Disclaimer: Of course I don't own anything in the Kuroshitsuji franchise. Not now, not ever.
Wrote this after sudden inspiration.
This is focused on a character we all know and love! Sebastian would have been involved in lots of things, so I decided to take some liberty on some pre-canon events, maybe about 300 years before Ciel's time? He has a different name(s) here, but he's still Sebastian.
If you like this enough, I have a rough plot outline planned out for a long story: something about lots of epic shenanigans, political intrigue and dramatic suspense…as a demon should get up to many interesting things.
I hope you like it!
Please, sit back and enjoy.
I. A Song of Love and Death
The Father was a holy man.
He was a diminutive man, as wrinkly as an old paper bag. His eyes were shrewd, and his character as sly and cunning a man could be.
Greed was the Father and the Father was Greed.
He wanted the cold passions of gold, of easily bought power. He wanted the innocent purity of children, not those filthy females of the night. He wanted forbidden pleasures and laughed at the misfortunes of others.
Seeing a defiled young boy's life splash onto the cobblestone floor as a vile, macabre picture brought him into the throes of pleasure, heights of giddiness that would sicken anyone with a shred of humanity left in them.
He breathed in the scent of the young boy's fear and reveled in his power. "No need to fear, child."
The boy stared back at the Father with unbending will. Rebellious silence.
(He tried not to flinch against the foul man's caresses)
"The devil is on my side, boy. Did you know that?" he breathed out, on the edges of insanity.
"Mephisto!" The trash of humanity moaned into the darkness. The demon's presence was heavy as it appeared behind the man, foreboding and evil.
"I am here," the demon purred into his ear, sending chills down his spine.
The vile man grinned, his blackened teeth rotting like his soul.
(It would be a very bitter taste, but it was one the demon hadn't tried for many hundreds of years. It wasn't picky about the taste of souls anyway—the bitter, impure essence would satiate its hunger for some time with only a foul aftertaste.)
His eyes bulged and rolled about his balding head in stilted, grotesque movements.
"More!" he gasped.
The voice, so dangerously smooth, answered lowly. "Anything you wish for."
Cries of 'more! more! more!' echoed in the deep underground chambers. No one from the church would find him here, in these abandoned, rank dungeons where criminals ran rampant for the past few decades.
A sigh. "You must remember that everything comes at a price as you sin."
"Give. Me. More!" Cries of ecstasy melded with whimpering, sobbing and cursing.
More money, more lust, more power!
Under the flickering candlelight, it was hard to tell which one was the demon. Mephisto moved his lips into a semblance of a smile. That was his current name—maybe a few hundred years into the future, a young boy tortured by a deranged cult would summon him…
"Yes, my lord."
…But that is a story for another time.
"And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light."
"Come to me," she rasped into the dirt. Her youthful face was stained with the blood of holy men, no longer veiled by childish naivety.
Behind her, the church was flooded with the crimson sins of human beings. Only she had survived the insanity.
Her home burned with fire and blood. It was the same accursed scarlet of her hair.
Slowly, her trembling finger drew the symbols with her blood. She had the pentagrams memorized, from her secret ventures into that man's room with her dead friends. They littered the floor, and haunted her dreams at night.
Father, Father! He was no priest; he was a disgusting monster who had sacrificed her most important friends to satanic rituals, to baseless myths.
Her beloved Hartwin had died because of that monster!
Die. Die. Die a thousand times over.
In those dreams, a pale hand beckoned her. It was a faceless man with the aura of a beast. He would whisper to her about her impossible dreams, her girlish fantasies, and her lost hopes of a warm family, a great love…of unattainable happiness.
Marie, the silken voice would whisper her desires night after night. Invoke me, and I will come to you.
Hate. Hate. Hate as strong as a thousand tempests.
Her desperation gave her the will to forsake everything she had faith in. It gave her power, and she felt her grief manifest within her like restless magma.
The volcanic emotions erupted, and Marie saw it. The glowing fuchsia eyes spoke of ages long past. Its wings, black as night were like an angel's who had been dipped in inky sin, defiled. It was a sight so beautiful and so sickening at the same time.
This evil captured her.
"What is your wish, human?" it spoke, chilling her to the core.
Marie managed a small, sad smile in response to its ethereal presence. Drops of rain fell down from the skies, washing the past away.
Never forget this in a thousand lifetimes.
She would live.
Her lips moved to seal her fate. "Kill him," she murmured.
After all, everything would be worth its price of her soul. The emptiness fluctuated into a deep pool of despair. And rage! How dare that sick cretin continue to exist when her dearly loved ones perished?
Drag him down to the flames of hell. I will join him.
This burning rage consumed her, and she willing succumbed to it. The crazed shriek rang through the smoked filled air, striking through the wreckage with vengeance.
Suffer along with him for all eternity.
"Kill the Father, demon!"
A moment of rage spurred a lifetime of regret.
Words from the Father.
Mephisto, bring me more…
More gold! More boys! More wine! More blood!
You see, Mephisto? You see my power? I. Want. More!
Insects, these children are.
I want to hear them cry, to fear me, to curse me as they bleed to death. This is an order, Mephisto.
Burn this dirty village into the ground. Destroy these filthy non-believers!
"On a sad Sunday with a hundred white flowers,
I was waiting for you, my dear, with a church prayer,
That dream-chasing Sunday morning,
The chariot of my sadness returned without you.
Ever since then, Sundays are always sad,
tears are my drink, and sorrow is my bread..."
- Gloomy Sunday, László Jávor
Marie's love, Hartwin.
She touched him, gently and drew back when her hand was soaked with blood.
"Don't be so surprised, Marie," he smiled at her as he bled into the earth. He couldn't be saved, not with most of his body crushed underneath heavy debris.
Her beloved Hartwin was dying in front of her eyes.
No one would come, because the village was burning to the ground.
Birthed in war, died in war.
His trembling hand reached up for a lock of her long, red hair. It was slightly singed, but it did not matter to him.
The blue of his eyes was getting duller. "You're still beautiful to me. Don't…cry."
Marie wept ungracefully, her howls drowned out by the screams of people burning alive.
"Stay with me, Hartwin. Please!"
"Forgive me…for leaving you alone."
She held his hand until the life left his eyes. She stayed until only her ruined home remained, and the cruel sun rose to bring a new day.
He would love her for a thousand lifetimes.
Oh, her handsome Hartwin! He only lived fourteen summers, never to see the coming spring. She cursed fate.
She fell. She crumbled.
This was a living hell.
Nothing could be salvaged. Not Hartwin. Not herself.
She cursed all that existed.
What was left was only a bleak infinity.
present day: 17th century, germany
A girl of sixteen summers lazed underneath the shade of forest foliage. She liked the stillness in the woods, the tranquil atmosphere almost evoking a sense of inner peace within her.
She glanced at the man standing near the trunk she reclined against, his stiff posture screaming of boredom. Apart from cats, he seldom found anything fascinating.
Running a hand through her russet locks, she cast him a playful look. "What is this word, Hartwin?"
The dark-haired man leaned over her shoulder, his breath ghosting her ear. "That is 'grace'. Should you be asking me to read it for you, Fräulein?"
Marie burst into laughter. "You? Read the bible? Don't make me laugh!"
Hartwin smiled in that polite way that simultaneously charmed and infuriated her. "You're already laughing," he pointed out unnecessarily.
He really couldn't catch her humor, could he? Not that she had an arsenal of hilarious jokes prepared or anything, but he could at least try to understand humans.
It was a passing thought, and she dismissed it as quickly as it appeared.
She gently closed the bible, as making sense of the squiggly symbols were a luxury enjoyed by the rich and educated…and otherworldly beings. It had only been curiosity that drove her to pick up the tattered tome from the ashes of her home.
(The church was gone, only graves littered the blackened soil of her village)
Marie had no interest in the word of a God who turned away when she needed him the most.
If demons could help her, then demons would be her support. She had enough empty hope to last several millennia.
Just as she gathered her well-worn skirts to stand up, a pale hand took her own to help her to her feet.
"Thank you," she said to him as she stared up at the glimmers of sunlight peeking through the leaves above.
She stretched, her hands reaching for nothing above her head. "Well then. The world is round, so let us venture in circles, Hartwin!"
His eyes glowed red for an instant. "As you wish, Marie."
The wheel of fortune was turning.
"I want the mark on my heart."
She stepped out of her ruined clothes, bare to it. It was a male demon, it had said, so she should be thinking of it as a 'him'. She thought it was lying—sins were genderless…so demons could be as well.
But Marie was not in the mood of trivialities as of now.
She had just lost everything precious to her. Those thoughts could wait.
Yet, this…grotesque, ethereal creature facing her trapped her with the force of its gaze. A sharp fingernail touched the top of the curve of her breast, and she shivered from its coldness as it traced a path down to her heart—
Excruciating pain. It felt like a sword plunging through her heart, continuously killing her whilst it was freshly forged, the iron still burning hot. It felt like fire was burning through her veins as thousands of icy needles pierced her.
Never had she wanted to die a thousand times over in that moment which lasted eons.
"How curious," it murmured.
Her hazel eyes were automatically drawn to its thoughtful gaze.
"What…is it," she gasped, struggling to regain breath.
It tapped the unmarked skin above her heart again, thrice. "The Faustian contract isn't appearing on your body, yet I can sense it binding you to me."
Marie still didn't understand what it was saying.
"You need not to understand." Again, it smiled darkly. "The sun will rise soon, and we must leave before anyone discovers us."
The moonlight disappeared behind floating clouds, momentarily shrouding both in darkness. As the waning light appeared again, a 'human' man stood before her.
It was a handsome man with hair as dark as the night, and devilish eyes.
Her surprised silence amused him.
She moved closer to him, fascinated. How did this demon capture the face of her most precious person in such vivid detail?
This face would be if he had lived only a few more years. Bewitched, Marie lifted a trembling hand to his cheek, and stared into dark blue eyes glimmering with life, that she wished to gaze into until her last breath.
Hartwin—no—the demon leaned closer, closer—until its breath ghosted over her lips. "If you wish."
Momentarily awestruck, she let herself believe he was alive again. Risen from the ashes like a firebird.
Marie sobbed as she embraced him fiercely. Her broken voice sounded so tired of it all.
"Come back to me, Hartwin."
Her moment of weakness fanned the embers of her love into a fire.
What do you ultimately desire?
She whispered it, the words almost inaudible.
Are you sure of this?
Very well. The price will be your soul.
She wandered mindlessly through the forest, humming softly. Hoisting her skirts up higher, she twirled amongst the tall pines, giggling in the dappled sunlight.
"Hartwin!" she sang. "Dance with me!"
The demon indulged her whimsical fancies, taking her by the waist and into a dance of rapid twirls and lifts. Her laugh, full and merry, echoed through the empty forest.
Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and they moved to the beat of a silent, stately waltz.
"I heard something interesting at the markets today," she said slowly.
He played along with her game, nodding along.
"She said she was a witch," Marie looked at him unsurely, searching for any signs of truth in his eyes. She sighed at her failure to provoke any sort of reaction from that calm, expressionless face. "Do you want to hear it?"
A raised eyebrow—do you think I have a choice?
She chuckled. "Of course not."
Wide hazel eyes peered up at him. "Well, the old witch said that this happened a long, long time ago, when witches were many and demons prowled the earth man walks upon."
He shook his head patronizingly. "Demons are still prowling the earth for souls, Marie."
Marie shushed him sharply. "I know, but that's not the point! Will you let me finish, Hartwin?"
"Goodness, gracious me! My lady is a little irritable today."
"I ain't nobody's lady," she scoffed. "And you're not good or gracious, ha!"
"That is language befitting of a street whore."
She lightly hit his chest, ignoring his veiled insult. It took two to play at his game, and she wasn't interested in playing.
"Do you want to hear the story or not?"
He only offered a fake smile in return, neither denying nor affirming the statement. He knew it irked her.
the legend of the heart
The story begins with a demon, as many stories of evil begin. He was a young demon, and his name shall be Grendel, as is befitting of a tragedy.
One day, a maiden caught his interest. Her pure heart fascinated Grendel, because every demon desires to taint purity or to devour it whole like a delicacy.
So he took away everything she loved, to satisfy his curiosity—to taint her. He killed her lover, her family, and ripped her away from her home.
Ah yes, Hartwin—I know demons cannot love. Grendel was fascinated by this maiden—she was an anomaly amongst the masses of humans he had met.
Now, don't misunderstand…Grendel did not love her.
She was lonely. So when she met him, she became his companion.
They travelled the continent together, quietly and peacefully. She never questioned why he had never aged a day since she met him in her thirteenth summer. The maiden never probed into his past. She just lived in the present.
She probably fell in love with him.
(Here, Hartwin chuckled darkly at the irony, already dismissing Marie's story as a web lies)
I think that she fell in love with him, because she died for him. The maiden sacrificed her life for him, thinking that he was a mortal. Grendel was outraged and massacred everyone in the kingdom in one night, sinking that civilization into the deep ocean depths and sentencing it to eternity in obscurity.
He was lost forever, as well.
Here, Marie took his gloved hand, and fiddled with the clasp until she could slip the leather off. She traced the symbols of the Faustian contract with a slender finger.
"I know why Grendel was lost," she said, casting her eyes down to the trampled wildflowers under her boots, the purple blooms flattened and crushed.
She took his silence as permission to keep talking. "I think that he never loved her."
Marie slipped her hand into his, gently bringing the palm to her lips and kissing it softly.
"It's simple, really. I think that it was a whim. Maybe he enjoyed spending time with her. So it all adds up to whimsical decisions—not consuming her soul, killing everyone in that country…spending the rest of his existence…lost."
They stared at each other for some time, gauging and testing and raising the stakes higher and higher.
Hartwin's deep blue eyes flashed red for a split moment. He slipped his spotless glove on again wordlessly.
(He'd heard all this before…maybe in the sandy deserts of Ancient Egypt—many, many years ago about a distant kingdom, which sank to the bottom of the ocean)
What an utterly tasteless tale.
She threw her arms into the air, twirling around aimlessly in dappled sunlight. She loved the green forests of Germany, the tranquil atmosphere giving her the illusion that time had stopped in this part of the world.
It would be nice if her time were frozen.
Turning towards the deceivingly human-like demon, she beckoned him to walk beside her. "Someday, you will need to teach me how to read."
"Reading? Is that all your brain can handle?" Hartwin lampooned.
Marie frowned, stopping in her tracks. "Then…teach me everything you know!" – she paused, her face alighting with a sudden idea – "That's an order."
"As you wish, Marie."
She nodded in approval. For now, she would take on the world.
As I said before, if people really want a long story out of this (and if I have time), I do have a rough idea of where to take this.
It'll involve lots of Sebastian—some kind of epic adventure on a large scale—major events in history will be mentioned. Deeply emotional aspects will be explored. The genres would probably include: tragedy, drama, angst, adventure, some humour in the form of tragic irony, (self-discovery if that could be one), deep-thoughts-on-fate-and-the-preordained… and a dash of romance.
Hey, I don't want to go spoiling anything.
I was also thinking of having Vincent Phantomhive as part of another arc…I don't know yet for sure, but if you have any suggestions… I am very interested!
But right now, it'll probably be around three chapters.