Crossroads

Disclaimer: Hiro Mashima owns Fairy Tail; I do not. Just borrowing some characters!

He first meets her when she is thirteen, small and vulnerable.

She stumbles into the forest clearing just as he finishes feeding. His prey is a young, traveling woman, whose auburn hair pools at his feet as he drops her unceremoniously to the ground. The girl gasps at the sight and her eyes widen as she drinks him in: his pale skin bathes in the moonlight and his dark hair blends in with the shadows. She follows his tongue as he licks his lips clean of the bright red stain dripping down the side of his mouth. A breeze causes his black robes to billow at his feet and he notices how her hair mimics its movement. Her golden tresses whip in her face, but she never once takes her eyes off of him.

Her knees are scraped up, her light-pink dress in tatters, and she is panting in a way that he suspects she's been running for miles through the forest. Her feet are bare as her toes dig into the dirt underneath. She looks terrorized but not at him. One hand grips the top of her dress to her chest, seemingly to keep herself covered. Not that she has much to show, he notes. She is thin, but not starved, and her features are torn between being child-like and mature. She is neither beautiful nor ugly in this awkward stage of growth of hers, but he finds himself just as fascinated with her as she is with him.

Muffled voices and hasty footsteps come bustling through the trees. Startled, she scrambles towards him, much to his surprise.

"Please! Help me!" She grabs onto his robes and seeks refuge behind him. "They attacked my village and every- everyone- they-!" She is frantic and sinks further behind him as figures file into the clearing. He instantly spots the sharpened canines peeking out from under their lips.

"Hand over the girl, you filth. We saw her first," a man chuckles, a lecherous grin spreading across his face. The man is large and bearded and reeks of booze, and his clothes are soaked in fresh blood. Clasped in the man's hand is a white cloth that he identifies as the girl's. Disgust seeps through him; these are the kinds he loathes the most.

He scoffs, "Pardon me?" In an instant, he leaps forward, plunges his hand into the man's chest, and yanks out his heart. It crumbles in his hand as the man falls limply to the ground, dissipating into dust. "I am not the filthy one here," he smiles, his eyes gleaming a deep red and his own canines bared. The followers take a collective step back.

"W-Wait, I think that's Zer-" another man attempts to scream prior to having his vocal cords ripped out. The rest of the followers skitter away, but he catches up to each with ease, nails tearing through throats. Some try to attack him, but he sidesteps their attempts and puts a hole in their guts. Within seconds, bodies litter the forest ground, disintegrating one by one, and their newly ingested blood drench the soil. He brings his hand to his lips and licks the blood from his fingers.

"What a disgraceful bunch," he murmurs, spitting the blood back out.

"You were dancing."

He whirls around, nearly forgetting about the girl. She pushes herself off her hands and knees and makes a futile attempt at brushing the dirt from her dress. "Excuse me, Oujo-chan?"

"When you were," she swallows, "fighting them, you looked like you were dancing."

He laughs bitterly, "Oujo-chan, do you not know what I am?" His kind tends to exhibit ethereal features, he knows, but he has never heard of a mass slaughter being compared to anything remotely graceful. He briefly wonders if she has suffered some sort of brain injury. "I am no different from those who attacked you."

She nods, albeit hesitantly, at his question. "I'm not justifying anything you did!" Her fingers twiddle with one another and she averts her gaze from him. "But you saved me," she says meekly. She nearly jumps as he appears before her, kneeling down to reach her height. At this distance, he can smell the blood surging through her veins. It is sweet, almost calling out to him, and he struggles for the first time, since he was a newborn, to resist.

"Do not be mistaken, Oujo-chan," his fingers are cold as he tugs her chin to face him, "They were insulting me and I merely taught them a lesson. It has nothing to do with you."

"Mavis." He raises an eyebrow and she bites her lowers lip. "My name is Mavis."

There is something in the way she introduces herself that makes his stilled heart want to spring back to life. Perhaps it's her shyness or the way her cheeks are painted the same color as her dress. Or maybe it's the way her large eyes are filled with so much undeserved trust for him, an expression he never thought he'd see directed at him again. Whatever it is, it makes his tense shoulders relax. He has always had a soft spot for children though, he reasons, never wanting to make food out of them. Probably due to having a younger brother of his own.

"Mavis," he repeats, his lips twisting into a slight smirk, "It would be wise for you to not misread my actions. How do you know you are not next?"

Her eyes steels, and he notices for the first time that they are green. Not just any green, a dazzling emerald swirling with emotions. He sees the pain and losses she's endured and a resolve that she didn't have before. His expression softens.

"You won't hurt me." Again, his eyebrow quirks in response. "You're not like the vampires I've heard about. You're not ruthless. You're...nice."

He stands, barking in laughter, and wildly gestures to the scene behind him. "You call this nice? Oujo-chan, your reasoning is outrageously flawed." His eyes shimmer maniacally before he narrows them at her. "I suggest you leave before you end up like them." He eyes the corpse of the woman he fed on earlier. "Or worse, her. I could use another snack." He flashes her his teeth for emphasis.

Instead of fleeing, she gently takes his hand into her own and shakes her head. "You're sad." She pulls at him as to lower him to her eye-level again. Her hands are half the size of his and he knows he has the strength to snap her in two, or better yet, sink his canines into her as he threatened, but he can't remember the last time someone has touched him so willingly, much less a human. "You're not a bad person, Vampire-san." He is motionless, stunned. How can this human child not be afraid of him? Adults, men and women alike, fear him. Other vampires fear him. Even Ankhseram, leader of his coven, thinks twice before getting on his bad side. But this little girl...

"Teach me how to fight," she says suddenly, and he simply blinks at her. Her grip on his hand tightens and her line of sight drifts to the smoke rippling through the sky from outside the forest. Where her village lies, he supposes. Magnolia, isn't it? "Please, teach me how to save my friends."

He is now the one staring at her with wide eyes. A part of him urges him to slice her throat and forget about this human, but another part of him, a larger part, tells him to relent. And so he does. He nods and she is ecstatic, her bright, green eyes glowing even amongst the darkness, and he admires her innocence.

He first meets her when she is thirteen, and he is enraptured.

The second time he meets her, she is twenty-three, strong and fierce.

Again, she is dressed in pink, but she is no longer awkward. It's dark and she is bundled up in a winter coat and long boots. A grey scarf is wrapped around her neck and a matching hat covers her ears. Even with all her clothes, he can see glimpses of her physical changes. She is taller, curvier, toned. Her chin and nose are more pointed, but her eyes remain the same sparkling emerald that he remembers. She is smiling at him and he is silently grateful that his kind doesn't need to breathe.

"Vampire-san!" she chirps. She runs towards him and throws her arms around him. Her scent immediately tackles his senses, the blood crave he had for her before now amplified a hundred times over. He puts his hands on her shoulders to push her away, but she stubbornly resists.

"Mavis!" he stutters, "Did you forget what I am!?" He fights the urge to bury his nose into her hair and skim his fingers over her neck. Her berry-like scent is almost as tantalizing as the pulse beating through her veins.

She pays no heed to his inner turmoil and holds him tighter. "Of course not! But it's been ten years and-" she looks up into his eyes, "-you don't look like you're hungry." He's slightly surprise that she can still recall the details of his lifestyle; he only divulged to her enough to keep her from being killed. She grabs his hand, not unlike how she did when she was younger, and drags him towards the village ahead. "Come with me! I'll show you my new home!"

He reluctantly enters her house when she invites him in. Her house is filled with weapons: stakes, bows and arrows, swords. While he knows he still has an edge over her, he isn't keen on being scratched or impaled with any of those objects. Repressing a shudder, he situates himself in the seat before the fireplace. A table is to his right and another chair next to that. She plops herself down in the chair and rubs her hands together to warm them up, having taken off her outerwear. The flames crackle before him, and he thinks she has made herself a nice, cozy home.

The entire place smells like her, and he consciously makes an effort to stop breathing. It isn't so much as difficult as it is uncomfortable, and he rather keep the temptations to a minimum if possible. He can already see through her thin, flowy blouse, the huge pink bow tied in the front the only thing keeping her chest from being modestly exposed. Her grey pants hug her shapely legs and runs down to her ankle. He envies her hands as they slide down her thighs and calves to unzip her boots…

It's her giggle, as she wriggles her toes free from her shoes, that breaks him out of his reverie, and he shakes his head to clear his thoughts.

She unnecessarily offers him tea and begins to fill him in on all that has occurred in the last ten years. She and her friends made a guild to flush out the vampires that had infiltrated her village. It is called "Fairy Tail," and consequently, she is known as the "Fairy Tactician" for assisting against various vampire raids across the country. He chuckles at her stories, mostly due to her flailing gestures and enthusiasm, but is proud of her accomplishments nevertheless. She is absolutely enchanting as she speaks, he notices, her voice melodic, blouse ruffling, hair bouncing. She is a living, breathing picture of what he can never have, and he doesn't intend to ever forget. He's so busy ingraining this moment into his head that he is unprepared when she asks about him.

"I'm sorry?" he looks at her unsurely. She blushes and looks away, a strand of her golden locks falling into her face in the process. His fingers itch to turn her face back to his and sweep the hair from her eyes.

"I asked about what you've been doing during these last ten year. I've...never seen you amongst the raids I fought in," she repeats quietly.

He tries not to wince at her curiosity. When she was thirteen and ever the more inquisitive, he promptly told her that she wasn't allowed to delve into his personal life if she wanted him to train her. However, looking at her now and assessing her ability to defend herself, he also recalls that she didn't take "no" for an answer very well. So he tells her he's been traveling the world, looking for his little brother, a half-ling who he had sent away to escape the wrath of Ankhseram. Ankhseram is not someone who appreciates unions formed between two different creatures, much less the byproduct of such relationships, he explains.

"Besides, you are aware that I do not participate in those lowly gatherings," he smirks, finishing up his quick tale, "or else you would be dead already, Ojou-chan." He sees her cheeks puff up at her old nickname, but quickly remedies that. "Does that mean you have been looking for me?"

If possible, she becomes even more flustered. He laughs at her expression, finding her oddly adorable. Her lips pucker into a pout, and his eyes linger on them a bit longer than he intends. "Well, I-I..." she starts, causing him to snap his attention back to her face. She still isn't looking at him, preferring to focus on the way her fingers twiddle with one another. He takes comfort in the familiar antic. "I never got your name."

He smiles at her nervousness. "It's Zeref."

Her large eyes all but pop out of her head. "Zeref!? The Zeref? The one everyone, including vampires, call the 'Dark Wizard'?"

"Yes, the very one." His expression never wavers. "Now do you know why I never told you that before?"

"But- I- You-" she stutters, but then suddenly takes a sharp intake of breath. It takes him a moment to realize that he has leaned in so close to her that their noses almost touch. She bites her lower lip before continuing. "You're nothing like the rumors! I heard you tried to experiment with some kind of magic that has other vampires shaking like a leaf!"

"Ah, well, rumors are there for a reason," he says vaguely, knowing she wants a more specific affirmation that he isn't willing to give. "The less you know, the better, Mavis," he consoles, finally allowing himself to brush that strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. Her looks of protest die as his fingers trace the contours of her jaw before resting on the table. Green eyes darken and cherry lips part. He can almost taste her as she breathes out.

He watches as her gaze flitter from the hand that just touched her to his face. As she is seemingly studying his features, he can see the conflicting emotions and, he imagines, scenarios running through her head. He wonders if he could maybe, possibly, draw her in and-

Suddenly, she stands, and instinctively, he follows. Her eyes are blazing with a fiery conviction that almost makes him want to take a step back. Before he can react though, she steps forward, reducing the gap between them. He makes the mistake of inhaling again.

"I never got to thank you back then. If it weren't for you, everyone in the village would have died. All my friends would have died. I would have died," she takes a deep breath, "But you saved me, and in turn, I was able to save many more lives." He remains rooted to the floor, his senses jumbled, as she inches closer. She clutches the white toga draped across his body and pulls herself to her toes, eyes locked on his. "So, you know...Thank you," she whispers. Her lips brushes against his for a brief moment before she lowers back to her original height. Pink stains her cheeks but she doesn't look away. He knows he shouldn't get involved with her, not to this extent, but she is so close he can hear the blood pumping through her veins and see the pulse in her neck and smell the strawberry scent that lingers in her hair. He places his finger on her chin and lowers his head, pressing her tiny body against his as he kisses her.

The second time he meets her, she is twenty-three and he thinks he's in love.

The third time he meets her, she is twenty-four, beat and broken.

She resembles how he first met her all those years ago, and a little of himself when he was bitten. Lost and scared, unwilling to take lives. She is thin and starved, eyes sunken and clothes tattered. Her hair is in a frenzy, nails chipped, and feet shoeless. She is huddled against a tree when he finds her, no longer daring to be near humans.

He admires her immense will to not feed. He, too, had a time when he was stubborn, but being so was physically weakening and did not allow him to fight, and he had his brother to look after. So he fed only when he needed to, and took only the lives that wouldn't be missed. He had hoped that made him a little less of the monster most of his kind were.

Her body goes frigid and her eyes dilate as he approaches her, and he knows she's responding to the blood circulating through his veins. She is more aware of him than she is of anything or anyone else. After all, he's the one that made her how she is now.

All because he couldn't let go.

His fists clench at the thought, because if it weren't for Ankhseram attacking her and bringing her to the brink of death, he wouldn't have fed his blood to her as a last resort, and she wouldn't be what she is now.

A mere shadow of what she used to be.

She looks up at him with hollow eyes, her bright green orbs having dulled the moment she sank her teeth into human flesh.

"Mavis," he greets in resignation.

"Zeref," she whispers, voice raspy. He briefly wonders if it's due to the lack of use, or perhaps she never quite stopped screaming since that night.

He sits cross-legged before her and takes her soiled hands in his. She squeezes them immediately, shoulders shaking and tears streaming rapidly down her face. "I've killed so many people, Zeref!" she sobs as she leans into him. "Whenever I go anywhere near people, I crave the taste of blood and everything goes black, and when I wake up, there's blood everywhere! So I've stayed away. I haven't even been near civilization in half a year." She tilts her head up and gives him a desperate look. He finds that he can't meet her eyes. "I keep trying to kill myself but my body heals before I can cause any critical damage." She shows him her forearm, but he doesn't need to look to know they're flawless. "Other vampires won't go near me because they know you created me. That, and your divine protection." She cups his face so that he is forced to look at her. Her voice has softened, but she still pleads to him, "Zeref, I want to die."

He gently presses his forehead against her, his hair falling over his eyes. He wills his frantic train of thought to halt, because honestly, he'd be an idiot to think any other outcome is possible. His unsteady hands interlock his fingers with hers, thumbs tracing circles on her palms, and he inhales before giving her a small smile.

"I love you. I have been wandering Earthland for three hundred years, and I have never met anyone that lights up the night sky like you. I have never loved anyone as much as I do you." He leans down, placing a slow kiss on her lips, and pulls back just enough to see a slight glimmer within those emerald orbs he treasures so much. "And I will never miss anyone as much as I will you."

He squeezes her hands and she gives a faint squeeze back. She nods in understanding and wraps her arms around his neck, her own smile forming on her face. "I love you, Zeref. Thank you," she sighs breathlessly. She tugs him back in for a longer, deeper, more passionate kiss, and he savors it, recalling all the nights they spent together in the forest, under the stars, entangled in sheets. He revels in the way she is clinging on to him, as if their touching skin isn't close enough for her, her grip tightening with every passing second.

That is, until they become slack, and she falls backwards within his arms.

Her eyes are closed, and a small, knowing smile is gracing her lips. It sickens him to see that she looks more alive now than she did just moments before.

He stares at his right hand, gouged through her chest, her heart crushed within his palm. She does not bleed, but the color fades from her skin and her body begins to crack and crumble within his grasp. He does not move as her clothes fall into his hold, her form becomes dust, and the wind sweeps her away from him.

He doesn't know if it's been seconds, minutes, or hours, but his body finally caves in and he slams his fists to the ground. An anguish scream tears through his throat, and he doesn't bother to hide nor stop the tears pouring down his face as he rips apart any and every living thing that surrounds him. Never has he rejected the world he was born in as much as he does now.

The third and last time he met her, she was twenty-four and he swore to never love again.

Word Count: 3644

A/N: So…I haven't written fanfiction in 9 years, so I feel a bit rough around the edges, but hopefully still much better than I was back then. Please review and let me know what you think! Constructive criticisms are always welcomed! I tried to get all the grammatical errors but probably missed some.

About the story: Just an AU of how Zervis met, paralleling the manga. I had originally wanted to put what actually happened between meetings 2 and 3, but felt that it would break the flow and pattern. Not to mention that I would have to bump the rating up to M because some citrusy moments are a must. ;) It could pretty much be its own chapter, so I may just do that at a later date. And maybe a Nalu thing connecting to this. Or Mavis being reincarnated? So cliché but I've never outgrown those prompts. ^.^

Thanks for reading!

-Intangibly Yours