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Cold December Night – Michael Bublé

Underneath The Tree – Kelly Clarkson

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Jellal surveyed the room casually as he turned around in his seat, fingers rubbing absently against the glass he was holding. Not seeing the person he was looking for, he turned back towards his drink. He swirled his glass with a few practised flicks of his wrist, causing the golden liquid within the glass to curl gently in an almost hypnotising clockwise pattern. Gazing at it with half lidded eyes, Jellal soon found himself lost in his thoughts.

Raising the glass to his nose, he inhaled deeply, eyes closed, breathing in the pungent aroma of his whiskey, the slight buzz in his brain humming away merrily.

"I do hope you're not planning to sit at the bar for the whole night, Your Majesty."

Jellal glanced over to the man standing to his right, a weary smile on his lips. "No, of course not, Hughes." He gestured behind him. "It's a wonderful Christmas party, much better than those stuffy events I'm usually forced to attend with the Council members and other noblemen."

Hughes sighed and slipped into the seat beside Jellal. Tapping his fingers on the table, the bartender slid a glass towards him. "Forgive me for prying then sir, but why do you look so glum?"

The king stared down at his drink once more, refusing to look at his captain. Hughes remained silent. He could almost see the gears in the man's brain whirring at top speed as Jellal deliberated over his question.

Jellal suddenly grinned and drained his glass, throwing back his head as he did, eyes closed as he savoured the burning sensation slowly making its way down into his gut, leaving a welcome trail of warmth within him. A satisfied groan slipped out between his lips. The odd choking feeling felt good, almost tangible in his current state of numbness. Slowly, he looked up at Hughes, eyes flickering with uncertainty before darting towards the dance floor once more, roaming over the crowd in search of her.

She was there, twisting and turning amidst the crowd, her vibrant hair separating her from the mass of faceless people gathered around her. It was not often that Erza danced - it was most likely the alcohol at work here - but when she did, all eyes were on her. And his were most definitely on her.

Jellal could not tear his gaze away from her. She couldn't see that he was positively gaping at her but it was obvious that she was aware of the effect she was having on the men in the room as she moved to the beat of the pounding music, hips swaying gracefully. He swallowed, noting the way she danced circles around the men, allowing her body to brush against theirs teasingly, fingers ghosting across their shoulders and waists in an almost seductive manner.

Come and get me.

His grip tightened around his glass, fingers trembling at the amount of strength he was exerting. He could hear the sharp intake of breath beside him as Hughes opened his mouth to ask tentatively, "Sir?"

Jellal twisted the glass in his hands unconsciously but did not answer, his gaze betraying him once more as his eyes flickered towards the female.

Hughes followed his gaze. "I don't think that's a good idea, sir."

He knew something, something that he was unwilling to tell. Jellal could see it clearly on Hughes' face.

The blue haired man shook his head gently.

"No," Jellal conceded. "It probably isn't but I'm going to do it anyway."

He pushed himself off of his seat gingerly and ambled over to the dance floor, leaving Hughes standing at the bar, a worried look marring his face.

Jellal stopped on the side of the dance floor, waving for Erza to come over to him.

"Captain Knightwalker, may I have a word please?"

She sent a sly smirk his way and he concluded that she was indeed a bit drunk, or at least tipsy just like him. "Your Majesty, how can I be of assistance?"

Her words came out as a drawn out purr and he could feel his entire being flame up immediately. He cleared his throat, trying hard to maintain his dignified composure but the words caught in his throat and he stumbled over them.

"Captain...Erza. I just, want to say…"

His hands were clasped behind his back, fingernails digging into the palm of his hand so hard that it was starting to hurt.

"I just want to say that I…"

Someone tapped him gently on the shoulder. "I apologise for the interruption, but would you find if I steal this young lady for a dance?"

"Simon!"

Jellal twisted around, looking between Erza and her…acquaintance, noting the small smile growing wider on her face, the way her eyes lit up at the sight of the man.

He had never seen such a phenomenon before.

Her eyes sparkled like twinkling stars in the cloudless, dark sky, the pleasant surprise melding with the joy slowly blossoming in them. For what seemed like an eternity, Jellal found himself lost in her brown eyes, felt himself falling into what seemed like a bottomless abyss.

His arms fell loosely to his sides.

In all his years of knowing Erza, he had never seen her so happy. He had never seen her smile such a genuine, unrestrained smile. He had never seen her open up and lower her guard so fast, so easily in the presence of another.

He had never managed to make her feel that way.

Jellal was a seasoned warrior. He had experienced all kinds of physical wounds on the battlefield, had seen countless horrors that no person should ever have to witness. The countless physical and mental scars he had received, and still retained, numbered in the hundreds. He had emerged from it all as a hardened fighter, a tortured soul. Pain had long lost its feeling and meaning.

So it was an unfamiliar, yet strangely nostalgic, feeling that bubbled in his chest. It took him a moment to identify the oddly unsettling emotion clawing at his heart, the chill seeping between the cracks forming on it, slowly chipping away at the fragile organ.

He was hurting.

By the gods, he was hurting and this hurt more than anything he had ever experienced.

Mindful that the man was still waiting for an answer, Jellal inclined his head courteously, an expressionless façade quickly slipping into place.

"No," he forced himself to smile. "Not at all."

Stepping aside, Jellal watched as Simon led Erza back towards the dance floor. He watched as they walked side by side, shoulders bumping against each other's, and he watched, helplessly, as another man took away the woman he loved.

Jellal trudged back over to the bar, pretending that he couldn't see the pity in Hughes' eyes. He glanced back one last time and his heart dropped to the pits of his stomach as he saw the two share a kiss under the mistletoe.

"Sir…"

He ran a hand through his hair tiredly, defeat and resignation causing his face to age beyond his years. His eyes did not meet the other man's.

"I'll be retiring for the evening, Captain Hughes. I'm afraid I'm feeling a bit under the weather. Please make sure no one disturbs me for the rest of the night."

"Yes sir."

He swept from the room, eyes fixated on the floor. It took him every effort to place one foot in front of the other and make his way back towards his quarters and not to simply collapse into a heap on the ground. When he was sure that there was no one in sight, Jellal broke into a sprint, racing through the halls towards the east wing, far, far away from the madness that was happening in the ballroom.

The sudden adrenaline that had gripped him left him as quickly as it had come and his heavy footsteps slowed to a halt. Gasping for breath, he slumped against the wall, legs giving way beneath him and he slid down onto the floor.

With a shuddering gasp, Jellal buried his face in his hands. He was heartbroken, crushed that his own indecisiveness had cost him so dearly. He felt disappointment, frustration, even anger. He felt so many things all at once, all directed at himself and the weight of all his emotions pressed down upon him mercilessly, suffocating him.

His muffled cries filtered through his fingers, gradually morphing into an anguished howl as his fingers tangled in his hair, digging into his scalp painfully.

He should have known better. She was a beautiful woman and it had been folly on his part to believe that she would wait for him forever. Still, he had hoped fervently that fate would be kind to him. Fate, it seemed, had other plans.

His head fell back against the wall with a thump, the fatigue settling in rapidly. At this point in time, there was really only one thought left in his mind.

If it was any consolation, as scant and fleeting as it may be, it was that she was happy. And if she was happy, shouldn't that be enough?

He found himself wandering the halls once more the following year. The Christmas party was still in full swing and the chatter and cheerful music floated through the air. A shuffling caught his attention and Jellal turned around slowly, hands in his pockets, and froze at the sight.

She was striding towards him, barefoot, high heels in hand. Her hair was tousled, the messy red locks strewn across her flushed face. He could see that she was quite drunk, if the glazed look in her eyes and her zigzag walking pattern were any indication.

Jellal reached for her instinctively as she stumbled, falling into his arms. She glared at him, eyes burning with defiance, and pushed him away from her.

"Get off me," Erza growled.

He mumbled an apology, curious eyes searching her face for any hints as to her current state. Erza would never allow herself to become intoxicated to such an extent, not without good reason at least. She believed that as a soldier, she had to remain on constant alert and not to allow her senses to be dulled in any way. Of course, it could be that it was Christmas Day, a celebratory day in which she could afford to cut herself some slack. He nearly snorted at the thought. This was Erza Knightwalker he was talking about. That woman was a perfectionist, she wouldn't allow herself such indulgences for such a petty reason.

"What's wrong?"

He didn't expect an answer. After all, Erza rarely let her guard down. To answer his question and acknowledge that there was something that could affect her so was to show weakness. And vulnerability was something her pride would never allow her to reveal, especially not to him.

Her eyes glistened as she shot him a furious look but he could the faint tremor in her lower lip, the slight clenching of the jaw, and were those…tears?

She closed the gap between them suddenly, her heels clattering onto the floor, and before he had any time to react, she had already pressed her lips against his. It was not soft or sweet, but forceful, desperate and he knew that all she needed was someone to comfort her tonight. She didn't love him, she never did, but tonight, when everything seemed to fall apart for her, she needed someone to love her the way she had loved, and still loved, Simon.

And despite knowing all of this, he reciprocated and deepened the kiss, hands threading through her hair, the bitter tears clinging on to her lashes brushing against his face, serving as a twisted reminder that she loved another, that he was just a rebound. But he was alright with it. He was content with this arrangement because tonight, she was all his. Tonight, she saw only him and him alone, even if it was all a pretentious façade where her memories of happier days were drowned out by the unhealthy amount of alcohol she had consumed.

Tonight, he could pretend that she loved him.

Author's note:

No this isn't angsty. Angsty is N4, this is no way near being called angst. On another note, this is the last one for 2013 (if you don't know what this means, you really should read my profile). Have a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.