Summary: What happens when the covenant is completed? What are the former butler's true plans for the last Phantomhive lord? Watch the dark transformation as Ciel becomes a true Lord of the Underworld... by becoming a Consort.
Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters as they are the sole property of Yana Toboso.
A/N: No matter how many times you watch it, the last scene has so many small gestures, emotions, and hidden meanings that it's hard to catalogue them all. Furthermore, there is no way to truly know what Ciel and Sebastian were thinking or feeling in those final moments. So, I decided to write a story that built up from that final scene. I know some people might not like where my story goes and that's okay. In fact, I'd be more worried if it didn't affect you in some way. Just remember that this is a work of fiction and does not reflect my religious or ethical beliefs. Also remember that the anime series contorts Christianity's ideas of what is good and what it evil. I'm sure my story will be no different.
Per the urgings of an upset reviewer, I've edited my story so that most of the dialogue I used was taken from the subbed version of Kuroshitsuji. However, I changed the last words Sebastian said to Ciel (you'll understand why). Please don't flame me for it.
IMPORTANT WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS ADULT MATERIAL, SOME OF WHICH MIGHT BE DISTURBING TO SOME READERS. In accordance with the rules and regulations of FanFiction . net, I have rated this story "M" due to the future material of this story. Please do not read this if you are under 16 years old. This will be a slightly watered down version of my original story. If you want to read the original, please message me and I'll see what I can do.
-sSs-
Chapter 1: The Captured King
Ciel lifted his hand to his right eye and gently touch the black eye patch. It is almost over. All that is left is… "Will it be painful?"
"It will a bit. I'll try to make it as gentle as possible-"
"Don't!" Ciel quickly cut him off. Lifting his head, Ciel made eye contact with Sebastian. "Make it as painful as you can. Carve the pain of my life into my soul." Ciel's eyes were steady, and there was such strength in his gaze that it was all Sebastian could do to keep himself from applauding. He is truly worthy…
Sebastian sank to one knee in reverence, ever the proper and dedicated butler. "Yes, my Lord."
The last of the Phantomhive family leaned back, as if star gazing, yet his eyes never left those of his butler. Never blinked. Even as Sebastian removed his glove and approached him. Gently, so very gently, Sebastian caressed his cheek. I wish to see his eyes… in all their tortured beauty… as I take what is rightfully mine… Sebastian's hand trailed to the patch and gently slipped it off, allowing it to fall the ground. Discarded. It had no place it what was to come. Only when the patch was removed did Ciel momentarily close his eyes, and as he opened them his soul was finally revealed. The scared, scarred, haunted soul of a child who was no longer a child. A child who had seen things… horrible things… a seeming unending parade of death, murder, and betrayal. A child who had been broken, and then reforged into something new. Something dark and powerful.
Only one person – no, one being – had stayed with Ciel until the end. Only he, the black butler known as Sebastian Michaelis, had given his master unswerving loyalty from the very beginning of this bloody vendetta.
Ciel watch as Sebastian's face came closer and closer, his eyes glowing a hellish red. As the world faded away and all became black, the last words Ciel heard were, "Then, Master… you are mine."
-sSs-
Pain. At first, it felt as if someone was making shallow, delicate cuts all over his body using a sharp scalpel. This pain was manageable. However, the pain soon intensified as if the cuts of the scalpel were replaced with those of a dull knife. A knife that stabbed and sawed away as his flesh. Wonderful, I should have known he would carry out my last wishes to perfection. Then came the feeling of claws pulling his body asunder, and any ability Ciel had of coherent thought disappeared. It was as if everything thing that made him Ciel was being ripped apart. It took an eternity - or was it only moments? - for his soul to be forcefully torn from his mortal body.
Next came the violation. As if his mind and soul were being raped and sodomized all at once. He screamed, but he had no mouth with which to make noise. He cried, but he had no eyes with which to weep. He writhed and struggled, but he had no body with which to move. No part of him was spared. There was nothing for him to cling to. No place to escape to while his whole being was thoroughly brutalized. Every action, thought, feeling, and emotion he had ever experienced was observed and savored by the intruding entity. When it was over, when the entity finally withdrew, any pride or dignity Ciel had had was gone. All he wanted, all he craved, was an end to this torment.
As if to mock his desire for release, he was contemptuously thrown into the fires of hell. Like his parents before him, he was to be burned alive. However, he quickly realized this was no ordinary fire. No, while the pain caused by normal flames lasts only a few seconds before the nerves burn away, this agony was never ending. For it was his soul, not his flesh, that was burning. Burning alive - his greatest fear, his reoccurring nightmare.
Again, he desperately tried to move – to escape – but there was nowhere to go. Mindless from his fear and agony, he continued to fight to free himself of his fiery prison, becoming animalistic in his struggles. In that moment, he was like a wolf trapped by the merciless iron teeth of a leg-hold trap: willing to gnaw off his own paw in order to gain freedom. Instead of weakening, as he had when his soul was raped, his struggles became stronger and more ruthless. In doing so, his soul became stronger as well. Coherent thought, which had been nonexistent since the beginning of his torture, momentary returned.
I will not be ruled by pain or fear. You can take my life, ravage my soul…but you will never break me. I will survive…and win… by any means necessary.
No longer fighting against the relentless flames, Ciel threw himself willingly into the inferno. Like a child, he embraced the hellish fire as if it was a loving parent. He savored it. He craved it. And, delirious with pleasure, he stroked it to greater heights.
Like a sponge, Ciel soaked in the dark power produced by the flames and allowed it to intertwine with his soul.
-sSs-
As requested, the corporal entity carved into the twelve year old boy's body until he was well and truly dead. Only Ciel's face was spared the ravagement of its claws.
The entire process of removing the soul was never pretty, particularly if it was being done by something other than a Reaper. Irregardless, the demon began the slow process of ripping the soul out of its dead mortal shell. Once the entire soul was safely removed, the dark being gently cradled the silvery grey soul within its talons as if it was holding a small, delicate bird. And like a sparrow, the soul was warm and seemed to flutter within it dangerous cage.
The demon did not consume the soul, as most would assume it would. No, instead the evil entity contemplated it with its brilliantly glowing burgundy eyes. As it continued to stare, the soul began to move more franticly, as if desperate to escape. Amused despite itself, the demon grinned as the soul began to wreath and twist. Waves of agony and shame poured out of the small soul and into the demon's greedy jaws. This continued for a few minutes as the malicious entity continued to ravish the memories contained within the soul. When it was over, the soul had drastically darkened and no longer glowed as it did before. It continued to flutter, but weakly.
The entity's grin grew. So far, everything was going as planned.
Within the clawed cage, tendrils of darkness started to surround the already tortured soul. The entity's eyes narrowed and the tendrils ignited into deep, violet flames. Again the soul wreathed and curled in on itself, desperately searching for a way out of the demon's clutches. Knowing Ciel's great fear of fire, the demon allowed the burning to continue a bit longer than necessary so it could continue to drink in Ciel's succulent terror and agony. The emotions were so strong, so all consuming, that the demon was able to bath in them. It had been so long since it had been able to gorge itself past the point of gluttony. The emotions produced by this one mortal soul were turning out to be an unparalleled banquet.
Abruptly, the soul stopped struggling. It went still, and the demon felt a stab of unease. For a brief moment, the demonic being feared that the soul was not strong enough – that it had given up. However, the fear was swept away when the soul started to pulse again. The pulsing grew stronger. And then, to the demon's delight, the soul slowly began to absorb the dark tendrils of evil surrounding it. The soul danced and weaved as if it was trying to seduce the darkness to its side. Tenderly, like the sensuous caress of a lover, the blackened soul began to rub itself against its cage of claws. Lust, dark and bestial, slammed into the demon. Licking its lips, it repressed its dark urges – for now.
With the process completed, the entity bent down and removed the blue flower from around Ciel's lifeless finger. It was a fitting souvenir for this monumental occasion. The body - save for the face, that beautiful flawless face – was unrecognizable. To any who saw the body, it would look as if it had been ravaged by a pack of rabid dogs. Or, in this case, one very famished demon.
The demonic entity had known this soul would be worth the wait when the covenant was made. This demon, formerly known as the butler Sebastian Michaelis, never made mistakes. After all, he was Naberius, the great Marquis of Hell.
Looking at the body one last time, the demon vanished with its new prize in a maelstrom of wind and pitch black feathers. When the wind died down, all that remained of the demon lord's existence on Earth was one white, perfectly pristine glove.
-sSs
The raven, the only witness to this horrific murder, lazily glided down to the body to collect its reward. Ignoring the shredded torso, it contemplated the boy's flawless face for a moment. Then, ever so gently, the raven plucked out the luscious eyes and swallowed them whole. His mission completed, the bird flew off – always on the lookout for another succulent, tragic soul for his dark Master to consume.
-sSs-
Footnote:
Naberius - He is supposedly the most valiant Marquis of Hell, and has nineteen legions of demons under his command. He makes men cunning in all arts (and sciences, according to most authors), but especially in rhetoric, speaking with a hoarse voice. He is also known for restoring lost dignities and honors (although some believe he procures the loss of them instead). He has a raucous voice but presents himself as eloquent and amiable. He teaches the art of gracious living. He is depicted as a crow or a black crane.
