Time period for this would best be placed before the events of season one. Keep that in mind.

She couldn't be sure why she even decided to go inside the small shop. It was clearly a doll and toy shop. She had no children, a goal at one point in her life she had but never achieved and thus no reason to enter. She had been on a errand and thought she had spotted some sort of plant shop, turned out to be the deep green of a dress on one of the dolls in the window. She had wanted to get some sort of plant for the studio, something she could take care of but wouldn't be loud like a pet. But still despite the lack of plants, she opened the shop door and hoped the bell wouldn't alter the shop owner. She didn't want to answer any questions about why she was there. It was hidden, back from the main street, close enough to find but far enough to deter wandering window shoppers. For good reason, as from her first glance the dolls inside looked to be of exquisite quality. Something that, as with all the finest products has a business because of word of mouth, not gawking street traffic. Something that would have a happy owner and they would tell others and those would go get something. Intent was needed to find this shop. A goal and desire. Something she had none of.

The floor creaked only a little, the inside was full to the brim with dolls, wearing different dresses, hand crafted and in different colors. From the green in the window that tricked her to the rosy pink of a ladies face on a cold day. From her youth she remembered dolls with dull brown eyes, but these had dynamic brown eyes. Fractionals of shades, they pulled you in. The painting on the porcelain was wonderful, soft and blended elegantly, she found herself picking up the closest one and with a gloved hand brushing the eye lashes. They were made of a high quality hair, like the best paint brushes.

She puts the doll back, and walks around more. The curls where soft, not stiff with holding creams like a real girls hair would be. Some were tight ringlets and some were loose papillotes. There was a variety she'd never seen in dolls, from hair to clothing, each doll was a unique creation. Nearly as unique as a person.

"Do you like my children?"

The voice nearly startled her into falling into the dolls, but she held her position. Surely the shop owner. She looks at the person. A red haired man, his eyes were very hard to place, nearest she would guess was a type of purple. He wore a dark red suite with gold detailing and a blue flower in his lapel. He seemed amused that he had startled her. He seemed too young to be running a shop alone, let alone be able to craft dolls like these by himself. Who was his master?

"They are...very lovely. My compliments to the craftsmen." She sees a brief smirk and then a genuine smile.

"Ah I think I haven't introduced myself, very rude of me, Drossel Keinz." She considers not shaking his hand, but does.

"Margaret Turner..."

Her hand is larger than his, she tries to ignore it. He doesn't make a comment or even make a face as he shakes her hand. She rather hates introducing herself as the wife of her husband now. A thought that years ago wouldn't have entered her head but now she finds unable to completely ignore.

She finds herself chatting with the man, he's fairly chipper and she's fairly certain he's off his rocker.

She thought it was only a stereotype that doll makers call their dolls 'children' but he seems at ease with it. At least he was passionate about them. Had children, even if they were inanimate. He spoke of them with a shine to his eyes and a lovely smile. He spoke of the origin of each product he used, able to describe the tools he used for each. She, despite her caution to his eccentricities, stayed. She watched his face, his gestures and enthusiasm.

Her husband was kind, but not passionate. Drossel was both.

"Would you like some tea ?" He says, as he holds a brunette doll in purple not looking at her directly.

She checks her watch. She should leave, get home and help prepare the back drops for that evenings portraits and dig up bulbs from storage and-

"I would be delighted Mr. Keinz."

She found that Drossel had glasses, thin golden ones, he wore them to read, apparently. He was scrutinizing the tea tins. She waited at the table, it had been supporting a doll house previously but it had been moved at the start of the tea party. Well not a party per say but he was going about it with the enthusiasm most women had for tea with their friends. While she waits a music box plays, one that he made apparently, playing a tune. He told her that some of his dolls had the ability to sing if you twist a crank, some moved. He has many skills, more than the average person for sure.

"Lemon tea, you seem like the lemon type of girl." It was a statement, but she felt it should have been a question. He was an eccentric man. Though...lemon...she thought that perhaps she'd made enough promises in her life, ones she didn't want to keep anymore. She doesn't argue about the flavor, like much of her interaction with the man so far, she's going to go along with it. Something about him tells her that arguing would be migraine inducing and it was more fun to go along with it.

…

She didn't return until the next week. She didn't have a reason to return back to that part of town but she thought about the shop and the owner a bit more often than she should have. It was the type of thinking that gets you through the monotony and pushes away other thoughts. She felt like it was obvious that she was thinking about something else, that her husband might be able to tell she'd been day dreaming about another man...but it was innocent, not romantic, so she felt it wasn't bad. Or at least that's what she told herself.

She comes back to the shop in the middle of a light drizzle, dripping slightly on the wood floor. He greets her with a towel. It feels so odd, she can't understand him but she gets the feeling he doesn't want to be understood at all. He just wants to be and he's willing to accept her inside his world. Even if its temporally.

"I must say you've got a good eye for eyes." He catches her looking at a brown eyed doll.

"Simply admiring my brown eyed sisters is all." She puts the doll back.

"Ah but your eyes are lovelier." He's walking around with a armful of boxes, humming a tune but she knows he meant what he said.

She's not sure if she should have come back over. She didn't buy anything the first time and she doubted she would buy anything this time. He was an odd shop owner but still a business owner. Maybe he was lonely and didn't mind her company, maybe not. But she was and was thankful for his company.

…

She didn't hate her husband. She just felt bored and like she was a piece of furniture to him. He showed her the same amount of affection he showed the kitchen table and less affection than his cameras. They had been married a number of years, she had agreed on the whispers of kisses and hugs and hands that would hold her tight. She wanted sweetness, kindness and kisses.

Instead she lifted tarps and props and helped happy newly wedded brides move their trains around. She had wanted a honeymoon phase but had been forced to skip right to the somber twilight years.

"Sometimes I wonder if you have a pet at home ." He pores her more tea when he asks her this.

"No, I do not. Why do you ask?"

"I think," he pauses, tilted his head and stares at her, "you could use something to love."

She wasn't being loved, and yes that was lonely. But she couldn't love anyone either, and that made her feel inhuman.

…

He gives her a doll the next time she comes to visit. She should have been picking up new curtains from a fabric shop down the road, her errand this week, but instead she visits. She considers it the best choice of her life. The doll has her eyes and her husbands hair color. Something Drossel shouldn't know but some how guessed. The eyes are spaced like hers and the nose is close to her husbands but isn't exactly right. There is a tiny spray of freckles across the nose and the dress is a light cotton buttercup yellow sailor dress with a big red bow around the waist.

He's confused when she starts crying and offers her tea and a towel to cry into. He's too unsure of how to handle a crying woman and she understands.

"She's beautiful, does she had a name Mr. Keinz?" He tilts his head and smiles.

"No, not yet. But I think you'll have a good name for her." He wiggles his glasses and seems to have a secret. He knows she has a name already picked out. For the daughter she won't get to have. Even if she did have a child with her husband now it would be a hollow victory, it would be someone to love and care for but she'd still have a cold marriage. And someday her child would grow and leave home and she'd be alone again. A doll won't leave her, she can love it and pretend. As silly as it was for a grown woman to do it, it was something. She'd been gifted a companion. In doll and perhaps in shop owner.

She had felt optimistic.

That should have been enough warning that something was going to happen.

…

Drossel died in a fire. His shop, his music boxes and his dolls went up in flames. The cause wasn't known the paper said the investigators didn't have one yet. She read all the articles about it. Eventually it was theorized it had been an accident, a stray flame gotten out of control. A random act of God.

He had a funeral, she wasn't sure what was in the coffin, a charred body or ashes? There were a few floral arrangements but over all it was a small event. His clientele had predominately been adults with young girls, the girls not knowing or caring about who made their toys and the adults too busy to go.

She attended with her husband. He didn't completely understand why she wanted to go but he could tell she needed to. She thought it was sweet of him, maybe even a good sign. She needed to go to say good bye to her friend. They had known each other very briefly but she'd appreciate his odd kindness.

She had taken up a habit of avoiding that route, that would take her by his shop. The long way around and going to new places for her needs. It would be years later, before she saw the shop rebuilt. The new sign saying Angel's Wing Antiques. She wanted to walk up to it, look inside. In the window was various antiques. Lamps, dishes, the usual content. What swallows her sight and makes her stop breathing was the doll.

Even without touching it and holding it she could tell it was like something he would make. She can see herself opening the shop and reaching for it. She calms down and sees other dolls.

She can't tell if they were second hand creations, it's what she tells herself, she can't believe someone would be able to make something like his dolls. She makes up multiple stories in which little girls give up their dolls and they end up here, part of a strange master plan of coming home.

But without Drossel it wasn't the same. It would never be the same. She tells herself to be happy someone fixed up the space and try to bring life back to the dark spot. She thought she had put him away, the way he made her oddly happy and welcome and their brief time together, shoved away and forgotten.

She sees a red head, he is turned from her, wearing a blue outfit of some kind and a hat. He seems to be talking to a woman, she hands him a box with a crank on the side and his head tilts. She can't look anymore.

It's too much, too familiar she can see his smile as his head is tilted and his eyes seem to twinkle. She doesn't want to know who this man is, or care how this shop will do. She walks away, and she can swear she can hear a tune follow her.

I don't know why I wanted to write these two interacting together. There is no reason why they would interact in canon and are from different seasons and both died. But still I wanted to do this so much. I can't explain it.

I had originally thought that it would be post-Angela Drossel I would be writing but then I realized that doesn't actually match up for when I wanted to set this in time/plot. So I got to make up what Drossel used to be, when he was human and alive and that was interesting. I made up most of this stuff, we don't know much about him actually, I was reading the wikia on him but not much on his past. I guess I imagine it being like this, he was a doll maker, died, got brought back to life by Angela and told his master was Duke Mandalay. His natural skills from his human life was amplified into the villain we see.

And not many people pay attention to Margaret Turner, I mean she doesn't even have a page on the Kuroshitsuji wikia but she was one of my favorite villains of the anime and I feel sympathetic towards her, probably could have avoided her death if anyone in this series knew anything about therapy.

The lemon tea thing, my resource says that the symbolism of lemon blossom is "Fidelity in Love; I Promise to be True" and wanted the symbolism there. She regrets her choice to get married, her promise to love and be true to her husband.

And I swear the parallel between how Margaret died and Drossel did in this was pure coincidence.

I finally noticed this but Margaret's eyes are actually blue! In the scenes I was skipping around to look at you couldn't tell. This is a very bad oversight on my part. But I doubt anyone even knew that before I mentioned it.