Author's Note: This is only an experimental oneshot of a RoV and Kuroshitsuji crossover that I've had for months now. If possible, this might turn into a series. Feedback, positive or critical, is appreciated!
Beginnings
Ever since that wretched day, he never left her side.
From the moment that his sullied, bloodied claw grasped her small, trembling hand, he knew they'd be inseparable.
Andre Grandier- or at least, that was his current name- a demon who was seen as a pariah even in Hell for his kindness and honesty, and Oscar Francois de Jarjayes- an aristocratic child who lost her family and was abused, tortured, and starved by her kidnappers- were brought together by tragic circumstances.
"So, you're the one who summoned me?" he asked, almost in surprise. To be honest, the demon actually expected to have been summoned by one of the cult worshippers instead of a young, filthy boy trapped in a large cage. (Although upon closer inspection, the child was actually a young girl.)
" I. . .I d-don't. . ." The girl muttered quietly, tightening her grip on the demon's wrist that her knuckles turned white. She didn't here the shrieks of the cultists, nor their cries of desire for wealth and longetivity. It was just her and the demon.
She. . .summoned him? But. . .how?
Prior to his appearance, all Oscar saw was a child (or was it her, she wondered?) being placed on the alter, and getting stabbed brutally through the stomach.
And th-
"Hey."
She jerked her head up to the source of the voice: the demon's. The only distinguishable features were his dark emerald eyes, softening just a bit when he noticed her recoiling in terror. He sighed.
"Are you going to make the contract or not? Even if you didn't know how you summoned me, there's not turning back now."
Wait. . .turning back? Wait! H-he didn't mean-!
"It's your choice, but should you choose to make a contract, you'll never be able to go to Heaven. You'll never see you're family again. Instead, you'll suffer the consequences and be eternally damned in Hell. The mark would be seared into your flesh. Do you still want to go through with this?"
Lowering her head, Oscar looked at her current state of affairs: Trapped in a cold and filthy location for who knows how long, the cultists, the poor child who was sacrificed, the other children, and. . .her family.
Maman, who took her hand and tried to escape, but was brutally hacked to pieces.
Papa, who, despite his impressive swordsmanship and marksmanship, was unable to take the murderers down.
Her elder sisters Clautilde, Marie-Anne, Josephine,Catherine, and Hortense – all of their throats slit.
Some of the servants, if not all, were able to escape, but afterward. . . .
Why. . .?
Out of all of the unlucky people that God chose, why did it happen to her? Why?
Why?!
These thoughts raced through her, causing at first, a small spark. This quickly transformed into pure, violent rage. By this point, Oscar didn't care about whether she was going to receive eternal salvation or not. There was only one thing on her mind.
Revenge.
For her family.
For the other prisoners.
And for herself.
Oscar jerked her large blue eyes towards the demon. One hand gripped one of the bars while other gripped his hand so hard that her nails were digging into his flesh.
"Kill them." She muttered, trying to steel her voice.
The demon was slightly shocked by her first orders to him that he hesitated. Oscar noticed this.
"Well what are you waiting for?!" She almost screamed at the top of her lungs.
"Someone! Silence her!" One of the cultists cried out!
"Kill these bastards! Each and every one of them! That's an order!"
The blood bath concluded.
Corpses were strewn about, and blood splatters colored the vicinity. The cages were opened for freedom, but only one child carried blood-marked footprints.
Oscar – since she held no title after her family's massacre, that was her name – stood across the very creature that would one day consume her soul. Her right eye, the contract that was seared quite painfully into her, bled. But that didn't matter.
Not yet.
Oscar observed the creature that was bending the last bars of cage so a duo of children could be free.
It was not long until the demon broke the unnerving silence that grew between them.
"So," The demon started. "If you are a noble's daughter, it would be fitting that I would take form of a servant, yes?"
For his question, only silence was his response. Taking that into account, he walked out of the shadows. First, his pointed heels turned into the soft tapping of buckled shoes, his anatomy matching that of a young teen of 15 years who worked in the stables from dawn to dusk. His countenance contained no speckle nor blemish, with the same emerald eyes as before. His hair, formed an endless black and was tied neatly in a ponytail with a blue ribbon. This was his first time shape shifting into such a role, and yet his gestures would make one think that he was servant for all his life.
Placing his right hand over his chest, the demon servant gave a slight bow to his new master.
"I look forward to serving you, my lady."
Author's Note: I actually feel proud of this one. Yes, there are probably flaws that can be improved upon, grammatical or otherwise. There's also the ambiguity, or lack of, of a certain time period. Does this take place during late 18th century France? The 19th century? Who knows.