(Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji does not belong to me, sadly. Yana Toboso owns it. *sobs*. Anyway, this is the final part to my threeshot series. This chapter gets pretty heavy, even for me, be warned. Please enjoy, and don't forget to review! Thanks! Love ooo)
London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down,
Falling down.
London Bridge is falling down,
My fair lady.
As a child, I remember playing this game. Lizzy and I would run under the arms of my mother and Aunt Angelina, and they would sing. It was fun, a light childish amusement. Nowadays, it reminds me of darker times.
It wasn't London Bridge falling down, it was the rafters of my home cascading, wrapping the corpses of my parents on flame and the charred pieces of the mansion falling to the cold ground.
If you really thought about it, or did a bit of research, you would find a rather dark meaning to the song. That it was about child sacrifice.
Right, now here's the story. There was a legend that if there was no human sacrifice in the bridges foundation, then it would collapse. And that the spirit of the sacrifice was usually a child, whose spirit would be the 'watchman' of the bridge.
Funny, I never recalled my mother telling me that bedtime story.
I was never afraid of fire as a child. Even after that time…
The Phantomhive Manor, 4 years prior.
"Mummy, let me help you."
Rachel smiled.
"Ciel, don't worry. How about you just lick the spoon, here."
"No, mummy, I want to help you. Can I put the cookies in to bake?"
"All right, dear. But remember, it's a fire so try not to touch the red part."
"Pretty… AUGH!"
Ciel had been mesmerized by the flickering, malignant flame in the oven, reaching out to touch it. With his mother cooing over him, and his hand stinging, little Ciel learned a lesson. The lesson learned was that fire is damned hot. And if played with, can have some major consequences. Naturally, after some time, his hand stopped hurting, there were cookies, and he continued to help his mother in the kitchen, but being more careful. He didn't really realize exactly how destructive fire could be.
Until later. Much later.
Flame. Combustion. Fire. Blaze. Conflagration. Inferno.
Different words for the same thing.
Fire.
Combustion or burning, in which substances combine chemically with oxygen from the air and typically gives out bright light, heat and smoke.
That was the technical definition. I had remembered from the occasion when Sebastian had given me a lesson on chemistry. I decided to look up the word 'fire' in a dictionary. Why not? As with most academic things, the definition was cold, clinical, impersonal. An odd way to describe something so ravenous. I had ordered Sebastian to burn the page immediately. Watching that cold description burn in its own true self was oddly satisfying.
December 14th, 1885
"Mother? Father?"
Ciel ran through the mansion, looking for his parents. It was warm. Very warm.
"Where are you?"
He had had an odd nightmare. Lots of dark figures had swirled and lunged for him, with each one getting closer and closer and closer until it snatched him up and-
Ciel had woken up, with beads of sweat forming on his brow. After that, he had decided to get up and go to his parents room, to cuddle with them. It was his birthday, and he was sure that they wouldn't mind, right?
Of course they didn't. They never minded before, did they? And they didn't mind tonight either, as they were dead.
Wait, what?
Ciel walked cautiously into the living room.
"Mother…? Father?"
A heart beat. Ba dump. Ba dump.
He saw the room engulfed in flames, which was the source of the oppressive heat. His mother and father…
Were dead. They sat on the loveseat together, as poised and proper as ever. But their eyes were blank and lifeless, with their skin being roasted as he stood there. A smell of burning flesh invaded his nose, and he fought the urge to vomit.
Instead, he cried. He sobbed in shock for a minute, before the sound of labored breathing registered in his ears. It was Tanaka. He wheezed as he spoke his warning:
"Ciel! Quickly, you must escape! Please young master, get away from-"
Clunk. A blunt object hit the old man mid-speech, and he went down, unconscious. There was a shadow of a man behind him, and Ciel was frightened out of his wits. Then, before he could scream, the shadow's arm lunged for him, and captured him. He felt an odd pinch, and the horror and blood of the night washed away on a hazy shore.
?
When little Ciel awoke, his body was sore, and cold. Struggling to his feet, he looked about, and the world was alien to him. There were tall figures leading ominous chants over… devilish looking figures. There were also other little boys huddled in a group around a cage. Wait. He was in one was well. Ciel rushed to the wall of the cramped cell, and shook the bars, desperately. One of the hooded figure turned to him with a hideous grin, and walked towards his miniature prison. Ciel cried out in desperation.
"HELP! Somebody! Help me!"
No one came to help.
How long had it been? A fortnight? A week? A year?
Who cared?
The torture would just drag on and on and on…
Where was he? WHO was he? Everything was murky now.
Ciel tried in vain to move, but pure agony swelled in his spine, searing his minute form with desolation. The brand. They had branded him some time ago (a day? an hour? when was it?) and it still hurt. The fire and scent of sizzling, burning flesh (his own) when they pressed the scalding metal on him reminded him of 'that day'. The pain was too much. He passed out, and fell into a dreamless reverie.
He was jolted awake by the sensation of his lithe arm being yanked out of the cage. Was it over? Did he serve his punishment?
He was slammed upon a cold, gritty slab of stone. His head caught on a jagged piece and tore, then bled. It was no matter. The old blood mixed with the new, creating a warm, sticky feeling. Two heavy-set men held his limp arms to the side of the stone, to prevent him from moving. By this point, he was so weak, it was unnecessary.
There were groups of the hooded figures around him. They were men and women, wearing masks, and were in a jovial mood, smiling. Next, a chubby man waddled forward with an ornate, gleaming knife, and they hushed.
"Now," he intoned, "The sacrifice! We will summon - a demon of the Pit!"
Wild cheering abounded from the cultists. They began to hiss out their requests.
"Make me beautiful!" one female screeched.
"I want to live forever!" a man yelled.
The ranting of the frenzied people grew to a fervour surpassing their previous noise. Ciel's unease and fear grew swifter every moment. The 'leader' raised the knife menacingly over Ciel, and the chanting grew heavier than ever. Ciel screamed as the knife went down, a long, long scream.
"-! Accept our sacrifice! Take this child's soul! WE summon you!"
He couldn't stop screaming. This pain was the most unbearable thing that he had experienced. Pain, pain, pain. He wanted to die. There was nothing left for him. But.
Revenge. Anger. Fury. How DARE this happen to him. A murderous rage overtook the pain and swelled in Ciel. That was when he saw it.
It was shocking. Black feathers everywhere, a swirling aura of… ? It felt horrible, watching it. All he could recognize was the black, shining boots that it wore, and the sick, almost feline grin on its face.
"You called?"
That was when I had first met Sebastian. Or, whatever his name was then. I was ready to die, I had nothing to lose. All those filthy… they had tried to get him to give them favors, but he was only interested in me. He offered me a deal. You know all the terms, I won't bore you with that.
The moment was so surreal. Time had stopped (or it seemed so) and it was so odd. I took his hand and sealed the contract. His first order was simple: Destroy them all.
As with all of the orders I give him, he gave that (highly irritating) smirk of his, and said those words for the first time:
"Yes, my lord."
After Sebastian rescues Ciel from the sacrificial altar, they head to the Royal London Hospital. Carrying Ciel inside, Sebastian looks around the hospital dismissively.
"This is the place you spoke of?"
"Yes", Ciel replied, "My Aunt Anne works somewhere here."
Angelina walked by them slowly, lost in thought. She sharply turned her head suddenly, doing an incredulous double take.
"Could this be… CIEL!"
She looks at Ciel, and cries. Her previous thoughts forgotten, she drops her papers and snatches Ciel from Sebastian's arms, sobbing incoherently. Ciel scowls slightly, unused to her warmth (obviously).
"How are you? what happened? Oh, my dear!", she snuffled, firing questions at him so quickly he could barely register them.
"Yes, yes, Aunty, I'm alright."
I lied to her. There was no way that I was 'alright'. If by alright she meant alive, then yes, surely. But I was never again that sniveling, pathetic little child. I am an adult. I have seen pain,and lived through it. I was reborn through death. I will have revenge, and frankly, I don't give a damn how I get it. Even if it means losing my soul.
That's sort of a redundant statement, really. My soul is already lost. My 'life' is over. I will never be married, or have a family. The Phantomhive name will die with me. I can accept that, but only if my name is not disgraced.
Sometimes, I have nightmares. I think of 'that day', and the fire and death of my parents, and wake up screaming. And Sebastian is ever there. Till the bitter end.
THE END
(A/N: Aight! This threeshot is finito, kaput, done, whatever! Kindly review, and continue to read my stories. Honestly, I wasn't sure how to end this series. Should I put in an epilogue to round it up properly? Please leave your thoughts about that in the comments. Sayonara! I have been watching too much Hetalia. Oh Spain… Is anyone actually reading this? If so, hiiii. Review. Favorite. I dunno. Review.)