A/N: This was begging to be written, I swear. I couldn't help myself. This will be set both in the anime and the manga universe. The first chapters will be set on the anime timeline, and I will manipulate the events in season two to make a transition from the anime to the manga. I do hope I pull it off!

The chapters are rated M for language, graphic scenes and occasional nudity.

I do not own Kuroshitsuji.

"But he who dares not grasp the thorn should never crave the rose." - Anne Bronte

Dear Diary,

I have returned recently from Italy where I finished early with my degree in the arts only to find that our home has been burned to the ground. They said that arsonists set fire to the manson, but I believe otherwise. The place has been ransacked but nothing valuable has been taken. The room to the family treasury remained unopened; everything was still in place except for my father's laboratory.

I believe that it was the bidding of the queen and her watchdog. My father has long detested the queen for disallowing him to continue his experiments, and I am afraid he has gone too far this time. He should have known from the start that what is dead may never rise.

Strangely enough, I felt nothing when the letter came to my study. However, as soon as I saw their bodies, I wept for hours. Everybody is dead. Mother, father, little Tom and little Anna.. They are all gone, and I am left alone with ashes, riches and the burden of being the solitary heir of the Blackrose name. Where was I to go? Who was I to call?

From here on out, I was alone with only this diary in hand.

I stayed inside my singed home for a day or two, cradling the bodies of Anna and Tom as I served tea to my mother and father. I dragged their bodies up and down the stairs, to my bedroom, to the kitchen, the parlor, the patio and to the gardens. I would tell them of how lovely it was to stay in Paris and that they should come by sometime. I brushed Anna's hair and tied it in a loose bun, and I could not help but chastise Tom for teasing his little sister. My mother laughed at this while my father remained as stoic as ever. I cradled all of them on my lap as I slept on my dusty bed. We all slumbered soundly that night.

The sadness consumed me, and I was in denial of their deaths as I hoped and prayed that they would open their eyes.

But they didn't.

It was as I've said earlier: the dead may never rise.

It was only until the postman alerted the Scotland Yard that there was a ghost inside the Blackrose estate that I was pulled from my nightmarish reverie. They all looked at me with disgust on their faces as I cried out when they took my family away from me. Little Anna, little Tom, mother and father were gone in the blink of an eye, and I would never see them again.

Apparently, the scent of their burnt, decaying bodies were unbearable, yet all I could smell was the thick, oriental incense that my mother was very fond of. Some of them threw up on my mother's lion fur carpet, and I couldn't help but narrow my eyes.

The Queen had requested my appearance shortly after I was bathed and dressed accordingly. She has decided to send me to the Phantomhive estate with the earl and his butler while my home was being rebuilt. I could only nod in response. She was trying to console me by saying that House Blackrose was one of the most loyal and virtuous houses of all time, but her words gave me no comfort.

I prepared myself gingerly for the funeral. I tied my long, black-violet hair into a fishtail braid and allowed it to hung loosely on my shoulders. If mother were here, she would have tied it up in an elegant bun in a few minutes time. The paleness of my skin was a stark contrast to the dark hues of velvet dress. My mourning veil covered my amethyst eyes quite well. I didn't want strangers to see me crying.

There was a grand ceremony, and there was a sea of people I didn't even know. I should have expected it though. We are nobility after all. Most of them offered me what seemed to be sincere condolences while some did their best to mask their indifference.

I was too tired to cry, and I could only watch with half lidded eyes as they began shoveling dirt on top their caskets. A part of me wished they simply buried me along with my family. It was quick and uneventful and only the Phantomhive boy and his devilish butler stayed to witness my mourning. Thankfully, they didn't tell me to be quick.

I am now residing in the Phantomhive manor. It is a strange place. It is both homely and formal at the same time. The servants are strange characters, but they mean no harm. The butler is far more stranger. He is always smiling, always perfect and always adheres to his master's orders. The earl is young and cold, but I'm not surprised. He was the Queen's Watchdog, and even has to be guarded at all times.

I am honestly at a loss for words. I am beginning to get quite sleepy, and I am far too tired to write. A lot has happened the past two weeks, and my memory has been jarred from constant emotional breakdown, hysteria and trauma. I want to preserve my memories pristinely should I begin forget, thus, I have written all that I remember in these pages.

This diary will serve as the truth.

Signed by my own blood and written in my own ink,
Victoria Blackrose

A/N: Tell me what you think via reviews or messages. I would really appreciate it if you did as it fuels my writing mojo!