Well, not quite sure what to say, except for that this is my first fan fiction! I have always been a fan of Black Butler and have been wanting to write a fan fiction of it for a while. To anyone who reads this, I hope that you enjoy! :)
Important Note: I have not (unfortunately) read the Black Butler manga, and it has been some time since I watched the anime, so please keep this in mind while you read.
I had always loathed the music box that my mother had given me.
The small girl, no more than ten, gazed up in awe at the unfamiliar object in her mother's hands.
"What is that, Mama?" she inquired, standing on her tiptoes in hopes of a better view.
"It's a music box, little one," the mother replied, her thin lips curving upward into a warm smile.
"What does it do?" The child's pale eyes were bright with wonder at the mention of the name.
The mother knelt down so that she was eye-to-eye with her daughter, her large frilled skirt pooling about her on the Oriental rug beneath their feet. "It plays a very special song, one meant for us and only us. It's been in our family for generations. Our ancestors all had the chance to listen to its beautiful melody, and now, it's your turn to hear it."
It's small, dingy, and looks like the kind of thing you'd find tossed aside in an attic somewhere, lost and forgotten under assorted cheap baubles and knickknacks, reeking of decay, and coated in dust. Lots and lots of dust.
Up close, it was even more wondrous than previously expected. The large box, crafted of a fine, exotic red wood, was etched with gold swirls and lines on its sides, forming an intricate pattern unlike anything the girl had ever seen before. Four large pegs on the bottom of the box mimicked a lion's paws and allowed the music box to stand up in the gossamer folds of her mother's skirt. Engraved into its lid was the family crest, a great bird with its wings spread wide and talons outstretched, confirming its rightful owners. The girl couldn't find any words to describe what she thought. "It's… it's…."her voice broke off there as she was lost in staring at it again. In the box's glossy surface, it was easy to see her large eyes shining, her little mouth open in wonder, and her cheeks rosy with delight.
Her mother smiled, pleased with her daughter's reaction. "Beautiful, isn't it?" The child nodded her head, curls bouncing to and fro. "The best part is, we haven't even gotten to the good stuff yet." The mother held out her arm in an inviting gesture, and the girl plopped down in her mother's lap, snuggling up to her chest.
There's a saying out there that says it's what's inside that counts. Whoever came up with that one is a liar. I don't think I can even call it a song, the noise that comes out of that bloody box.
The girl bounced lightly in her mother's lap in anticipation as her mother turned the key inserted in the box's side. Tick, tick, tick… the girl felt her tiny heart beating excitedly, as she knew whatever sound was to come out of the box was going to be amazing. "Just a few more winds, and…" The box made a slight clicking noise, signaling that it had been wound to maximum capacity. "There. Are you ready for this, little one?" The girl's mother asked. The child nodded vigorously.
The mother released her hold on the key, and….
The most beautiful melody the child had ever heard slowly trickled out of the box. Many different tunes blended together into a perfect sound, its lilting, haunting echo leaving the girl breathless. She felt a shiver run down her spine at its sheer beauty, and she nuzzled closer to her mother as the song got louder. She didn't know what it was, but the girl wished for the song to go on forever and ever, for this moment to never pass. Here, in the comfort of her mother's arms with this lovely song wrapped around them, she felt truly safe and secure.
I wouldn't have minded the box nearly as much if it were some decoration in our old summer home in Paris, something I didn't have to lay my eyes on every day, let alone listen to. But, of course, my mother clearly had other plans when she gave it to me as a gift. It couldn't have gotten any damn better than that.
"Mama, I love this box, it's so pretty and perfect," The girl said with a light giggle.
Her mother smiled again and ruffled her daughter's long curls. "I'm glad that you think so, my dear, because it's for you." The girl jerked her head up to stare into her mother's warm caramel eyes.
"D-Do you mean it?" She dared to ask as the music slowly began to build momentum.
Her mother nodded. "As I said before, this box has been in the family for generations. Your great-great grandmother passed this box down to her daughter, your grandmother, and she passed it down to me, and now I'm passing it down to you," she said. "You are proving to be quite a sweet, responsible little girl, and I feel that it should go to you now. Tomorrow is your birthday after all, and I think that this is the perfect gift for you. I just couldn't wait to give it to you, so… happy early birthday, my dear."
The song continued to rise, getting louder and louder.
"Oh, Mama, this is the best gift ever! Thank you so much!" The girl wrapped her little arms around her mother, who hugged her daughter back tightly.
Louder, and louder-
"I can't wait to show Papa my gift," the girl exclaimed happily. "It's so perfect... I love it. I love you, Mama."
Even higher and louder-
"I'm so glad that you are happy, my little angel. I love you, too."
The noise was about to reach its peak-
The girl pulled away to look into her mother's eyes and opened her mouth to say something else. Whatever it was she was going to say, it was lost forever as the doors opened.
The song erupted into a frenzied panic of clashing tones as a man fell forward into the room, red billowing from a large wound in his head that splattered everywhere, staining the surrounding walls and furniture. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as the girl's mother leaped to her feet, her eyes wide in terror as she uttered a deep, piercing scream. The box fell from her skirt and thudded against the rug and the girl fell backward against the floor, her body frozen in place in sheer terror and disbelief. All of this happened in a matter of seconds.
More tones rattled out of the box, frantic and desperate.
Before the mother could even rush to her husband's fallen body, a torrent of harsh, flashing lights erupted from the doorway, filling the room with deafening sound. The girl looked up in horror as her mother's body was thrown backward, little red pinpricks blooming all over her body with each impact as she fell back, her caramel eyes rolling backwards into her skull and her hair flying forward.
This could not be happening.
The girl's hands shook violently and she finally found the strength to stand. She was suddenly over her mother's body, but she did not recall moving her feet. Her mother's eyes were bare, the thin lips parted and still, and every inch of her oozing red.
No.
Red. It was everywhere.
All she could see was the red.
The entire house was cloaked in a red veil, this red unforgiving veil that sucked away her screams and her tears.
It couldn't be.
It was all pure red, covering every inch of the walls, the floor, the ceiling.
Her strength departed as she plummeted down, becoming one of the fallen herself.
Now they entered the room, searching for wealth. Furniture was overturned, fine china shattered. The music box played.
The red still remained.
They were upon her next. One yanked her from her mother, delivered a smashing kick to the ribs. Another pounded at her head, seized her hair, and spat in her face. She felt only red.
Blood trickled down her cheek and bubbled up from her throat, acidic and salty. She tasted only red.
They filled her ears with harsh screams and demands, striking her further when she failed to reply. She heard only red.
She was deemed useless and tossed aside with one final pounding. Now the flames were visible, licking the air from an overturned candle. She saw only red.
The tune from the box began to slowly fade, as the song neared its end.
The flames lashed out with an insatiable hunger. Smoke billowed, stinging her eyes and clogging her nose, but all she could smell was red.
It was all over.
From this place on the broken floor in the broken room in the broken, burning house, the end was near.
Debris and rubble rained down on everything without mercy and she felt her eyes shut, her mind slipping away and leaving only a red shell of what she had once been.
The golden key clicked back into its original position. The final high-pitched note echoed through the austere silence, only fading when the last of the great old house had burned to the ground.
0o0o0oo0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o 0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o 0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0
The music box had been the worst gift that I had ever received, but it was all that I had left.
I recall waking up in the exact spot that I had been thrown, though how I hadn't been reduced to dust was a mystery. Even bigger a mystery was the detestable box, lying on its side with ashes thinly dispersed across it but other than that unscathed.
Though I don't know whether its survival or my own is more astounding, I do know this for certain:
That night means absolutely nothing to me as it means absolutely everything to me,
It's as little of an influence on my life as it is a dominant factor of my life,
And I so desperately want to forget it as much as I so desperately want to remember it.
I'm certain that I am not the only one who has experienced such horrible affairs. I have heard rumors of a young man in London whose parents met similar fates, someone by the name of Phantomhive. Whoever he may be, I'm sure our paths will intertwine at one point or another.
I'm also certain that the events that took place that night were no coincidence, that those men hadn't just happened upon my home. Anything that organized and swiftly executed had to have been planned.
Whoever is responsible for my parent's deaths will pay. They will be identified, they will be hunted down, and they WILL be brought to justice for the lives that they stole.
My name is Ophelia Malory. I am the daughter of Gideon and Caroline, the head of my forgotten house, and the executor of all things dark and grotesque. This is my story.
...And there you have it, folks, the start of my new fic! I should have the first real chapter posted soon, and with it will come some familiar faces! Reviews make me happy, and they help me improve as a writer, so please be sure to leave me a nice little note. :)
'Til next time,
MellowPaper