"Beauty daily discovered some valuable qualifications in the monster, and seeing him often had so accustomed her to his deformity, that, far from dreading the time of his visit, she would often look on her watch to see when it would be nine, for the Beast never missed coming at that hour."

It became something of a ritual for her to be greeted in the morning. If she stayed in her room till the hour of nine, the beast would come to her room and knock upon her door. If she went down the stairs and was in one of the many halls, he would find her and walk beside her to breakfast.

Whoever made these fine meals was a saint to Levy. She was sure that it was not the beast himself—for what can one do with claws that tore everything to pieces? But no matter how much she searched, or how long she looked—no matter where she went on her mad adventures, she never found a cook of any kind. Even that voice she had heard that one day speaking to the beast was still a ghost in her mind. She herself began to cook a bit—but when she burned herself one day, the creature having found her with a tortured look on her palette and pain echoing in her eyes as she ran her skin under cold water, he seized the opportunity to relieve her of her job preparing food. So, to make up for it, Levy began to find comfort in caring for the animals inside the barn. Dapplegrim had put on even more weight, but she never got on him—for there was still fear there that the beast would perhaps believe that she was trying to find means to escape. There were chickens and two cows—a goat and of course, Dapplegrim. She did her best to do as much work as she could with them. But the chickens were off limits, for the rooster in their coop was a mean old badger who would peck at anything that lived and breathed under the sun besides his harem of feathery women.

What did she work in when she was here? A marvelous question. Seeing as Levy did not take very kindly to one of the more elaborate dresses, she had set upon disarming it entirely during the night. By the next morning, when the beast came to her room and knocked on the door, she emerged in makeshift trousers and a light top. He stared at it, then looked past her at the scraps upon the bed, his face contorting from surprise to a mix of anger and dismay.

"If you wanted a man's clothes so badly, you should have asked!" He snarled, following her as she moved past him with the gait of a madman and the figure of a demon hunched in disgust. Levy replied with extra cheek to spare, totally fearless of the shadow moving along behind her.

"If I had, you would have told me that the clothes here were perfect and there was no reason to have anything besides them." This earned her a low guttural growl. "Besides, I can do many more things now that I don't have to watch my every step. Fine clothes are not made for doing chores in."

"Cleaning dresses is not a troublesome t—" He was stopped short by the small figure's turn on her heel, her eyes challenging his own. Her mouth, of course, was the sharpest weapon she had.

"It is when you're the one who's breaking your back as you scrub the grime out of it." She tossed her hair a bit and then kept going, her own pair of boots stabbing the floor with determination. When she reached the doors that lead to the main courtyard, which was, in turn, the passageway to the stables, she felt a weight settle upon her shoulders. A… a cloak?

She looked at the creature in suspicion. His eyes were facing outside, his jaw set and his horns glistening in the light the doors had opened up on him. Those eyes he had were not black as she had first thought them to be. But instead were… crimson?

"For the cold." And he stalked away, leaving her to watch in curiosity as he went. When he was no longer visible, she opened the door further and slipped outside, shutting it behind her with a loud bang.

While she worked, she sang. For singing kept away nervous thoughts, and scared the silence into small nooks and crannies that she could not pinpoint without quieting herself. She enjoyed the work. And sometimes she found that a window close-by would be propped open. She wondered at this, and one day, she sang as she moved towards one, peering in. What she found caused her to smile like an idiot. For the beast was listening to her. Whenever she worked, wherever she worked, a window was always open. And this was a sort of peace flag. As if her singing had brought them closer in a way.

At dinner one night, she brought up the matter of her singing, and asked if it was a trouble to him in the castle when she was working. He replied swiftly, denying that it was of any sort of distraction, and that he didn't mind her song. She smiled secretly as she brought a tiny ladle to her mouth, sipping the soup she had been presented quietly, aware that his gaze had turned from one of denial to that of deep thought. No doubt he was pondering just why she had asked him in the first place. Levy only sipped her soup and smiled to herself.

When many days had been counted on the wall in her bathroom, hidden by a tapestry of a unicorn in a pen, Levy found that she had been in the same place for two months. She delved deeper into her thoughts as she settled herself into bed that night. Two months… Winter was in her birthing years here. The storms would be coming in another month, and then the world would remain white for three more after that. Levy closed her eyes and allowed darkness to overcome her. To wash away all her thoughts.

She was completely ready and raring to go in the morning. She had already finished her work in the stalls, had taken a bath, and was preparing to go and do her weekly clean when she was stopped by the Master of the place.

"Meet me in the room at the top of the stairs in the West Wing at eight." A pause, then, "And wear something that is not cut up into a disastrous display of rebellion, please."

She stared after him as he walked away and she sighed. He was a black hole of suspicion and she was an asteroid running off the power of inquisitiveness. If she wasn't careful, she would be sucked in to his dark game.

Seven was when she started to get ready. Levy opened all the drawers in her room then, even those in the bathroom. First she changed her undergarments, including putting on a very tight corset that she had often seen her stepsisters shoving their flesh into. With extreme care and precision, she laced it up using the reflection of the mirror, and then set to work. She flung open the wardrobe and pulled out every dress there was. From eggshell to turquoise to emerald to gold. And now she began weeding through them. Nothing close to white went soaring back into the wooden box it came from. Everything too dark soon followed. The gold was a bit too lavish, and she set it aside along with the sage, lilac and periwinkle one to maybe go back to later. When she was finished, she tried all aforementioned dresses on and ended up having a mental fight with herself on either the periwinkle or the gold. Too disgusted to want to have to choose, she threw herself into the bathroom and poked through the makeup there.

What the hell was all this for? She knew the powder, but when did it go on? She took the bandana she had worn before and tied back her hair, ready for war. 30 minutes later she opened the bathroom door, pleased with what she had been able to do with herself. It wasn't that big of a change. She had only swept a bit of blush over her cheeks and some earthy colors over her eyes. Now to choose the dress…

She stared at the bed in horror. Where the periwinkle and gold dress had once been laid, was a dress that hadn't even been in the wardrobe. The other two were back in the closet. This one was a dark red, as wine is when it is first poured into a clear glass. Perhaps even that of blood. She touched its folds and looked around. Nothing else had been touched… why—and she found a box right underneath the dress. The girl took it into her hands and popped it open with a single flick of her thumb. Earrings and.. a necklace. She stared suspiciously at the dress and the jewelry, then slid into it, looking in the mirror as she clipped the necklace in the back and slid the earrings into her ears, which had been pierced long ago. She was amazed that they were still open. And when she was finished, she dared to let her hair fall as she peeked at herself in the mirror. She stared unashamed at the sight. What. The. Hell.

Honestly, Levy had never felt so beautiful in her life. She opened up the drawer with the brush and found another black box. This time she did not hesitate in opening it. Instead, she slid it open and picked up the hair ornament inside. Slowly she ran the brush through her tangles. After, she braided two strands of her hair, pulled them back so they met in the middle behind her skull, and clipped the hair ornament onto them. A shadow flickered behind her on the wall and she froze, goosebumps flooding onto her flesh. But nothing happened, and she put herself into two black slippers and fled from her room just as the bell tolled eight.

"She will come, Gajeel, you have earned her trust and respect."

"And how would you know?!"

"We all know. Her attendants watch her closely to make sure everything is fine with her. They care for her deeply and make sure everything is set in her room when she wakes up."

"Does she suspect anything?"

"Not that we know of. Nothing is too drastic when changed for her. She is—" Footfalls came from the hallway and a voice peeked in through the closed door.

"Hello?" The beast turned and Levy pushed open the door. She looked him up and down as she walked in. "Were you talking with someone?"

"No."

"Oh. I thought I heard—"

"You should watch how far your imagination runs, soon you won't be able to catch up with it." Levy puffed up her cheeks and crossed her arms. Her walking towards him had stopped and her glaring had taken up the whole of her concentration.

It wasn't as if she wasn't surprised. She was. Very much so. The beast was looking as if he'd been made as a commander for the gates of hell. Steel armor crawled up his bodice, polished and with shoulder guards that had been carved into the faces of demons. Clipped to this was a blood red cloak that would not interfere with his stride. Suddnely he lunged forward and Levy put her hand on the door behind her, eyes wide. But he stopped, turned and growled as if he had been pushed by something… or someone, and then returned his gaze to her. He held out his clawed hand in silence and Levy looked at it suspiciously.

"What?" She finally asked when the silence became too much for her to bear.

"Shall we?"

"…Dance?" The great being cocked his head in confusion, a bit of impatience gathering in his large, armored shoulders.

"What the hell else is there to do in this room?" Levy scowled, and half had the mind to spit all the possible disgusting things that could happen here—the killing of a man for sacrificial purposes, the spilling of an animals blood just for game… one could SING in a room this huge and not have to care about whether or not they sounded well. But instead she shrugged and replied with just one simple phrase, moving towards him so that she was right in front of his body.

"We may." As she spoke, she held out her arms, to which he looked at with a bit of struggle. She was very aware of every move he made as he stepped closer to her, claws tapping against the beautiful floor. He was almost twice her size, but as soon as he slid his clawed hand around her waist, she was hit with reassurance. Small, but still there. Then it flickered in the gust of all her worries. What if she tripped? What if she stepped on him? What if she fell and, in his try to grab her, he cut her gut open and—her eye caught the movement of a mirror and she gaped as she stared at it. Her reflection…

"What is it?" The beast began to turn and she snapped her head back, flicked one foot at a time and sent her shoes flying (to which he stared in disbelief at her movements), put her hand on his shoulder and turned.

"Just wondering if you would be the one leading or if I must do everything." He furrowed his brow and suddenly she was no longer in her own pace. He began his own, slower than hers, but covering more ground with each step.

Imagination took hold of her now. The chandelier above them, draped in crystals, began hazy, and all around her, she imagined lords and graceful ladies also dancing. She could almost hear their footfalls against the floor. Levy turned, her earrings and necklace catching the light, and she watched as her imagination cast shadows along the wall. Where laughter reigned and crystal clinked with chopped ice. In the center, along the back, the curtains were suddenly being pulled back. And she watched as a very handsome young man stepped down and moved his way among the other rich families. His black hair was long, but well-kept and pulled back low with a tie. His suit was charcoal, with silver thread lining. Boots of fine leather and his face… was the same of that which was covered in a viel in the main hall. Her watch followed him as he maneuvered towards where she and the beast were dancing, and then, he stepped right in, ghostly merging with the creature. Levy now stared at the beast in awe. For she could almost see the resemblance.

He looked down at her now, and, in a voice she had never heard from him before, asked the same question he had before. "What is it?"

"You…" she shook her head and suddenly all the figures of her imagination dispersed into wisps of smoke and dust that hit the chandelier lights, cascading into the floor, never there in the first place. "What is your name?" The being stared at her as if she had asked the strangest question in the history of inquiries. Levy turned her head back to the great room that must have held quite a number of beautiful dances when it was still the keep of handsome princes and wise kings. "I do not want to address you as 'you' or 'creature' or anything that would demean your well-being…"

He let go of her then, and their dance stopped. She waited a while but still he did not speak. Levy felt the heat rise to her cheeks in embarrassment and she clasped her hands tightly in front of her dress, her face turned so that he could not pick up on her feeling utterly stupid.

"Gajeel." The word was so quiet, she had thought that it had just been something she imagined, but when she turned to see the demon with his gaze focused solely on the ground, she knew that it had not been her imagination.

So, like the spitfire that she was, the girl twisted around on her bare feet and marched right up to him, stuck out her small hand and dared to look him in the eye when he watched her approach.

"Levy. Levy McGarden."

For moments of awkward silence, nothing happened. And then, a flicker of unsure movement brought the beast's hand right to hers. He did not shake it, as she had expected him to, though. Instead, he bowed his horned head over it after lifting her hand slightly with his pointer finger and securing her with his thumb, he closed his eyes and dipped his skull.

"A pleasure, Levy McGarden."

"L…Likewise." So stunned had she been at his formal greeting that she barely noticed him when he stood straight again and changed direction on his heel, moving out of the ball room and leaving her to her thoughts there. Not five minutes later the clang of a loud clock announced that the time was nine hours after noon. Levy knew then that she would not be seeing Gajeel for the rest of the night. So she gathered her shoes and took her sweet time returning to her room, her hands behind her back and her head stuck in the clouds as she viewed the portraits of royalty once more. Every once in a while, she thought she saw something in the reflective metal of one of the suits of armor—or a shadow playing on the wall… but whenever she turned, she found nothing but herself to be there.

When she returned to her room, she sat down on her bed quietly and clutched her knees after kicking off those horrible, pinching shoes. She rocked back and forth, trying to figure out if what she had seen in the mirror was just a figment of her imagination, or if it had indeed been real. Levy did not doubt her eyes. She often caught onto things that most people missed because she was perceptive. Levy decided then that she had not been playing with her imagination at that time. Perhaps she had let it run wild later, but this was not then.

The reflection in the mirror had shown herself in a dress too beautiful for such a plain girl as she to wear, the same one she had put on… and a man, not a beast.