Hey, people. Kohai here. As some of you guys may know (or maybe not. I don't know.) I've decided to take a break from my other story Experiments, Punishments and Rewards for the Soul Eater franchise. I've been thinking of writing a few (and like, I mean 2 or 3. nothing too crazy.) one-shots and short stories for Black Butler.And so after listening to a great song of which this fic was named for, a Siamese elephant of an AU headcanon popped into my head that I just had to get out.
DISCLAIMER: As mentioned in the summary, there are suggestive themes of black-market child sex trafficking, so if that's a trigger for you then please steer clear of this fic. If this is not a trigger for you then continue on. This is not meant to glorify anything (because eww), but rather meant as a retelling of what did in fact go on in these times. (Dear God, I'm so paranoid.) Anyways, enough of my rambling. Listen to the song or read the lyrics or something because copyright is scary. It'll give you a better understanding of what I'm trying to go for.
The year is 1883. A breakthrough in which oxygen can be liquified sweeps the nation. Bestselling author Robert Louis Stevenson's first novel sits on bookstore shelves, and England is in grief over the asphyxiation of 183 children in a rush for treats in the Victoria concert hall.
This is where our story begins.
In a large and isolated grey-stone building toward the Thames, over fifty young boys aged four to thirteen line up for a meal of stale bread and watery gruel. Among these boys, is Jim Macken, who is given dirty looks and foul remarks by both the staff and inmates as he walks to the dining table, tray in hand.
He sits one seat off from the head of the table, beside the old man Trancy. The brothel owner in question, unlike most, does not look at Jim with jealous or hateful eyes. Instead he looks at the blonde boy with a passion that borderlines craving and lust, as he sits at his place at the head of the 25-foot table. Trancy's meal is much more plentiful and appealing to the tastebuds than what any of the boys eat. But alas, these boys never dare to speak of it, ask for it or express their jealousy for they know their ungratefulness will rid them of their next few dinners.
However, things are different for young Jim. During the meal, he is allowed many bites off of the old man's fork without asking. "Thank you, Mr. Trancy." Jim speaks quietly so as not to draw jealous attention from the other boys who never saw the old man feed him.
/
After dinner came chore time. All the boys handed their empty food trays back to grab brooms and mops,dusters and dustpans, hoping to get their work finished before the sun set and it was time for bed.
All of them, that is, except for young Jim. As the other boys were either on their hands and knees or stood so high they could reach the ceiling, Jim watched as he sat with perfect posture in a dainty little chair, his personal butler and nursemaid both hard at work to dress and doll him up for the coming night.
Claude was dressing him in frilly collars and ruffled cuffs adorning the small violet suit that complimented the pale blue in Jim's eyes. Next came the small trousers, so short that every other boy swore that no one else in the Thames, no, in England would ever be caught dead wearing them through the streets of London. These shorts were followed by a pair of black stockings with lacy garter belts attached. For a final touch, Jim was given knee-high leather boots with small heels and a magenta ribbon laced through each one, tied in a large bow at the top.
Hannah kept herself busy grooming the boy. After running a brush through his hair, she went to clipping and cleaning his nails, though not much was to be cut off as they had already been clipped some nights before. She even put a small amount of powder on his face and shadows over his eyes.
Completing the look was a small black top hat hat that had been put on a slant, barely missing the middle of his head. The butler and nursemaid satisfied with their work, helped young Jim off of his chair and guided him to Mr. Trancy's quarters to be presented to the man for inspection.
Tonight, Jim would be going with a nice French man to his estate in London for the night. As was the case for many nights, Uncle Jaques would always let Jim sit in his lap on the long carriage ride to his home where he would then lead the young boy to the bedroom at the end of the hall. Though he never much liked when that part came, Jim admitted that he did enjoy the attention and compliments given to him.
Halfway through the walk to Mr. Trancy's room, Jim's feet were getting sore and tired from the boots. He started walking slower, and tried to put less weight on his feet. After a short while, Claude noticed this and carefully picked him up, continuing through the corridor past more boys' dorm rooms, letting Hannah lead the way. As Jim was carried, he could hear the conversations between the other boys. They all seemed to be talking about him.
"Just look at 'im. Not even lookin' at us."
"Think's he's better than us, doesn't he."
"Worked our arses off, we did. An' what did he do? Nothing."
"Bloody sod."
"He's a spoiled brat, he is. Doesn't even have to walk."
"Spoiled rotten."
Jim never once thought he was better than anyone. He never thought he was spoiled either. The way he saw it, some people were just more liked than others. And it appeared that he just happened to be one of those people. But Jim knew better than to say anything to anyone. No, he had to stay humble. It added to his appeal which so many of his uncles loved about him. Including Mr. Trancy.
Speaking of the old man in question, him, Claude and Hannah had finally reached the door to his quarters.
Jim was let down to his feet. Claude, now with his arms free, knocked on the door. "Sir, we've prepared Jim."
"Bring him in." Mr Trancy said, looking up from his paperwork. As Jim was escorted in by the two servants, the old man's eyes changed to how he'd looked at the boy during dinner. The same craving eyes that looked upon the boy so many times.
"You two." Said the man. "Get out." Claude and Hannah bowed, then exited the room, making sure to lock the door behind them, leaving Old Man Trancy to do as he pleased with the boy before Uncle Jaques arrived. Ever the opportunist, Mr. Trancy would never pass up the chance to play with his favorite pet.
Ask any boy at Trancy's brothel about young Jim Macken and they'd all say the same jealous prattle of how 'spoiled' he is, or perhaps how he's 'a filthy slut' or 'dirty whore'. That is, ask any boy except one.
Except for Luka.
Being four years his senior, it should be expected of Jim not to see much of Luka, with the exception of events like meal time or chores in which the fair boy never had to help with. But every night, before the moon rose and one of his uncles came to see him, young Jim would sneak out of his lavish king bed, through the long corridor to Luka's dorm, and softly open the door.
"Luka." He whispered. "Luka it's me. It's Jim."
Soon enough he heard the soft footsteps of his brother. Well, the closest thing young Jim had to a brother, that is. Both boys were taken in by Trancy at the same time, and lived together on the streets the years prior.
"I thought your Uncle Henry was supposed to see you tonight, wasn't he, Brother?" Luka whispered, as innocent as a five-year-old was with no uncles for himself.
"Not until later. I've still some time 'till I have to get ready." said Jim. "Now, where did we leave off from last time?"
The redheaded boy gasped, excited. "At the part where Blackbeard's ship came!"
"Of course." Jim remebered, and continued to spin his tale of him and his brother.
"There it was, on the edge of the horizon, it's black skull flag hanging high in the air! It could only mean one thing to Captain Jim and his crew."
Luka squealed as the last word was spoken. "We're under attack, Captain Jim!"'
"Sailor Luka's eyes left the parascope, scrambling down to the deck as fast as he could. "Get the cannons ready!" He called to the crew, running to the bow. Captain Jim was at the wheel, steering their ship and barely missing a cannon fire that landed in the water with a great big SPLASH! The younger boy giggled at his brother's storytelling.
"And with that, the crew fired back with their first cannon, tearing a hole through the middle of the massive ship!"
Luka cheered in victory. "Take that, Blackbeard!"
"But! Blackbeard an' his crew weren't finished yet! The ship turned to starboard, and started to pick up speed to Captain Jim, Sailor Luka and all of their crew! Without a moment's hesitation, the crew fired all the cannons they had at Blackbeard's ship! They bore hole after hole as the ship was sinking faster and faster. But as much as they tried, as many cannons they fired, it still wasn't enough. Blackbeard an' his crew were close enough that they could jump onto the S.S. Trancy. And that's exactly what they did!
In the next moments all that was to be heard on the ship were sounds of clashing swords and battle cries. The two parrots Claude and Hannah were flying everywhere over the sound, squawking almost as loud. But things were bleak for Captain Jim and his crew. For the sheer numbers were-"
There was a knock on the door. "Oh, Jim~?"
The door opened to reveal Mr. Trancy. "It's time to get ready for Uncle Henry."
Jim made a sound of protest. "Please, just five minutes more?"
"I'm afraid not, my pet. Claude and Hannah have already picked an outfit for you." The old man purred. "You wouldn't want to keep them waiting, would you?"
"W-well, no, but I'm not fini-"
"Now, Jim." Trancy's voice became stern. This frightened young Jim, as he had never heard his Uncle Trancy speak to him this way. "Your Uncle Henry has paid good money to see you, and if you disappoint any of your uncles, it's going to not only ruin your reputation but mine as well. You will say goodnight to Luka, leave this room and get dressed for Uncle Henry, do you understand!?"
Jim paused for a moment before letting his eyes drop to the floor. "Yes, Uncle Trancy."
The brothel owner's stern face turned to a smiling one as his precious doll bade the younger boy goodnight. Trancy extended a large hand to young Jim, who slowly took it with his own to be led out of the room.
"Thank you for obeying, Jim."
"All for you, Uncle Trancy."
A few more steps out of the corridor, Jim could see Claude and Hannah ready to dress him into the revealing sailor suit laid out over the back of the chair he'd sat in so many times.
2 weeks later and Luka still hadn't been told what had happened to Captain Jim and his crew.
Jim was escorted once again by Claude and Hannah to the office of Mr. Trancy. As they approached the door, Claude let go of the trailing silk kimono that hung loose over Jim's thin frame, letting the ends fall to the floor.
"Sir," Claude said, knocking the door, "We've prepared Jim."
Today was a special day. Jim was to be visited by many of his uncles. Almost all of them that he knew. But like any other time when he had uncles visiting, he was to please his Uncle Trancy before anyone else.
No. That's not right. Jim thought to himself as the door opened, Hannah and Claude quickly ushering him in before exiting and locking the the door. That's not what I'm supposed to call him anymore.
As young Jim had been instructed to call Uncle Trancy by a different name, he had also been given a new name for himself.
The old brothel owner rose from his chair and walked over to the boy. Looked at him with the same craving as he guided once-Jim to the large bed on the other side of the room.
"You look lovely, Alois Trancy."
Alois was lifted to the bed and placed gently on his back. "Thank you, father dearest."
/
After Father was done with him, Alois was sent back to Claude and Hannah to be given a bath, re-dressed, have his hair re-brushed and have his powder and shadow re-applied. He looked like new, like the past hour never happened. But the time had soon came for when Uncle John came to have Alois be put in a carriage to London once again.
Barefoot and having nothing but the red kimono that would drag through the dirt and trail dust through Uncle John's home, Claude had carried the boy to the horse-drawn cart. Hannah closely followed, picking up the loose ends of silk that threatened to touch the ground. Behind her came Uncle John and Father.
Claude had placed Alois on the seat so that neither his legs nor his kimono dangled over the edge. Uncle John took the seat remaining and signaled the driver to get the horses ready to move.
Then Father Trancy stepped in and poked his head through the door. "You'd better not take long, John. My pet's on a tight schedule. Have him back by noon, will you?"
"Whatever you say, Trancy."
"As for you, Alois..." The old man turned to face the boy sitting pretty in the other seat. "I trust that you'll be on your best behavior for Uncle John, alright?"
Those eyes again.
"Yes, father."
"Good. I'll see you both in a few hours, then." Father Trancy stepped out and away from the carriage.
"Goodbye, father." Alois watched the figures of his father, butler and nursemaid grow smaller and smaller until there was nothing left.
Small conversation between him and Uncle John was made throughout the ride to London. They were over half the way to Uncle John's home when the cart had stopped in front of a small shop decorated with bright colors. The smell of sugar and pastry wafted out of the shop's open window.
"Wait here," said Uncle John as he stepped out of the carriage. "I'll be back in a minute."
Alois only nodded, though he was extremely glad for the time alone. The boy was not very fond of Uncle John. He was always sweaty, and stunk of alcohol. As the tall man stepped out, Alois could feel the air becoming less stuffy and more fresh as he took in a breath.
A few minutes later, Uncle John came out of the sweets shop holding a white box in one arm. Before he re-entered the carriage, though, Alois saw him turn around and take something out of his jacket.
Probably nothing, the boy thought. Nothing but a shot of rum that he's so desperate to down.
Uncle John soon came back into the cart, yelling at the driver to move again. He then took his seat, facing Alois. "I bought you something, Jim."
"What is it, Uncle John?" Alois asked, feigning innocence and oblivion. "May I see?"
Uncle John opened the box for the boy to see a cinnamon roll, coated with icing and as big as his two fists put together. Uncle John took it out of the box and held it to the boy's mouth. "Here you are. Take a bite."
Though Alois knew Uncle John was going to buy him something of the sort, he was still pleasantly surprised at the size of the thing. He'd never get away with having something like this back at the brothel. "Thank you, Uncle John." He leaned forward and did what his uncle said.
It was sweet. The pastry was still warm and the cinnamon danced on his tongue as the icing melted in his mouth. Maybe Uncle John isn't so bad after all, he thought. Alois desperately wanted to take another bite, but no, he couldn't, not when his mouth was this full. He chewed a bit more before swallowing.
It didn't take long after to find that something was off.
His body started to feel heavy. His stomach felt sick. What is this? He wondered.
"Would you like another bite, Jim?" asked Uncle John, but Alois didn't have the strength to speak. Dark spots were appearing before his vision as his consciousness was slowly fading.
The last thing Alois saw was Uncle John smiling as he threw away the drugged pastry.
/
Alois woke up in the same place he fell asleep. In the carriage, with Uncle John snoring in the seat across from him. Looking down at himself, he could see that his red kimono had lost its silky shine and was torn in some places. His skin was dirty, but not bruised. His nose wrinkled as the smell of alcohol and sweat was all over him. The boy was glad that all his other uncles would be visiting him in his bedroom today.
It was a short time afterward when the carriage came to a stop at the brothel, waking Uncle John from his nap. Alois could hear a bell tower nearby ring twelve times before falling silent again. Right on time, he thought, seeing Trancy, Claude and Hannah walk over to the carriage. Moments later Alois was back in the arms of Claude, being lifted out of the carriage and through the brothel entrance to be cleaned. Just before his butler and nursemaid could shut the doors, he overheard some of the conversation between Father and Uncle John:
"You could have been less rough with him, John."
"I'm telling you the truth, Trancy. The cart tipped and he fell. I am truly sorry.
Father sighed, putting a hand up to his wrinkled forehead. "I still expect more money for the clothes and my pet's safety. I want it by the end of the week."
/
Alois was having his fifth bath that day. Claude was rinsing the last of the soap in his hair as Hannah was laying out the last outfit he had to wear. Uncle Walter was scheduled to arrive in twenty minutes, but knowing the man and his punctuality, Uncle Walter would be coming at least five minutes early.
Dinnertime would be nearly finished for all the other boys when Uncle Walter came. Though Alois would be skipping out on dinner, he'd make sure to politely ask Father for food after he was done.
By the time he was dried off and dressed in the frilly-collared suit with the shorts and stockings, Father Trancy stepped in with Uncle Walter following behind just as Hannah was tying the last bow.
"Your next guest is here," said Father Trancy, "Say hello, Alois."
"Hello, Uncle Walter." Alois let a small smile form on his lips.
"Thank you, Trancy. Some privacy, now." said Uncle Walter. Alois watched as Father, Claude and Hannah leave the room.
The boots that were on Alois' feet for barely a minute were soon taken off as Uncle Walter knelt down to ogle over the young boy's legs. None of this was new for Alois; most visits from his uncles started like this. They'd get tired after while and try something else soon.
Meanwhile, it was chore time for all the other boys. Nobody wondered where Alois was, or why he wasn't sitting in that chair being pampered by his servants. Because they knew the reason.
"We aint' ever had servants." Said one. "What makes 'im so special?"
"It's what the Old Man Trancy wishes." said another.
"Aye," a third piped up. "I 'ear that Trancy's one of his uncles now."
"Nah." said the first. "Jim's been calling 'im Father as of late."
"Spoiled whore." said the second. "Nothing but a little brat."
The other boys in the room all nodded and seemed to agree. All except for a certain little redheaded boy, who looked at them with bitter eyes as he scrubbed the floors. How dare they say that to Brother?! Luka thought to himself as he moved his brush and water pail to a quieter place. But it seemed wherever the little boy went, there was always foul talk about his brother. He heard all the insults, from all the boys, in all the rooms.
"Skipped dinner to take a bath, he did."
"How many uncles has he had today?"
"More than what we'd ever get in a lifetime, that's for sure. Missed out on lunch, too."
They've got to be lying, thought Luka, the small child starting to run. Not to anywhere exactly. His legs simply were moving out of the rage that would get worse with each snide comment and every rumor spread.
They can't be sayin' all these things. Not to Brother. Not to Jim. Captain Jim, the baddest, best and bravest pirate of the Seven Seas! No, it couldn't have been at all. Could it have?
Luka stopped running after his legs couldn't anymore. Slowing down and catching his breath, he slowly became more aware of the sights and sounds around him. Or rather, a lack thereof.
Putting down his scrub-brush and water pail in the middle of the empty corridor, Luka decided to do a little exploring. He'd never seen this part of the Trancy House before. It seemed to be cleaner and better-decorated than anything he had ever seen of the brothel. The doors and shelves were made of rich mahogany that complimented the red carpeting well. Golden saucers and vases adorned the walls as paintings on the ceiling told a story of the Gods.
Luka was in awe. He could barely keep his head in one place, looking around the long corridor. How long's this corridor anyway? The boy wondered. I've never been down one this long befo-
His thoughts were cut off. He froze at the sound coming from two doors to his right.
It wasn't uncommon to hear the odd grunt or sigh at night. This was a brothel, after all. But it wasn't necessarily what the sound was that made Luka feel uneasy, but instead the thought of who the sound belonged to.
He tiptoed until he stood beside the door. The redhead tried to convince himself that his suspicions were nothing more than pure rubbish, but the sounds were clearer now and his suspicions were coming back to haunt him.
Shut up, Luka. You're hearin' things. Any more o' this an' it's gonna be from the brothel to the loony bin with you.
Another sound.
Maybe, just maybe, Luka thought, he wasn't hearing things.
I can't look. I just can't." Oh, how Luka didn't want his suspicions to be right. But I have to. I've got to.
I don't want to, though.
But I've already come this far.
One look can't hurt, can it?
Slowly, Luka peeked through the crack of the slightly open door.
And immediately regretted it.
All of the hateful words and rumors from the other boys slowly came back to him. And this time, Luka hated them even more.
Because they were true. They were all true.
He couldn't look anymore. Picking his scrub-brush and water pail back up from the once-empty hall, he ran again, for he knew that what he saw would haunt him for the rest of his life. He knew he wouldn't be able to see his brother the same way again. He knew now that he never should have come to where he didn't know.
Racing back toward the dorms, Luka couldn't help but to ask himself if what he saw was what having an uncle really meant.
Alright, I believe I've stopped right in the middle of the song. 4k words? Wow, I'm glad I made this a two-shot. As this is being posted I'm about 2k words in to the next part. I hope you're enjoying this so far, it also feels nice to have a break from my other story. I'm going to write as much as I can with my cousin and her 2 year old coming to stay for a week with us.
-In the song "Sandy Fishnets", as well as being mentioned in "The Tragic Events of September Part II", the term 'uncle' is given to those who are customers who favor or choose to have sex with a certain prostitute. I also chose to start the story (and somewhere in the next part) the way I did (the year is X), based off of parts I, II, and III of "The Tragic Events of September".-
Go and check them out. Also, I'd like to add that as much as I'd want to own Kuroshitsuji and their characters, I do not. Neither do I own the song, which I would have love to have written, but alas, it is not to be.
Until next time, lovely people!