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dragonsploosh · 6 years

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Sebaciel Advent Calender

The Corpse Groom

Based on Tim Burton’s ‘The Corpse Bride.’

Chapter one

"Smile."

Ciel blinked, pulled from his reverie by the gentle voice. He'd been staring listlessly out of the carriage window for hours, just watching the grey English countryside roll by, and only now did he notice his mother staring at him with concern.

"Smile, Ciel," Rachel continued. "This should be a happy day for you."

Ciel swallowed the lump that had been building in his throat for most of the journey."Happy," he repeated, bitterness thick in his tone.

The boy's father, Vincent, didn't seem to have picked up on the mood. He lowered his newspaper, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Ahh, to be young again. I remember when your mother and I were due to be wed. Did I ever tell you how I managed to sneak away the night before the ceremony, all the way to the East Wing where Rachel's entire family were staying and -"

"Vincent!" Rachel snapped, elbowing her husband and looking a bit pink in the face. "This is about Ciel's wedding, not ours."

"Right, of course," Vincent agreed, waiving one black-gloved hand obligingly. "And I'm sure the day will go just as smoothly for him, nothing to worry about."

Something snapped in Ciel; it could have been the casual way his father spoke, or the way his mother expected him to smile like this was all a big treat. "At least you got to choose who you might wed," he snarled.

There was icy silence for a moment within the carriage.

"I thought we were past this," said Vincent quietly. The jovial tone had gone from his voice.

Ciel recognised the danger - his father was an accomplished leader and a great role-model, but nobody ever talked back to him. The boy set his jaw in defiance. "I just don't understand why -"

"Your brother understood."

"My brother isn't here," Ciel retorted.

"No, he is not. And that is why you must take up his mantle, as the sole heir to the Phantomhive name. It should be a privilege, to take on the role of Earl."

"I just don't see why I need to marry Elizabeth now." Ciel persisted, changing tactic. "Can't it at least wait a few years?"

It was Rachel that answered this time. Her voice was softer, but the message was still the same. "Our families need to merge, Ciel. This has been the plan from the start, you know that."

'Almost the plan.' Ciel thought bitterly. It had been his brother that was meant to wed their cousin, not him. He barely even knew the girl. Ever since his twin's death a year ago, all the responsibilities of the future Earl had fallen to him, including this marriage.

"Phantomhive's never go back on their word," Vincent said firmly. He looked at his wife and something seemed to pass between them. "That's why everything -"

She nodded. "Every last little thing -"

"Must go according to plan," he finished.

Their tone was final. This wedding was happening, whether Ciel wanted it to or not.

***

Midford Manor looked different to how Ciel remembered it. As the carriage pulled into the forecourt, the boy peered curiously out of the window and up at the vast mansion. He hadn't visited for a while - family visits had grown sparse in the time since his brother's death, and it seemed a lot had changed in that time. Where once there were rolling lawns and bright flowerbeds, now there was gravel. The grass that bordered it was thick with frost, and it certainly wasn't the neatly trimmed affair that Ciel was used to.

The Phantomhive's coachman helped the family from the carriage, bowing politely before going to see to the horses. Ciel and his parents made their way unescorted up the few stone steps to the front door, where Vincent took the large bronze knocker in gloved fingers and rapped smartly at the wood.

They didn't have to wait long. The door creaked open on slightly rusted hinges to reveal the grand entrance hall, the Midford butler, Emil, greeting them politely as they made their way inside. Coats were taken despite the lingering chill, and Francis and Alexis Midford descended the central staircase wearing what looked like their most formal attire.

"Good afternoon. I trust that your journey was favourable?"

"Sister," called Vincent merrily, though Alexis was the one to bound forward to greet them.

"There's my nephew!" He said exuberantly, pulling Ciel into a one-armed hug. The boy was always taken aback by his uncles enthusiasm, and he didn't even return the gesture before Alexis was hugging both Vincent and Rachel, crinkling his suit in the process.

"Alexis," Francis hissed. Unlike her husband, she wasn't very keen on what she termed 'improper behaviour'. She turned to her brother and sister-in-law, ignoring Ciel completely, and inclined her head. "We'll be taking tea in the Dayroom," she announced formally.

"Excellent," Vincent replied. "I'm parched."

The adults all started to make small-talk about the weather (it had started to snow) and the Midford's Christmas decorations (a sparsely decorated tree in the corner which Rachel proclaimed as "lovely.") The four all started to make their way towards the Dayroom as they spoke, though Ciel lingered behind, certain that no one would notice his absence. They didn't.

Alone, Ciel peered more closely around the entrance hall. It seemed bigger than his last visit; everyone had still been in their black mourning clothes then, and he'd spent the day in the music room, away from everyone else. He hadn't even spoken to Elizabeth that day - it hadn't occurred to him, back then at the age of seventeen, that he'd be marrying her just a year later.

Family portraits still lined the walls, a vase of lilies set on a round table next to the staircase, but otherwise there was very little in the way of furniture. Ciel remembered a grand piano taking up the space by the far wall, a massive crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, but both were now gone. Instead there was a simple candelabra, and the piano had been replaced with another instrument. Beneath the portrait of his own family rested a small violin, the bow laying across the strings in a facsimile of a cross. The violin had once belonged to Ciel's brother.

He peered up at the portrait as he approached; it depicted a happier time, where all four Phantomhives smiled back at him, his twin wearing an identical outfit to himself. He picked up the violin reverently, touching the fine maple neck and losing himself in memories. Ciel was always the least skilled of the two when it came to music. Still, that didn't stop him from raising the bow and positioning the instrument, playing a tremulous note and listening to it linger.

He drew the bow across the strings again, as if in a trance, and soon found himself playing a melancholy tune, one of his own composition. His fingers were quick, the notes true, and it almost sounded as good as his brother. Almost.

"You play beautifully," came a voice from behind him.

Ciel almost dropped the violin.

"Elizabeth!"

There she was, looking exactly the same as the last time he'd seen her, yet somehow everything was different. Her hair was pulled back, the usual blonde ringlets tamed into a high bun, and her dress was formal but fashionable. The usual bright colours she preferred had been traded for a more pastel tone, the pale pink of it making her look older. More grown up.

"In view of the circumstances," she said, "it might be more fitting that you call me 'Lizzie'."

"Lizzie. Of course."

Lizzie had been his brother's name for her. The word tasted like ash in Ciel's mouth.

"I'd always dreamed of my wedding day," Lizzie said wistfully, gazing up at the portrait. "Of walking down the aisle in my mother's dress. Of all the guests smiling - him waiting for me. Silly, isn't it."

"Yes, silly," Ciel replied. "No - I mean, not at all." He set the violin back on the ground, feeling stupid. "This just isn't how any of us imagined it."

"I suppose we should make the best of it then."

Ciel glanced at her and was horrified to see tears threatening to overflow, her lower lip quaking. They hadn't even gotten married yet and already he'd managed to upset her.

"Indeed - that is to say, I'm sure it will be fine." As if 'fine' was an adequate way to describe a marriage. Ciel mentally kicked himself. "So, uhh," he went on, trying to diffuse the conversation. "Do you still play piano?"

"Not of late," Lizzie replied, clasping her hands in front of her. "I've been busy with fencing practice. Mother says that one must be steady with the sword - calm. Music is far too emotional."

Ciel wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. "Ah. And how is fencing?"

She looked away, her face going slack. "It was going well for a time - the Queen was even considering me to become part of her personal guard. I would have been the first woman to ever serve royalty in such a way, but it wasn't to be. There have been so many misfortunes in our family lately, such terrible-" she cut herself off, eyes widening. "I'm sorry - that was insensitive."

"It's quite alright," Ciel said, inclining his head. "I couldn't help but notice -"

He was cut off before he could finish that thought, Francis's thundering voice echoing around the room.

"What impropriety is this!"

Lizzie took a guilty step back as the four adults came into sight, Francis leading the charge.

"No chaperone! Where's Paula?!" The woman snapped, fixing her gaze on her daughter.

"I just -"

"You just nothing, young lady! Now, back to your room - we have a rehearsal to prepare for, and everything must go according to plan."

***

The rehearsal took place that evening. Ciel barely had time to change out of his travelling clothes and into a tailored suit picked out by his mother; the subtle lines of the expensive charcoal-grey fabric accentuated his slim figure, the colour making his smoky hair look darker and more refined. His cravat was a dusky blue that made his eyes stand out, or so he was told, but he didn't care about any of that. As the carriage pulled up in front of the church, it rather felt like he was arriving at his own funeral.

They were greeted by a small gathering of guests who had arrived early to make the most of the holiday. With the wedding to be held on Christmas Day, two days from now, the crowd was abuzz with merriment. Ciel's heart sank when he realised there'd be almost twenty people witnessing the rehearsal, though that paled in comparison to the expected turnout of the actual day.

"Ciel!" Someone called, and the boy was almost knocked off his feet as someone barrelled into him.

"Argh! Get off!"

"My friend, I'm so happy for you," a familiar voice sobbed next to his ear.

Ciel managed to extract himself in an almost-dignified manner, rearranging his cravat and directing a scowl at Soma.

"At least someone's happy," he muttered, before spotting the Prince's butler behind him and inclining his head. "Hello Agni," he said, slightly louder.

"May the great God Ganesha bless and watch over you in this joyous time," Agni replied, smiling.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Ah, Ciel," said another voice, two new faces joining them. "Good to see you."

"Grey. Phipps," Ciel greeted, noting with some curiosity that there was a small chicken on Phipps' shoulder.

"Sorry to hear about our Lizzie not making the Guard. Still, no hard feelings, ay?"

Charles Grey smiled brightly while his companion kept a polite silence. The two had been in Elizabeth's fencing class for as long as Ciel could remember, and Ciel grimaced on his cousin's behalf.

"Sure. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll just -"

"Boy, there you are!"

Family get-togethers were always exhausting, Ciel thought, but this one was especially excruciating.

"Hello, Baron Kelvin," Ciel answered, his hand getting swept up in a formal handshake.

"What a marvellous day for a wedding," the Baron informed him.

Since the snow was beginning to settle, white flakes covering his shoulders and making him shiver, Ciel couldn't disagree more.

"EVERYONE! CAN I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION!"

Vincent Phantomhive seemed just as flustered as Ciel, the onslaught of well-wishers obviously taking him off-guard.

"The rehearsal will be commencing now, if you would all just take your seats."

Ciel turned back to the church doors and joined the throng of guests as they began to file in, that sinking feeling returning to the pit of his stomach. Candles lit the pews already, casting a warm glow in the otherwise cold church, and Ciel could see the Midford's near the altar already, conversing with the vicar. Vincent gave Ciel a firm nod before taking his seat, and the youngest Phantomhive was left to make the rest of the journey down the aisle alone.

"Let's try it again."

It wasn't going well. The guests were all seated and hushed, and the vicar was looking at Ciel with barely concealed exasperation.

"We'll take it from the start," he said, speaking extra slowly. "Repeat after me:

With this hand, I will lift your sorrows Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine With this candle, I will light your way in darkness With this ring, I ask you to be mine."

Ciel heard the words, but it was as though he was in a dream. This didn't seem real. Lizzie was stood next to him, her own vows recited perfectly, and she kept glancing at her mother as if begging for help.

Ciel cleared his throat, wanting nothing more than to just get this over with.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows," Ciel said, discreetly wiping his sweaty palm on his trouser leg before reaching for Lizzie's. Judging by her expression, Ciel would say she'd noticed. "Your cup," he began, trying not to think of how uncomfortable he felt just touching her hand. "Your cup will never be empty." She felt clammy. "For I will be your wine."

The vicar cleared his throat.

Ciel's face grew hot when he realised that he should have released her hand and prepared the wine instead. He snatched his hand away so violently that he almost upset the metal chalice that sat on the low table.

"Move on," commanded the vicar.

"Right, yes. With this candle," Ciel blustered, skipping the wine entirely to hold a stem of tapered wax to the flame beside the chalice. The wick stubbornly refused to light. "I will light your way..." He tried engulfing the candle at every angle, growing more frustrated. "In darkness," he finished, still unsuccessful in lighting the thing.

The vicar sighed. "Do you even want to be married?" He asked in a low voice.

"No, no," Ciel replied, beaming when the flame finally lit. He caught the vicar's eye and realised what he'd said, hastening to amend himself. "I mean, no of course -"

"Tell me you've remembered the ring, at least," the man said, unamused.

"Yes." The band of gold was fished from his pocket, and he held it aloft for all of a second before his sweaty palms betrayed him, the ring slipping from his grasp and bouncing onto the ground.

Some of the onlookers gasped as Ciel scrambled onto all fours, candle and all, crawling after the ring which had rolled under the table. Ciel snatched at it, knocking it sideways and bumping into the table leg for his efforts, which sent the wine flying.

"My shoes," came a high-pitched squeal, closely followed by the sound of running footsteps.

Ciel successfully closed his fist around the ring this time, backing up reluctantly to face the damage. His foot hit something soft just as he was free of the table, and he spun around on one knee.

Right into the voluminous folds of his Aunt Francis's dress.

This would have been embarrassing regardless, but since Ciel's left hand was still clutching the lit candle, it quickly became a disaster. The dress caught faster than a pile of kindling, and he stared dumbfounded as smoke began to pour from the fabric.

"Mother!" Elizabeth cried.

She rushed forward just as Ciel leapt into action, the two of them making to pat out the fire, though they only succeeded in butting heads instead. The heavy 'thump' was hard enough to make Ciel see stars.

"Ouch!" Lizzie yelped.

Ciel backed away as more of the guests raced down the aisle, smothering the flames with jackets and shawls while the boy edged towards the door. He blew out the candle, tossing it away from him as though hiding the evidence, though everyone had already been witness to the calamity.

"BOY!" Vincent yelled back at him.

"I'm just... uh, some fresh air," Ciel called back, groping for the door handle. "I'm sorry," he added to Elizabeth, who was looking as though she might cry again.

The last thing Ciel heard was the vicar shouting angrily at him to learn his vows, before he hurtled into the night and away from the second-worst experience of his life.

***

The youngest son of the Phantomhives was not born for greatness. Unlike his brother, he lacked the ambition to become the great leader their father was. Ciel had once had dreams of opening a toy shop, of leaving the family Manor and moving to the city. Always the quieter twin, he'd thought about having his own little town house, a log fire burning in the hearth and a whole room filled with books where he could just read, undisturbed.

That dream was dashed just over a year ago, when his brother was found dead in their shared bedroom. The covers had been thrown off Ciel's bed too, his pillow shredded, but he hadn't been there. He'd been sick that night, raiding the pantry for honey to help dull his cough.

He knew his parents hadn't forgiven him. He could see it in their eyes every time they looked at him - why had he survived, - the weak, younger twin - when the Phantomhive heir had been left to die?

The killer was gone before the body was discovered. Full resources had gone into the investigation, but it hadn't been any use. Nobody knew who had targeted the Phantomhive's like this, or indeed, why.

Ciel shivered. He'd taken refuge on a stone bridge at the edge of the village, the river looking black as it rushed along beneath him. He thought about throwing himself into those icy depths - just letting go and allowing the river to take him. It was just a thought, however - he was too much of a coward to ever really do such a thing.

Instead, he turned to face the forest on the other side. It looked gloomy and dismal, which was just what Ciel needed right now. A thin layer of snow glittered in the moonlight as he made his way past the tree line, his fine leather shoes precarious on the frosted moss. Ciel didn't care. He walked faster, replaying the last half-hour over and over in his head.

"With this hand, I will lift your candle," he said aloud, picturing the blaze. He realised then that he'd said the line wrong and huffed at himself.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows," he corrected. "Your wine will never be empty, for I will cup your... Oh, dammit."

He needed to clear his mind, but it was almost impossible. He tried to focus on the gnarled trees instead, walking faster and taking a deep breath.

"Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine," he said perfectly, hopping over a fallen log and feeling emboldened. He snatched up a twig, holding it aloft. "With this candle, I will light your way in darkness." In his mind, the wick lit easily. "With this ring," he continued, throwing it and catching it easily in his palm. "I ask you to be mine."

He gracefully placed the ring on a dead branch jutting from the ground, satisfied that he could say his vows just fine without the impending prospect of actual marriage. If he could just shut off his mind on the day, then things would surely run more smoothly.

The ground shook under Ciel's feet and he blinked. Earthquakes were not exactly a regular occurrence in England, though this certainly felt like one. Powdered snow began to drop from the nearby branches as the tremors grew, and Ciel took a step back, eyes darting around wildly.

It was as if the very earth was caving in on itself. The branch that held the gold wedding ring stirred and icy dirt fell away, a wide hole forming as everything shifted. Ciel watched, frozen in horror, as something rose from that hole - a figure, dressed all in black.

It appeared to be a man, though it wasn't like any man Ciel had ever seen; his skin seemed far too pale, his eyes an unnatural shade of red. Hair as black as ebony framed his face, sooty lashes blinking down at Ciel, but that wasn't what unnerved they boy - while this stranger certainly radiated an ethereal beauty, his most prominent feature was probably the gaping hole in his chest, or perhaps his missing left arm.

"Excuse me," said the stranger, reaching down and snagging up the branch - or at least, it used to be a branch. Now, instead of twisted brown twigs, there was a set of bones; a bleached white arm, the hand still sporting the golden wedding ring. The man proceeded to shove the entire humerus up into his gaping sleeve before jerking his shoulder and making a satisfied 'ahh' sound.

That skeletal hand gave a test wriggle, and the strange man gazed down at the wedding ring with a curious expression on his face. "I do," he said.

Ciel ran. He didn't even think about it; his feet moved almost as fast as his thundering heart, carrying him deep into the woods and away from that eerie figure. He didn't even know where he was going - the trees all looked the same, branches snagging at him as though they were trying to hold him back. He only ran faster, the blood rushing in his ears, breath burning in his lungs.

He hit a patch of ice and his foot slipped. It hurt. He turned his head and saw that the man was still pursuing him, a dark shadow amongst the trees. With his feet back under him, Ciel managed to make it away from the ice and up onto a small bank decorated with dozens of huge stones.

He dodged the first few before realising what they were. Gravestones jutted out of the ground around him, some of them looking so old that they were crumbling to pieces. He carried on running, zigzagging past the graves and feeling like this night couldn't get any worse when a crow flew low overhead, cawing. It was followed by an entire murder, the black birds flying right for Ciel. He threw his hands in front of his face and ducked, changing course hastily and blundering onwards.

He only slowed down when he heard the sound of the river. That rush of water was so welcome, the promise of safety just beyond the bridge. Ciel gasped and panted as he broke free of the trees, dodging the crows as they swooped and cawed overhead, his feet finding the solid ground of the path as he made it to the crossing.

He was going to make it.

And then he heard a noise behind him, a sort of grating noise, like the whisper of old parchment. He spun around, back knocking against the stone wall of the bridge, and that figure was on him. A skeletal hand wrapped around his wrist, the sheer height of the man dwarfing Ciel, and he tried to scream but no sound came out.

The man pressed closer, his head tilting down. "Let us seal our marriage with a kiss," he murmured, his voice surprisingly deep, and that was the last thing Ciel knew before something cold touched his mouth and the world went dark.

#sebaciel #sebaciel advent calender #kuroshitsuji #black butler #fanfiction

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