Author's Note:

This story was intended to be a Valentine's Day gift for the lovely DancesWithSeatbelts / Nalufever. Actually, it still is! However, since it is very late (mostly because my last "short" gift-fic was almost 17,000 words), I have incorporated a wee touch of Saint Patrick's Day to go along with it.

Readers are warned about my shameless use of faux ancient brogue (probably faux Scottish, but definitely faux), as well as this story's weird combination of canon Magnolia, sixteenth century Japan, and faux Olde English (because I can't write in modern Japanese, let alone Olde Japanese - although of course Japanese has changed very little compared to English).

Another language note: Thou, thee, and thy / thine are all familiar singular forms - the equivalent of using "tu" in French, or "Du" in German. You and yours are the polite (more distant, or respectful) singular forms. Also, I have totally abused "ye", since it sounded better than plain old "you".

This story has its occasional serious moments, but should not be taken too seriously. Chapter 1 is rated T, Chapter 2 will be M.

~ Impracticaldemon

March 1 Prompt: Time Travel (Past) AU
Fandom: Fairy Tail (canon & AU)
Pairing: Erza Scarlet x Jellal Fernandes (Jerza)

The Festival of Love, Part I - The Perils of Fairy Cakes
Words: 3000

"So…" Lucy slid onto the bench next to Erza and rested her beer and elbows on the scarred wooden table. The tables were new—again—but they already looked like they'd seen several ugly bar-fights. Fairy Tail was like that.

Erza glanced up from her slice of cake in surprise. "Lucy? I thought you were off on a mission with the guys?"

Lucy frowned. "They were being even more difficult than usual, and after the third fight I told them to handle it on their own."

"Oh. I thought they were doing so much better these days, too." Erza sounded genuinely disappointed.

"Don't worry about it—really. I think all the pink hearts and glitter of our Valentine's Day party got to them, and now they feel the need to prove their, ah, macho-ness or something. Which brings me to my question—"

"The decorations were lovely," Erza murmured. Lucy shot her a suspicious look, but Erza had a dreamy expression on her face, and didn't seem to have interrupted on purpose. In the same kind of pensive tone, the red-head continued: "I thought that you looked very nice, Lucy. Also, Natsu was much better behaved than usual, which meant that Gray was as well. Or vice versa, perhaps…"

"Erza." Lucy took a gulp of beer and prepared to take the plunge. "Jellal's going to be pardoned any day now. Nobody's trying to lock him up any more. Why didn't he come to the party?"

Erza stiffened, and her cheeks gained a tinge of red.

"He was… busy. As well he might be, with everything that has happened. I completely understood, of course." She poked absently at her cake—a rare sight. "Besides, we are good friends who have overcome much adversity, but we are not… not… lovers." The red tint returned to Erza's face, but she continued with her usual resolve. "So there was no reason to attend such a party, really."

Lucy had to forcibly restrain herself from using Happy's line of "You liiiiiike him!" Instead, she chose her words with care, glad that she was only halfway through her beer.

"Well, we were sorry not to see him, of course. The guys are over any hard feelings, you know—if nothing else, they were seriously impressed with him for taming most of the Oracion Seis single-handed. So I was thinking that you might want to invite him—and anyone else from Crime Sorcière of course—to Fairy Tail's upcoming Lucky Shamrock Dance. Just as friends, of course." I can't believe Mirajane actually called it the Get Lucky Shamrock Dance, and I'm not going to share that information just now.

"We're having another party so soon? It's only been a week since Valentine's Day."

"Erza. You're my friend and I love you, but you really need to lighten up." When Fairy Tail's most dangerous sword-swinger tensed again, Lucy smiled reassuringly—or hoped she did. "Erza, don't worry about it, we all do. Need to relax, I mean. Hence the socials, or whatever weird name Mira's calling them these days."

There was a rather long pause, and then Erza took a deep breath and nodded firmly. "Yes, of course. And it is important for the members of Fairy Tail to be in the best possible condition for the challenges ahead." Whatever they may be, thought Lucy to herself. "Very well," continued her companion. "I will ensure that Jellal—and the other members of Crime Sorcière—are invited to the Lucky Shamrock Dance. I expect that he—or they—will attend, once I explain how important it is."

They'll attend if they know what's good for them, you mean. Lucy nodded gravely, but surreptitiously flashed a thumb's up to Mirajane at the bar. The white-haired woman glided over a moment later, as cheerful and friendly as ever.

"I saw you mangling your cake, Erza, so I brought you a fresh slice."

"I didn't mangle it."

All three women stared down at the sad remains of Erza's cake.

"Yup, you did," stated Lucy. For once, Erza accepted her conclusion without further protest.

Erza and Jellal arrived together at the Lucky Shamrock Dance. Erza had been on-hand to greet all of the members of Crime Sorcière when they first arrived in town, and she'd intended to make sure that they were happy with the accommodations she had chosen. However, Richard had smiled gently and left immediately for Fairy Tail, saying that he wanted to find out whether Jura had arrived, and Meredy had gone with him, though not before giving her blue-haired guildmaster an encouraging pat on the shoulder. There was a new sadness around her eyes, which Erza ascribed to Ultear's disappearance not so long ago, but for the most part she seemed as cheerful as usual.

Since Richard and Meredy were the only members of Crime Sorcière who had elected to come to the Fairy Tail party, their departure had left Erza alone to chat with Jellal. Social small-talk was never an easy thing for either of them. Their feelings for each other ran deep, and Jellal seemed hell-bent on accepting unrequited love as his probable fate, which angered Erza, since she returned his love, and therefore his supposed self-denial was as much a penance for her as for him. She had yet to find a suitable way to express that sentiment to Jellal, since part of her understood his need for penance and absolution.

Fortunately, Lucy and Juvia had also been aware of how awkward the pair's meetings could be. They had ensured that Erza was prepared with the finest in "Lucky Shamrock" attire, all of it green, glitzy, and sure to break the ice, whether through laughter or revulsion. It had worked, too. Erza had to give her friends points for that, and it didn't hurt that she secretly—or not so secretly—loved kitschy clothing.

More than a few people turned and stared when Jellal arrived in a sparkly green top-hat, form-fitting white trousers with sequinned green bell-bottoms, and a matching t-shirt that read "Who Needs Luck When Your Hands Are Pure Magic?" Coaxing him into the outfit had taken some doing, but Jellal was always gracious when it came to Fairy Tail—and Erza. Erza's glittering green leprechaun jacket and hip-hugging mermaid-style skirt were really quite normal in comparison. She liked the giant, shamrock-shaped hairpin thrust through the top of her sweeping red up-do, however.

The "not actually a couple" made their way through the laughing, chattering crowd in search of drinks. Drinks duly obtained, Erza immediately moved to acquire two of the delicately frosted cakes piled high on a table near the bar. She made sure that Jellal took a couple as well.

"Now we're all set," she murmured with satisfaction.

"Alcohol and dessert—a well-balanced meal if there ever was one," Jellal agreed gravely. The wary tension that was now second-nature to him was gradually fading. Being at Fairy Tail and around Fairy Tail mages always relaxed him—at least, it did on the rare occasions that he visited for reasons that didn't involve the imminent end of the world, or Life As We Know It.

"Absolutely. Now then…"

They both raised their glasses. The sign above the cakes proclaimed that a toast had to be made for every treat taken from the tray.

"To good luck." Erza touched her glass to Jellal's and drained half the contents.

"To good friends." Jellal smiled at Erza, the weariness in his eyes replaced with soft appreciation.

"To true love." Shocked by her own words, Erza hurriedly clinked Jellal's glass and drank down the rest of her improbably verdant beer. (1)

A moment later, the world spun around her, vanishing in a haze of grey fog and glittering stars.

"What the bloody hell?!" Not Jellal's voice—Natsu's?

"Ignarr' them, peat-fer-brains! Get thy demonic arse o'er here tae deal wi' th' bluidy arrows!" Gray?

There was a lot of yelling going on, and the distinct sound of sword striking sword with unfriendly intent. Erza struggled to sit upright, but somebody had their arms wrapped around her and seemed reluctant to let go.

"Don't move. We seem to have landed in the middle of a battle." Of course. It would take a battle for Jellal to hold me like this.

"So I see—and hear." Erza looked around cautiously. A partial—and rapidly melting—ice barrier rose nearby, and had probably saved them from being the unwilling recipients of the business-like, near-meter-long arrows they could see arcing overhead. In fact, it was clear that the extreme arc was being used to get around the ice.

"Whoevairr y'arr"—the speaker seemed unnaturally fond of his 'r's—"ye'd best dae somethin' tae protect yer lady. We're in a rright bit o' trouble heerre, ye ken?" He looked like a slightly shorter, leaner version of Gray, although he wore an eyepatch over his right eye. His visible eye was a stormy, dark indigo.

"Aye—I mean yes—I can see that," replied Jellal, cautiously sitting up and eyeing the knots of combat around them. Most of the men involved—and the one woman—were wielding katana, the curved-bladed, single-edged swords of the country's past. And every person but themselves—and Eyepatch-Gray—wore kimono and hakama, and the brightly-lacquered armour of the ancient samurai.

"No, we are not in trouble!" The young man who looked like Natsu ignored Jellal and responded directly to his comrade. "Don't be such a poltroon, thou northern seek-sorrow! And thou didn'st even thank me for takin' out ye bows!"

"Watch thy tongue, tha fiery bastarrd! Bows or no, they've got mair men, and the Stairm-bringair ain't one tae trifle with! Not tae mention his warr-witch!"

"Is that Laxus?" Erza interposed, gazing intently out over the battlefield. Samurai-Natsu's camp was situated on a low rise, backed by dense forest. The combatants—about twenty or twenty-five a side—were fanned out in a slight u-shape less than twenty meters away.

Erza was quickly (if regretfully), slitting her dress up to her hips and stripping off her high-heeled emerald slippers. The turf was definitely too soft for stilettos. Nobody seemed to notice—or care—that she'd grabbed a long knife from a nearby pile. She was having difficulty summoning her own weapons and armour.

"Who, now?" The pink-haired warrior gave her an odd look. "Surely ye know the name of that blond menace out there? And the she-devil, his war captain? Meaning no disrespect, milady."

Jellal cleared his throat. "They both look familiar, but we're strangers here."

"Oh. Well, don't know how you ended up in the middle of our camp, but I've got to get out there before Graeg yells at me again—even though he was the one to insist on coming back here to check on the prisoner. If ye want to help, feel free to borrow a sword, although"—the warrior paused, as if seeing Jellal properly for the first time—"ye don't exactly look arrayed for battle. Funny, I thought ye were when I first saw ye."

"We were dressed for a party, not a fight," Erza snapped, although there was often little difference between the two at Fairy Tail. "We'll be fine. Before you go—what's your name, and why are you and Storm-Bringer fighting?"

"Well, we have his other captain, ye see." Natsu's near-twin gestured at a hanging cage, from which a deceptively slender, green-haired man was surveying the battle, his expression sardonic rather than concerned. "I mean… it's the Love Festival this evening starting at sundown, right?"

Noting Erza's darkening expression at the obscure explanation, Jellal paused in buckling on a belt and scabbard. "And capturing Free—I mean that man—has to do with the Festival? I take it that the other side is trying to get him back before the sun sets?"

"Well, of course. Freed the Dark and Jana the Fair—though she'd be a whole lot fairer in my book if she wasn't so fond of torture—they're the Storm-Bringer's chosen companions, right? So obviously—"

"Whut, in the names o' ae the de'ils art thou doin' now, ya gorrrmless twist o' hot airrr?" Graeg was back and clearly irritated. His face might be familiar, but the leather bracers and body armour, and the massive, ice-edged broadsword were new. "Twas thy bacon-brrained idea that brrought us heerrrrre! Thou wanted tae 'test' the Staerrm-Brringair! Weel then! Gaet thysel' out therre an' test him, ya—"

"Coming, coming! Thou knowest what, Graeg? Thou should'st use thine ice to calm thy temper!" Their 'host' unsheathed his katana and swung it up onto one armoured shoulder, casually flicking the blade to set it on fire. He looked back at Jellal and Erza. "I'm called the Salamander, or Fire-Bringer, but if ye want to join our cause, then just Dragneel is fine. Good? Good!"

Salamander-Fire-Bringer-Just-Call-Me-Dragneel grinned at them, and then ran off toward a spot where the fighting was getting especially serious for the 'Capture-Freed' team. Graeg the Title-less eyed them suspiciously.

"Jest tae be clearrr"—Erza decided the extra 'r's got worse when Graeg was agitated—"if ye ain't on ourr side an' ye trrrrry tae pull anything, I'll drrrrive ice spikes intae yerr eyes."

"That's very clear," responded Jellal, face suddenly grim.

"Weeeell, a-rright then. Talk tae ye latairr, assumin' we're ae alive, eh?" With a last, measuring look, Graeg raced off after Dragneel.

"I'm all set," declared Erza. "But the question is, what should we do?"

"I'm really not sure." Jellal looked out at the approaching chaos of melee battle, which flashed with intermittent gouts of flame and arcs of lightning. "I don't think we know enough to pick a side without endangering possible innocents."

"There really aren't any innocents among us," called a cultured voice from the cage not far behind them. "But I don't recommend wasting your lives in a futile attempt to prevent Lord Dreyar from reaching me. Dragneel's a young fool, and the ice-maker is desperate to prove his worth, being a foreigner and all. I don't see why strangers such as yourselves should get involved."

"Is that so…" Jellal said softly. He walked closer to the cage and peered up. "Tell me, what about the Storm-Bringer's grandfather? Why isn't he resolving this problem?"

Thin green eye-brows arched in surprise over pale blue eyes.

"Lord Dreyar's grandfather is dead—he'd be eighty or ninety if he weren't—and my lord would never get His Royal Highness his father involved in a personal matter."

Erza was starting to get twitchy. As important as it was to learn the rights and wrongs of the situation, she found herself rather keen to challenge 'Jana the Fair'. Plus, Dragneel's embattled forces were starting to fall back toward them. In a few minutes, she and Jellal would be pitched into the battle no matter what. There were only modest, wooden fortifications in place, and nothing that would stand up to lightning. This was a field camp, no more, although it had clearly been set up ahead of time.

Fortunately, Erza thought that she could finally sense the magic of this place. It felt very raw to her, and difficult to control, but it was there. She hurried up to Jellal, and he gave her a knowing look, which she returned with a faint smile. To her surprise, he moved closer and gently squeezed her hand. It was odd, but… nice. With one glance and a touch, she knew that he was aware of what she was thinking.

"You're Freed the Dark?" Jellal turned his gaze back to the captive, keeping his face scrupulously neutral.

"Yes. And you and your lady?" The light eyes were keenly interested, and cold as graveyard marble.

"I'm Siegrain, and this is Lady Scarlet."

The caged man's eyes narrowed. "How odd. You are telling the truth, but saying very little. Most people aren't good at that—they like to talk about themselves, even when it's unwise."

"We all have our skills."

"Yes… I sense great power from both of you. Perhaps even enough to turn the tide for the hothead and his barbaric friend. Not that they're alone, of course, but they're the major players on the field today for their side. Right now it's not an even fight—they won't be able to hold me for another ten minutes, let alone the hour until sunset. I only gave my word to stay put until my lord reached this cage. You could change the outcome, perhaps."

Erza and Jellal exchanged looks. This version of Freed was distinctly different from their own. He spoke smoothly, and apparently honestly, but there was an undertone of malice to his words. It was as though he were evaluating them as interesting objects, not human beings. Siegrain had been rather similar; it was not a comfortable thought.

"What will happen to Na—Dragneel—and Graeg if they can't prevent Lord Dreyar from rescuing you?" Erza wasn't as smooth as Jellal, but she rarely felt the need to hide anything.

The chilly gaze seemed to sharpen for a moment, and then Freed's evil twin shrugged elegantly and looked down to brush a speck of dirt off his handsome, wine-red kimono. Both kimono and hakama were made of expensive cloth, judged Erza. Not surprisingly, the narrow scabbard—it wasn't made for a katana—was empty. She waited patiently for a verbal answer, despite her awareness of impending battle.

"Dragneel will be punished, but not killed, if that's what you're worried about. He's kin to the Dreyar family, and strangely well-liked for such an arrogant pup. He gets away with a great deal, though he's strayed far beyond the line this time out. As for Graeg, who knows? He's been a thorn in my lord's side for more than two years now, and is undoubtedly talented. He also has a knack for creative strategy, and I suspect that he was instrumental in my capture. The Salamander is extraordinarily strong, and quite intelligent, but impatient."

By the time he had finished, Freed was speaking to thin air. Moving with the sure understanding of those who have known each other, and fought together, since childhood, Erza and Jellal had already entered the fray at the pallisade.

[END of CHAPTER 1]

(1) Verdant, in this case, meaning not only green, but sprouting foliage (a four-leafed clover on long, slender stem). It was a little odd, but more ecologically sound than little paper umbrellas.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed Chapter 1! Please stay tuned for Chapter 2. Notes, comments, and reviews are always appreciated. Hearing from readers—in whatever forum—always makes my day!