Dust flew as a thick pile of clean paper landed on the table followed by a bottle of ink and a quill pen. He strode indignantly back and forth in front of his study desk. His arms were folded tightly in front of his chest. His breathing was shallow and slow. I know him all too well to see how hard he was trying to calm and thinking of a way how to straighten the mind of his disobedient butler.
His failure to do so, however, only made his mood even more foul. He gave up and glared at me. The young Lord of the Phantomhive acting perfectly the role of a spoiled brat and a teenager hitting the early stage of puberty. He stood still in the heart of the room, his visible eye boiling with anger and, perhaps, a bit of confusion.
Why, you would ask, would such a butler be so disobedient? The answer can never be much simpler.
It pleases me to annoy him.
"I order you to write."
Yes, my lord, should have been my definite answer. Nevertheless, I am a servant expected to obey any and all given commands when first told.
"How many times do I have to repeat myself?"
No matter how ridiculous.
"I order you to write..."
No matter how hard.
"... your past, Sebastian."
"Why, bocchan? What great an event has provoked you to come up with such a... an idea?" Not many times was I at lost for descriptive words. I was opting for terrible, really, but painstaking seemed more appropriate. There is also the word difficult or the word awful Humans have a thing for words I deeply enjoy. It harnesses creativity most demons won't and/or can't tolerate.
"It's none of your concerns," he said, shrugging.
"I believe I gave you subtle hints about my age, bocchan. Recalling memories from ancient past will not be as easy as it may seem."
"I do not care as long as you fulfill my orders to the best of your capabilities however you seem fit." Cold and commanding as ever this dear child is.
I knelt and bowed as humbly as he needed. Keeping him satisfied will make my hundred-year worth meal tastier, better.
"As close to reality as possible. I will not endure dishonesty, fabrication, and any of the sort. Am I understood?"
"Yes, my lord."
His reason might not be as great after all. The mansion had gotten silent over time, save from his other three unbelievably incapable servants, and boredom easily gets into my young master's head. This may all be just a sudden whim that happens to pass by his mind.
I sat on his high chair tentatively. It is the only chair in the study room and it is reasonable enough to sit here as I write. Had I been wrong, this little mistake will cause another tantrum from the young lord. While annoying him once a day is pleasing, any more of it will be a lot less entertaining.
And so I was relieve when he did not as much stir from his position spare the raise of an eyebrow. "Well?"
"Where do you expect me begin?"
His glare intensified. "From the end."
I sighed and wrote down a few words, an introduction to my rather long epic. Of course, I wrote them in the script I am most familiar with. He took careful steps forward and peered at my work. I smirked. He scowled.
This language is neither English nor anything human. In my old age, I spent most of it feeding off as a demon and so this is how I write, by habit. It certainly did not amuse my young charge however.
The brat teasingly took his eye patch off. His other eye shone like a midnight star among his nightly frame. It reveals my pentacle, our proof of contract, his domination over a demon.
The eye patch flopped on the carpeted floor as it landed. "In English!"
"Yes, my lord."
I come by a lot of names, depending upon where I am, what era I am in, who I am serving, and what race I stand in. I had been called a hundred different names that I recall no more than a handful. I treasure them like how a man hungry and dying alone in a desert would treasure a sack of diamond. Among my acquaintances, for example, I am known as The Prince. Among the rest, I am simply called the demon. But above all stood a single one. My true name. The name I am sincerely given by the simple act of being born to it.
My true name. I cannot tell you. Not until everything that matters now, matters not any longer. I shall, therefore, write my name as Sebastian, which you have given me, and this is the story of Sebastian the human.
A/N: This is my shot of Sebastian's past. I would try to be as close to plausibility as possible. I mean Sebastian's got to be more than 3000 years old but I won't write a fic set in very ancient Egypt. So this is where the anime/manga and my mind cannon come in. The plot is patched from every bit of detail I could grab onto. Please bare with me. The demon aka Sebastian's POV. Written with phone. If you have some ideas, tell me. Sorry if it's OOC or something... It's my first fanfic... or something oAo I'm scared |||OTL Please be nice QAQ
