Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail.

Warning: Acopious amount of cussing is used in this chapter.

Chapter 9

Magic Mirror, Show me…

Gazille stalked up to his quarters after his row with that surprisingly hotheaded girl he'd taken in. His bedroom was messy simply because his servants were forbidden from entering there, and he didn't have the energy or motivation to clean it himself. Sometimes it was a hassle to wade his way through the piles of laundry, broken dishes, and artifacts of his old life, but he dealt with it. It would just get dirty again anyway.

He sighed as he pulled off his sheer white shirt and threw it on the ground beside all of the others. The bed looked very comfortable, but he couldn't go straight back to sleep. Gazille sighed again and went over to his desk where he picked up a small, ornate hand mirror and stared into it intently.

"You're acting like an angsty teenager." Gazille jumped and groaned.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to you just being there all the fucking time," he grumbled to the painting on the wall. It was a portrait of a muscular black cat with a scar over one of its eyes that was talking and moving about freely within the confines of its frame.

"Yes well, there's nothing I can do about that, now is there," it said with a hint of frustration. Gazille flared his nostrils and placed the mirror on the sill of his open window.

After a few moments of silence the cat said, "I heard you fighting with that girl from all the way up here. Did you kick Natsu down the stairs again?" Gazille clenched his teeth.

"Yes," he growled. "But he sure as hell deserved it this time."
"I'm sure he did," the cat sighed. "Why did you decide to have her stay here? Is it because of that curse?"

Gazille looked over to the rose on a stand next to his desk. It was nearly out of petals.

"Of course," he said absently.

"Based off of what I heard," the cat said, "I don't know how the hell you think you're going to make that girl fall in love with you." Gazille turned to glare at the outside world and gripped the windowsill. "Actually," it continued, "How the hell are you gonna fall in love with her?"

Gazille huffed irritably. "I don't know," he mumbled.

"Well, you better figure that out soon or we're going to be in a heap of trouble." Gazille's grip tightened. "I mean, I know being a painting might sound really cool at first, but then you realize that you can't eat or go anywhere or smell anything but a load of oil paints. And you! Do you want to look like that forever?"

Gazille let loose a wild gesture. "Of course I don't!" he yelled. "But I don't know what the hell I'm doing!"

Then he heard a thump of something hitting the ground, a soft noise only audible if you listened hard enough. He looked down at the spot where the mirror had just been.

"Oh SHIT!" Gazille yelled.

"What?" the cat asked, startled.

"I DROPPED MY GOD DAMN MIRROR!" Gazille bolted out the door and down the steps in a matter of minutes. Why is this castle so big? he thought to himself as he approached the door. He shot outside and skidded on the dirt, then dashed to the place below his window.

Where was it? Where the hell could a mirror run off to? It's a mirror, for Christ's sake! Panicking, Gazille could see no other option but to dig hopelessly in the dirt for an hour before coming up from the crater he'd created and giving up resentfully.

Where the hell could a fucking mirror run off to?

. . .

Markarov was jolted awake by something hitting the top of his balding head. He had slept outside the monster's castle, too depressed to make his way back home. He rubbed the bump that was already forming and looked down at his side where the object had landed.

"A mirror?" he muttered to himself. Picking it up, Markarov could only see about a quarter of his aged face in the tiny thing. He traced his fingers over the pattern of roses and castles carved into it. Levi would have liked something like this.

"Oh SHIT!"

Markarov jumped at the terribly familiar voice. He looked up hastily to see a flash of silver and red, and got up as quickly as he could, running for the gate with the mirror still in hand.

. . .

The Warty Shrew was packed with guys that night, and for good reason. Laxus was holding a meeting of the men, or as he liked to call it, "Bro Time". Laxus sat in a large chair in front of about three dozen guys, the crowd including Jet, Droy, and, of course, Fried.

"Now, I know you're wondering why I called you all here," Laxus said, flashing a toothy grin. Jet rolled his eyes and Fried sighed. "Well, the answer to that would be to answer a small question that's been bothering me lately." Laxus puffed out his cheeks and slung his legs over an armrest. "What did I ever do to Levi that made her hate me so much?" Jet scoffed loudly and Droy elbowed his arm.

"Are you kidding me?" Jet sighed angrily. "This entire meeting of the towns men is a therapy session for you? What's next Laxus? Are you gonna call us all here to braid each others' hair and tell scary stories?" He laughed softly to himself and shook his head. "Listen, Laxus, Levi doesn't like you because you're an ass hole. End of the goddamn story. Why don't you just take a hint and leave her alone." Jet glared menacingly at the man in front of him, and Laxus grinned.

"Oh," he chuckled, "I see. Jet, the little bookkeeper, has a thing for my sweat heart! How cute!" He laughed mirthfully, and a few of the men chuckled along awkwardly. Jet blushed.

"So what if I do? She doesn't belong to you Laxus."

"Wow! This just keeps better and better. 'She doesn't belong to you Laxus.'" Laxus mimicked Jet. "Don't you know how all of this works, little Jet? If I want something, I get it. And that's the end of the goddamn story, my friend. So I think maybe you should back off and help me before I break your fucking balls. Okay?"

Jet set his jaw, took a deep breath, and turned away. Laxus grinned. "Very good. I like you much better when you don't talk, little book keeper."

. . .

Markarov ran all the way home and was completely out of breath when he reached the front door. He braced himself on the wall and calmed down a bit before he went inside to see Voir lying on the floor.

Markarov glared down at the infernal contraption. It had been the start of all this. It was the reason his Levi was now trapped in a castle for the rest of her life. Large tears made their way down Markarov's face. The old man sank down to the floor next to his invention.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye," he cried softly. "I just want to see her one more time."

He felt a small vibration in his hand and wiped away some tears, looking down to see the small mirror he was still holding shimmering slightly He took a shaking breath and held it up in front of his face. There was a faint image of something in the frame.

"Show me Levi," he whispered. "Show me my daughter!" Suddenly, the picture cleared. He could see Levi sitting in a large bedroom, surrounded by odd things, such as a kettle and a clock. Markarov's breath quickened and he kneeled, now holding the mirror tightly in both hands.

"LEVI!" he shouted. "I'LL GET YOU BACK! I SWEAR I'LL GET YOU BACK!" The image did not change, and Markarov cried again.

Voir shifted on the ground next to him, his hinged mouth squeaking open and shut. Markarov glared over at it through his tears.

"The mirror is the key," it said through the grinds and sparks of its body as it stood. Markarov's eyes widened.

"How can you speak?" he asked. "I-I never-"

"Learning," it groaned. "I am learning. The mirror is the key," Voir repeated. Slowly but surely, it lifted its hand and pointed to its chest. "The mirror is the key." Then, the automaton collapsed, leaving Markarov to ponder its riddle and to realize the answer.

Author's Note: Hope you liked this chapter! This story is getting interesting, right? I think so anyway. Next time we'll get some fluffy-ness probably.

Until then, thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews you've been leaving! You know, if you want you could leave some more ;D. Thanks!