not who you think I am. I’m not worth it.”

Her heart cracked. She wondered if the Queen of Hearts ever felt this pain, her desire to protect her people a visceral and painful thing. Maybe that was why she sometimes appeared so violent in history—because she, too, swore to protect her loved ones from anything. 

The past few weeks she had had to watch Jellal suffer under this weight. She watched him try to convince her that he wasn’t who she knew he was. It hurt to even consider. It hurt worse that he thought so little of himself, and little of her for not believing that she would trust him. 

Erza would not be easily swayed. Not even by him. She reached into her Inventory and she grabbed a long, weighty lance. 

“You don’t get to decide that.”

Jellal lunged. His magic mastery was always an impressive thing, and he could boost his very movement. However, her reflexes were not to be trifled with either—and, she had planned for this. She knew him well, after all. 

“Now!” she shouted, and a flurry happened all at once. 

Erza employed Jellal’s own trick, hastening herself to meet his path and bodily block him with her lance. Behind her, several magic barriers were erected around the mirror, and Erza quickly added her own, for good measure. 

A vine wrapped around Jellal’s ankle, yanking him backwards and straight into Elfman’s bear-hold. 

The plan quickly fell apart though. With a potent burst of magic, Jellal ripped himself out of the hold. He levitated Elfman with ease and tossed him straight into Droy. 

“JELLAL!” 

Mirajane appeared in a fury, floating above him. Erza spotted the flash of guilt across his features right as the junior batted him downward with ice magic. 

“Stand down,” Erza ordered, a little desperate. 

But Jellal had his own share of determination, evident in the sweat gleaming on his too-pale face. “Don’t fight me on this.”

“Too late, man.” Jet, the only one arguably faster than Jellal thanks to his Unique Magic, swept Jellal off his feet right as he tried to get up. 

Mirajane met her eyes, and reluctantly, Erza nodded. 

“Soulbinder,” Mirajane chanted, and in seconds her UM manifested around Jellal, the dark tendrils physically rooting him to the ground and eating at his magic. It was a violent restraint, but it worked. Erza knew that any less Jellal would fight through. Not that he wasn’t making an attempt now. 

“Please,” she practically begged. “Don’t throw yourself away.”

Jellal tugged at the spell, a heaving breath making his exhaustion known. “You think I want to?” he whispered. 

In the silence that followed, the soft admission might as well have been a shout. 

“Do you think I want to go? To admit that any of that stuff happened? To— to accept the role I played?”

Erza swallowed. There was something dangerously shaky about his countenance. The strain in his voice was brittle, and her instincts whispered that something was about to snap. The air grew thick with that anticipation. “Jellal…”

“NO!” His shout was raw and hoarse, full of tears and anger and everything, that it startled Erza into silence. 

“I never wanted this! But I can’t change what happened. No amount of hoping and pretending will ever change it!”

The atmosphere shook. An ugly sort of magic began to fill the air. Erza realized it too late, when Jellal’s tears mixed with his sweat and turned black.

“It will never change that I was her pawn!”