Obligatory trigger warning: Death, murder, rape, torture, abuse
(✹)
August 1, 1874
Ah shit, fuck, here we go again.
She—she could feel that she was a girl again and rolled with it—had some extremely unfortunate luck. She had an untimely habit of getting murdered by her sixteenth birthday. In her last three lives, she didn't even make it to five.
It was supernaturally eerie how someone always seemed to murder her.
This time, her thirteenth life, she was going to live a long, happy life damn it!
No matter what it took, no matter what life threw at her, she was going to overcome it.
"She doesn't look like an Elizabeth to me," murmured a soft voice as the supernaturally unlucky soul threw a hissy fit in her mind. "She's already opened her eyes, that's so early. Look at her, does she still look like an Elizabeth?"
"Mmm… Seeing her now, I suppose not," said a man. Everyone was too blurry to see for the soul, so she only had sounds to go off of. Even that was difficult.
She didn't really understand how any of it worked. Baby brains shouldn't be able to comprehend much, let alone store lifetimes of memories.
Then again, she hadn't heard about other people being stuck in a murder-loop cycle.
Maybe one of these lives she'd be reborn as a witch or something and hunt down some magical explanation because science sure as hell fled this scene.
"What about Eleanor?"
"Whatever you desire, wife."
"Eleanor. Eleanor Victoria Midford."
Midford? Ugh. I'm going to get bullied in school for a name like that.
(✹)
1877
Marriage, huh? Eleanor sat in a carriage with her mother on the way to meet her fiancé. Given the time period, she shouldn't have been as surprised as she was to discover she would have her marriage arranged.
She was surprised—and a little sickened—it would be with her cousin.
There wasn't much she could do about it currently. In her few years spent at the Midford mansion she had come to understand a few important details about her new family.
Her father was a military man with a subtle doting side for his children. Not enough to lack discipline, but enough to offer a smile or candy if they did something that pleased him. He was prone to treating her more akin to a pretty pet than a cherished child.
Her mother was the strictest type of woman. She did not tolerate misbehavior, even from a toddler. Crying warranted glares, and despite not even being five years old, the woman was critiquing Eleanor's posture. She knew from the gathered conversations that her mother was a renowned duelist and a right fiend in combat. It didn't surprise her, her mother definitely unnerved Eleanor.
She had a helicopter parent once before. That mother ended up shaking her so hard, she snapped her neck.
Eleanor did not feel any bit inclined to get on the woman's bad side, so she strove to meet those expectations. It meant for a strained and distant relationship, even at the age of three. Eleanor would not smile for her mother, but she would obey her.
Her older brother was much like her father, with their mother's strictness. Edward was closer to a traditionalist, though, and did not like the idea of their parents wanting to teach Eleanor to hold a sword. In fact, her brother detested it so much that he habitually bought her dolls or dresses as a way to entice her away.
The sentiment was cute in its own way, if a bit sexist. Eleanor was not going to pass up the free opportunity to be taught another way to defend herself, but she certainly had no intention of making a name for herself like her parents. Enough to ward off an attacker, not to pursue her enemies relentlessly.
Returning to the situation at hand. Eleanor did not have the confidence to stand up to her bearcat of a mother, nor the affection needed to sway her father. The engagement would last up until one of those things were corrected. Or a third option, Eleanor saved up enough money from secretly pawning things around the mansion and escaped at sixteen. She knew a bit of French, maybe it wouldn't be difficult to ask for a tutor. Or maybe she should go even further, like Russia.
"Shoulders back, Eleanor," Francis reproached.
Wicked witch, Eleanor thought, but nonetheless she worked on forcing her shoulders back.
Riding in carriages always looked nice in movies, but in actuality it was uncomfortable. She felt every bump in the road; the seats were barely cushioned; there was no temperature control. She couldn't even open a window because Francis would likely throw a fit if Eleanor's hair got too messy.
She was thankful she hadn't been reborn as a beggar, but gosh what'd she give to have been reborn in a nice, normal, decent family closer to the 2000s.
Not that complaining would do her much good there. Eleanor was determined to make it past sixteen. That was it! Her new goal in her perpetual stupid cycle.
In order to do that, she couldn't prematurely run away from her new family.
Even if she very much wanted to.
After a long, painfully awkward, silent ride, they finally arrived.
Huh. Looks familiar.
For some reason, the mansion they had arrived at looked oddly familiar. It was a brick mansion that resided a fair distance out of the city. It was lovely, of course, but there was more to it.
Batman? Eleanor pondered. Maybe the house was a Wayne iteration. That'd be funny, if she was somehow reborn in the DC-verse over a century before Batman. She could leave little clues behind in his house if that was the case.
Shoot, it would have made her last death—drowning—almost worth it.
Almost.
The carriage came to a halt, and servants opened the door. Francis stepped out first, with Eleanor meekly following behind her. Eleanor brushed her pale brown bangs out of her face.
Francis and Eleanor entered the mansion and they were greeted by two very beautiful people. One was a honey blonde with sparkling blue eyes, and the other a handsome young man with black hair and lavender eyes. Eleanor could see the resemblance between the man and Francis, and of course herself.
They all shared the same lavender eye-color. Although the man had black hair, and Francis and Eleanor had pale brown.
"Eleanor, this is my brother Vincent Phantomhive and his wife, Rachel," said Francis Midford. "Eleanor, greet them."
Phantomhive? Wow, that sounds super familiar. Almost like an anime. Which one was it?
With poise that came only from hours of repeated practice for many days, Eleanor gracefully curtsied before the two and said, "Please take care of me."
"My," gasped Rachel, eyes lit up in delight. "What a dear child. I'm sure the boys will get along with her well."
"Yes. They're in the other room, let's introduce them."
"Come along, Eleanor," instructed Francis as she and the other adults guided Eleanor to the other room. The other room, as it turned out, was a type of living room. There was an assortment of toys in the middle of a red rug, and two boys who looked identical sat on it.
Rachel stepped forward, kneeling gently between the children with a warm and loving smile. "Eleanor, I'd like to introduce you to my sons. Ciel, Astre, please greet our guests."
The two boys stood up and—
Wait, what? Ciel? Ciel Phantomhive?
To her astonishment, two identical twin boys who looked alarmingly like Ciel Phantomhive did from an anime she had watched a few lives ago, stood up and greeted her.
"It's nice to meet you," said one with a boyish smile and confidence that only came from being a child. "I'm Ciel Phantomhive."
He's—he's a toddler, right? How—what—he's not a reincarnator like me, is he? Eleanor had met plenty of toddlers in her lifetimes, but none had been able to form coherent sentences like that. Nor did they look like an anime character!
Wait—
Ciel. Wasn't that—
Eleanor's thoughts were rapid as she came to a quick conclusion. Her life was already strange and unfortunate, why wouldn't she be reborn in one of the darker animes she had watched.
Wait a gosh darn minute, though, the anime didn't mention any twins.
Indeed, Ciel's twin brother hesitantly stood up. He mirrored Ciel's appearance in every way, but the boy had such a shy demeanor. His voice was even quieter than Ciel's as he said, "Nice to meet you. I'm Astre Phantomhive."
Holy fuck he's adorable, thought Eleanor. She had a soft spot for shy kids. They were always the kindest. No matter her lifetime, the shy and quiet ones made the best of friends. Except that one time when the girl she befriended decided she liked Eleanor a bit too much and didn't want to share, so she murdered her in the school bathroom.
That… that wasn't fun. She didn't get any of those vibes about Astre, only that he was a quiet and sweet kid.
If that's Ciel, then this poor boy must have been murdered alongside his parents, Eleanor thought, instantly pitying the boy. He, too, had a short life. She didn't remember anything about a twin, but she had watched the anime a long time ago, so her memory was hazy at best. Her friend group at the time of watching complained about how different the anime had been from the manga, but they complained about that for a lot of the manga-adapted animes they watched.
Why couldn't it have been Fruits Basket? That was such a happy and non-lethal anime.
Eleanor returned their oddly mature greetings with her own.
"You three may play now," said Vincent as he took a seat on a luxurious couch.
"Eleanor, would you like to play with us?" asked Ciel brightly, his blue eyes sparkling.
Oh my gosh you are adorable too, Eleanor thought, smiling in return.
She wouldn't have to worry about the marriage anymore. The brooding Ciel didn't strike her as the type to follow through with that. She could simply focus on being their friend.
Although, Eleanor thought, stealing a glance at the doomed twin, I wish there was something I could do.
She had no idea how to prevent the tragedy that was to befall the family. There were higher powers at work against them, and as far as she was aware, her friends said the vengeance had not yet been completed in the manga. She thought maybe the queen was involved in the anime, but her friends said that didn't happen canonically. Regardless, her information was either she knew nothing, or she was fighting an angel-manipulated queen.
Not something she could do much about.
But…
Eleanor had her fair share of gruesome deaths. Seeing such kind and innocent boys before her and knowing how much hell they would go through significantly bothered her.
Maybe I can still do something?
For the moment, all she could do was play with them. She had gotten good at learning how to play with children, and the boys were intelligent enough to make it effortless to get along with. Ciel had a natural charisma that made it easy to follow, and Astre had such a sweet demeanor. Eleanor found it hard not to dote on them.
They played for hours, the movements and conversation flowing comfortably and easily between the three of them. It had been literal years since Eleanor had been able to give—and receive—such warm affection.
Such kind boys…
In her otherwise bleak existence, their sincere warmth instantly endeared her. She hadn't realized how badly she craved kind human contact until she met them.
She wondered if maybe… maybe she really could do something.
I can barely keep myself alive, though.
But did that mean she should sit back and do nothing?
No.
I'll keep all three of us alive.
(✹)
"Mother," said Eleanor as they left the mansion.
"Yes?" humored her mother.
"Teach me how to fight."
Francis slowly looked over at Eleanor, her gaze cool and assessing. "You believe yourself mature enough to do so?"
Eleanor looked back up at her, her own eyes matching in tone. "I am. You're supposed to be the best. Are you unable to?"
Francis's lips twitched into a ghost of a smile, it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. "Very well. Prepare yourself, child. I will not go easy."
"I would expect nothing less of you."
(✹)
Indeed, the training was borderline physical child abuse. Maybe it was because she was in a whole other world and children were drastically different there, but it was somehow working. Eleanor could have sworn toddlers couldn't learn how to sword fight so early, yet there she was. Learning how to fight. Not even five years old.
Not. Even. Five.
Why was this normal?
She threw herself into training with a desperate vigor. Dawn to dusk, if Eleanor was not training her body, she was training her mind. Tutors rapidly came into the mansion as she decided to no longer hold back her intelligence. Ciel and Astre were clearly the standard of normal children, and both were smarter than what Eleanor believed to be an average tutor.
But no one made a comment on it. No one told her to stop, and so she continued with a fervor.
She was no longer fighting for her own life. She was fighting for the lives of two sweet children.
(✹)
(A brief interlude - Francis & Alexis)
"She's not normal, Alexis," said Francis one evening. "I had thought Vincent's boys were bright for their age, but she's supernaturally so."
"Isn't that a good thing?" Alexis questioned, not understanding the issue.
"She's too dedicated," argued Francis. "She doesn't play. She doesn't laugh. What kind of child doesn't laugh?"
"You said she played fine with her cousins."
"Well—yes," allowed Francis, thinking back to when she introduced Eleanor to the boys. Her daughter had been average, but upon meeting the boys she had unveiled her true intelligence. Perhaps seeing other bright children encouraged her to share her intellect.
That implied she had been hiding it. Which bothered Francis more than the woman would care to admit. What else was her daughter hiding from her? Why did she feel the need to hide it? Did Eleanor not trust Francis? Francis was her mother, she would do whatever she could to keep her daughter safe.
"Why not send her to stay with the Phantomhives a couple of times a month?" prodded her husband. "If she plays with them, then you've nothing to worry about."
"Yes… I suppose so," said Francis after a moment. Her daughter needed to learn to rest and relax, after all. She would write to her brother.
And that was how it was decided that Eleanor would stay every weekend with the Phantomhives.
(✹)
(Eleanor)
Eleanor wasn't sure if she was happy, or vexed about her parents' decision to make her stay at the Phantomhive manor every weekend.
It put an abrupt end to her training, which aggravated her.
But she got to spend time with Ciel and Astre, which was honestly really nice.
Ciel was a bright, energetic boy with thousands of ideas. Even though Eleanor was mentally older, Ciel was able to pull her and Astre along for all kinds of adventures. One day they would be pirates, and the next day they were policemen. His imagination knew no bounds, and he was easily able to come up with plot twists for their journeys. He was the sun, shining brilliantly with innocent warmth.
If Ciel was the sun, then Astre was the moon. Calm, quiet, and prone to hiding in the shadows. He would tag along, always at Ciel and Eleanor's heels. He liked to reach out and hold their hands. He was clingy in a cute sense, and Eleanor adored him.
They called her Elly, something Eleanor did not even allow her older brother to do.
The more she spent time with them, the more she came to love them.
And the more determined she grew to not let those unfortunate events happen to them.
She would keep them safe.
Even if…
(✹)
Warm spring days meant Astre and Ciel liked to play in the gardens. Eleanor followed behind them, watching over the boys run about. Ciel wanted to catch butterflies, and so he ran back inside to bring them nets.
Eleanor asked Astre, "Do you like your garden?"
"Some of it," Astre told her. "Um… I have a favorite flower. Do you, um, want to see it?"
Eleanor smiled warmly at the small boy. "Yes, thank you."
He held out his hand and she took it. Astre was a shy boy, but with her and Ciel he could be a bit braver than normal. Although whenever other guests arrived at the manor, he hid behind in the shadows of his twin, or would cling onto Eleanor.
Astre led her to a bush of purple that smelled soft and lovely.
"It's called lavender," Astre mumbled shyly.
"Mm-hmm. Why do you like them?" Eleanor kindly asked him.
"They remind me of you," Astre said, a small innocent smile on his face.
Eleanor blinked in surprise at that—
Oh, right. My eyes.
Lavender eyes like Francis and their father.
Ciel and Astre had inherited their father's black hair, but their mother's pretty sparkling peacock blue eyes. They were terribly cute boys.
Eleanor on the other hand had her mother's pale brown hair and lavender eyes.
She remembered there has been a girl in the anime, a sweet thing named Elizabeth. From what Eleanor could gather, she had been born in place of Elizabeth. Which was a shame, Eleanor really liked her.
She also thought it was a shame she didn't even look like Elizabeth. Elizabeth was bright and beautiful with golden locks and vivid emerald eyes.
Eleanor giggled, endeared by Astre's explanation. What a sweet connection.
She reached forward and gently patted Astre's cheek. Astre smiled adoringly at her, placing his own hand atop hers.
What a sweet boy.
(✹)
1880
When Eleanor arrived at the mansion for her weekend visit, she found that the mansion had a drastically different atmosphere. The servants were oddly skittish around her, and the twins' parents barely greeted her before shooing her off to play with Ciel.
Eleanor was perplexed as she sat in the toy room with Ciel.
"What's going on?" she whispered.
Ciel's blue eyes filled with unshed tears. "It's Astre."
"Oh no. What happened?"
"He can't breathe very well. They're calling it asthma."
Eleanor's heart thumped in her chest. She didn't recall any such thing from the anime. Then again…
Astre isn't around by the time the story starts…
What if he died from illness rather than murdered in the fire?
Her stomach dropped unpleasantly. She wished she had lived long enough to be a doctor or something. Her medical knowledge stemmed from internet research and high school health classes. She knew trauma care—purely to help keep herself alive; she had even used it to survive a stabbing for a whole whopping day until the fucker showed up with a gun at the hospital—but illnesses like asthma?
She was at a loss.
Ciel wasn't in a playful mood that weekend, and neither was Eleanor.
(✹)
1881
Ciel was braiding Eleanor's hair as she sat in front of him playing chess with Astre. The three children were in Astre's room, as the younger twin had another coughing fit and could not leave to play. Ciel sat on his brother's bed with Eleanor in front of him on the floor playing a game with Astre who sat crisscrossed on the floor.
Astre had taken to less physically straining games like chess. Ciel had little patience for the game, but he loved his brother and wanted to spend time with him.
The compromise was that Eleanor would play chess with Astre, and Ciel would play with Eleanor's hair. Ciel liked twisting it into odd fashions. He took great amusement in seeing Eleanor either cringe at what he had created, or praise him for his clever fashion sense.
Astre stared intently at the chess board, his brow creased in thought.
Eleanor had found that Astre could be strangely focused when it came to games. Even though Eleanor was mentally older than Astre, she struggled to beat him in chess.
She wondered if she was that dumb, or if he was that clever.
She liked to think he was that clever.
There was a knock at the door. "Yoo-hoo~"
"Ah! Auntie Red," exclaimed Ciel, hopping off the bed. "Come in, come in."
A woman with vibrant red hair stepped into the room. "Hi! Oooh, you must be Eleanor."
"How do you?" Eleanor politely greeted. "Gah!"
Astre had taken one of her knights while Eleanor was distracted.
The woman smiled in amusement. "Hello dear. I'm Angelina Dalles—Rachel's sister. But everyone calls me Madam Red. Well, except these two."
"Are you staying for long?" Astre asked as Eleanor moved one of her pieces.
"No, just popping by to say hi to my favorite nephews—and niece now," Angelina said with a smile. "Carry on dear ones."
(✹)
1882
Ciel sighed heavily.
Francis had started to tag along with Eleanor on the weekend visits in order to privately tutor Ciel in fencing. As the Phantomhive heir, it was crucial for Ciel to learn how to defend himself.
Astre ought to have learned as well, but given his asthma that was impossible.
That was fine, though.
He didn't need to fight. Ciel and Eleanor would protect him.
During Ciel's private lessons with Francis, if Eleanor was not assisting as a sparring partner, she would take tea with Astre. On that day, however, Francis ordered for Eleanor and Ciel to spar to assess their weaknesses.
It was a brutal session, and both children were shaking from exhaustion by the time Francis deigned they were done. Francis swept out of the room, not even out of breath, and left Ciel and Eleanor alone.
Ciel sank to the floor, his legs trembling.
"Strong women are scary. I'm glad you're going to be my wife," groaned Ciel.
Eleanor twinged, caught off guard by his words. "What do you mean?"
Ciel blinked in surprise. "Huh? Well, your mom's pretty scary, but you're not. You always ask if I'm okay, you listen to me, and you're great with Astre. Your mom only comes here to lecture and beat me up."
"Mother is certainly terrifying," agreed Eleanor, hiding her smile in amusement. It was a childish statement, but what else could she expect from a child?
She reached forward and patted the top of his head.
"Hey! I'm not a kid," Ciel protested.
"You are," she disagreed. "A very cute one."
He puffed up his cheeks in a huff.
(✹)
1883
"No way, your big brother actually beat your mom?" Ciel exclaimed.
The three children were lounging outside in the summer. Eleanor had a favorite spot in the garden that she loved to relax in. Ciel didn't like to stay settled for very long, but he would for tea and biscuits or if Astre was feeling under the weather.
"I can't believe that," said Astre.
"One time," said Eleanor. "I saw it happen. But then Mother got serious and beat him around the rest of the night."
Ciel cringed. "Serious? Wait, does that mean she doesn't take us seriously until after being beaten…?"
"Yeah."
Ciel groaned, burying his face in his hands. Astre patted his brother's back.
"You can do it," Astre quietly encouraged him.
"I don't want to anymore."
Eleanor giggled. "How can you say that? You were so confident you'd beat her before winter this year."
"Have you?" Ciel asked her.
"No," admitted Eleanor. "But I will. One day. I'll beat her so bad she won't have a chance to take me seriously—I'll knock her out for the rest of the day!"
Ciel laughed loudly in delight at that, while Astre giggled.
(✹)
December, 1885
She did not know the exact day the kidnapping took place.
She only knew it happened 1885 in December, and she only knew that detail because her friend group tried to put a timeline together. Even that was up for debate due to her hazy memories but better safe than sorry.
Eleanor had, of course, tried to warn the family. She even directly told Vincent that she heard a rumor about people wanting to attack the Phantomhive family that December, but the man laughed and said he had a long list of enemies so that it was no surprise.
Which… true?
The Phantomhive family was a criminal mastermind family that worked for the royal family. A lot of people wanted them dead and regularly tried.
She didn't have much more information to give, unfortunately. She didn't know what reality she was in—the anime with the crazy angel controlling the queen, or the manga with an unknown enemy.
She kind of hoped it was the anime. At least she'd have an idea of what they were up against.
An unknown enemy… that was a lot scarier.
Eleanor had been able to persuade her family to let her stay with the Phantomhives until Christmas Day where she would rejoin her family. Rachel and Vincent adored having Eleanor around almost as much as the twins did.
To be frank, Eleanor felt more comfortable with the twins than she did with anyone at the Midford manor. Her relationship with her mother and father was distant at best. She got along better with her elder brother, Edward, but he wasn't home often enough for them to be truly close.
Ciel and Astre were warm spots of light in her normally dismal life. Her sun and moon; her sweet little boys.
Eleanor had had friends before, but never ones she loved so dearly like them. Maybe it was anime magic, or maybe the boys had a special charisma to them. She was enchanted by them, and loved to spend time with them.
It wouldn't be a lie to say they were the only reasons she could smile in that life.
She loved them.
And they loved her.
It was warm, innocent, and oh so very sweet.
Which was why she was determined to protect them at all costs.
The first week of December went by without incident.
But then—
(✹)
December 21, 1885
She woke up coughing, her eyes and lungs burning. It was pitch black in her room except for the light underneath her bedroom door.
The room had been specially prepared for her by Rachel Phantomhive. It was right next to Ciel and Astre's rooms, and it was decorated with many pretty and feminine things that Rachel thought Eleanor would like.
It took a few seconds for Eleanor's sleepy mind to figure out why she was coughing so much—
Fire.
She rolled out of bed, grabbing her special teddy bear that she had prepared for that night.
I have to get them out of here, she thought, stumbling to the door. She touched the handle and cringed at how hot it was.
But I need to get to them—
With a grimace, she forced the door open anyway, crying out at the flames that licked at her.
"Elly!"
She heard Ciel call out to her across the flames. Eleanor clutched at her teddy bear, took a step back and made a running jump. The fire lapped at her feet, burning them, but she did not falter. "Ciel! Astre! Where are—"
But she had underestimated how dangerous her opponents were. She ran into a man who caught her by surprise.
And her world went black.
(✹)
She awoke from someone shaking her awake.
In an instant she felt cold horror wash over her as she recalled her last memory.
Still in her nightdress, and still clutching at the teddy bear, she raised her head. She only had a few seconds to process everything she saw.
First, Ciel and Astre were with her. They had been transported on some kind of carriage, and they had arrived at a countryside mansion in the dead of night. Both boys were covered in soot, and a bit wobbly on their feet, but they were alive.
Second, the mansion was unlike any Eleanor had seen before. It was blue and in a different style than what was traditionally found in London.
Third, judging from how stiff and hungry she felt, Eleanor did not think it was the same night she fell unconscious.
In fact, it felt like she had been unconscious for more than twenty four hours.
Which meant they were, likely, more than twenty-four hours of travel away from safety.
Oh God.
"Get up," growled one of their captors. Eleanor shakily stood up, climbing out of the wagon.
She held her teddy bear tightly.
The teddy bear was large, and heavier than what most expected. That was understandable since she had carefully hidden away an assortment of weapons and items to prepare for… for what was to come.
Eleanor was grateful for their arrogance, that they did not think it worthy enough to deprive a little girl of her teddy bear.
She quivered, trembling from fear and anxiety for what was to come. If she failed…
It wouldn't be the first time.
A clawed hand of detachment gripped her heart.
Eleanor had failed. A lot.
In the original story, Ciel and Astre were violated and abused for months until one of them made a contract with the demon the world would come to know as Sebastian. The other twin died, somehow, and only one would survive. She didn't know much more than that.
If she failed, she would die alongside that twin, and their deaths would not be kind or easy. They would drag it out for months, violating them in unspeakable ways. The thought was sickening. She had been murdered. She had been assaulted. She had been violated.
Eleanor had not been tortured for months prior to her death.
Death did not scare her.
How long it took for Eleanor to die under distress… that scared her.
But what terrified Eleanor most, what shook Eleanor to her very core, was that those two sweet, innocent boys would face that. They were children who had never known death, or murder prior to this. Astre was the kindest boy she knew, and Ciel had a bright light inside him.
Failing here meant failing them.
Eleanor couldn't.
Eleanor clutched at the teddy bear, her body trembling.
I won't.
(✹)
The journey up to the mansion was tense and silent.
There had been ten captors with them, but some of them started to peel off from the group.
Upon entering the mansion, some servants approached them.
"The master awake?" one of the captors asked.
"No, keep them in the chambers until morning," a servant told them.
"Come along then," said another captor. "Be good children, won't you?"
The three children could not do anything else but comply for now.
Up the stairs.
Down the hall.
Right.
Down another hall.
Left.
Her right hand slipped into the teddy bear, grasping at her secret weapon.
The grenade was not invented until 1914.
She remedied that.
In another life, she thought she'd live longer if she knew how to make weapons and set up traps in her home, like Home Alone.
The traps worked fine. She killed ten home invaders.
But she was still murdered in the grocery parking lot seemingly at random.
Eleanor waited with bated breath for an opportunity. She mapped their journey to the front door, and watched for any signs of lax behavior in their captors. She only needed them to look away for one second—one second—one second—
She caught Ciel's gaze, and in that second the two shared an understanding.
One of their captors—maybe cultists given their long black robes?—said something in another language, gesturing down the hall. All eyes turned to look away—
Eleanor pulled out the grenade, uncapped it and tossed it at the largest group of people as she said, "Duck!"
Ciel, quick on his feet, grabbed Astre's hand. The grenade went off, the explosion greater than the boys anticipated, and it knocked them off their feet. She was not done, for as soon as she had lobbed her grenade, she pulled out her gun and blew off the head of the nearest person. One headshot, two headshots. The men and women were screaming as blood and gore filled the air. The grenade had set fire to the building, and servants were rushing to tend to it. Limbs had been blown off, an arm had landed beside Eleanor. It splattered warm blood up onto her leg.
Eleanor did not dare hesitate. She did not dare stop.
Three headshots.
It was chaos, but chaos was in their favor. Now no one was near enough to stop them. She helped Ciel pull Astre to his feet, and the three of them sprinted out the way they came. Astre's breathing was heavy and ragged, but they had to move a bit further.
Around a corner, she grabbed Astre and ushered them into another corner as a man ran by them. Astre was clutching at his chest, struggling to breathe.
In the 1800s, asthma was prescribed arsenic to treat. Allergy medication wasn't invented until the 1900s, and epinephrine wasn't used until 1940s. She had access to none of that.
"Deep and slow, deep and slow," she coached Astre, holding his hand tightly as Ciel kept lookout. "Deep and slow. We will get through this. I promise, I promise."
Astre's eyes were dull as he struggled. They lingered in their hideaway for several minutes until his breathing finally slowed enough that they felt it was safe to move again.
Quietly, quickly, they had to flee. She could camp in the forest, she could definitely help them survive the wilderness as she tracked down civilization. She could do that. She could not fight off an entire cult with only a few more bullets left.
They ran—
Ran—
Ran—
Ran—
There was a yelp. Cold, unadulterated terror shot through Eleanor as she turned around to find that a man had grabbed Ciel.
Astre made a move to grab his brother as Eleanor leapt up at the attacker with what strength she had. She flung herself at him, grabbing at his head and digging her fingers into his eyes. He screamed in pain, throwing Ciel to the ground as she mercilessly gouged his eyes out.
The man grabbed at her, ripping the back of her hair and yanking Eleanor off him. He threw Eleanor to the floor, dazing Eleanor for a moment until she rolled out of the way to avoid his stomps. She scrambled, dashing to her teddy bear and pulling out her knife. The man wildly fumbled around, shouting. Knife in hand, she turned back around and sprinted to him. she leapt and slashed at his throat, the scarlet liquid shooting out in a geyser as she had sliced his artery open.
Blood rained upon them.
She turned back to the boys, and to her horror, they were surrounded.
"Elly, run!" shouted Astre as a man grabbed him.
No.
She stood her ground, her hands slicked from the coated blood.
"Look at the carnage you created, you stupid fucking whore," snarled one of them cultists.
"We've got no choice now. No choice!"
"Our fun's over before it really began because of you!"
They stepped in further, she gripped at her knife then moved.
Knees, tendons, ankles. Flesh open and available, she slashed at whatever she could with the speed she had honed for the past decade. Arteries if she could, but the most important thing was to become enough of a threat they'd leave the boys alone.
One—two—ten dead—
Let them get away, she begged as a man picked Eleanor up from behind by the calf. She ripped her blade across his gut as he hung Eleanor upside down. His intestines spilled out onto the floor, and he reflexively dropped her.
Another grabbed her, and she sliced his arm open.
Another grabbed her and she blinded him.
Another caught her knife.
A third grabbed her.
A fourth grabbed her.
They pinned Eleanor down, bashing her head into the floor as they broke her arms.
One hit to her head and her world spun in pain.
Two hits and she was out.
Eleanor had failed.
(✹)
Eleanor was surprised to wake up still alive in the same body. She couldn't move a single limb, not even twitch her fingers. Pain radiated from every inch of her body as the stench of blood and human guts clung to me. From the floor, she could feel she was on cold, wet stone. Judging the lack of light, she could surmise she was in a dungeon.
There was only intense throbbing sharp pain, a symphony of agony to keep Eleanor company in that dark.
What happened to them? Ciel and Astre? Are they okay? Did they escape? Please… please tell me they escaped.
She begged.
Begged and pleaded to whatever higher power there was.
She did not care if she died. She did not care if this was her final life.
Just please…
Please let them get away.
Please let me have saved them.
(✹)
Time was a blur.
She was in pain, and she slipped in and out of a hazy state. She couldn't even assess the damage done to her because she couldn't concentrate. Her throat was dried up; her mouth a desert. Pain throbbed at every part of her body. The only relief she could feel was from how cold the stone floor was. She was fortunate(?) that they had dumped her in a puddle, or there was some kind of leak. She had to turn her head on occasion to lick the water off the dungeon floor. It tasted foul but was the only thing she could drink or eat in that bitterly cold dungeon.
She would have shivered if she didn't hurt so much.
Each breath pierced her painfully, but even that wasn't enough to stop her mind from becoming fuzzier than a cloud of cotton balls.
The sound of a door creaking open. Light flooded into the room, the sudden intrusion sharp and painful for her vision. She hadn't realized her vision was blurry until the light came on and she saw how much trouble she had focusing on what she could see.
"Elly."
That soft voice, laced with such bittersweet relief. She struggled to turn her head to the source.
Astre?
Astre and Ciel were identical in every physical way. Only their personalities diverged, and the boys always spoke her name differently. Ciel was confident: he said it in one rush of a breath, like a blacksmith taking a hammer to a sword. Astre was gentle: he spoke her name with the same softness he would use to hold a flower.
She could hear metal being bent, the grating sound difficult on her migraine. But it was worth it since she next got to see Astre's face. He—
What happened?
Ashened, covered in blood, and yet smiling with such bitter sweetness she could not help but croak out, "Are y-you 'kay?"
"I am fine," he said, and she realized—
His eyes—
He had—
He had the contract.
There, illuminated in the dark, was a pentagram ritual circle in his right eye.
Astre… was Ciel in the anime.
Then—
Tears burned her eyes. "What happened?"
He placed a finger over her lips. "Save your strength. Can you tend to her?"
"Yes, my lord."
That voice.
Sebastian.
I failed. I failed. I failed. I'm so—I'm so—I'm so sorry—
"S-orry," she whispered as the first onslaught of tears fell out.
The smile Astre gave her shattered her heart into a million little pieces.
(✹)
It was difficult to stand, but somehow Eleanor found the strength to do so. Seeing Sebastian really hit home that she…
She…
Astre had surrendered his soul to form a contract with the demon, Sebastian. Despite all of her efforts, she hadn't been able to save the twins.
She failed.
After Sebastian had tended to her, the three of them left the mansion. It was in a blaze behind them. She wasn't sure if the fire was because of them, or if one of the cultists had started it to cover their tracks.
The snow crunched underneath them.
It had no right to look so pristine… so innocent.
Untouched.
Astre and Eleanor stood side by side as they watched the mansion burn. Sebastian had left to fetch a carriage, leaving the children completely alone.
"Ciel," he said. "From today on… I am Ciel."
Eleanor closed her eyes, thinking back to the loving boy they were leaving behind. The house was being burned to the ground, and with it, the innocence of her friends and the life of one of them. Astre was now Ciel, and Ciel was now dead.
Her skin felt colder than that dungeon floor could have been, the heavy rock in her heart sinking it down to the pit of her guts. Failure, shame, and grief crept upon Eleanor without remorse.
"Okay," she said, reaching forward and taking his hand. He kindly let Eleanor hold onto it, to that only warmth she could feel despite the roaring blaze of the fire behind them.
(✹)
The carriage ride was quiet aside from the creatures of the night chirping outside their window. Sebastian had done an excellent job finding a good carriage, hooking up the horses, and driving it, but Eleanor found that she could not appreciate how helpful the demon was.
Everything felt… distant.
Numb.
"You needn't worry about them. I will find them, and I will have our revenge," he said, staring coldly out the window.
"It's not them I worry about," Eleanor muttered, closing her eyes and resting on the window. "My death does not scare me."
He did not respond right away. Another bump on the road made Eleanor bump her head on the window which set a shot of pain through her. She winced, quivering from the aches and bumps. Sebastian had done a superb job applying trauma aid to her. Her dominant right arm was in a tight sling to prevent further damage to the broken bones, and tender muscles from having been violently dislocated. Her left arm had been remarkably spared the worst of the horrors, only needing bandages and ointment to treat the gashes. Her legs were battered, covered in bruises and cuts, but the worst part of Eleanor was the trauma to her abdomen and chest.
Broken ribs, heavy bruising, and some throbbing pain that wouldn't go away. The skin hadn't darkened enough for Eleanor to be worried about internal bleeding—she would have been dead already if it was organ failure—but there was enough damage she suspected she'd be in for a rough recovery. Especially given the lack of medical knowledge in the time period.
No pain killers either.
Well. No safe-ish pain killers.
Another bump and she let out a hiss of her pain from her head hitting the window a second time. Ast—Ciel said, "You can rest on me."
Eleanor hesitated for a moment, but the pain wore her down. She shifted closer to her friend, closed her eyes, and rested her head on his shoulder. He was warm, at least, and she took comfort in his presence. She hadn't realized she had been so tense until she relaxed into him.
She couldn't save him. She didn't know the details of what happened after she lost consciousness, but judging from other injuries she had, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
Did he have to watch it all?
She hoped not. At least she was unconscious during the worst of it, so her nightmares would be hazy and easier to confront whenever the shock wore off. If he had to bear witness to every violation done onto her unconscious body, as well as the horrific murder of his twin brother… and if he in turn was still violated—
Eleanor was trembling, guilt and shame clawing at her. She whispered, "Ciel—"
"Don't say it."
"Ciel—"
"Don't."
She did not continue.
I'm sorry.
(✹)
She was brought to her family home, covered in dried blood, bandages, and the stench of an infection. Ciel, by appearances, looked better off, but his bruises were hidden well beneath his clothes and the scars on his mind could not be seen.
They were greeted by alarmed servants who rushed inside. To Eleanor's surprise, it was her mother, tears in her eyes, that rushed out to grab at them both. Francis stopped short of grabbing Eleanor when she saw the battered state her daughter had become.
Eleanor had never seen her mother look so… vulnerable.
Small.
The normally strict and overbearing woman crumpled at the sight of her daughter. She was horrified.
Eleanor felt shame wash over her, her cheeks burning. She shifted her weight uneasily, her knees weak and wobbly.
"Eleanor?" Francis whispered. "My little Eleanor?"
"Mother," she croaked.
Tears fell from Francis's eyes and she rushed forward to gently—oh so gently—embrace her daughter. Eleanor couldn't remember the last time her mother had hugged her; she found it overwhelming and strange.
Francis held Eleanor like a cherished, wilting flower.
"Your daughter fought with great courage," said Ciel quietly. "She took out many of them. We would not be here if not for her."
His praise, well-intended, did nothing to soothe the anger Francis felt as she held Eleanor close.
"Who?" demanded Francis, who quivered with unbridled rage.
"I don't know yet," said Ciel. "But I will find out."
"Come inside. You should be looked at, too."
"I have a family doctor I'd prefer to see privately," said Ciel. "Please let me know how Eleanor recovers."
And he left with that strange man that Francis forgot to ask about.
(✹)
Eleanor's next couple of weeks were a blur. She had a terrible infection that left her in a fever daze. The pain of healing bones was uncomfortable, itchy, but the worst of the pain came from muscle spasms and migraines. Sebastian had, unsurprisingly, correctly set her bones so nothing had to be re-broken for it to heal. Her dominant arm was in a cast, and most of her body was covered in bandages for a month while the worst of it healed.
Her…
She…
Her loss of innocence was a delicate topic that turned her family's face pale with rage if even mentioned. The servants were tight-lipped and loyal, so no one outside the family knew the extent of her violations.
There was talk about what to do. Francis and Alexis had gone to the Phantomhive manor in turns to discuss more about what happened. Eleanor didn't know the details, but she gathered that Ciel admitted to them what he could.
She knew her father galloped off to investigate the manor they were imprisoned at, but upon his return he was furious and dejected. Not only had it been burnt to ash, but no one nearby could tell him anything about it. Either because they genuinely didn't know, or they were too terrified to come forward.
The long term damage from such the atrocities were… hard to swallow. Eleanor was lucky that none of her organs had ruptured or been too severely damaged. She supposed that must have been anime luck or something. Whether she would be able to bear children due to the trauma would be another question entirely.
It seemed unlikely, but the doctors were reluctant to give an early ruling. Her aunt, Angelina, was especially heartbroken for her.
Eleanor didn't feel she has the luxury to mourn that. She hadn't lived long enough to consider having her own children, after all.
Maybe one day it would hurt her, but at the time it paled in comparison to the guilt that nibbled at her heart.
(✹)
March, 1886
Ciel Phantomhive, her friend, had finished rebuilding his manor and invited Eleanor over whenever she was ready. Her parents were against allowing Eleanor out without a proper guard anymore, and they were still searching for a suitable protector. It took some pleading on Eleanor's end, but her mother relented and decided to escort her. Francis was more than capable of protecting her.
"Ciel," greeted Eleanor upon arrival, a small smile on her face. He looked good. Better than when she last saw him, at least. She was relieved he was eating, and color had returned to him. She had written to him while she could, but his responses were vague at best, distant at worst.
Ciel nodded in return. "Lady Francis, Lady Eleanor."
Eleanor twitched at him calling her Lady Eleanor instead of Elly, but she supposed it made sense in front of her mother. Even if Francis had softened around Eleanor, Eleanor couldn't feel at ease being casual with her. Over a decade of strict reminders on posture, etiquette, and discipline had left a strong impression upon Eleanor.
"I'll let you two enjoy tea. I'll be patrolling the mansion," said Francis curtly.
"Thank you, Mother," said Eleanor.
Ciel offered her his arm, the picture perfect image of politeness and manners. He led her outside to the garden.
Eleanor was surprised her favorite spot had even been recreated.
There was already tea and scones waiting for them. Sebastian pulled back Eleanor's chair to allow her to sit down, and then bade the two of them goodbye so they could talk in private.
"How are your injuries?" Ciel calmly asked, his gaze focused on the teacup in hand.
"Annoying but bearable," she answered. "My family has been treating me like porcelain, which gets on my nerves."
"I can imagine."
"They're searching for a guard for me now. I feel offended."
A soft, derisive snort. It pleased her that he also found such a thing silly.
"Ciel?" she asked him.
"Yes?"
"Can I… can I still come over?"
He gently set the cup of tea down on the saucer, his only visible eye flickering up to assess her. She was reminded of times when he was invested in chess, that level of intense focus not found in normal children. He said, "I did not think you would want to."
"You're family," she said. "I would miss you."
"You are always welcome," he said. "I would not turn you away."
"Thank you."
Eleanor sipped her own tea, marveling at how lovely it tasted. She had come to appreciate the subtle nuances of tea since being born at Eleanor. Maybe it was an English thing. She said, "I'm sorry I couldn't be there for your coronation as Earl."
"It was unimportant, merely a formality."
"I'd like—I'd like to get you a congratulatory gift," she hesitantly said, uncertain how he would take it. The title was an honor, but it was given to him through terrible means. Eleanor could not change what has happened, she could only make new memories and try to make them happier.
Ciel glanced out at the gardens. "A gift, huh…"
"Would you dislike it?"
"No," he answered after a moment. "Do you have something in mind?"
"Clothes," she suggested after a moment. "There's an up and coming tailor by the name of Nina Thompkins. Some of her designs struck me as something you'd like."
"That's acceptable. Thank you."
"I'll send her to the manor shortly, then," she said. "Ah… speaking of which, have you replaced any of the servants or is your… butler managing on his own?"
"Sebastian is capable of managing the house until the servants can be replaced," murmured Ciel. "It is a delicate process. I cannot rush finding good aid."
"Of course not."
Ciel tapped his finger on the table. "I will be unveiling a new business in a couple of weeks. Would you care to attend?"
Eleanor blinked in brief surprise before she smiled softly. "Of course, my friend."
The two childhood friends chatted amicably for another couple of hours before Francis decided it was time to head home. Eleanor placed an affectionate kiss on Ciel's cheek, as a gesture of warmth and comfort, before she departed.
Ciel did not smile. Eleanor wondered if he ever truly would. But as they left, she thought that he was a touch happier.
Eleanor promised herself she would do what she could to help her friend.
(✹)
Later that evening, Eleanor was in her room, carefully stretching. She had a lot more physical therapy ahead of her before she would be capable of running, let alone holding a sword. She did not want to miss out on any of it.
Edward had popped by. The blond heir had been visiting her frequently since the incident. Sometimes he would talk to her, and sometimes he would sit in silence beside her.
He always seemed to know when she had nightmares. He'd be at her side in an instant, wiping away the sweat and holding her until her trembling stopped.
Eleanor found that most days she drifted by with a distant numbness. She was going through the motions, not really registering what was going on around her. She couldn't even remember what she had to eat only hours before.
The only things that instantly brought her out of that cold detachment was the comfort she felt being near Astre, and the onslaught of raw emotions she was hammered by whenever reminded of what happened to her.
"Why even return to him?" muttered Edward. "It's his fault—"
Eleanor whirled around to kick him in the shins, furious. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare."
"What—"
"Don't you dare blame the victims," she hissed at him, her glare mutinous. "Is it my fault, brother? Is it my fault?"
"No—" he paled rapidly.
Tears burned at her eyes, the guilt and shame clawing fiercely upon her. From numb to burning up, her emotions slammed into her harder than a derailed freight train. "How could it possibly be his fault? The only ones to blame are the ones who did this to us. Do not ever share that horrible, wretched, pathetic opinion of yours with me ever again. If you dare to blame h-him you are blaming m-me. And I w-w-will fight you for my honor."
She hiccuped, a choking sob escaping her as memories dug inside her head. The humiliation. The contempt. The degradation. Everything sour and bitter chomped upon her heart, her regret a terrible force to be reckoned with.
Edward's green eyes were glossy with unshed. "I… I am sorry. I am so sorry—"
Eleanor buried her face in her hands, collapsing under the weight. She wanted to stop. She wished so desperately she hadn't caved so easily, but nothing would assuage her.
She wept in her brother's arms, wishing with every fiber of her being that she had been strong enough.
Forgive me.
(✹)
April, 1886
The new company, as it turned out, was Funtom toys. Ciel unveiled a new storefront that showcased an assortment of toys that Eleanor knew would be a smashing success.
Eleanor had been dressed up as nicely as she could. She wore a shawl that was used to cover her cast, and Ciel escorted her on her left arm so she would not need to pull her right arm out of its sling. Her friend was considerate enough to move slowly so she would not need to overwork herself to keep pace with him.
The unveiling went off without a hitch. Ciel even smiled a few times, and at least one of them was genuine.
Her whole family had shown up to escort her; Francis, Alexis, and Edward hovered around the two children like mother hens.
Ciel took Eleanor out to lunch afterward, and Eleanor purchased Ciel a cane as a congratulatory gift.
It was a pleasant occasion all around.
(✹)
May, 1886
Ciel sent a letter to Eleanor letting her know that he would be leaving that month for Germany. Eleanor promptly visited the Phantomhive house, sneaking out and hiring a public carriage in order to do so.
Her family had been increasingly clingy.
Not that she could blame them, but still… She wasn't about to let them stop her from visiting her friend.
Sebastian greeted her courteously upon arrival. "What a pleasant surprise, Lady Eleanor."
"I wanted to see Ciel off," Eleanor explained, carefully stepping down from the carriage. "Are you well, Sebastian?"
Do demons even get sick?
"I am always well," Sebastian politely returned. "Thank you for asking. If you would follow me, I will inform the young master and prepare some tea for you."
"Thank you kindly."
"It is my honor to serve, my lady."
Sebastian led Eleanor to the back gardens, likely recalling a time when Eleanor mentioned she preferred to have tea outside. The demon was clever like that, always remembering even the smallest of details.
Eleanor wondered if all demons were like that, or if Sebastian was an exception.
If a demon devoured me… would that break the cycle?
Eleanor comfortably sat down on a stone bench, glancing out at the garden. It appeared Ciel had planted a lot more lavenders that year, because all she could see was a sea of purple.
"Forgive me for not being prepared," said Ciel, stepping out into the garden.
"I came unannounced, if anyone should say sorry it should be me," she said with a brief smile.
Ciel inclined his head. "And alone, I noticed."
"Yes. Everyone was busy, and I wanted to see you before you left."
"Even though it's so late?" he asked, a quiver of amusement in his tone. He took a seat on the bench next to her.
Eleanor had the decency to blush. She had rushed out as soon as she received his letter, and consequently it was very late into the evening. The sun had already dipped below the horizon. The only light in the garden was the moonlight, and the lights from the patio. She tried to defend her actions by saying, "I was worried you'd leave in the morning."
"That was the original plan," he said. "But I suspect I'll need to escort you home first."
"Aha… sorry."
Ciel shook his head. "You never need to apologize to me, Eleanor."
"Elly."
Ciel glanced away. "I do not—"
"Elly," Eleanor repeated. "Please don't… don't distance yourself from me. We're family."
Ciel did not respond for a long time. Even when Sebastian came to deliver a tray of tea and biscuits, he did not say a word. The moon climbed higher and higher, and the two friends sat in silence.
She knew Astre—Ciel—well enough to tell he wanted to say something to her.
She had to be patient.
For him, she would be.
"Do you blame me?" he asked her, staring up at the moon that shined above them. "If it wasn't for me—"
"No," she answered honestly. She placed a hand on top of his own. He flinched subtly at her contact, but he did not pull away. She asked, "May I hug you?"
He looked back at her, face unreadable in the moonlight. "If you must."
She pulled him into a warm hug, gently patting the back of his head. "I do not blame you, and I don't think he would either. I only blame the ones who did this to us."
"You… You could have escaped."
"You would have suffered."
"That doesn't—"
"It matters to me," she said softly. "I will take a hellish night and the scars that come from it, if it means I could save someone I care for a lifetime of hell. I could not leave you. If I did, I was afraid you wouldn't—you wouldn't come back. You are my family."
He closed his eyes.
"Can you always promise that?"
She smiled. "Yes. Always and always."
"Thank you… Elly."
(✹)
A while ago I re-watched the anime for ~nostalgia~ and decided to look up some stuff. Found out about the twins and that the manga was apparently still ongoing. Wrote this while falling down that fandom rabbit hole.
Story is manga-compliant.
Addressing the warnings for the rest of the story:
This story isn't for fluff and warmth. This is about one person focused on revenge, and another person focused on surviving.
Trigger warnings for the entire story: Murder, rape, human trafficking, drugs, m/p/s abuse, pedophilia, torture, incest.
Updates / Chapter breakdown
I will do one chapter per arc - so the chapters will be long but will cover each arc. If all goes according to plan, this story will be thirteen chapters long.
Story is technically ongoing, so if what I have planned for the ending is literally not canonically possible... *shrugs* AU'd then?
Reviews are love!
