Twelve Days of Fruk

Day Nine: Magic Mirror

Arthur's mirror was both his most valuable possession and his only one. He had been accused of dark witchcraft over a year ago now, and had been sentenced to death for his "crimes." Thankfully for him, he actually was a sorcerer, so he was able to sway the minds of the honest and simple folk that populated the village he lived in. The village wasn't anti-sorcery like many others around him, but they were quite hellbent on the pure use of magic in areas like enriching the beauty of people and nature, farming, and alchemy. Arthur lived on the outskirts of the village, and practiced both flower gardening and blood magic. Simple things like rosebushes and demon summoning were his specialties. However, he also had a terrible habit of getting much too fixated on certain things at a time, like once, when he ended up going a bit overboard with Easter Lillies and made everyone in a two-mile radius sprout the plants wherever they walked for a whole week. He'd gotten in quite a bit of trouble for that, since many of the village cats and dogs fell ill due to chewing on the poisonous flowers. He'd also accidentally released a low-level demon into the village square that decided to burn away the dresses of every lady in the town. Nobody had really gotten hurt, but that had gotten him in serious trouble. That's why his cottage had been moved to the edge of the forest from its place just outside of town. It was now a good half mile away from the outermost home in the village. It lost him lots of business, since not many people were willing to walk so far for his plants, near all of his customers going to the old woman in the center of town, even if her roses were enchanted to die a week after being taken off the bush to make everyone buy more week after week. And before he'd gotten locked away, he'd been in the midst of a bluebell crisis, and he was quite certain that by now, the flowers had taken over his house. They grew awfully fast. But despite all that, he still had one loyal customer.

Francis Bonnefoy.

Oh, the lovely foreign Francis. He was certainly the most beautiful man in the village, even if it was low bar to clear. He wasn't all that tall, as he was exactly Arthur's height without his shoes, but he was gently muscled and had a head of ashy blond hair that rivaled angels. Francis was willing to walk the extra half a mile to purchase flowers from Arthur, always smiling and pleasant. He was the one responsible for almost all of Arthur's income for a while, since nobody else wanted to walk so far for plants. So naturally, Arthur did what any man in love would do:

He cursed him.

Now, that may seem dramatic and less than sane, but it wasn't any sort of curse that could ruin lives. It was a silent curse, nothing too evil. But it meant Arthur could observe the man quietly when he wasn't at Arthur's cottage. Linking an enchanted silver mirror to Francis, Arthur was able to see Francis though whatever mirror the man happened to walk by. Francis' reflection had been more cursed than Francis himself, since in a silver mirror, Arthur would appear as if in a window instead of his reflection. Although, this ended up being less of a blessing to Arthur, and more like a curse unto himself. Francis owned no mirrors. No explanation, no obvious reason. He simply didn't own a single mirror.

Now, if he had, he would has been able to get the effect of Arthur's most lovely of curses. Arthur had made it so if Francis were to look into a silver mirror, and lock eyes with Arthur, his deepest attraction would come forth. And there wasn't any way that someone so devoted to Arthur and his flowers wouldn't love him even the slightest bit, right? That's what Arthur thought.

As he sat in the cell he now lived in, he looked at his mirror. The scene was boring. It was just Arthur himself, as as of now, Francis wasn't in front of any mirror. Right before he put it down, ready to sleep, the mirror flashed a soft yellow glow ad the scene changed. Arthur almost don't recognize his own home, which seemed to be overrun by Bluebells. The fragile blue flowers were covering the central room, where the door was opening. A yellow candle's flame lit up the area, the warm glow a sharp contrast to the cool plants covering the floors and walls. Arthur made a note to himself to undo the spell as soon as he could get out of the prison.