Author's Note:

Warning: This story contains numerous OCs.

Some information may be historically inaccurate.

I own nothing.

This story is a sequel to another story, Black Wife. To inform new readers (and to remind old readers), here's a brief summary of the first story:

During a recent string of murders, Ciel Phantomhive meets Eleanora Black, a cynical, sarcastic maid who grew up in the criminal underworld. Realizing her potential for Phantomhive, Ciel orders his butler to get her to work for him, no matter what. After many trials and errors, Sebastian is finally forced to marry Eleanora.

But she isn't too willing to marry him, and so he tortures her until she accepts. She then goes on to assist the Earl in his work, and as time goes on, Sebastian finds himself becoming less and less adverse to his new wife.

But by a pure accident, she discovers that Sebastian is a demon, which tears them apart again. Just when things can't get any worse for their relationship, Eleanora gets a call from Jean and Rose Michaelis—Sebastian's parents.

It turns out that they have to get married—really, truly married—by the time the year is up. And this time, there will be no chances for divorce. They'll be together till the bitter end. All three of them—Sebastian, Eleanora, and Ciel—journey to Hell and meet Sebastian's family and prepare for the wedding.

The wedding day arrives and Eleanora has just walked down the aisle…

Eleanora still vaguely remembered planning the thing. She remembered talking to the young Master about it:

"I don't think that marriage itself is all that bad, as long as you get married to the right person. It's just the wedding that's hell…"

She had never spoken truer words in her life.

She knew that she was getting married to a demon, in Hell, in a Satanic church, but despite all of these many dangers, it was so. Unnaturally. Boring.

Rose had said that it would be long. She had been forewarned. But in all seriousness, this speech was taking an eternity. No wonder demons lived so long—half of their lives were wasted in actually getting married!

There were two parts to the matri verum: the legal part and the religious part. The legal part consisted of swearing to each other to divide everything equally—cats, dogs, debts—and to always remain calm in financial pressure. Boring shit like that. And, naturally, because this was an unholy ritual, everything was sung.

Eleanora scratched her ankle with her other foot. She had been standing here for half-an-hour and the priest wasn't showing any signs of stopping and she was roasting in her stupid black dress and her feet hurt from all the standing and she was still touching the demon.

Sebastian Michaelis was handsome and gentlemanly—in a strange, I'll-smile-kindly-when-killing-you kind of way. She hadn't seen his reaction when she had walked down the aisle and he had seen her in her wedding dress for the first, but she assumed that he had looked bored and uninterested—just like always. Wasn't that so typical of a man? A woman slaves her ass off, trying to look decent for an event that would only last a day, and he didn't even care.

Eleanora shuffled around in her dress and fought back a small groan. The dress itself was heavy enough on its own, but she was also wearing a crinoline and a corset—both made entirely out of black metal. She shuffled again and one of her shoes slipped off and she had to clutch the demon's arm for support.

She had gone down the aisle with the Undertaker—as she had no father to give her away—and then he had handed her over to the demon, and they were still standing together with their arms linked together. She hated touching him. Even the mere thought of touching him was practically unbearable. She wished that there was some kind of tactful way to get rid of him. Her arm felt itchy from being in contact with him for so long.

But everything felt itchy! Wedding dresses were not designed for the comfort of the bride. She wanted to scream at the priest to hurry the hell up; she wanted to go home already!

Perhaps the demon felt her discomfort. Or maybe he was just adjusting his arm. Either way, he gave her arm a small squeeze.

She looked up at him; he risked looking down at her and smiling—not one of his usual, half-demonic leers, but a real, genuine smile. Eleanora wondered what he was smiling at. Probably finding amusement at how dumb she looked. She scowled at him, even though she knew that he couldn't see her face through the veil.

She turned back to look at the priest and wondered what the demon was thinking about. Was he excited? Nervous? Bored? Or was he wondering what she looked like? There was an unholy ritual which involved the erasing of the groom's memories of his wife-to-be. He still remembered her—her name, their conversations, their unusual first marriage…But he couldn't remember details: her hair color, what her voice sounded like…Rose had said that it was to increase his sexual frustration in preparation for the honeymoon. Eleanora wondered if she could sneak a switchblade into the bedroom. For self-defense. She could marry a demon, but she'd be damned if she had sex with one.

…Pun not intended.

The priest droned on for another half-hour. And then he pulled out a contract, two knives, two pens, and two inkpots and set them in front of Sebastian and Eleanora.

She knew what to do. Rose had prepared her for this.

She held out her hand and Sebastian removed her glove. Then he held out his hand and she removed his glove. Both gloves were put into a bin filled with unholy medicine. Then they took the knives; she steadied herself; and then they slashed their palms open.

Eleanora's red blood dripped into her inkpot; Sebastian's blood was black. Then they dipped the pens in their blood and signed the contract.

The priest sang for several more minutes and then he closed his book, bowed to the congregation, murmured something in Avelatani, and left.

The wedding guests applauded. Sebastian put Eleanora's glove on and she put his glove on. Immediately the medicine started to work; she could actually feel her hand start to heal. Within five minutes, it was as if she had never been hurt.

The head nun then approached—the Satanic Mother—carrying a book. She set the book down, bowed, opened the book, and then began singing. Eleanora steeled herself for another hour of boredom. Her head hurt.

This was the "religion" part of the ceremony. Eleanora had actually read the translation for this speech. It was just a bunch of lovey-dovey crap, like "sharing joy and sorrow," "in sickness and in health," and a prayer for "eternal sexual energy."

Eleanora really wished that she had just made that up. But no—a third of the translation talked about bedroom intimacy. She had felt so dirty after reading it that she had bathed for five hours.

She was glad that she didn't understand the language of Hell. She probably couldn't have stood listening to a nun talk about intimacy for an hour, with so many people watching her.

Half an hour passed again. Then the Mother stepped back, Sebastian gave her arm another squeeze, and then they moved past the altar and down in front of the statues.

There were three huge statues in the church, with seven smaller statues in front of them. The three big ones were of the three major sints; the smaller ones were of the seven sints. Rose had prepared Eleanora for this one as well. They were going to stand underneath the statues while the Mother asked for their blessing. If there was some sort of sign from the statues, the marriage would be considered cursed and not allowed to take place.

Eleanora had stopped believing in miracles a very long time ago. But she thought that, if such things still existed, she could really use one right now.

"Please say that we can't get married," she prayed as they knelt in front of the statues. "Please say that we can't get married…"

Nothing happened. She almost swore out loud.

Then there came the simulated "test." Rose had told her about this one too: first, there would be intense winds, and then the church would fill up with water, and then sand, and during all of this, they had to hold on to each other. If they let go, it meant that the marriage would lead to nothing.

The floor before the statues began to cave in. Eleanora instinctively squeezed Sebastian's arm; he patted it and smiled at her again. When the floor had sunk several inches, the wind started.

Eleanora had never felt so grateful for the metal crinoline. Without it, she most certainly would have blown away. She felt her veil whip around and wondered if her hair would get messy. She had been forced to sit there for hours while it was getting ready. She did not want to go through with that again.

Eventually the wind died down and they were still holding each other's arms.

Then the floor began filling up with water…

It would have been fine if it had just been still water, but it was like standing in a whirlpool. Added to that, it was freezing cold. Eleanora couldn't feel her toes, and soon she couldn't feel her feet.

She clutched Sebastian, desperate not to get swept away. He stood firm and held her too.

Eventually the water drained away and they were still together.

Then came the sand.

First there was a blast of heat, which was so intense that it dried Eleanora out in minutes. Then the sand came like a tornado, and Eleanora was just wishing that she was dead when it suddenly died down and then there was a big downpour of black unholy water.

And when that finally died away, they were still holding onto each other.

The audience cheered; Eleanora thought that she heard Jean whistle, and Sebastian was smiling and then the floor rose up again and they went back to the altar, where the Mother was beaming.

She sang a couple more prayers, touched them with the Satanic cross, and then brought out another contract and the knives and things. The gloves were removed again, and then the nun brought out two shot glasses.

"Oh no," Eleanora thought. "Oh, no no no no…"

The Mother gave each of them a shot glass and a knife. Sebastian slashed his palm open, poured some of his blood into the glass, and then the rest went into the inkpot. He swirled his black blood around in the glass, then spat into it.

Eleanora wanted to vomit.

But the demon wasn't finished. He somehow managed to force a tear out of his eye and that also went into the glass. Then he snapped his gloveless hand and something oozing and candy-red spilled out from one of his fingertips, and that also went into the glass.

He swirled it around some more and then looked at Eleanora expectantly.

"Oh shit," she thought, "I'm never going to live this down."

She cut her palm and poured her blood into the glass. She spat in it. She was even able to produce a tear. Then, because she was unable to produce whatever-the-hell the demon could, she spat again into the glass.

Then they linked their elbows and drank from each other's shot glasses.

Eleanora was dying. It tasted absolutely foul. But soon both glasses were drained and put back down on the altar and then the second contract was signed in blood, the gloves were put back on, the Mother made some closing statements, and then she said something and the audience behind them gasped expectantly.

The Mother must have known beforehand that Eleanora didn't speak Avelatani, because she grinned and whispered in English,

"You may kiss the bride."

They turned to face each other. A small part of Eleanora's brain was telling her to run…maybe there was still a chance…Maybe she could still get out of it…

But she couldn't run wearing the metal crinoline, and now he was lifting up her first veil, revealing her lips.

He paused upon seeing them; she remembered that he had forgotten what they looked like. Then he leaned in.

Eleanora closed her eyes.

"Whoever is listening to me now," she prayed, "please save me now. Please don't let me get married to this…thing. Please. I'll do anything. Please save me. Anyone. Please."

And then they kissed.