I haven't written much fanfiction before, but Kuroshitsuji is too similar to what I like to write for me to resist playing with it a little bit. I had a few purposes with this story: to try thinking some from Sebastian's perspective, which seems difficult to do convincingly; to introduce him to another of his kind; and, in a small way, to compare the two butlers in this story: what they think, why they do what they do… and to keep Reine from straying into Mary Sue territory while still letting her be slightly cool. As this is the first fanfiction I show to anyone but myself, reviews would be greatly appreciated.
A demoness—one the same as he—with long, dark curling hair and wine-colored eyes shining in the light, soft white hands tipped with ebony-enameled nails caressing the monochrome keys, persuading a delicate tune out—it was unbelievable. Yet believe it he must, for that was the sight greeting them upon their arrival at the count's house.
A girl of just under twenty was seated at the grand piano in the entrance hall, playing a calm and wandering tune that echoed through the room. She had not noticed the arrival of visitors, as her back was turned, but as the door shut behind the butler and his master, she appeared to start and ceased playing. "Who is it?" she called, rising from the bench and twirling to face them, dove grey skirts rustling. To all appearances, she was only average; a discrete glance to his master confirmed that he indeed had not not noticed anything beyond the ordinary. A smile curved across the butler's lips briefly before he answered the girl—no, the demon.
"May I present Earl Phantomhive, arriving on behalf of her Majesty, the Queen of England." Sebastian bowed gracefully from the waist, revealing nothing, yet he could not help but wonder what this other being of Hell was doing playing the piano in a French noble's house—and feel slightly irritated that he had to bow to it.
The girl leveled a small smirk at him, clearly knowing his mind despite his composure. "Ah! the count has been expecting you. Drozell, would you tell Alex that he is slacking in his duty as a host?"
Here both master and servant recognized something out of the ordinary. Drozell: was that not the name of the puppeteer that murdered and manipulated young girls after his own death? An unusual name to hear in Paris, for certain. A coincidence, or—?
A man stepped out from behind the staircase rising up from the center of the room. "Yes, my lady." But this was not a man at all, was it? A figure with orange hair and violet eyes bowed to the demon and began to mount the stairs without a single glance to the visitors. The monotone-bordering-on-absentminded voice and unnaturally stiff movements were all too familiar: this was none other than Drozell Keinz, long-deceased puppeteer last spotted as a soulless doll butler to an unknown master.
"You!" gasped Ciel, eyes widening in astonishment. "It's impossible—" He spun on the confused girl. "What on earth is that doing here?" he demanded, jabbing a finger at the still-climbing form. "Do you have any idea what he—"
"Drozell?" she responded serenely, despite cutting off the boy. "I suppose I may speak freely about this, as you seem to know of him. I happened to find him one day, abandoned and broken, so I decided to fix him up. It is nothing more than that." She looked over her shoulder at the subject of her words. "It is a shame that someone originally made him with straw, there was a lot to fix because of it. He moves much better now that he has a framework of aluminum. But for his singing voice, it was certainly worth it." Here, the butler, who had not once acknowledged the conversation, dipped his head to the girl with a smile before disappearing into the upper floor.
"I seem to have forgotten my manners," the girl resumed. "I am Reine Laforet, a friend of the Count. I know that this is the Earl Ciel Phantomhive, and I presume this is your… butler?" She smiled charmingly, as if there were no meaning to her words at all.
Ciel frowned. Though he did not recognize the girl for what she was, he knew that something was undeniably off about her. Best to be on his guard. "…Pleased to make your acquaintance." Yet he was spared from further conversation by the arrival of the Count himself, with the puppet butler and a maid following behind.
Count Alex Maley was young (not as young as Ciel Phantomhive, of course) and tall, with a handsome but distinctly English countenance—hair straight and expression honest, completely unlike the fops with old-fashioned ringlets they encountered here even in this modern day. When he spoke, not a hint of French accent crept into his words. "Ah, Earl Phantomhive, welcome to my home. I hope you can find my hospitality to your liking."
"I am sure that it will be more than sufficient, Count Maley. Also, I send the…greetings of her Majesty the Queen." Here, the demon butler withdrew a scalloped letter with a crimson wax seal from his jacket and presented it to the Count.
"Thank you. I am most pleased to offer my house and my time to one such as yourself, Earl. You are tired from your journey, I am sure. Would you like to rest before we discuss this matter in depth?"
"I believe I will accept that offer."
"Then I will have Madeleine come by your room before dinnertime. Once again, I bid you welcome." As the conversation ended, Reine resumed her tune at the piano, and the butler Drozell returned to her side.
"This way, if you please, sir," lisped the maid (apparently Madeleine) in heavily accented English, curtsying and then starting up the stairs with Ciel in tow. As his butler took the first step, he half-glanced back to see the demon girl staring at him in obvious curiosity as she played behind Maley's back, fingers never missing a beat of the meandering song.
"Well?" demanded Ciel as soon as the maid had shut the door.
"Yes, young master?" Sebastian's smile was accommodating.
Ciel frowned. "You know what I speak of. That woman, Laforet—what manner of power does she have at her disposal, to talk of fixing a dead man like that? She—she couldn't possibly be the one who was killing those—"
"I believe that is highly unlikely. As to her power, I am not sure." This was not a lie, for it was certainly possible for the demon to be of a higher or lower class than he, and it was difficult to evaluate by her human disguise. "However, I am certain she is not an average human."
Ciel paused for a moment, trying to figure out if he had asked the right question of his butler. "Is she working for the Count?" he continued after a moment.
"I do not yet know."
"Find out. I need to know what sort of man I am dealing with."
That man is probably not the problem here, thought Sebastian, before bowing and continuing to peel off his master's travel clothes. Once changed, Ciel retired to the desk in the room, and Sebastian excused himself, shutting the door noiselessly.
Sebastian stood outside the door, his back parallel to its surface, and smiled. "What an impatient master I have, wanting to know everything right away," he murmured. He turned to go to the kitchen, thinking about desserts and demons, and suddenly came face to face with one of the latter. Reine stood not one meter from him in the hallway, hands clasped in front of her.
"I thought I should extend my welcome as well," she said, smiling at his wide-eyed expression. "Oh? Have I startled you? Do forgive me, it was not my intent in the least."
Sebastian quickly regained his composure. "No, it is simply the first time in many years I have seen—one such as myself here. I suppose I have grown too accustomed to being around humans."
"I see. You do practically reek of that child's smell. I take it he has something very desirable in store for you, that you would be in the position of his butler for so long."
"He certainly does." Sebastian said, face impassive. "And may I ask what is in store for you up here? It seems I am not the only one who…reeks."
"That is certainly no way to speak to a lady," Reine said, feigning offense, and both smiled identical crooked smiles at the thought of a demon being a lady. "I am here to kill time, nothing more and nothing less. If I smell, it is only because my appetite has been a little…larger, as of late. Oh—will you insult my figure next?" She laughed, sounding identical to a human girl. Either she was very good at mimicking, or she was a rather poor demon.
"I wouldn't dream of it, Lady Reine." Still retaining the illusion of the ideal butler, the ideal human, he bowed to the other demon. "Allow me to introduce myself, before you get the wrong impression of my character. I am Sebastian Michaelis, butler to Ciel Phantomhive, and I am a perfect gentleman."
Had they shared the reactions of a human, they would have burst out laughing here. As it was, Reine's lips turned up at the corners momentarily before replying. "Perfect indeed. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Sebastian. I suppose it is fine for me to call you that? Due to our stations, I mean."
"You may call me whatever you wish, my lady." The two had reached an understanding of sorts. Though it still had an element of uncertainty, for the moment they would continue to play their parts as this world required them to. This purpose accomplished, they each went on their ways.
As Sebastian stepped into the kitchen, startling a chef and the maid, he began to think that this `mission` might prove to be quite interesting.
For the past half hour, Drozell had sat alone in a parlor on the second floor, motionless with eyes and mind empty. Now that his mistress was back, though, he followed her with his eyes as she wandered around the room. His lady was quite careful to appear human even out of mixed company, he thought.
"I do wonder what they are here for, Drozell," Reine mused aloud, repositioning a knick-knack atop a small table. "And I wonder how impressive that child's soul really is. Say," she said, turning to him. "He recognized you, didn't he? Where have you met?"
Drozell thought about the question, processing the seconds since he returned to something resembling life. "I cannot say, my lady. I reason that this is because it happened before you found me."
Reine sank to the couch next to her butler. "It is a shame that I could not recover any of your memories from before. I do so want to know about them…" She stretched, arching her back like a cat, and laid lengthwise on the couch. "Be my pillow for just a little while, Drozell. Sunlight quite wears me out." Head on her butler's lap, legs bent delicately under her silk skirts to keep her feet on the floor: the scene would have looked almost romantic, had it not featured a dead man and a devil. As his lady fell into something like sleep, the butler raised a ball-jointed hand and began mechanically running it across her almost black hair, fulfilling the duty he was created for perfectly—for it was the only thing he knew to do.