Author's Note: Quick note that this is sort of AU-ish, takes place before the events of Kuroshitsuji II in the early 1700s.
Chapter O1 – The Watching Eyes
"Through the dark they peer,
into the folds of oblivion,
where they glow the color
of the hate-filled sun."
It had been overcast all day but now as night descended, the gray clouds in the sky seemed to be gradually accumulating; swelling like the belly of an ogre and ready to burst. She felt antsy watching them, knowing that the rain would be shortly followed by the lightning - and worse, the thunder.
Grabbing at the hem of her nightgown, she twisted the silken fabric into tight knots - knots like the ones in her stomach, where it felt like a thousand butterflies had been set free from their cages. It was as though they were fluttering around in a panicky hurry, bumping into every intestine in their haste to try and escape. But alas, there were no winged insects set lose in her abdomen. It was just her vivid imagination as she gulped at the precipitation outside. The water cascaded down and pelted her window, leaving small beads of rain behind that slowly trickled down her window pane.
And while she was so preoccupied with this sight, as though it was so enthralling that she could not tear her eyes away, one of the servants cracked open her door after an unheard knock. "My lady?" the servant ventured gruffly.
As she turned to the voice, her hair whipped around dangerously, the blonde locks nearly smacking the servant right in the face. "Oh, Marie! It's just you..." For a moment she breathed a sigh of relief, but the oxygen got caught up at the back of her throat as she paused to choke out an excuse, "I-I was, ah... Just looking outside at-"
"Don't want to hear it," the servant answered blankly while pointing roughly at the bed. "His grace asked that you be asleep in a timely manner. No more wasting your time daydreaming or peering out the window. Tomorrow is a big day since your brother is returning."
Brother... That word seemed to echo hollowly in her head, as though she didn't quite hear it at all. A sibling, she had thought, would always be nice to have. Someone supportive, even, and yet her "brother" was perhaps the person who despised her very existence the most.
"Right. George is finally returning from that... Trip of his." She was saying it more to herself than to Marie. In fact, the crotchety old woman with the wispy white hair was giving her a look that could kill, glaring daggers into the young blonde girl's head.
"Precisely," she snarled with a noticeable hint of derision. "So it was requested that you not impede this celebratory affair, Princess Adelaide."
Another laughable word - princess - it went right along there with brother on the scale of humorous things. If a title had ever been so meaningless to a person, then it would have to be her. Adelaide who was called princess in name only. Perhaps it was the curse of being an illegitimate child.
But telling Marie her woes about feeling unloved - which she didn't, thanks to her doting father - would have been entirely pointless. Regardless of the storm brewing outside, it was well past time for Adelaide to crawl beneath that grandiosely decorated duvet and into those silken sheets and embroidered linen. So she obeyed her headstrong, mouthy servant - trailed her feet straight over to the mattress and crawled onto it.
Marie assisted in setting the blanket over top of her, tucking her in. Although Marie was probably reluctant to do so. "Good night, Princess." Not that Marie meant that, either.
"M-Marie," the young princess called out hesitantly, "If... should the storm get too noisy-"
"Don't act spoiled," Marie chided, "At your age, storms shouldn't bother you."
Sinking back beneath the edge of her duvet, Adelaide responded with a resigned, "Okay..." Not that she was at all okay with the shrew dismissing her so readily. But in case the thunder became too noisy, she knew at least one door in the house that would always be open to her. That knowledge is all that put her to rest, her eyelids fluttering shut as she listened to the faintly fading footsteps as Marie departed and closed the doors quietly behind herself.
Then, in the silence, all she could hear was the rapping of the rain against her windows. Thump, thump it would go – like the sound of heartbeat. It was a lullaby that sang to her like the melody her mother always hummed as she cradled Adelaide in her arms as a wee babe. Slowly, reminiscing the memories of her sweet childhood, the young girl with the golden hair the shade of the sun slowly fell into sleep.
And for a while, the clouds in the sky toiled amongst themselves with the occasional far-off streak of lightning ricocheting through the darkness in silence, unaccompanied by the usual crashing sound that typically followed it. Adelaide slept in sweet peace filled with dreams of tomorrows, but it was ultimately short-lived. As the hours progressed, the storm became more fierce, and without warning, a flash of lightning was shortly thereafter accompanied by an ear shattering sound.
Shocked awake suddenly, Adelaide shot upright. The locks of her half-curled hair, bangs which tucked themselves beneath her chin, went flying outward like the wry, wrinkled hands of a witch. The shadow it cast upon the wall had her cry out in fright as she ducked beneath her covers, trembling.
And while her heart rate steadied itself gradually, and she managed to lower the blanket away from her face, Adelaide peered over at her window. Unlucky, really, because at that same moment the lightning came crashing again. Only this time she could see a silhouette hovering in her window, and eyes the color of the light that flooded into her room. They were watching her, she was sure of it.
A bloodcurdling scream was drowned out by the ensuing thunder as she abandoned her bed, scrambling for the door. Her hand swiped at the door knob, and her sweat-drenched fingers nearly slipped loose as she managed a precarious grasp on it. Wrenching the door open in her hasty panic, Adelaide sprinted down the hall as fast as her legs could carry her – swift like the wind blowing so fiercely outside. The strands of her hair whipped around her just as the hem of her nightgown billowed about her knees.
Forming at the back of her throat was a bitter lump that she struggled to swallow as she nearly tumbled over while taking a sharp left turn at the corner of the hallway. In the darkness, she could not see the person standing in her way and she promptly crashed into them headlong.
Her shallow breathing quickened as she collided hard against the ground, her rear end managing only barely to cushion her fall. A small squeak made it past her lips as she jerked her chin up, eyes wide as saucers.
There in the darkness, right as the lightning struck again and peered in through the windows beside her and this... strange figure... she saw gold eyes again. Only this time, they belonged to the person whose shadow was cast over her, and in the dim light that appeared only momentarily, his face could not have looked any more unforgiving.
Terrified, she clamped her hands over her ears and snapped her eyes shut. Rocking back and forth on the carpet, in the midst of the hallway, she whispered something to herself. "It's just a dream, it's just a dream," as though a mantra that always managed to snap her out of her distress. She mentally counted down from ten, but before she ever even got to eight, the stranger spoke.
"You should not be out this late at night." It was a man's voice, cold and aloof as his face looked.
Adelaide gulped as she let down her shaking arms, tears lingering in her eyes as she peered up at the person. "W-who are you?" she asked. The question probably sounded more accusatory than she meant it to be, but she was also at a disadvantage.
In the moment it took for him to answer, the lightning and thunder came again. An endless cycle that had her curled up and sobbing like a newborn. To an onlooker, it would have probably been laughable to see a teenage girl crying like she needed her mother. The stranger, however, seemed oddly unamused by her suffering. If anything, he was utterly indifferent.
His head tilted, as though regarding her as a curious specimen. Maybe it was disgust on his face, but either way, she couldn't see it. "You are afraid of the storm," he surmised, as though it was some great revelation.
Not that Adelaide was in any position to chide him for his obviousness. She couldn't even lift her head, for fear of seeing another flash of light that would surely be followed by that deafening noise. But while she was preoccupied, struggling with her own fear, the man seemed to have better things to do – whatever those things were. She could faintly hear his footsteps, and through the shadow cast by his body, Adelaide knew he was circling right around her without saying anything else.
And while it was shameless, she was beyond caring. Her hand shot out and she grasped at his pant leg, strangely damp – perhaps from being outside? Adelaide wasn't sure, but she kept a tight, albeit trembling, grasp on the wet fabric. "P-please," she stuttered hesitantly, "Just until the storm passes."
It was probably quite an inconvenience to the stranger, though they did not say that to her. No, in fact, he silently acquiesced. Even after she relinquished her grip on his pant leg, the man stood motionless. He said not a word and moved not a muscle.
For his silence, for the fact that he did not condescendingly admonish her for her childish fears without regard, Adelaide was grateful. To know there was someone standing there was enough for her to get through the rest of the storm – flashing light and crashing noises – without sobbing out every last salty drop of liquid that her tear ducts could produce.
Eventually, after a while, the storm began to subside. The interval between the lightning and the thunder gradually became longer until it seemed to altogether disappear. Adelaide was not sure how much time had passed in this time, but while she was hunched over and trembling, the stranger stood beside her without so much as flinching.
Finally she was able to shakily stand upon her knees. Unsure of how to express her gratitude, and perhaps feeling embarrassed, she looked sheepishly up at the man who remained a few heads taller than she. "My Lord, you have my eternal gratitude. Should you ever find yourself in need of a favor, please allow me to return it to you." She smiled awkwardly, blushing as she remembered that she was still in her night garments.
Without responding, he started down the hallway with only the flutter of his cloak left in his wake. In the darkness she could not discern whatever expression might have existed on his face. He was mysterious – like an enigma.
And as she remembered her fatal mistake, she called after him, "I ask that you remember the name Adelaide Louis!" The moment the name escaped her lips, she turned on her heel and scuttled down the hallway clumsily.
It seemed such a long way back to her room and she found herself casting the occasional glance back, wondering where that stranger was headed. It was unusual for anyone to be traversing the halls of the palace, save for the guards on patrol. (Speaking of which, she could not recall seeing any...) Her brows furrowed at this thought, but she pushed it out of her mind. If she did not hurry and fall asleep, then she would be exhausted by the time Marie came to her room in the morning and drew the curtains.
Crawling beneath the duvet, she snuggled against her pillow while her heart still seemed to be racing at the speed of a million miles a second. An irrepressible smile had lifted the edges of her lips until she was grinning from ear to ear like the fool she was. No matter how much she tried to calm herself, her heart could not be steadied. Despite the scare caused by the storm, she was grateful to have someone there – someone whose mere presence had settled her worries.
Adelaide, as a naive and sheltered a young lady as she was, was also a hopeless romantic. And while she fell back into the foggy dream world, she romanticized her meeting with that stranger. For she knew the day was upon her when she would have to be betrothed to further the English Kingdom, Adelaide was able to pretend for at least a millisecond that not all things in her life were simply predetermined. And she yet fell unto sleep with that smile still etched upon her lips. Even into the night as she slept, it did not fade.
—
As the sun rolled up over the horizon and began peeking through the curtains, Adelaide rolled over on her stomach and pulled a pillow over her head. "Just a few more minutes, Marie," she muttered in her stupor.
And the crotchety old bat merely grunted in response to the young girl's antics. "Just a few more minutes, eh?" she huffed. The curtains had already been pulled back, and despite numerous attempts, the young princess simply refused to be roused through normal means. A dark expression surfaced on the shrew's face as she stomped off determinedly with her hands set upon her hips. And as she came back, hobbling as old women do, there was the metal clinking of a bucket and the slosh of fresh well water.
Marie cackled to herself grimly. "Going to make me go to extra work just to wake up your royal highness, huh?" She seemed to be quite amused as she waddled over to the bedside and peeked at the still sleeping Adelaide. "Time to get up, your grace!"
Adelaide barely registered those words until she was jolted out of dreamland by the crashing feeling of a thousand needles piercing through the thin fabric of her nightgown. The water seemed to seep through every inch of the fabric. From her chest down to her bottom, everything felt frozen and numb as she let out a sharp squeak followed by a gasping breath. "W-what w-was th-that?" she demanded as she shot upright, throwing her pillow halfway across the room while slapping her hands defensively across her chest.
The gray-haired coot that stared at her blankly apparently felt an explanation was not in order, for she did not offer one. "You already missed your brother's return. I daresay if you loiter much longer, then you will have missed your part in the parade as well... Oh, I do believe I remember your father grudgingly stating how a certain princess would not be allowed to attend the masquerade ball tonight if her presence was not seen by the people at the parade. But I could be mistaken. After all, I'm just an 'old, worn-out hag,' as you kindly put it."
"I-I didn't say that," Adelaide protested unconvincingly. Then slowly it donned on her that, actually, she had said those exact words... in her dream. Only, she supposed, it apparently was not a dream.
While she was reeling to figure out some way to apologize properly to the elderly maid, Marie was already hobbling to the closet. The old woman thrust the double doors open and pointed her crooked, wrinkled finger at the glimmering pink dress suspended therein. "This is what your father said to wear. In your current state, however..." she paused to frown, "You don't look at all fit for your title."
"A bath," Adelaide guessed easily what Marie was alluding to. "I should hurry to the bath!" And with that, the scrambling princess shot out the door with her dripping wet hair fluttering glued to the back of her now see-through gown... Which she neglected to notice in her haste.
Marie breathed a sigh as she pressed her hand over her eyes. "Truly too old for this..." she muttered before trailing after her "master."
Fortunately, with all the servants to aid her, Adelaide was bathed in the finest of imported oils with her hair dried as thoroughly as possible in just under half an hour. Then, in as quick a manner as possible, she was dressed in the royal attire her father had handpicked for her. Gaudy, glimmering jewels accentuated her delicate and pale face. They seemed heavy and out of place around her neck, on her fingers, and across her wrists. The young princess eyed them with those apprehensive brown eyes of hers.
"Do I really have to wear these?" she asked repeatedly of Marie.
The old woman would merely respond, in that robotic manner of hers, "Yes, Princess."
Everything seemed to swirl around her, the world made up of a coalescing array of colors. Marie escorted her down to the parade, and while Adelaide's mind was in a jumble, she could only robotically follow the instructions as they were given to her. (Though it seemed only to go in one ear before drifting out the next.) Try as she might to focus, she could barely register as she drawn out, in carriage, into the streets of the city. The sound of horse shoes clicking against the cobblestone filled her ear as she jolted back to life, looking about like a frightened deer – which her brother commented on.
"Adelaide, that look on your face," he spoke through gritted teeth and a smile.
Remembering her role as royalty, she quickly put on her best (hapless) grin before turning to wave at the crowd of onlookers. The young princess barely had a moment to speak a word to her brother – because, apparently, she could not recall that she had already greeted him. Her mind was too filled with thoughts of the previous night, of those golden eyes she had seen. And the mere thought of them elicited a chill that ran down her spine while she cringed.
And while she waved out to the crowds that cheered at the return of their beloved prince, she sneaked a glance over at the man who seemed so loved by the people of her country. Although he appeared to have a gentle demeanor about him as he waved heartily at the people, there was a gruffness about him that made her avert her eyes the moment peered over at her. That gaze of his seemed to spell out his resentment for her, as though the mere sight of her was unseemly.
"I heard Father would be taking another trip to Hanover in the next several days." He seemed to be alluding to something, though the prince was never one to speak his intentions outright.
"Yes, I have heard of that..." Adelaide's voice trailed off with uncertainty. She wondered what relevance their father's trip had with her.
But the prince changed the subject quickly. "It is about time for you to marry off. It seems excessive for Father to retain you here as some sort of decoration to entertain guests." What he seemed to be insinuating is that on the condition of Adelaide's engagement, England stood to strengthen its ties.
Not that she was unprepared for this role, even as she dipped her chin slightly in disappointment at her brother's mention of it. "Of course," she hesitated, "I am... Fully prepared to do so. As soon as Father finds a suitable husband." Although in her mind she swore that a suitable one would never exist – for what was a marriage born out of necessity while lacking love? Nothing, she was sure, but a pitiful union unrecognized even by the Divine.
Yet Adelaide would speak not these begrudging words to the man that was first in line for the throne. As a direct heir, and with their aging father, the prince was practically already in the position of king. At the very least, his position demanded a respect that would see Adelaide hold her tongue.
"Mayhaps he will find one at the ball tonight." The prince smiled at her, rather unpleasantly.
As much as she had previously been looking forward to it, admiring the mask that her father had gifted to her, porcelain with encrusted jewels and rich paint that outlined the eyes like kohl, Adelaide felt crestfallen. Her brother's hopes for a hasty engagement, perhaps anticipating her father's passing, was surely his way of trying to get rid of her quickly. Perhaps, in other circumstances, she would think he was advocating her happiness – perhaps, if her brother did not loathe her with every fiber of his being.
Then a wonder crossed her mind. "Is there someone you would see me paired with?" The question begged an answer, just to sate her curiosity. Adelaide looked questioning at her half-sibling. She had no intention of challenging him, and yet it surely came across to the prince that a challenge was exactly her intention.
He quirked a brow at her, condescending as he was. "Would you prefer I have Father refer your hand?" It was clearly sarcastic, painted in the voice of innocence.
Adelaide almost regretted asking, and the frown soon showed on her face. She was no match for her brother in terms of acting skills. As regal as she was supposed to be, in the face of disappointment or embarrassment, she was unable to hide her shame. "I only wish that this parade would finish quickly. My arm tires from the waving."
"It matters not if your hand tired, keep your expression happy for the sake of the people. Someday you will have to learn to let go of that unflattering selfishness of yours." He was scolding her, again.
Forcing a smile at her brother's behest, Adelaide turned to gaze out at the people with the fake expression. If any of the crowd noticed that her feigned happiness was nothing more than a farce, it did not show on their faces. For they smiled back at her as they cheered her brother's name, and somewhere in there, she was sure she heard hers spoken as well.
It was an uncomfortable ride, despite the well cushioned seats that were so delicately embroidered. The dress she was wearing felt like a sheet that suffocated the movement of every limb in her body. Her mind – her legs – yearned for an experience as she had last night. Running at full speed with the stillness of the air unable to subdue her. If she could find an empty field, where she could but run with her feet naked of those constraining shoes, it would be as what she could imagine heaven to be.
And while the young princess was lost in her own daydreams, the carriage came to jerky halt. She nearly flew right out of her seat, if it had not been for her brother's hand that so tightly gripped her shoulder in order to steady her. Adelaide winced at the pain that he afflicted upon her from the forcefulness of his touch, and she was sure it was intentional. But then the expression on his face belied his actions. He smiled down at her.
"The masquerade ball tonight," the prince reminded her. "As I am yet unmarried as well, we will attend as siblings. Arm in arm." That last part he almost seemed to bite out in a sense of bitterness that was not lost on Adelaide.
When at last he released her, the blonde-haired woman lifted herself out of the carriage with the help of a guard that stood at the base to assist her down the steep steps. Then, hands grasping at the folds of her dress, she hiked up just high enough so that she could walk without tripping over the fabric, Adelaide headed back inside the palace. Traipse was probably more the word – march purposefully, even.
A small part of her yearned to sabotage the event that her brother seemed so enamored with. Embarrass him, she hoped, and perhaps sweep away the thought that he could so easily dispose of her through an unwanted marriage that would only give him better diplomatic ties. No, if he wanted to ask such a favor of her, then she would not submissively accept it like the obedient little princess he hoped her to be.
Author's Note: So I hope I managed to pique your interest. This is a new writing style (again) and a story type and character type different than anything I have done before. But I wanted to see what other people thought before I decided to continue - still unsure of whether I want to or not. Would appreciate any feedback, thanks to those who took the time to read! :)