This will not be a Mary Sue. If you don't like OCs, read a different story. As much as I adore the Ciel/Sebastian pairing, it simply was not the subject matter I chose to write about. I am in no way a writer, in fact I almost never write except essays for school, so please, bare with me and be kind to this newbie. 3 Also, I don't own Kuroshitsuji. If I did, this fanfic wouldn't be a fanfic.


Prologue
England, 1888

An explosion of vocal harmony seemed to shake the concert hall on its foundation and captivated every eye in the audience of more than six hundred spectators. The medley of two brazen, but saturated in pure femininity, voices mixed to create a whole new dimension of sound unlike anything every heard before. On stage, drenched in the gazes of adoring fans and first-time viewers alike, stood two brunette females, very similar in appearance yet different in all other ways imaginable.

The taller of the two, with wavy brown tresses pulled loosely yet elegantly into a bun, a stray lock of hair hanging to the side of her brow, held a firm back and rigid posture as she sang alongside the slightly shorter girl. She was a human of contradictions in herself: she was a woman by nature, wise and mature, but part of her was still a child, never quite given the chance to fully grow up; her blue eyes were cold but in no way filled with contempt; her temper was mild but her spirit screamed in indignation, burning with a fire hot enough to melt the first impressions perceived by anyone who truly knew her. She seemed rigid yet confident like her posture suggested, shoulders back and chin high. With each foreign word resonating from her crimson lips like steam rising from the London cobblestone roads on a sunny day after a hard rain, she pulled her listeners closer and closer and left them breathless and begging for more long after the song ended.

The other girl, a child in comparison to her partner, shared the same tresses of a brown sugar hue, yet instead of being confined to a bun they hung freely down her back in waves like rolling dunes of sand over a vast desert. Her eyes were large and silver, mirror-like and open. They were neither cold nor warm, but they were nonetheless welcoming and curious. In contrast to the other woman's thin figure, her build was soft and sensual, with fat evenly distributed in the most womanly places such as the thighs, abdomen and breasts. She was in no way rotund, but let it be clear that she was not slender. Her personality was often misperceived as reticent, but the truth was she was very, very lonely and craved human interaction of someone who saw her as more than a celebrity. Her voice displayed the longing she held inside, and it was said it was sadder than that of her partner and hearing it often dragged the listener into her world of loneliness. It was still beautiful nonetheless, and admired by many people all over London.

The two women's names were Harmonia and Persephone. They were sisters, closely-knit, and chasing after the same dream. They both had an unquenchable thirst for the stage, for music, and for living life to the fullest. Their mother also held the same dream, but she was unable to fulfill it. She had passed away long before due to a hereditary illness that would one day also consume the life of one, perhaps even both, of her daughters. This was the story of a surviving child's quest naught for revenge, but for closure of an unfulfilled dream.