I don't own Black Butler. The only person in this story is Marianne and all those related to her.
This type of text is normal.
This is thoughts, dreams, and cinematic records.
This is demonic speech.
This is thoughts, dreams and and demonic speech.
[This is functions for the start and end of cinematic records.]
I apologise for this, but I felt it necessary to explain changes in text style.
Prologue
Butler, Summoned. Bride, A Survivor
The winter of 1887 was cold and brutal, the streets of London glistened with a thin sheet of ice over the cobblestones and the wind was bitter and stinging against the skin of the moonlit city. It was January, but the cold air was still holding strong over the capital city. Even in the darkest of nights, there was still life breathing through the time of slumber, when many a human had already drifted off to sleep. There were the patrons of the taverns and brothels, the night-workers and street-crawlers, and vagrants and vagabonds alike were dwelled in the dead of night, hidden from the lives of the day walkers. The drunken laughter from the pubs echoed loudly in the streets as the gas lamps flickered their yellow glow onto the frost and ice below. A man, arm slung over the shoulder of his friend, stepped out of his regular tavern hobbling, barely able to stand up without his friend's ever present support. His words were slurred barely distinguishable from the grunts and groans of the mill workers after a hard day's work, although there was a mention of heading to a brothel for a romp with 'a lady of the night'…
In one of the alleys, watching the drunkards stumble past, a lone figure watched from the shadows. Their small body wrapped up in a tattered brown coat, hems fraying and sleeves torn to practically shreds. With skin so pale, they moved like a spectre through the streets, wind tugging at their threadbare clothes and worn shoes. Under the shadow of their ratty brown cap, dark blue eyes, framed by long black eyelashes, glanced around to make sure no one was looking their way.
"So cold…" they whispered, blowing warm air onto their trembling hands. "Let's hope I can find somewhere warm for the night."
Tugging the coat closer to their body, they reached one hand up to the cap, brought the peak down over their eyes, and dashed off down the empty street, their shadow raced through the lights like a dancer behind them.
Soon they were wandering around the outskirts of London, dusting off their cap. This, in turn, revealed a mass of brown hair cut raggedly short, although as if the cut itself were a rushed job, and an inordinate amount of hair had been hacked away to allow the style to lift what had been a heavy burden if their unusual slouch was anything to go by. Their pale face was youthful, slightly angled at the cheekbones, and slender with a small nose. The wanderer in question, only seventeen, was quick to slap their hat back on before anyone spotted them walking down the dirt road.
"I should have stayed in London, there's plenty of places there to spend the night, but no, I had to choose to go out and find somewhere away from the hustle and bustle of the streets…" they said to themselves.
There are many who would question a person's sanity when they talk to themselves, but seeing as the traveller was alone, and thinking no one would be able to hear them, they deemed it sufficient enough to be able to voice their thoughts aloud without giving the appearance of a raving lunatic. Although they kept their motive to themselves.
It wasn't long before they finally found a place for the night; an abandoned building, crumbling around the edges with broken windows and piles of debris scattered around. A rotting smell tinged the air, making the wanderer wrinkle their nose and tug their coat collar up over their nose. There was a faint light flickering through the window panes, like someone was already inside, but they couldn't let that stop them. The first thing that needed to be done was find an open window, or at least one that didn't have any glass in it. They spotted one instantly, it stood high against the general structure of the warehouse, going up into the rafters of the roof and standing high over everything below. The height didn't make it easy to climb through, so it looked like they were going to have to basically use the debris as a ladder. It was disgusting, but it had to be done.
Shrugging their shoulders, the person climbed up, slipping more often than not, they never were much of a climber, but somehow they managed to reach the window. Jagged pieces of glass stuck out of the frame, but the gap seemed just big enough, so they inelegantly shimmied their way through the opening. There was a silent rip, one of the shards caught their coat, near the pocket and revealing a silver dagger, its handle ornate with red jewels, but was small, only slightly bigger than a typical cutlery knife, easily concealed in a coat pocket, or under the skirt and petticoat of a dress. The person hissed, irritated when they saw the tear steadily getting bigger and bigger.
"Damn!" they whispered, tugging the coat off the glass and swapping the dagger to the other pocket.
Once they were through, they found themselves on the wooden beams of the rafters. Crawling along the beam until they reached the support beam at the centre, they curled up against the wood, using their coat as a blanket, and prepared to get to sleep for the night.
But before they were able to close their eyes, voices were heard underneath, moving around below like rats scuttling around in the cellar. The person changed their position and looked down into the depths of the warehouse, eyes widening when they saw the black cloaked figures gathered around a raised platform; they were chanting a strange language, a tongue they had never heard before and struggled to wrap their mouth around. They then saw the colour that spilled over the top of the stone, a brilliant blood red. A scream threatened to fall from their lips, but they clamped their hands over their mouth to supress it…
What are those monsters doing?!
Ciel was curled up in a corner of his cage, watched with almost vacant eyes as a girl was dragged out of the door, kicking and screaming as it slammed shut and was locked behind her. On hesitant knees, he crawled across the dirty floor and watched the group of men gather around the altar, placing the squirming girl down and chaining her down by her wrists and ankles with the heavy metal. There were tears streaming down her face, but there was an acceptance in her eyes, like she knew there was no way out, that she was going to die on that cold, hard slab and never see the light of day again. The boy's body was shivering underneath his filthy white shirt, the only covering he had possessed for the last month.
That month had been the worst of his life.
Caged like an animal, fed scraps of food and forced to live in waste and squalor. Even now, the brand on his side burned like the grotesque scar it was. His parents were dead, burned in the flames that had engulfed his home, his mansion, and Tanaka had been left for dead. God knew if someone had found him, or if he was even alive. Who had done this? Who had destroyed the Phantomhive family home, and left him to this mass of cultists for their deranged practices of demon summoning. As if they would ever succeed. His hands clenched around the metal bars at the thought.
He was ripped from his thoughts when he heard the girl scream. It pierced the air like a dagger through flesh. The blood from her wounded chest, barely developed, a mark of her youth, dribbled down and splattered on the stone beneath her, blending with the others that had lain before her. The light in her brown eyes faded bit by bit, her shaking body growing sluggish and weak as more of life's liquid fled from the gaping hole at her breast. Ciel had prayed to God for many nights, prayed for a miracle, for someone, anyone, to come and find them. But after tonight, he knew there wouldn't be anything to find. Not with the fact that he was the only one left. That girl had been the last before him. And with the knowledge that they had failed once again, it looked like he was going to be the one being taken to the stone and bleeding out all over the floor.
Ciel scrambled back when he realised the severity of his situation, he was barely eleven-year-old, and he was going to die for the sake of a demon sacrifice. God had forsaken him the day he let his parents die at the hands of their murderers. The members of the cult said the spells and enchantments, hoping for a demon to rise for their sacrifices, but not even one showed up.
"Dammit! The conditions tonight are meant to be the best for summoning a demon, and not even one has come up!" one yelled.
Another glared at his companion.
"We've gone through dozens of these little lambs, and not one of them was enough! What the Hell are we going to do?!"
The leader sneered at his fellows.
"The answer to that is simple. We keep trying until a demon comes, or until he ran out of bodies to offer up to them."
They tossed the dead girl's body aside, leaving her to join the rest of the dead bodies, thrown out like trash.
Ciel backed himself into a corner, trembling in his fear. Sweat drenched, slate grey hair stuck to his pale face, gaunt from malnourishment and his stomach painful and flat. It grumbled in protest from the lack of food that had entered its unwillingly shrunk confines. He didn't want them to come any closer, because there was no doubt that he was next for the sacrificial altar.
"No… No!"
His voice, cracked and hoarse from lack of use, went unheard by his captors. In spite of this, he refused to let any tears fall from his sapphire blue eyes.
Just then, something strange happened. It started with a creaking, the sound of wood crumbling and breaking under a weight that shouldn't be there. The most dreadful crunch followed, along with the dull thud of something falling at hitting the ground. The cultists turned to the source, a brown lump that shifted and moaned in pain from falling from the rafters no doubt. Ciel glanced up to where it had come from, a small mercy that it wasn't too high, because it would surely be dead otherwise. From beneath the brown coat that consumed them, a pale face emerged, brown hair ragged and short beneath a cap that had been knocked off at the impact with the floor. The stranger blinked, with blue eyes darker than his own, filled with an aged presence completely unfitting of such a young face. He thought that they looked like a very feminine looking boy, or a very determined tomboy. It was hard to tell under all the dirt and dust that coated their body.
They managed to bring themselves to their feet, stumbling slightly in disorientation, but stayed upright. No doubt they were going to be bruised, but that didn't stop them from glaring at his captors.
"What kind of animals are you?!" they bellowed.
The men were startled, unable to believe someone, a trespasser at that, had the gall to yell at them when they had no right to be on the premises in the first place. The leader stepped forward, made a grab for the young person, yet they slipped through his fingers before he could get a hand on them.
"What are you doing here, you little street rat?!" he shouted.
There was a fire lit in their dark blue eyes.
"I was only looking for somewhere warm for the night, and I find a group of murderers sacrificing children for the sake of a demon. They're probably laughing in your faces for being so goddamned stupid for thinking it would work!"
They made their way over to the cage, hands gripping the bars and shaking to see the strength of the metal. There wasn't any give.
"Where's the key for this thing?" the person asked.
"What the Hell?! Like we're going to tell you that!"
"You tell me and I don't stick that dagger of yours through your throat."
The leader stalked forward and then slapped the person in the face, sending them sprawling to the ground, half sagged on the cage.
"Insufferable little cur! You ain't got a clue what you're talking about!" he bellowed. A smirk then spread across his face. "You're too old for sacrificing, but that doesn't mean we can't make your decision to try and help this child as painful as possible."
That was how the person ended up on their knees, held by the arms between two of the cultists, while a third stood behind them with a whip in their hands. The leader knelt down and sneered at the teenager.
"Still sure you want to make that choice?" he laughed.
The person spat in their face, making them reel back in shock.
"I hope the demon feasts on your souls. You don't deserve to have one of them serve you," they retaliated.
The leader waved his hand, wiping his face with the other. He then spoke to his followers.
"Start whipping, and don't stop until either one or the other is dead!"
The first swipe of the whip went down with a violent crack. The teenager bit their lip to stifle a cry, tears stung their eyes at the bolt of pain.
"You won't get away with this!" they cried out.
The leader only sneered and opened the cage, dragging Ciel out on his arm while he struggled in vain to escape. The boy kicked and screamed, even tried to bite the hand holding him, but it was no use.
He was placed and strapped down to the altar, his eyes turned to the only person who had tried to help him. They met each other's gazes. The person's shirt was barely clinging to their body, their back already stained with blood as they continued to yell at the men to stop. With the sound of the whip cracking against bare skin, the leader turned and raised the dagger up high.
"And now, we give you the greatest of the lot. Behold, Ciel Phantomhive, the son of the late Earl Phantomhive! May his blood satisfy you as you answer our calls!"
He slammed the knife down into Ciel's abdomen.
"No!" the teenager screamed.
There was silence after that, followed by a rumbling laughter. It was hard and cruel, yet held a seductive tone that could personify the darkest of lusts. The person trembled as they watched a black, shapeless being hover over Ciel, glowing magenta eyes peering back at the group of people, twinkling in malicious glee.
"Foolish humans. To think you could summon a creature such as me through your petty sacrifices. None of your souls are worth my time."
The teenage was resolute in keeping their eyes down, spotting Ciel shallowly breathing on top of the altar. Now that the cultists had released their arms, they decided to use their fear and distraction to crawl towards the altar.
When they were close enough, the demon's eyes flickered towards them, penetrating them straight through to their soul. The teenager froze, not particularly wanting to anger a creature that could easily kill them. But there was something truly unnerving about their stare, like they could see all of their secrets, their pupils ripping apart the layers of their mask and exposing the truth completely bare before them. And there was no doubt that they were.
Ciel stared up at them, faltering at the look they were giving him. It wasn't one of pity like he was expecting, like they knew he was going to die.
No… I won't die here… I won't die here!
He struggled with his life draining away from him. He didn't know how long he could hold on. His only companion in all this didn't deserve to be beaten within an inch of their life just for trying to help him. He refused to let either of them die in this rotten place.
The demon's gaze then went down to the boy, a smirk spreading across his face. This little one had a truly delicious soul, and clearly he was more than willing to make a contract with him.
"My, my, aren't we a very little master?" he laughed.
Ciel somehow had the power to glare back up at him, insulted at the mention of his height.
"You have summoned me. This fact will not change for eternity. What has been sacrificed can never be returned. With all that in mind, are you willing to make a contract with me?" the demon asked.
The boy looked up at his shapelessness, finding that everything around him had faded and had been replaced with an empty white space, that he was floating while the only other presence was a black raven with red eyes staring at him from a dead tree.
"What's the price?" he asked.
"Your soul."
They were silent for a few moments.
"I want revenge on the people that did this to me, on the people to attempted to kill all the Phantomhives. You will serve me until I have revenge on every last one of them!" Ciel shouted. "I accept your contract!"
The scene melted away and they returned to the warehouse, surrounded by the cultists and the peculiar little stray.
"Give me a name, and I shall serve you until our contract is complete," the demon said.
The name that came was instant.
"Sebastian, kill them all!" Ciel shouted.
The newly named Sebastian smirked.
"Yes, master."
The shapeless thing shifted into the form of a pale man, dressed in black with short, messy black hair with long bangs and glowing red eyes, almost maroon. His nails were black and dull, as though they grew naturally that way, and a pentagram surrounded by a thorny circle blazed on the back of his left hand. The teenager thought him to be supernaturally handsome, but figured that was the case for all demons, because if they were meant to seduce their prey, they needed to be attractive enough to lure them in. The person managed to get over to Ciel, who was sitting up with a matching pentagram to the demon's glowing purple in his right eye, which had taken over the sapphire blue of his iris and turned it purple.
"Hey, Ciel…" they whispered. "That's your name, right?"
Ciel looked at them, got himself up into a sitting position, the wound to his abdomen completely gone.
"Y-Yes, I'm Ciel Phantomhive…" a smirk spread across his face. "And now, I am Earl Phantomhive!"
The two of them watched the bloodshed together, the scarlet drops spilling into puddles on the floor as one man after another was killed by Sebastian. Their screams were delicious, the person smirked. It was nothing that they didn't deserve. Their eyes widened when the demon turned on them, left hand heading straight for their head. They closed their eyes and waited for the impending darkness.
"Sebastian, stop!" Ciel ordered.
There was silence.
The teenager peeked one eye open and saw how close he had gotten to taking off their head, his middle finger only a millimetre away from touching the end of their nose.
"You should be more specific with your instructions, Young Master. You did tell me to kill them all." Sebastian said with a slight smirk.
Ciel huffed but let the demon help him to his feet.
"Burn this place to the ground. I don't want anything left alive in here."
The pentagram flashed in his eye as he gave the order. Sebastian bowed.
"Yes, my Lord."
The three of them walked away from the burning building. Sebastian had changed into a butler's uniform and walked at the side of Ciel who was wrapped in the person's coat, leaving the teenager to shiver in the shredded remains of their shirt. They stopped on the road.
"What are you doing?" Ciel asked.
The person shrugged.
"Not sure if you want a street urchin sticking around with you."
Sebastian stared at them.
"You are no street urchin. It is plain to see that you are from a respectable background, and are forcing yourself to live on the streets so you can run away from something or someone. In other words, you have nowhere to go," he said.
"You tried to save me, and would have accepted your death at Sebastian's hand had I not stopped him. There aren't many people who would lay their life down for someone they hardly know." Ciel added. "And I can't only have one servant taking care of me. So I want you in my employ. I could do with someone like you watching out for my best interests."
The teenager stared at them, almost disbelieving at what they were offering. A home, a place to live, with money and protection and freedom. Plus they were unwilling to leave in the first place, who knew what the demon could get up to on his own?
"As you wish, my Lord."
They bowed in an imitation of Sebastian.
"Although Sebastian, I think you need a surname. Humans don't live their lives with just their first name," they explained.
Sebastian smirked.
"What would you suggest?"
"I think it should be Michaelis. It's ironic because a man called Michaelis wrote the classification of demons."
"How droll. Very well, I am now Sebastian Michaelis," he sighed.
A smirk then made its way across his face.
"You still haven't told us your name. I would like to be introduced, my Lady."
The person – girl's eyes widened.
"How…?" she stammered.
Ciel's mouth dropped open in shock while Sebastian laughed.
"As a demon, I was able to sense your true gender. Also, your face is too feminine to be a boy's, your body too slender, and your hair too unevenly cut to even be a proper boy's cut."
"Anything else?" she said through gritted teeth.
"I can see your bindings under your shirt, and the amount of them suggests that you are hiding a rather abundant bust."
Her face went completely red as her arms snapped around her body to cover her chest.
"Pervert!" she snapped.
"I am a demon."
"Still a pervert!"
Ciel sighed, rubbing his temples as though to ease the oncoming headache.
"Quit flirting, you two!" he ordered. He then looked at the disguised girl. "Can we have your name?"
"Only if you let me continue hiding as a boy, and help me look better," she answered.
"Deal."
The boy extended his hand between them.
"Ciel Phantomhive, it's a pleasure to meet you."
The girl smiled and shook his hand.
"Your name?" Sebastian urged, taking the extended hand once the hand shake was finished and bringing it to his lips to kiss.
A blush spread across her cheeks.
"Marianne. Marianne Blackmore."
Her blush deepened when she felt him press a kiss against her knuckles.
Once the introductions were done, Sebastian walked behind the two humans, his nose scenting the air.
Strange… The blood from the girl has lessened since our departure. She is healing far too quickly for a normal human, but there is no other scent over than her human blood, so she isn't a Reaper or a hybrid. How odd. It is an intoxicating fragrance though… Very…pure. There is clearly more to you than meets the eye, and you should realise that no one can hide anything from a demon. I do wonder why I am so drawn to you… I look forward to finding out. I believe I shall enjoy working with you, Marianne Blackmore.
Once this has been posted, I shall be updating a character profile for Marianne so you can understand her character by tonight or tomorrow.
I honestly didn't expect the prologue to be this long. Also, I want to inform everyone that due to the length of the chapters, because each chapter after this will be equal to the episodes, I will be updating this fic every two weeks.
Please read and review!
