The Strings of Fate
Chapter One: The Hastings
By The YangSistaz
Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji aka Black Butler belongs to Yana Toboso. Her characters have been borrowed solely for the purpose of The Strings of Fate with no intentions of copyright infringement. Any similarity to other fanfictions is purely coincidental and no malicious actions are intended.
Author's Note: Any distribution of The Strings of Fate is prohibited without the author's permission. Thank you for your cooperation!
Sunlight through drawn curtains shined into the salon. Wind gently blew through the open windows to offer a cool breeze for the two occupants of the room. Both wore the proper garbs of fencing along with the protective mask and each held an épée in the respective hand. They readied their weapons and, with a nod, the training session began. The taller of the two moved first with an advance followed by a lunge. The other parried with a side step and countered with a riposte.
The movement was continuous and easygoing. The taller of the two held a graceful form whilst the other retained spunk in movement. It appeared as if their skills were nearly equal. One, however, could never be too sure with that assumption. In the end, the taller one was left standing in victory. Setting the épée down, the victor moved to the other who sat on the floor a few yards away.
The protective mask fell away to reveal a young woman's sweaty face. Wet strands of chestnut hair plastered to her temple and forehead while some fell into her almond-shaped hazel eyes. She smiled as she knelt down by her partner and held out her hand.
"Are you sure you've been practicing your fencing?" she jested.
Her partner sighed and took hold of her offered hand. A tug on her hand sent her flying over her partner and she gasped as she landed on her back with the air knocked out of her. Her partner flipped back onto her and held her down with an arm lodged against her throat. Her partner removed the protective mask to reveal the equally sweaty face of a young girl with auburn hair that fell into almond-shaped hazel eyes identical to her own.
"What were you saying again, Giselle?" the girl asked as a smug smirk played across her lips.
Giselle sighed as she laid her head back.
"This isn't fair, Lydia," she reasoned. "You aren't fencing anymore."
Lydia laughed as she removed herself and helped Giselle stand.
"Don't be a sore loser," she replied to which Giselle rolled her eyes.
The salon doors opened as an Asian woman entered the room. Despite her petite form, her presence was of one who clearly demanded respect. Her black hair tied back in a perfectly tight bun was one of many examples that proved her need for cleanliness. Her expression was stern as she approached the girls. Her brown eyes—identical in shape to the girls—roved over their sweaty forms.
"Your father will be home soon," she announced and her expression softened. "I suggest you girls freshen up before joining us for supper."
"Yes, Mother," the girls replied.
With a smile, the woman excused herself from the room.
"Father hasn't been home to have supper with us for some time now," Giselle noted as she gathered the equipment.
"That's true," Lydia commented as she helped.
"It will be nice to have him present today."
"Uh-huh."
Giselle paused in putting her épée away as she looked at her sister.
"Is something wrong, Lydia?"
"It's nothing; I'm going to go clean up first."
Giselle nodded and watched as Lydia departed from the salon.
*/*\*
Entering her bedchamber, Lydia stripped out of her fencing gear and headed to her adjoining bathroom. Although she wanted to lounge longer in the bath, she knew she didn't have the time and showered instead. As she stepped back into her room, she heard the door click shut and saw her supper outfit laid out on the bed for her. She smiled as she dressed, reveling in how her maid knew her so well as to pick out the correct clothes for her.
The cropped pants were black and she figured it would be acceptable for her mother. After all, she wasn't exposing a large expanse of her legs. The sleeves of her blue blouse were mid-length and the pleasant neckline covered what had to be covered. All in all, Lydia thought it would suffice for supper with her parents. Once fully dressed, she hastily swept her hair up into a messy ponytail and nodded with approval.
"Mother may disapprove," she commented as she looked over her form. "But I don't care."
With a grin, she childishly stuck her tongue out at her reflection before departing from her room.
*/*\*
"Your hair has grown really long, Miss Giselle," the maid announced as she brushed Giselle's hair.
"It has," Giselle agreed. "I thought of cutting it but I can't seem to rid my attachment. I'm certain Mother would be horrified as well."
The maid chuckled knowingly.
"Yes, I can see that," she replied. "The Marchioness loves your hair after all." She ran the brush through Giselle's hair a final time. "Shall I braid your hair for supper, milady?"
"Yes, Bridget," Giselle replied with a smile.
Bridget nodded as she proceeded with her new task at hand. Giselle watched as the maid took sufficient time to braid her hair despite its length. Once done, Bridget pinned the braid up in a bun and stepped back to allow Giselle to examine her work. Giselle smiled with approval as she stood.
"Good work, Bridget," she praised. "You may leave the rest to me."
Bridget nodded and left after curtsying.
Giselle examined her hair a final time before she slipped into the dress Bridget had picked out. The sleeves were ruffled and covered her shoulders while the neckline was decent, revealing only the top of her collarbones. The dress was full body and the hem brushed lightly at her toes. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw the vermilion color brought out the brown of her eyes. She smiled approvingly as she smoothed out the dress. Slipping into her shoes, she made one final look over before departing from her room.
*/*\*
The girls met outside the doors of the dining hall and Giselle smiled as she looked over Lydia's choice of dress.
"Will you ever wear a dress for Father, Lydia?" she asked.
"The only time I will ever wear a dress for Mother and Father is when I get married," Lydia answered with a cheeky grin.
Giselle sighed but her smile never left her lips. The girls entered the dining hall to see their parents—Lord and Lady Hastings—already settled at the dining table: their father at one end and their mother to his right. Giselle sat on his other side while Lydia sat on the other side of their mother.
"Good evening, girls," he greeted.
The girls greeted their father as the meal was served and the family silently enjoyed their meal.
"I have a something I'd like to say," Lord Hastings announced once the plates were cleared away.
Lady Hastings, Giselle, and Lydia turned their attention to the head of the table.
"Lydia, you recently turned seventeen," he noted. "Perhaps, it's time for you to join the London Season."
"London Season?" Lydia questioned.
"Yes, I've heard there are a few eligible bachelors looking for a wife this year," he stated. "Perhaps, you might find someone to your liking."
"But…I don't want to marry, Father," Lydia countered.
"Well, you may not be ready for marriage just yet," he replied. "I believe it would be beneficial for you to meet your prospective suitors, though."
"I don't think so," Lydia commented with a shake of her head. "What about Giselle? Will she be joining again with me?"
Lord Hastings shook his head.
"A suitor has already come forward to ask for Giselle's hand in marriage," he said. "I am certain she'll be busy with wedding preparations."
Lady Hastings—as well as Giselle—was taken by surprise.
"You mean Giselle has received a proposal?" she asked and smiled happily at Giselle when Lord Hastings nodded. "Oh, isn't that wonderful news, Giselle?"
Giselle could only bring a small smile to her lips as she nodded.
"Yes, Mother," she replied happily even though she didn't feel so.
*/*\*
Sitting at her vanity, Lydia stared at her hairbrush until she heard a knock at her door. She turned just as her mother entered. Lady Hastings smiled warmly as she closed the door and approached the younger girl. Lydia sighed and faced her mirror with a huff. Lady Hastings laid her hands on the girl's shoulders and gave a squeeze of comfort.
"Come, darling," she cooed. "What bothers you so?"
"I don't understand why Father wants me to join the London Season this year," Lydia replied. "I'm only seventeen; I'm not ready for marriage. You know that yourself, Mother."
Lady Hastings nodded as she took the hairbrush and began combing through Lydia's hair as if to keep busy.
"Your father just wants to make sure you have a secured future, love," she explained. "He worries about you because you always seem to have your head in the clouds. Running through the fields, playing around with the servants, and all those other unladylike activities you love to do." She laid her hands upon Lydia's shoulders once more. "You may not realize it but you can't always run through the fields without a care in the world, Lydia. There will be a time when you have to accept your birthright and become the mistress of your own manor."
"I know," Lydia said. "It's just…Father never pushed Giselle to join the London Season. He waited until she asked to join." She locked eyes with Lady Hastings via the mirror and frowned. "Sometimes…I feel Father loves Giselle more than he loves me."
Lady Hastings stopped brushing, leaving the brush halfway through Lydia's hair.
"You shouldn't say that, Lydia," she chided. "Your father loves the both of you equally."
With a sigh, Lydia reached for her hairbrush and removed it from her mother's hold. She placed the brush away and stood to hug the woman. Lady Hastings hummed soothingly as she wrapped her arms around Lydia's shoulders. Lydia tightened the embrace and buried her face into the woman's shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of her mother.
"Maybe I am just thinking too much," Lydia announced and pulled away with a smile. "Thank you for brushing my hair, Mother. I like it best when you do it."
Lady Hastings smiled and chuckled as she cupped Lydia's cheeks.
"Then, I will always brush your hair for you," she noted.
"Even after I get married?" Lydia asked.
Lady Hastings laughed but shook her head.
"Silly girl," she replied. "By then, you would not want me to brush your hair anymore."
Lydia laughed.
"Perhaps not," she stated thoughtfully; then, yawned. "I'm sorry, Mother."
Lady Hastings shook her head and smiled as she patted Lydia's head.
"You are tired, dear," she said. "I'll leave you to sleep now."
"Good night, Mother," Lydia bid as she watched her mother depart.
"Good night, dear," Lady Hastings replied before she shut the door.
Lydia turned off the main light and tucked herself into bed. Just as she slipped deeper under the sheets, she heard a knock at the door. She sat up as Giselle entered. The older woman smiled as she closed the door. Lydia scooted over to make room and Giselle joined her. They faced each other and Lydia could tell Giselle had a lot on her mind.
"What's wrong, Giselle?"
The older woman shook her head.
"Nothing, really…"
"Are you sure?"
Giselle sighed.
"Well…it's just…I'm not sure what to think of this new suitor."
"Giselle…you don't have to agree to this marriage if you don't want to."
Lydia reached over and took hold of Giselle's hand, giving it a squeeze. She received an answering squeeze and saw Giselle's melancholic smile.
"I know," Giselle whispered. "I just don't want to disappoint Father any more than I already have."
"You still don't let that get to you, do you?"
Giselle sighed and hesitantly nodded.
"You shouldn't blame yourself, Giselle; you were young and didn't know anything. Anyone could've been tricked by someone like that."
Lydia was stopped by Giselle's soft laughter.
"How is it that you're giving me advice when I'm the older sister?" Giselle asked.
"I don't know," Lydia replied with shrug. "Maybe I'm secretly more mature?"
Giselle rolled her eyes at Lydia's cheeky grin.
"Oh you!" Giselle reprimanded but laughed.
Lydia laughed as well before regaining a serious expression.
"I'm serious, though, Giselle," she said. "If you don't want to marry that man, just tell Father. I'm sure he'll listen to your reasoning."
"He'll be disappointed." Giselle shook her head. "I couldn't do that to him…not when he already forgave me for my mistake. I couldn't possibly hurt him again."
"But, Giselle…"
"It's the least I can do for Father," Giselle insisted. "He took me in and brought me up like his own daughter. The least I can do to repay him is to marry the man he selects for me."
"Giselle…"
Giselle smiled more cheerily although the melancholy never disappeared.
"Don't sound like I'm going to the executioner, Lydia," she stated. "I'm only getting married." Giselle moved closer to snuggle with Lydia. "When I get married, you can come visit me."
Lydia recognized her sister's subtle plea and swallowed back the envy she'd previously felt for the older woman not too long ago. With a nod, she plastered on a smile and snuggled closer to Giselle.
"You bet," she answered. "I'll come and bother you until you don't want me to visit anymore!"
"I doubt that," Giselle replied. "You could never bother me to that extent."
"Oh yeah?" Lydia questioned. "How about this?"
Lydia vehemently attacked Giselle's sides in an attempt to tickle the older woman. Giselle's laugh echoed through the chamber and she pulled away to hiss out a disapproval. She warned that they'd be caught but Lydia continued. Eventually, Giselle found the energy to return her own assault. Lydia's laughter echoed with Giselle's and they giggled late into the night until they finally collapsed with exhaustion.
Author's Note: A note in advance to let readers know that the real eye candy of the story aka Earl Phantomhive and his trusty butler—Sebastian Michaelis—will not make an appearance until the fourth chapter. An apology to those who were hoping to see these two right away but an introduction of the two main ladies is a necessity and will span the first three chapters. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed this chapter!
