May, 1886
She stared into the mirror.
Her injuries were healing. The bruises on her body were gone, and she could finally take her arm out of its sling.
Her fingers trailed over the brand that had been seared into her hip.
It wasn't the only blemish on her skin.
She had… scars.
Some were small enough that she knew they would fade with time.
Others were large and angry, and she doubted they would ever go away. Her fingers traced along some of them, feeling their raised edges. The largest was across her chest. It stretched from a little below her collar bone on the right down to underneath her rib cage on the left. She must have been unconscious when it happened, but she could imagine why it was there.
Shallow enough it had not meant to kill her; deep enough to rip apart her clothes. It had been intended to viciously expose her.
Her mind was blank and fuzzy between the time she had fallen unconscious and awoke in the dungeon. She did not know the exact steps and details of what occurred, but from the pattern of injuries she could draw her own conclusions.
She did not need to have personally witnessed the violations to feel their sweaty hands on her at night.
The scar over her chest would not go away any time soon. The scars on her arms and hands would fade in a few more years. The scars and burns on her inner thighs would likely stay with her forever.
Disgust welled within her as she stared at her body; at the injuries she had accrued. Whispers of revulsion and phantom hands grabbed at her.
She shuddered, covering her mouth as she nearly retched. She turned away from the mirror, repulsed from her reflection.
I hate this.
(✹)
Victorian dresses were long and covered most of her skin.
That was good.
She didn't want anyone to see—to see what was underneath.
She had previously worn bright colors—pinks, vibrant blues, spring greens—but those were the colors of innocent young girls. Of maidens who dreamed of pretty flowers, sweets, and their future spouses.
Eleanor could not stomach looking at those things anymore.
She threw them out of her closet onto the floor, tempted to tear them to shreds.
They'd suit her better then.
She refrained, however, because it would be wasteful.
She had died a beggar in one life, she was acutely aware of trying not to waste perfectly good things. Even if they made her feel gross, they were still fine dresses. One by one she tossed anything too—too—too innocent out.
There has to be something better suited for me in here, she thought.
There was a knock at her door.
"Come in," she said, not pausing in her rampage.
The door opened up, and her older brother stepped in.
Edward was a handsome young man, only five years older than Eleanor. He was tall, fit, had sunny blond hair and sharp green eyes. He had a poor habit of speaking without thought, and could be prickly.
He did care for Eleanor, but prior to the incident, that care had been to treat her more akin to a doll than an actual person. Something fragile, and who ought to simply look pretty and stand silently beside him. Eleanor did not begrudge him of that—it was the time period—but it did prevent her from seeking a friendship with him. She didn't think he would ever adjust that mindset.
After what happened in December, however, he became overly attentive to her needs. She was a wilting flower for him to care for.
It both infuriated and endeared her.
He wiped away her tears from the nightmares.
But she abhorred the fact that she even cried in the first place.
Edward stepped into her room, glancing down at the pile of clothes. "Something wrong, Eleanor?"
"These clothes—I want them gone," she said, tossing out more dresses.
"Do they not fit—?"
"They do not suit me anymore," she said sharply, feeling her tongue stumble over the admission. She had not meant to snap at him. She was not upset with him, she was upset with herself.
Repulsed.
Edward shifted his weight from one foot to another. He had not reacted to her tone, only staring at the growing pile of clothes. He was quiet for many seconds until he said, "I see. In that case, we should get you new clothes."
Eleanor startled, caught off guard by his response. She halted in throwing another dress to the ground, her gaze tentative and hopeful as she looked at her brother. "Are you—is that okay?"
"Of course. If you can find something to wear, we'll leave right away."
She hesitated, uncertain how to accept his generous offer. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, she whispered, "Thank you."
Edward's ears tinged red. As she did not know how to accept his help, he also did not know how to accept her gratitude. They were siblings, but there was a distance between them that could not be undone easily.
That he was trying to fix that, however, said a lot.
(✹)
Eleanor found a black dress. Although it was meant for mourning, it was the only thing she felt comfortable in.
"Do you know a good tailor?" Edward asked her. "Someone you'd prefer?"
"Nina Hopkins," answered Eleanor. It was the tailor she had found for Ciel, and Ciel told her he quite liked her.
"Okay. I've already called a carriage—father took the main one and the other needs fixing, so we'll have to use a public one."
"Okay."
(✹)
Nina Hopkins was a charming young woman with dark brown hair and eyes that drew you in. Her shop was located on a bustling street in London where she employed a dozen women to help her create her masterpieces. Upon entering the shop, Nina noticed Eleanor and Edward right away and exclaimed, "Oh! Do come in—come up to the loft."
The bottom part of the shop was for dresses already made, where the loft above was where Nina—or one of her workers if she was out—took orders. Eleanor was a little nervous coming into the shop, but she was relieved that it appeared only Nina was managing it that day.
"Ah! You are Lord Phantomhive's fiancée?" Nina exclaimed, eyes bright as Eleanor climbed the steps to the loft. "Lord Phantomhive told me you're the one that recommended me to him."
"Yes. I saw some of your designs at a banquet last year and thought they'd be perfect for him," said Eleanor. They had instantly reminded Eleanor of the style of clothes used in anime.
Nina's smile was warm. "Thank you. What can I get for you today?"
"Commission dresses for her," said Edward. He stood behind Eleanor. Distant enough to not make her feel crowded, close enough to easily reach her if need be.
"Oh? Have something in mind, madam?"
"Something darker… nothing… nothing you'd use for innocent maidens," she said softly. Edward stiffened at her description, but Nina didn't even pause.
"Mn! Yes, something mature? Your fiancé requested the same," she said with a smile, nodding along. "Mm-mm-mm. It's not often I get to design for both couples, and if you both have similar tastes—mmmm. I've already got all sorts of ideas swimming in my head."
"And…" Eleanor tensed, acutely aware of her brother behind her. "Have you heard of a tear-away skirt?"
"Heard of it? I invented it," Nina laughed.
"Eleanor," Edward began. Eleanor gave him an apprehensive look that made him abruptly shut his mouth.
"I know it's not what a," Eleanor's lips curled back in a sneer, "proper lady would wear, but I'd prefer it. I don't—I want to be hampered by a skirt if need be."
Edward bit his lip, a conflicted look over his face. After a moment of debilitation he relented, "I understand."
Nina, either oblivious or playing ignorant to the tension between the siblings, beamed. "I quite agree. They're pretty but awfully inconvenient at times. I have a couple dresses that might fit you now if you'd like to try them on."
"Yes, please."
"How many would you like made to order?"
"Fifty should be good to start with," said Edward.
"Fi—?" Eleanor's head whipped around, she stared at her brother in disbelief. Her stomach dropped. She didn't even have fifty to start with. She couldn't believe her traditionalist brother would spend that kind of money, let alone on outfits that he didn't like for her.
"You're getting a completely new wardrobe, aren't you?" he retorted. "You'll need a good variety. At least ten of those should be ball-ready. Can you do that?"
"Naturally," Nina chirped, eyes sparkling. "All of them with tear-away?"
"Yes," said Edward, greatly surprising Eleanor. He glanced at sister's shell-shocked face. "If that's what makes you most comfortable."
She was stunned. It took her a moment to recover, she gripped her dress tightly. Eleanor stammered out, "It is. Th-Thank you, Brother."
Again, his cheeks and ears became a shade closer to a tomato. He abruptly turned around, folding his arms over his chest. "Th-This much is nothing, Sister."
Nina tapped on her chin. "Mmm… You know, if you're wanting to prioritize mobility and comfort, I know a great shoe designer who's come up with some charming ideas."
"We'll visit them next, then," said Edward. "If you would please provide a name."
"Of course—"
(✹)
Eleanor was able to bring home two more dresses; one predominantly gray and another a rich peacock blue that reminded Eleanor of Ciel and Astre's eyes. The shoemaker was a kindly old man that picked out a sturdy pair for Eleanor, and promised to collaborate with Nina on what would work best with her designs.
Eleanor and Edward stopped for a quiet dinner before going home.
"Stay here, I'll fetch a carriage," said Edward after they had finished their meal and paid.
Eleanor nodded, glancing around the quiet street. It was evening time, most of the shops were starting to close down for the day. Her brother hurried away, frequently looking back over his shoulder to make sure she was still there and no one was approaching her.
It had been… a nicer day than what Eleanor expected.
She wondered if tomorrow would also be a nice day.
"... ng…"
Eleanor frowned. It was barely audible, but she could hear the faintest of whimpers. She listened hard, wondering what exactly she was hearing.
"... ng…"
There it is again. From the… right?
There was an alleyway on the right. That would make the most sense. Eleanor hesitated in approaching the sound. She debilitated on waiting for Edward to return, but what if it was a child in need? Time could have been of the essence.
Nervous, she approached the alleyway and peered inside.
It was dark, wet, and reeked. It was hard to see much of anything, but then she spotted subtle movement.
A boy?
He was skinny, covered in rags, and had a sheen line of sweat over his skin. His messy white hair caught her attention in the darky alleyway. He could not have been older than sixteen, maybe seventeen, if she accounted for his obvious malnourishment. He was breathing heavily, letting out the faintest of whimpers every so often.
Eleanor slowly approached the boy. "Child?"
Despite his fever and glassy golden eyes he flinched away from her, tugging at his clothes to hide—
Scales?
Upon closer inspection, she could see scales on spots of skin. He struggled to cover them, cringing when she saw them.
The way he covered them reminded her of that very morning.
Like how she hid her scars.
Ashamed, are you?
Eleanor did not think his scales were ugly. Different, certainly, but they had a kind of beauty to them when the light hit them just right. Eleanor squatted beside the boy, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing at the sweat on his brow.
She had already guessed he had a fever from the hazy look in his eyes, but upon touching him, she confirmed he was burning up.
Even in that state, he struggled to hide his "blemishes" from her.
You hate them, don't you?
Her hands were gentle as she wiped away his sweat.
I hate mine, too.
She smiled very briefly at the boy.
We're not so different, aren't we?
Her gaze trailed down. His clothes were torn apart, dirty, and had the stench of dried blood and infection.
Were you hurt, too?
"Eleanor!" Edward sharply addressed her. "Get away from that thing."
Eleanor did not move right away. "He's hurt."
Edward sighed as he approached her. "Then call a constable to take him away."
The boy shivered.
"I don't think he wants that," Eleanor murmured. "Can we take him back with us?"
"Wh—Are you serious?" Edward stumbled, flushed from being caught off guard by her question.
"Please," she whispered, and at that he stilled.
She had not said please for anything other than visiting Ciel. Edward knew the last time they still told her no, she snuck out to visit him anyway. His brow creased as he glared at the boy. With great reluctance, he muttered, "Fine. We can have our family doctor tend to him."
"Thank you," she said.
"I'll only spoil you for today," he warned her. "Don't push your luck."
"Yes, Brother. Thank you."
Those last two little words made his lips twitch and ears rosey. "... Whatever."
(✹)
The boy had been beaten and cut up. His fever was from infections. The doctor had to apply some kind of heavy ointment that smelled metallic and made the boy with scales whimper upon application.
Eleanor sat beside him in the guest room, quietly watching as the doctor tended to him.
To the doctor's credit, he did not even flinch upon seeing the scales, although the boy valiantly tried to hide them again.
Once the boy was bandaged and spoon fed foul-smelling medicine, the doctor left.
Eleanor remained, silently observing the exhausted boy who slipped in and out of sleep.
That was how Francis found her when she returned home that night. A strange boy with scales in their guest bed, and her only daughter sitting patiently at his side. Francis stared at the odd scene for several seconds until she pulled up her own chair and sat beside Eleanor.
Francis's voice was a low murmur, "Edward said you went shopping today?"
"Yes."
"And you… found this boy?"
"I did," she said, her gaze softening as she stared at him. "He hates them, too."
"What?"
Eleanor shook her head.
"... mn…"
The white haired boy stirred, blinking groggily. His brow furrowed as he looked around. He spotted Eleanor and Francis, his frown deepening in clear confusion.
Eleanor nodded in greeting at the boy. "Hello. This is the Midford manor. Do you remember being brought here?"
The boy hesitated, then nodded.
"Good." Eleanor paused. "Do you have a job?"
He shook his head no.
"Do you want one?"
A small nod
Eleanor turned to her mother, "I'll take him as my escort."
Francis snapped her head around to stare in surprise at her daughter, "Eleanor! A moment outside."
"As you wish, Mother."
The two ladies stepped outside, and the moment the door shut behind them, Francis whirled on her daughter. "What are you thinking? We cannot have a weak boy protecting you."
Protecting—
She knew, she knew, her mother had not meant to hurt her. She knew her family did not want to harm her, and only wanted to keep her safe and protected. She understood that very plainly, but somehow that desire cut deeper than a knife.
Her mother did not wield a weapon, yet her words dug into her, ripping her apart.
Eleanor stiffened, her hands curled into fists. Her heart thumped in her chest, a kind of ache that did not relent. She tried to stay calm, to be understanding, but in that moment she found her patience had been snapped like a taut thread. She coldly argued, "I don't need someone who is stronger than me. I will become strong on my own. What I need—what I want—is someone I feel comfortable with. You want me to have an escort? This is the one I want."
"He cannot protect you," Francis hissed. "He looks like one strong wind will blow him away."
"If you are truly concerned for my safety then make me strong," Eleanor sharply rebuked, her eyes burning as her scars throbbed. "Make me strong enough to not let that ever happen again. Don't make me reliant. Don't make me dependent. Give me the strength, the power, the ability to stand up and fight for myself and those I love. Please, Mother, please. I—I—"
Her throat tightened, her bottom lip trembling as she struggled to say what she needed to. Everything was dizzying and suffocating; too much and too little at once. In between blinks as she fought back her tears, she was home and then she was back in that dungeon, back to laying on that cold, wet, stony floor and praying that her sacrifice had been enough.
Give me the strength to survive what has happened to me. Please.
She wanted to say it—wanted to convey it—but she couldn't. Invisible hands gripped her tongue, forced her to swallow back those words.
Francis's entire demeanor softened. "Oh… Oh, Eleanor..."
"Please," she quietly pleaded. "P-Please."
Francis closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. She did not speak for over a minute, and when she did, her voice cracked from the raw emotion. "You—You are right. I'm doing you a disservice. I—I—I am sorry. Eleanor, it is hard—"
"I kn-know," she said, because she did. She wished she could place Ast—Ciel—in a safe little house far away from the dark and cruel world. She wished she could shoo the demon away and ease his pain.
But she couldn't, and oh it hurt.
Oh, God, did it hurt. Not only could she not protect him, but what she had gone through was pointless. Her sacrifice was meaningless.
She failed.
Now she had to pay the price, and oh, did she loathe it.
She hated seeing the once sweet boy turn hard. She hated seeing a demon nipping at his feet, eager to pounce upon his corpse. She hated…
She hated how pathetic she felt; how the servants looked at her pity; how her family tip-toed around her; the nightmares; the way her scars would ache; how sometimes she felt hands on her when no one was around.
It was terrifying, enraging, and suffocating. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs until all her pain emptied out of her.
She wanted to hurt the ones who hurt her even more.
Most importantly of all—
She just…
She just wanted to live without being afraid. Without the pain, without the anger…
She just wanted to live.
In order to do that she needed to be strong, she needed—she needed—
Francis moved closer to Eleanor, reaching out a hand, but Eleanor flinched and stepped back. Francis closed her hand into a fist, a pained expression flickering over her face as she lowered her hand. "We will resume your training in earnest tomorrow afternoon. I hope you are prepared."
"Yes," she said.
Francis swallowed. "If the boy accepts the position… you may have him as your escort."
"Thank you, Mother."
(✹)
Eleanor visited the boy again after she re-collected herself. He was asleep, and she took a seat by his bedside.
She didn't want to go to bed anyway. She wasn't ready for the dreams again. It was late into the night, and most of the house had gone quiet. She sat in the dark, the only light from the moon. She stared out the window, listless as her thoughts wandered.
I couldn't prevent what happened to Astre and Ciel, she thought.
She still wasn't even sure if she was in the manga version of the world or anime.
She closed her eyes.
What were the differences…?
In the anime, the main antagonist was Queen Victoria herself and a rogue angel who had gone insane with the idea of "cleansing" humanity or something along those lines. The first diversion from the manga was the… the…
Eleanor tapped on the arm of the chair.
The hellhound arc. It introduced a hellhound into the story that would follow Sebastian and Ciel around. There was no such creature in the manga.
Therefore—
If Ciel brought home a hellhound before the Indian prince, then Eleanor knew she was in the anime version. If there was no hellhound when the Indian prince arrived, then Eleanor knew she was in the manga version.
She couldn't think of any other ways to differentiate the two prior. She wasn't as heavily invested in the story as her friends were, only watching the anime with them and reading certain scenes from the manga that they showed to her. She barely even remembered the first season, only the last half of it because of how bizarre it had become. She remembered the second season better than the first because one of her friends was obsessed with Alois.
What could she do about Astre—er—Ciel and Sebastian?
Ciel had made a contract with Sebastian. In exchange for Sebastian helping Ciel exact revenge upon the group of people that had murdered his family, kidnapped, and tortured him and Eleanor, he had sold his soul to Sebastian. Upon completing his revenge, Sebastian would devour Ciel's soul.
Despite how much the fandom loved Sebastian for his good-looks and quirky nature, the fact of the matter was he was literally a soul-eating demon preying upon the desperate. He was an antagonist to Ciel.
She didn't know much about Sebastian aside from that. Eleanor did not know what made Ciel's soul so "tasty" to Sebastian that he'd be willing to enter a subservient contract with Ciel in order to eat it.
She wondered if her soul would also catch his interest? He hadn't shown any inclination toward it, but she had to admit he was supposedly a very good actor and manipulator. She had no way of trusting what he said at face value.
He wasn't human. He did not empathize with humans.
He would murder Ciel at the end of their journey if Eleanor did not somehow sever their contract.
She had already failed the twins once.
Her grip tightened on the arms of the chair.
She would not fail them again.
"Mng…"
The boy stirred, shivering. Eleanor stood up, reaching across the bed to touch his forehead.
A fever again, she thought.
She rolled up her sleeves and quietly left the room to fetch a basin of water.
Tending to him was a lot more appealing than sleeping anyway.
(✹)
Sunlight peeked through the window of the guest room. As Eleanor moved to change out the wet cloth over the boy's forehead, he stirred. His golden eyes opened up, and he turned his head to stare tiredly at her.
"Good morning," she said. "Do you feel better?"
He nodded slowly.
"Do you remember me offering you a job?"
Again, he nodded.
"It still stands," she said. "It would be as my escort—a butler, if you will. Do you still want it?"
He lowered his gaze.
"You can say no. I won't force you, nor will I ask for repayment."
"I want to be here," he whispered. "I've nowhere else to go."
"Okay. Do you have a name?"
He shifted around in bed. "... Snake."
"Snake," she repeated, committing it to memory. "Let's get along well, Snake."
He nodded mutely.
(✹)
Eleanor instructed the servants to send breakfast to Snake. She ran into her mother on her way back to her room to freshen up, and confirmed with her that Snake had accepted the job position. Francis's expression was tight, but the woman nodded and said she'd send Edward to evaluate him later that morning.
Eleanor barely had time to change her clothes when Edward knocked at her door. She let him in, and he stormed inside. He scowled, "You chose that as your escort?"
"His name is Snake," Eleanor said.
Edward scowled. "He can barely speak, and his handwriting is atrocious."
"He speaks fine, and handwriting can be fixed with time," Eleanor retorted.
"You don't even know his background."
"I don't need to," she said. "I feel comfortable with him."
"Why?" Edward muttered crossly. "He's—he's nobody."
Eleanor tiredly looked over at her older brother. "What does it take to be somebody?"
"An excellent bloodline for starters," he said.
"Yes. Because we're dogs put up for show," she sneered. "What's it matter to me anyway? I'm used goods—"
Edward paled. "Eleanor!"
Her stomach knotted, shame and disdain filling her. Immediately, she could feel her stomach acid crawling up her throat, threatening to spew out. "If we're judging by society's standards, a lady who has lost her chastity before marriage is no better than a begging tramp."
"That—you—you are not—"
"I am as much a somebody as he is," she said quietly.
Edward trembled, agonized over her words. "Eleanor… You… You are my precious little sister. You will always be somebody to me."
"I am your precious sister?" she asked him. "Am I a precious daughter as well?"
"Of course—"
"Then shouldn't he be a precious son to somebody else? He is somebody to someone, and shouldn't that be enough to treat him kindly?"
"You shame me," Edward whispered, lowering his gaze. "I apologize."
"I know you're only speaking this way out of concern," she said. "But I hope you will think more carefully with your words from here on out."
"I will… I promise."
(✹)
Ciel returned at the end of May. He sent a letter to Eleanor to let her know, and she told her family she would stay the weekend at his manor.
None protested. In truth, they were relieved because it meant Eleanor would take a break from the intense training she had thrown herself into. Francis had kept her word on helping her daughter become stronger, but Eleanor had taken that dedication to a different level. Every lesson was done with passion as if her very life was on the line.
For Eleanor, it was.
Snake, like Eleanor, had started his own training. To everyone's surprise, however, the white-haired boy was a quick learner. Some might have pursed their lips upon seeing his appearance—and learning of his background—but the servants of Midford were quick to put their prejudice aside upon seeing what a sponge he was for knowledge; and most importantly, how comfortable their young lady felt around him.
He was one of the few people who could touch her without making her flinch, and that meant a lot to the Midford family and their servants.
Whoever he was before didn't matter.
He was their lady's butler now.
The trip to the Phantomhive manor was uneventful. Snake sat opposite of Eleanor on the way down.
True to his name, Snake seemed to have a special connection with snakes. He had a habit of picking up random ones and keeping them in his room. Eleanor didn't mind, as long as they didn't bother the other servants. A few of them liked to visit Eleanor's room, and more than one night she woke up with snakes in her bed.
She figured it was probably just one of those anime things. Of course the scaly-boy named Snake was good with snakes and would have snakes constantly around him.
Upon arriving at the manor, Snake stepped out first to open the carriage door for her. Per etiquette, he helped her down.
Ciel and Sebastian were at the entrance of the Phantomhive manor, waiting for her.
Eleanor smiled upon seeing Ciel, and he smiled in return.
"Did you have fun in Germany?" she politely asked him.
"Fun?" he repeated in bemusement. "I suppose it was… a spectacle."
Eleanor giggled. "Sounds like you had an adventure."
Ciel chuckled. "Certainly that." His eyes flickered to Snake who stood behind Eleanor. "And this?
"This is my escort," she said, gesturing to Snake.
"Hmm." Ciel's eyes narrowed as he coolly assessed him.
Eleanor glanced at Snake as well. She wondered what Ciel would see in him. He was tall for a boy his age—almost as tall as Sebastian—but skinny. He'd need more time eating proper meals to compensate for his malnourishment. His butler attire fit him well, though. He dressed in a suit with a low vest and a lavender-colored ribbon. He had neatly combed his white hair, and his golden-yellow eyes were sharp.
Ciel finally said, "If you chose him, he must be competent, at least."
"He's a quick learner," Eleanor agreed.
Ciel held out his arm as an offer to escort. "How is your rehabilitation?"
"Progressing well," she said, accepting his arm. "I have resumed my training."
"So soon?" he asked. "You are not in any… pain?"
"Some," she admitted lightly. A lot, actually. "But I need to get stronger."
He glanced away. "I understand."
"And you? How are you feeling?"
"Fine," he answered, because that's all he would ever admit to. "I brought a servant back from Germany with me."
"Oh?"
"Would you care to meet him?"
"I would love to meet your new servant," Eleanor responded.
(✹)
The servant Ciel had brought home from Germany was a teenager with big turquoise eyes, a shaved head, and a tattoo of S-012 on the back of his neck. He wore a pair of loose pants with a white shirt and was exceptionally shy. He hid behind a curtain as soon as Eleanor and Ciel entered the room, giving Eleanor only a brief glimpse of his back as he fled.
He peeked out from behind the curtains a teeny-tiny bit.
"Eleanor, this is Finnian," said Ciel. "Finnian, this is my fiancée, Lady Eleanor Midford."
"Hello, Finnian," Eleanor kindly greeted.
Eleanor did not recall Finnian's background, but given his appearance and demeanor, she could only assume that Ciel had saved him from some kind of… testing facility? Was he a lab rat?
Poor thing.
Ciel said, "He's still adjusting to life in England."
"It must be a huge transition for him," she said.
"Probably. Would you care for dinner?"
"Yes, thank you."
(✹)
Edward and Eleanor met with Nina in the front room of the Midford manor. Snake was right behind them, becoming a constant shadow to Eleanor as she went about her day. The only time he left her side was when she was training with Francis, during which he would undergo his own tutoring.
Nina had some of her workers push in racks of clothes.
"Here you are," Nina exclaimed upon seeing Edward and Eleanor. "When Lord Phantomhive came by to pick his order, I couldn't resist telling him you'd stopped by. He actually recommended a lot of the colors. Downright insisting on some of them, haha."
Eleanor reached forward, gently gripping the fabric of one of the dresses.
Lavender. Plum. Jam. Iris. Heather. Violets. So many of them had a variety of shades of purple, partnered with black or gray. The most prominent shade was lavender, though.
Sweet boy, she thought, feeling a softness in her heart.
"Thank you," Eleanor whispered.
"Lord Phantomhive also prepared some special orders for you as well," she added. "Pants and shirts and other men's clothes."
"Pants?" Edward echoed in surprise as Eleanor turned around to look at Nina.
"Yes. Would you like to see them?"
For the first in a long time, Edward finally got to see Eleanor smile.
(✹)
Story is manga-compliant.
For those who are interested in watching the anime:
Black Butler is like Fullmetal Alchemist / Brotherhood, in the sense that the anime deviates from the canonical plot line but then years later they've animated the canonical scenes.
So the canonical order to watch Black Butler is:
Black Butler (season 1): Episodes 1 - 6
Black Butler (season 1): Episodes 13 - 15 (although they made some adjustments to the adaption of this arc)
Black Butler: Book of Circus (in its entirety ~ 10 episodes)
Black Butler: Book of Murder (2 episodes)
Black Butler: Book of the Atlantic (it's a movie)
The last three arcs haven't been adapted to animation at the time of posting this.
Everything after Black Butler season 1 episode 15 is completely AU and not considered canon (including the entire second season).
Also my warnings for this story are because of the show… so… if sensitive, maybe this isn't for you. And that's totally okay.
Question: Would you want an angel, reaper, or demon to serve you for life as a butler/maid?
Reviews are love!
