- Alone -

By Mavis the Fairy Tactician

December 14th, X784

I am always alone at Christmas.

I remember the blistering cold nights where I would sneak into the town, only a few years into my afterlife. I'd try to warm myself by the fires in nearby homes, hoping that the happiness from the lively families would spread to me. Since I didn't remember my parents, I had always wondered what having a family felt like. That was one of the reasons I had created my dear guild; so that I could start a family of my own.

For the first few years after my passing, I'd return home to my tree from the town with no success in warming my spirit. I would sit alone, huddled into a ball behind my gravestone as if it somehow shielded me from reality. I learned eventually that I'd have to get used to my new life-style. And that's what happened sooner or later. Christmas began to pass by as any other day for me. And if it weren't for him, I'd probably forget what day it was all together.

He was always there; every Christmas. Always in the same spot. I knew that when I saw him there, sitting at my grave when I returned for the night, that Christmas was near.

I don't know why Zeref chose that time of year to visit me. I don't know why he visited me in general. I don't even know if I was the reason he came to my island. Maybe my grave just happened to be a comfortable place to sit. To me it certainly was. But the constant thing that always irked me, was that he was alone.

Just like me.

I knew how it felt; to be left out of society, excluded with no hope of return. But he was shunned. Hated, even. Just about the entire population in this world was afraid of him. And it wasn't even his fault.

I would watch his expression change with his thoughts. I used to wish more than anything to be able to read his mind. I knew he could sense me, but he never seemed to mention me. Let alone acknowledge my presence.

It wasn't until this Christmas that I had actually considered getting him a gift.

I had gone on a quick trip to see if Fairy Tail had begun to prepare for their S-Class trials, and while visiting, I happened to come across my old collection of photos. Makarov had hid them safely, just as I instructed to Purehito. The attic in the bell tower was quite squeezed; but perfect for a hiding place. Blowing away the dust from on top of the wooden crates, I quietly lifted off the top and sat it beside the box. On the very top was an old photo. One that I barely remembered taking.

Two children sat side by side, a blonde girl and a raven haired boy. Their eyes were squeezed shut with joy, mouths pulled open in a large smile.

One that for the first time in a while, wasn't fake.

I took the photo delicately in my hands, tracing my fingers over the printed image. Its old, weathered and limp paper immediately renewed at my touch. This seemed to be a habit of my magic. Whatever I held returned to the form I desired it most in. And when I set it down, it would return to normal. The memory felt so distant to my mind, yet so close to my heart. I flipped the painting over, careful not to mess up the front. On the back in my careful handwriting a date was written.

X683

I was 13 then. That was when I'd left to join a school for magic. They taught me most of what I know now; it is because of that school the three great Fairy Magic's now exist. On the day I left, we each gave the other a gift as a promise to meet again when I'd finished my training. Mine, the wings which represented leaving the flock and becoming independent. Him, a silver pendant. I promised that when we met again, I'd give him a picture to hold in it. One of us.

This picture.

Sadly, that day never came. When I returned to the place we promised to meet after those three years, he wasn't there. I still kept the picture. I held on to the hope that one day, we'd see each other again. And I'd be able to give him that picture. Unfortunately I was never able to. And the picture was buried away, hidden beneath wood just as my empty body was when I died. Seeing it again reminded me of my promise. One that I still had to keep.

I clenched the box in my hands tightly, its red paper standing out against the pale snow of Tenroujima. There he sat, back against the stone, arms crossed on his legs, chin rested. The same image I have seen every year for the last 100 or so years. I looked down at the present nervously. Would he really know what it meant? How would he react? What if..

He had forgotten?

I had to overcome these thoughts. They were simply possibilities; there was no telling what the outcome would be until I tried. I drew in a deep breath and marched around to the other side of the stone where he sat. Bending down into the deep snow, I fell to my knees beside him. I placed the small box on top of the snow, next to his feet. The box instantly darkened, the paper losing its youth once out of my hands. I had wrapped it in some of my old fabrics I found along with the photo. That way, it may spark his memory.

His dark head whipped up, alert to the surrounding area. He turned, looking my way.

My heart stopped.

He reached out, slowly, and placed his hand.

But he wasn't looking at me.

He was looking through me.

He picked up the box, the fabric wet from the short moment it had made contact with the snow. His gaze softened as he shifted it into his other hand, holding it tightly. For a second it looked as though he was unsure what to do with it. But he pulled the ribbon off, and carefully unfolded the cloth, revealing a small cardboard box.

a brief moment I saw a flash of sadness in his eyes as he lied the fabric down in his lap along with the ribbon. He continued to open the box, reluctant to view what it held. I suppose I would be too, if a box appeared out of nowhere like that. He reached his hand in and closed it around the thin object.

And pulled out the photo.

His face stayed the same, emotionless. And we sat there. Together.

It was as if it were old times again; we didn't need to say anything. Just the fact that we sat side by side, sharing each other's presence was enough. At least it was for me. It felt like hours before he finally moved again. The dark mage reached toward his chest, his eyes never moving from the photo. And he took off the pendant.

He took the photo.

And tore it.

I watched the edges fall off the photo until only our smiling faces remained, the image just large enough to fit into the empty silver metal. He pushed it into the necklace, only letting his eyes gaze over it for no more than a second before he snapped it shut and threw it back around his neck. He turned his head, looking away from me and into the open path that lead out of my small clearing.

It might have been my imagination, but I believe I saw a tear on his cheek that day. It fell down silently, leaving nothing behind but the slight sparkle of its path. I wasn't sure if it was his tears, or the snow that fell around us.

"You don't have to be so alone." I whispered. Maybe, he would blame my whisper on his imagination as well.

Merry Christmas :)