Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji
Grell Sutcliff and his fair lady Madam Red come to terms with their emotions for one another. However, fate is so cruel for they can only have what little time they have left to enjoy their new love. Unfortunately, the possibilities will lead to the same end: Death. Madam Red/Grell Sutcliff, romance/smut, slight OOC
Warnings: Slightly graphic, sexual content (later), and some foul language
**Dedicated to my Madam Red, my greatest love of all and the most beautiful person I have fallen for**
UPDATE 11/19/12: CHANGED TITLE AND DESCRIPTION.
HEART of my heart, my life and light,
If you were lost what should I do?
I dare not let you from my sight,
Lest Death should fall in love with you.
Such countless terrors lie in wait.
The gods know well how dear you are:
What if they left me desolate
And plucked and set you for their star?
So hold my hand—the gods are strong,
And perfect joy so rare a flower
No man may hope to keep it long,
And I might lose it any hour.
So, kiss me close, my star, my flower,
Thus shall the future spare me this:
The thought that there was ever an hour
We might have kissed and did not kiss.
-Love Well the Hour-
Angelina cried out.
That was the first thing Grell had woken up to. The bells of the Big Ben rang only four hours before his abrupt pull from his dreams; he was startled at first, unsuspecting of her sudden outburst to be, well, quite the outburst.
Under her request, and usual habit, Grell had fallen into a deep slumber upon the couch across the bed from where she slept. It was rather odd, he would have loved staying at his Lady's side but orders were orders, he complied as any butler and done as told. To be honest, he never would have been flexible with William, after all, the redhead had a very deep passion for the poor woman that kindred the same lust for mutilation.
He would do what he could, in his power, to keep her alive and content so long as she kept him entertained. However, it was only a personal vow and there were times when she would question his presence around her; he would leave her with only empty answers and sudden bursts of gibberish in front of other servants of her house to avoid her questioning. Naturally, as time passed, they grew to understand one another, it was rather wise of her to leave the subject tucked away from any sort of prodding. It was for the better she would go on without knowing.
His thought process had barely registered what was going on within the grand room. Grell fumbled left and right for his glasses and a candle with a nearby match to provide light. Her cries teared into sobs rather quickly, alerting him that she had roused from whatever nightmare and was beginning to grow a sense of consciousness.
He swore that her pitch could have broken glass. "Ah...ah! AAAAH!"
"M...Madam!" His voice was barely audible, his hand slapped his glasses to the bridge of his nose, and his other hand deftly struck a match to light a candle. Taking the little stand of it, Grell threw off his blanket and rushed over to her side, faithful as ever, while setting the candle upon the nightstand.
The ardent glow of the small flame flickered though it was enough to see her form contorted within the white sheets. She had managed to tangle herself within the blankets, a sob had risen from the mound on the bed, he instantly pulled the covers off of her gently and then clambered onto the mattress to gather her up in his arms and rock her slowly.
He brought his legs over and folded them as he sat there, holding her in his arms. She instinctively curled up into his lap and a deluge fallowed, her tears had soaked into his shirt and her body convulsed for moments on end. The poor woman was trembling like a leaf within his arms, all he could do was hold her; he rested his chin onto her head and shushed her quietly.
"I'm here, here, I'm here," he said softly, his hand supported her and brought her closer; he felt her wrap her own around his back, her hands gripped at his shoulder blades. "Shush, shush."
"No, don't talk."
Her whimpering abated after a great deal of time, her tension and anxiety slowly ebbed and his presence mollified her, ensuring that she could sleep once more. Without further words or any sort of thank you, she slipped out of his arms and went back under her covers, though she had a portion folded; she motioned for him to sleep by her and, for the first time, he slipped under the covers with her and blew the candle out, leaving them in the pitch of darkness.
It was only a few breaths later, she spoke slowly, voice raspy and slightly hoarse,"I had a nightmare, Grell."
"...indeed you had," he answered. He was on his side, facing her. He could feel her breath upon his neck, it told him she too was facing him. "Would you like to tell me?"
"I lost you."
Grell's eyebrows perked up.
"Lost?" He was rather curious but not inclined to care. He heard her head shifting in a nodding fashion upon her pillow.
"You were simply gone. I went all over London, searching, but you were simply nowhere to be found." Her voice was steady, though it was slightly shaky considering the horror she had relived in her sleep.
"...oh, my fair Lady, how the world has ravage you so brutally..."
Grell had read her Cinematic Record at the Library for extensive research for his later clients that would die by her hands. (He had to know what he had to deal with, after all.) He watched her being brought up within a privileged life; she gained anything and everything she ever wanted, though when her time came as a woman, she lacked what she needed the most. There was that man, the one that she desired so badly, the one she had (if possible in the logic of a Shinigami) given her soul to for all eternity. That man had been the source of her problems, she failed to see how he could never be the solution (though her relentless pursuit had undone her mentality).
When Grell watched the last of her sanity shred to pieces by the people that had abandoned her to the world, he could only correctly assume that she can only be the one human, the one woman, that would stand out from all of the rest. Her persona, her two-masked charade to society and family, her masquerade of being a benefit to whores, those were the attributes that had ultimately drawn Grell to the infamous Madam Red. Oh, and her namesake? It was simply another feature worth dying for.
Seeing her snap was simply the perfect start to a perfect drama, one that Grell could live to act in.
All the blood from whores, the unrequited love, the hopeless romance, the tragic past, as a Shinigami this can only be so easily manipulated to a myriad of extents that can satisfy him; Grell instantly saw himself as the Twentieth Century's Shakespeare, or something of the sorts. The term "Playing God" was quite the understatement to Grell, he took it quite literally.
Grell carefully held her within his arms. She went on ranting about her dream; it was about more of her fears of abandonment though he cared less about them. While they were partially essential for giving her the unique outlook on life. It was quite natural for someone like her to experience the haunting memories, though the fact that she had confessed that this particular one was about him had sparked an interest.
He listened to her when she mentioned his name, he noted that she had mollified herself within his embrace.
"...you're the only person I can trust to never leave; you're immortal, Death can never touch you because you are Death," she had finished with a sigh. His eyebrows perked up.
Fear of death, not to herself but for those closest to her, had plagued her for years, this was quite surprising. She believed that she can finally find resolution within an inhuman being; he never expected this to happen, he was too busy slaughtering whores for his own amusement and their punishment for throwing away the precious lives of the unborn.
"Yes, that's true." Well, what she had recently said was true but he was unsure of the words before it. "...and with me at your disposal, there would not be any way for you to leave me."
And, somewhere along the way, she had fallen back into a comfortable slumber. Her breaths were even and deep, his forearm and shoulder supported her head. Grell exhaled softly and drifted into a doze that would only last for four hours. In the distance he heard Big Ben chime five times, signaling to him that he only had three hours instead to rest.
With a few minutes to mull over her thoughts, he began to reconsider his views about her. She believed that he would never leave her, she was beginning to fall in love with Grell; she was already showing signs of attachment to him and, as he was supposed to be cold-blooded killer with Angelina as his accomplice, he was falling in love for her as well.
However, it was the kind of love you would have for a toy.
She had awoken from her sleep. Her voice seemed to be a bit sore for some ungodly reason and her eyes were heavy, the puffiness of them made it difficult to open them properly. The light from a window that had been recently opened slightly irritated her eyes, forcing her to bring a delicate hand up to cover the sun's incessant rays of light.
"Up, up," chirped a familiar voice.
It was her butler. She was facing the window, she rolled to her her back to look up at the canopy of her bed and then finally to the side facing the door. She saw, sideways, that Grell was preparing her clothes and neatly had them upon mannequins so that she may choose which to wear for the day. There were only two for options, both were red though they had their charms.
One said pristine and proper while the other flared with seductive and subtle. She chose the proper one and then Grell cleared his throat to announce her schedule.
"Today...there is nothing upon your schedule."
She was surprised. "...nothing?"
"Absolutely nothing, Madam," Grell said quite cheerfully. She managed to get herself into a sitting position to have a more authoritative look. Grell was never one to lie to her but she could not help wonder what he was up to. He had that nervous (though it was obvious to her that it was fake) look to him, he had those apprehensive eyes that seemed to be waiting for a response.
Angelina sighed and looked at her lap.
"I suppose I should take a break for a bit," she admitted. Her mind was still fuzzy over what had happened last night, she struggled to make her voice sound moist. As if reading her mind, Grell had a glass of water ready for her and had presented it to her rather eagerly.
"...why is my voice box in pain?"
Grell seemed to have paused for a bit to think of his words. After his pause and her sip, he answered,"You were screaming in your sleep."
"And my eyes?"
"You wept quite heavily."
Angelina began to recount the events and even the dream. Her face fell and she was struck by that familiar feeling she had been submerged earlier. She looked at him and gave her her water, he took it and placed it upon the nightstand. She scrutinized him.
His brown hair, mousy and slicked back with a few strands loose, gave him a rather boring appearance. Round were his glasses, they made him look like one of those people you find in libraries or so, they gave him even more of a plain look though his eyes made him look like a scared hare. Black was his overcoat, though he had left it to drape over a chair so he had wore only his dress shirt, vest, armbands, and the other knickknacks that were originally on him before he met her.
Through her years of reading men, she had a clear idea that this man was up to something. Looks were nothing, she had the idea that he had arranged everything so that she would have a day off. Since his efforts were quite evident, she decided that she may as well take advantage of this opportunity to have a day to herself for once.
"...thank you for your consideration."
That was all she could say. She refused to look weak to him, he was quite the dangerous man and she was quite wary of him. However, she had developed deep feelings for Grell. They were only little buds of them just waiting to bloom until they had reached full maturity to be considered and properly handled. She had done her best to be as formal to him as possible as of late so as to not feel awkward around him.
She wondered if he ever noticed her change, though men are all the same regardless if they found themselves as women or not.
She noticed Grell's nervous look immediately changed to almost an expression slight displeasure.
"I need to bathe," she said quickly.
Grell nodded without saying a word and immediately strode out of the room, though his strides were brisk and long; it was a sure sign that she had upset him. The sharp claps from his gloved hands alerted her maids to enter and attend to her needs. Grell filed the in and then suddenly left, closing the door behind him somewhat roughly to signify his sudden frustration; a girl squeaked and they all gathered around Angelina to attend to her needs.
"Which dress, Madam?" One with the brunette ringlets asked anxiously.
"The one on the right," she sighed in consternation,"I feel that it should be fine for today."
During the course of breakfast, Grell would typically shoo away the servants so that he and the Lady would chatter away at idle things while sipping away at their coffee and pieces of toast (Angelina was not the type to eat so heftily in the morning since it would cause her stomach problems while Grell would have his own servings to satisfy his hunger - the man typically ate once a day after all). For this morning, she was surrounded by her servants at hand and foot, it was silent as she sipped away at her coffee. After a few minutes of this, and without taking a bite, she excused herself and left the dining room to wander about her home.
For some ungodly reason her butler was nowhere in sight. She went to the library, he had odd tastes in literature and preferred a good penny-dreadful than an elaborate piece from Oscar Wilde or Thomas Hardin.
She found herself sitting at a couch that faced the fireplace, it was empty and no fire was needed in the spring; she let out a sigh that seemed to echo within the room.
Where she sat was where she and her past-husband would sit before a roaring fire and read book after book with one another, enjoying companies and even having a bit of a carnal embrace. Her hand unconsciously brushed over the velvet cushion; a spark seemed to have struck in her chest and she looked ahead out at the window.
The outside world, so turbulent at the most, looked inviting though she decided to stay within her home and reminisce over the things that happened before. She leaned against the back rest and looked to her right to see that a book was out of place from its usual spot within the shelves. She took it at hand and saw that a slip of paper marked where the reader had last read his or her page.
It was leather bound, the spine of it was highly decorated with grooves and golden letters that had the abbreviation of A.D.B.
Out of curiosity she opened it. What perplexed her was that her name was written in numerous places with dates at the corners of each page; it was like a diary of sorts.
Her eyes raced each sentence for a few pages, it was of her and her sister during the time at the family's summer home at the edge of the English Channel; it was the time Rachel received a cut upon her leg while trying to search the tide pools with her sister. Angelina remembered that they had lied to their father and stated that a man attacked them; it was a pure excuse for them to leave earlier, they were dreadfully bored! But then it caught her, no one should know of this, it was a secret. It was a childish secret but one nonetheless.
She skimmed over to the most recent part where the bookmark (which was a piece of paper) was wedged between a few of the later pages.
She read through it.
Angelina reads the page. Angelina reads the page within a book, she was confound to find that there are paragraphs across the pages. She reads the page. Angelina reads the page. She reads the sentence that is about her reading a sentence. She tries to decipher this odd talk.
Angelina rubbed her eyes and read the book once more.
"`What madness is this?' she thinks. Why...it's writing it on it's own."
It took her a few seconds to realize that the words were practically appearing before her in black ink.
She turns around when she hears a cough from across the room, it was Grell.
Angelina managed to tear her eyes away from the book. Instantly she turned around at the sound of a cough; at the door was Grell.
"I was looking for that book," Grell stated bluntly,"it's quite surprising that you found it though."
He came inside and walked around the couch to be in front of her. She closed the book but refused to hand it over to him just yet. Curiosity had deepened and she grew anxious as to what exactly was this magical object she held within her hand. Firmly, so as to avoid him walking all over her like he had earlier, she questioned,"Exactly, what is this book?"
"Simple, the Book of Life, yours in particular. Not yet a Cinematic Record since yours is still playing within you. But there's no use in you knowing any more, to be frank, you can't exactly enjoy the benefits and real uses of this. Please, that book is important to me-"
"You mean to say I'm important to you?" She had hope within her voice, she felt her heart skip a beat.
She had no clue what a Cinematic Record was, she trusted him for withholding the information, but the fact that he had acknowledged her in his own way (though he seemed oblivious to this) made her feel that there may possibly be some sort of requited feeling from him to her. Perhaps it was time for that rose to bloom and be cared for.
"...I know your thoughts," he sighed even though she gave him no order to confess her feelings to him. "And, if it would make your heart race any more than it is right now, I have taken the liberty of observing you through other means."
Grell went to her side and sat down at the other end of the couch. He seemed discontented with something, his gloves were removed so that he could look at his nails. Angelina felt a bit intimidated by him for some odd reason but she kept the book close to her. "...I suppose that you know a majority of my life."
"Yes, yes, quite so, indeed," Grell answered, his attention went to her,"and to prove it, I was going to take you out on the trip around England."
Angelina placed two and two together to reply,"You canceled all of my appointments just to spend time with me?"
Grell slowly nodded, he gave a motion for her to hand the book to her. Now she understood, at least what she knew, why he would read up on her. Perhaps he had researched her in order to give her the time of her life; he mind raced, she was beginning to think like a teenager. He would probably take her out on a ride around London, go shopping with her, stroll down the parks, or probably anything couples these days would normally do. Oh, how exciting! But then her dream fell face first on to the floor; Grell Sutcliff was her butler and she was his Master, it would be inappropriate to go about as though he were a lover to her.
And, on another fact, the look he was giving her made her feel uncomfortable. He seemed to be growing impatient with waiting for the book, she instantly handed it to him, crestfallen.
Instantly, he opened it and read the most recent entries to himself; she could tell since his lips were moving just slightly.
His behavior was odd to her for the day. His fallowing statement was cryptic. "Oh, dear Madam, now that you know about my surprise it wouldn't exactly be a surprise at all." He frowned and looked towards the window. "I suppose I can go for a different plan."
"Plan?" She asked dumbly. He got up from his seat and offered his hand to her, she hesitated before taking it. The way he was acting was out of bounds, it was too casual for a butler to his lady but she tried to remind herself that he was simply a partner in crime. In all honesty, he should be the one treated as a guest to the household and yet he partially took his role seriously; he only went as far as driving and acting as a servant only in public.
In the reality, when the two are not spending time together, he rarely approached her and yet stayed within earshot or eye-shot, perhaps it was out of observation of the Madam. She grew used to him but had grown tired of this sad relation; it never seemed to have gone any further than what she would have expected.
Without an answer, Grell walked on and away from her, she followed him, curious as to what he has planned for her. It has to be large since it required her to skip work and appointments for a day. They strode out of the library and into the hall.
Numerous curtains were drawn back, the hallway was illuminated and several servants were up and about cleaning the windows or polishing any silver that was displayed upon the walls. Grell clapped his hands and they were all gone in a heartbeat, buckets and cloths in all. Angelina noticed that he was singling her out, they were alone as they made their way turned his head a mere centimeter though she knew he was checking very briefly to see if she was following him.
"Do you remember the first time you lost it?" He asked quietly, stopping in the middle of a stride. She consequently bumped strait into him, her feet shuffled and she stumbled back a bit. He pivoted around to face her, he had a slight smile across his face.
"Three years ago, you slaughtered that whore without an ounce of remorse because she called children useless; you were provoked by words and had the hall to burn the Guineas. I found it quite...intriguing that one such as you would have the soul to do so, though looking back at you I wouldn't blame the circumstances. Husband, child, sister, love, everyone you held dear to yourself has come and gone; one of which never even seen your face. Looking back, I find you now to be...tragic and yet so well-played in my eyes."
Angelina felt the first surge of blood course through her body, it was of anger. How dare he spoke of the ones she cherish! How dare he do so in such disrespect! How dare he! How dare...
"How dare you! I said of you to never speak of them!" She shouted, raising her hand and then slapped him across the face. That smug smile was still there, he made to open his mouth but she slapped him once more. "No! Not another word from you!"
Her hand retracted to hit him once more but his own went to take a firm grasp upon her thin wrist. "Dear lady, oh fair, sweet woman, I look at you now and look at what you've become."
She attempted to wretch her hand away from his grasp, having realized that she had assaulted the one person she would never want to cross. While they were partners and had a degree of trust, he was still much more lethal, much more dangerous, and much more destructive than she was. The man wielded a machine operating on some sort of liquid he demanded from Arabia, he knew how to use it and, under her instruction, now knows how to cleanly shred human flesh with only a tiny scapula with deft precision. She was stuck and could not move, he seemed to be enjoying her sudden fear.
"You've become the epitome of Death itself, you bring it so mercilessly, I find it utterly stunning."
And then his fingers slowly released her wrist but crept up to gingerly touch her palm. She could feel his gloved fingers brushing against her skin before traveling up to intertwine with her appendages. With such a suddenly, gentle contact she had thrown all wrath out the window to better comprehend what he was about to say.
"But your play is coming to an end real soon, very, but that won't come by these hands. No, they will come first by the boy Phantomhive and then next by me, myself. For the sake of pride, would it better for me to draw the curtains or let someone else do so?"
Angelina stared at him as though he were speaking with Lau's tongue. "I...don't understand."
"I'm in love with you, dear Madam, but you aren't the only one who has the fear of being alone," he said, though it was a murmur. He let her hand free and his face looked away from hers. "The love you so enamored yourself all these years is not true, it's the power to end it yourself is what can give it closure."
In pure honest, he was telling her gibberish. She gave a puzzled expression but a few seconds more gave her time to register the statement in which he said he was in love with her. The rest of what he said was thrown out the window for he spoke of something she desperately wanted to hear for so long, something that would come from a familiar.
"Call for my name when you have understood my words."
He remained quiet for her, he knew that she was a careful riddle solver and that he had quite the habit to say his speech in riddles, but in his sense, he could only have said her future in the most blunt way as possible. There will come a time when that damned brat catches upon their trail and attempt to hound them down like the relentless beast he was, or so claims to be, and Angelina would be unable to escape her fate.
Grell turned around and walked away, he didn't look back, for he already knew she would stand there. He knew it was a habit of hers to just stand there and stare into space. Grell gently bit his lip as he rounded the corner. He had seen his updated Death Ledger, she was placed at number thirteen, the last soul to reap from this serial collection. To be honest, he would rather let her live on but all good things must come to an end, thus, memories would live on.
"Memories are such a redundant thing," Grell uttered to himself.
And they were. They held sentimental value but the feelings, well, they are just contorted over time as opinions change due to the altering mind. He doesn't want her to die, not too soon, not so soon. He began to rethink his thoughts from last night. Now that he told her that he loved her, which he knew that was something he should come to proper terms with, it would be the catalyst for the events yet to come. Reading up on her future would spoil everything, for he just added a dramatic twist to her story.
His pondering had lead him to the courtyard. It was rather small but large enough for an arena passed the main garden, along with the stables tucked away in the back. The late Baron Barnette was a skilled horseman renown for his dressage and hunting capabilities; Angelina was not so keen upon riding, as seeing it to be unladylike, but had a fair bit of knowledge. It was rare to see her riding one of her husband's steeds, let alone be near one.
"Mr. Sutcliff! Mr. Sutcliff!"
But as for Grell, he found himself to be fond of the animal.
"Yes?" He answered. The ostler was a young boy, he was dressed neatly though his pants had been stained from his job at the stables. He looked fearful, Grell knelt to him and was at eye level. "What is it?"
"I...I'm sorry, b-but your horse won't get up," he sniffled out,"Perry says that he may have rolled and did something to his withers."
Grell perked up at this. He had grown a fair bond to one of the late Baron's horses, his name was Leon. Once in a while he would use this horse to ride about, sometimes even go with the jumps upon him. He was an imported Andalusian from Madrid, highly trained and very well-mannered, he never threw a fuss. Grell had always found white to be such a boring color but the stallion had made it quite the marvelous color, the gracefulness even matched the quality of his gait.
Concerned, though dreading to find Leon, Grell and the stable-boy went off to the stall in which the poor animal was laying upon the ground, withering and whining at the pain of whatever he had done to himself. The sight of Grell made the horse point his ears upward and his spirit seemed to rise, though Grell had a different plan.
"Fetch me a Winchester," Grell said. Without question, the boy went off. Grell was left alone with Leon.
The steed laid there, helpless and hopeless. There was nothing to be done. He had once heard that a lame horse would be no horse, Grell understood that; he had dealt with humans dying, an animal would be much less than that. In fact, he could practice letting go, right now. The horse nickered but gave an odd look when Grell simply stood there to watch him. He looked on as if saying,'Why aren't you comforting me? We're friends, right?'
He was giving her that desperate look Angelina would have in her Cinematic Records.
Within moments, the boy returned, but with several servants with him. They all knew just as much as Grell.
A rifle was giving to Grell, he took it at hand, checked the barrel and cartridge, and was satisfied at it being loaded and ready. Slowly, he cocked it within the crook of his shoulder and aimed directly between Leon's- no, the animal's eyes. He heard the men hold their breaths, the horse's final nickers were echoing in his ears, the gears were clicking.
And then a starling crack snapped through the air, the recoil had made Grell nearly lose his balance. A riot from nearby birds came screeching across the courtyard, the men were gasping. He heard the horse squealing and withering once more until the pounding of its hooves stopped. Grell handed the Winchester to one of the men and ordered,"Clean this up, all of it."
He turned away, he didn't need to see Leon, he knew he was dead. It was out of habit for him, after all, he would rather have his own possessions die by his hand. Angelina had slowly became his own these passed few years, he would rather end her than letting that brat take the mercy killing from him.
The resounding crack had reached as far as Madam Red from her room. In an instant, as though she had been forced into the decision that would change her life without a second thought, she cried out,"Grell!"
And, with a few seconds going by, the knock was heard upon her door. She had been sitting on the couch Grell would normally be slumbering in at night. For some reason, she had wandered to his sleeping area and felt safe from where he normally would be. Perhaps it was the sense of security she gained that attracted her to hold this blanket so dearly as well. She even had the need to inhale his scent, metallic and yet rosy, it had sent shivers down her spine with a feeling of warmth coursing through her body.
She got up from her seat and approached the door, though it suddenly opened with Grell giving her the same look earlier; cryptic and ominous. He stood before her, those acid green eyes bore into her own, down into her soul, as of trying to wretch it out like a whore's organs. She took a step back.
Angelina was daunted by his figure. That flaming, red hair seemed a bit more brilliant from the sun's rays hitting him at the right angle, all she knew was that it was a clear sign of danger. "What happened?"
She simply rolled that off her tongue. She was curious. For God's sake, there was a gunshot, she had the right know about the events. Right?
"I had just conducted a mercy killing," he bluntly answered, he didn't dance around this,"I suppose you can put two and two together?"
From their little quarrel in the hall, she only had ten minutes to contemplate his words. She could only know that he loved her, for that's what stuck to her mind, but, only now, she had began to understand his power, his true occupation. He is a Shinigami, a god of death, he is Death. Though the irony was that he had proclaimed his love for her, well, there could be no irony to that. The mention of mercy killing had clicked to her that he would do his job as a Shinigami out of love.
And then she lost her fear of him. She dryly laughed, softly,"If you know me so well as you claim yourself to be, why should I have the answer you? You know what I think up in my mind anyway, there just isn't a point in telling you."
"It wouldn't be as satisfying if I read it," he shot back at her, taking a step towards her. He crossed the threshold and closed the door, he locked it without turning back to see. The sound of the lock clicking suddenly alarmed her, she felt unsafe near him. "I love watching my plays live, please don't make yourself into a penny-dreadful."
"I thought you loved those-"
"I bloody hate them for real life situations."
He maintained that gaze. Normally he would try to avoid her line of sight but he was up, front and center, for her view. She tried to recall what he said to her, she tried to analyze it as fast as she could.
Love. Mercy. Closure.
"An end to the madness? Grell, you're questioning my sanity, I find that to be offensive. Unless you're talking about yourself-"
She wasn't trying to be humorous but he suddenly smiled. She had felt relieved at this. So he was speaking of himself. He has been enamored with her then but how could he see it to be so false? She is a human and he is a Shinigami, he had the ability to end her, and he was reluctant to do it. That was what he was trying to get her to see. His occupation had its drawbacks, she would be the one human that he would regret to reap for his pay.
He motioned for her to approach him, and when she did, he wrapped his arms around her to embrace her tightly. "My dear, precious Madam Red, I was telling you about myself, and that is true. I told you I am in love with you, I don't even have to look at your book to know that you doubt me. I admit, I can be dubious but I am also hesitant."
She had grown tired of this hesitant act. It was what brought her to be who she was today. She was hesitant to Vincent, she had lost him in the end. She was unwilling to let this happen to Grell. Now that she had an idea as to who he is, she was sure of herself to approach him without qualms.
"I was too until life taught me to take whatever I can, and I did. I still do." She pulled away from him slightly to look up at him. He was looking down at her, those eyes mysterious and now warming. "I believe, no, I know I am in love with you as well. You...can't die. That's the beauty of you."
But she pulled away. The blanket upon the sofa had fallen to the floor, she gathered it up and tossed it upon the cushions to keep it from collecting anymore dust and lint.
"What do we do now?" Angelina asked him, facing the wall. "You say that you know my Cinematic Record, my life is a book and now I know the author who can alter my end. With that in mind, what do you do? A writing of my life is now a reality, I have the knowledge of any manipulation that can occur to myself. What do I do with that? What are we to do?"
She heard him shuffling his feet, his tongue clicked thoughtfully. "Continue on. And besides, it's not a book, Madam, it's a life, a play, a drama."
Angelina huffed at that and gently shook her head, her lips curled into a smile. She had the belief that God was behind her misfortunes, every single time she had gone through the hard moments in life she blamed him but with Grell at her side, as he literally held her life in his hands, she no longer feared that omnipotent God. It was an irony to her to learn that there was a way to change life through otherworldly means, she has found the bringer of Death but that was all that was needed to prove that life was a complicated book written with numerous twists and turns.
"As we always have been, bringing justice, murdering those bitches, plotting our next move."
"But my nephew."
"That is where it will not end, I won't let it. You're too much for even Death to accept, too much for myself to accept but fate is fate and I can no longer change what we have been doing. Enough of that, it's nothing a human would have to carry upon their shoulders."
His hand had made it to her shoulder and carefully grasped it. She gasped and looked back, only to be met with a pair of soft lips that were a bit dry. It took a moment for her to register the fact that they had contacted each other like this. She froze in place, feeling as though she was having a man touch her for the first time. Gently he turned her whole body to face him, then his other hand came about to rest comfortable on her waist. She found her own hands at his chest pressing against him but then slowly having her fingers grasp the cloth of his vest.
His lips parted, as did hers, and slowly, tongues came to dance with one another, sensually, softly.
It was him that moaned so quietly, he even sighed so longingly. The air grew thick with his bloody scent, she felt so intoxicated by him, she wondered how he managed to do that so naturally, it was as though his mouth contained red wine, for that was what she tasted. She reluctantly pried her lips from his, though they were only a few centimeters apart, and inquired,"Were you drinking?"
"Perhaps but I was about to ask the same thing to you, my dear Lady," he purred deeply, it sent shivers up her spine.
"Hnm, yes," she murmured, only to press herself closer to him to have that feeling radiate from his own person,"but I suppose we can wait for nighttime. After all, that's when sweet nothings are distilled to be more sweeter."
"Ah, you're a fan of words I see, that's certainly new."
Night had fallen upon London.
Grell was dressed in his usual disguise. Brown, dull hair. Dull jacket, dull shoes, everything was simply dull but necessary. His eyes scanned the alleyway, a lone blonde in a sultry dress seemed to be eying him. Madam Red had concealed herself behind the corner so that the prostitute would focus solely on Grell.
He uttered out, for his lady was a few inches away from the turn,"She's the one?"
"Certainly, I can smell her stench from here," Angelina replied, though there was a bit of venom to her voice.
While her schedule, well, domestic, social, and working schedule, was empty for the day, the night had brought a different set of agendas for her to set for herself and accomplish. She was thankful that she had no work for the day, it gave her time to collect her thoughts for the evening's kill. This woman had her operation done about week ago, and typically Angelina would wait for that long in order to pay visits to Ciel or attend other affairs. In her book, and Grell's, the whore was slated to die tonight.
She peered around the corner to see that Grell had went from his spot over to the whore. He seemed to be glaring at the woman but she paid no mind, the sight of the bag of coins had caught her interest. With her distracted and backed turned, Angelina approached her from behind, creeping up to her so stealthily.
The moonlight cast a shadow of her sleek form crouching with her knife held parallel at her waist. As she had found herself close enough, she could hear the conversation that Grell was holding so aloofly.
"You know what color would suit you more, dear?" Grell asked so placidly, he was suddenly smiling when he and Angelina caught one another's gaze.
"Red, blood red. Yellow is too bright and not rich enough for men to love. No wonder you ended up as you are..."
The woman backed straight into Angelina but before she could react, the doctor had taken her knife and cleanly slit her throat wide open. Blood spluttered upon Grell's front as the heart continued to pump that crimson liquid. From Grell's view, the windpipe was exposed and torn apart to prevent the whore from screaming, amazingly she was still alive. She was moving about violently but then Grell pounced her to the ground, Angelina sidled to the side to clean off her stained blade and then dive by Grell's side when he was straddling the whore.
His brilliant teeth shown in the moonlight, he could have been mistaken for Dracula with his green eyes glowing so vibrantly.
Angelina let a broken laugh ring from the base of her throat as Grell got off of the poor woman but he kept his hands at her shoulders to prevent her from squirming any more. The rapid inhales from the open windpipe were growing fainter by the second but Angelina paid no mind as she took her newly cleaned knife and used her adroit hands to carve into the woman's stomach. She went deep, making sure that the whore felt the pain before her death.
"The dress," Grell murmured, though he began to chuckle as the woman's hands dug into the concrete, nails breaking and skin tearing. "It's so hideous."
After a few seconds of digging and searching, Angelina found the womb, the uterus. She tugged at it and severed the cords that connected it to the vaginal cavity. With it came the ovaries that were suspended in the air. The uterus was discarded, tossed to the wall. All that was there upon the whore was a maddening hole in her stomach. Apparently, the woman breathed so little and, slowly, her head tipped to the side and she no longer struggled.
As long as she saw Angelina rip her body open, it wouldn't matter what else would happen.
Her time and experience had taught Angelina to be precise and clean with her killings, she had little to no blood upon her person even as she sheathed her knife into her sleeve. It was also thanks to the knife itself, a gift from Grell from when he first met her, it was a death scythe. While she couldn't see the Cinematic Rips, she would catch Grell holding out the Death Ledger and staring into space in boredom before stowing the book away. She looked up from her art to see Grell watching whatever he could see.
"Her life is playing out for you?"
Grell nodded, not saying a word yet. He spent a minute murmuring incoherent words after releasing the whore. Unlike Angelina, he was covered down the front in crimson liquid. His bloody, gloved hand reached into the air as the other held his book. "Roslyn, Edna. Born 31 October 1868. Cause of death, exasnguination. No further note."
His attention snapped to her and he smiled so sweetly, offering a hand to her once he got to his feet. She took it as she stepped up. "...say, why couldn't we have ridden Leon tonight?"
"He snapped his withers or broken a leg, but he was of no use. I had to end his suffering earlier, that was why you heard that gun go off," he explained as he knelt down to her side and, with a swooping motion, picked her up and carried her bridal style,"but enough of that. Would my Lady care to fly?"
She could feel the blood soak into her own sleeves when she wrapped her arms around his neck, she gasped,"Wait, why? Grell, you don't mean-"
She looked down at him, her heart racing. Pounding. It was of excitement, of anxiety, of fear. She had seen him travel across rooftops, with only his red ribbon as a faint indicator of his movements, never before had she dared think of letting him carry her at such a speed. The sight of his mad grin and mischievous eyes, which did not suit his innocent disguise, made her mind reel into a whirl of emotions though the whirl had turned into a cyclone when she felt him kick off the ground and send the pair off into the sky.
She held taught around his neck and was unable to suppress a scream. She dug her face into his chest and her entire body became tense.
All that she could see were the rapid patterns of bricks though it took only a second for the monotonous image to break into a full expanse of the sleeping London. It literally took her breath away.
Their weight was briefly suspended though his grip under her legs and back had gotten firmer.
"Why're you so afraid, my Madam. It's a beautiful sight to see," Grell said over the gentle winds,"but don't look down just yet."
And she peeked even more, gasping in awe at the height he had launched himself to. She paid attention to his warning as they were suddenly free falling, she felt his body jar, just slightly, at the contact to a solid surface. He had landed upon the tiled roof but he kicked off once more, breaking into a sprint this time. She held him as he picked up a considerably large amount of speed, it was enough to propel him to another roof, and then another, until colors blurred all around her.
She shut her eyes but, amazingly, never grew sick to his movements due to his gentleness and careful steps taken to prevent his sprints from becoming too jagged. Soon enough, she felt comfortable in his arms, she quickly fell into a doze, seeing that the easy rocking motions of him were enough to mollify her.
He landed on the balcony of her manor.
"Angelina?" He said as he went through the door that was left open, it led to her sleeping chambers. She had fell into a deep slumber within his arms though he placed her onto the bed, she still failed to awaken but she would have to soon enough, her clothes and skin were stained from the blood upon himself. Luckily, having been prepared for the night, he arranged for the servants to prepare two, separate, warm baths before the time they would arrive home.
Grell smiled down at her.
Tonight, all she did was tear the whore's stomach to pieces but didn't partake in any activity other than that. He smiled and leaned down to kiss her temple, then he strode over to the door. It was unlocked but he took the key and locked it to ensure that none would bother them.
"Passed ten already?" Grell mumbled to himself. He was used to overtime but he never liked the idea of being up so late. Slowly, but surely, he began to make his way to the lavatory. His bare skin, from the waist up was exposed to the slightly rigid air. He had to remember to light the fireplace before the woman awakens from her sleep.
In Angelina's grand bathroom, there were two, clawed tubs, both of which could fit two. For reasons why she would have it, he knew that she threw outrageous parties that wandered on with adventurous nights with the myriad of the male harems she would invite should she grow a bit bored, or perhaps a bit too far with hormones; he remembered when he first met her, she would tell him to go off and entertain her other guests. Oddly, only a year ago, she had ceased bringing her "friends" and only contented herself to pay attention to Grell himself, thus leading her to not host her own parties.
So she did grow smitten with me that long ago. Women are always moral around their man but are much less when not.
He went over to one that was filled half way to the brim. The water was hot, just the way he preferred it. He saw himself in the large mirror, he took notice how his face was smeared a bit with blood, at some point, the bitch may have slapped him with her bloodied hand. The imprint was there upon his cheek, he smiled at that, sighing that he would have to remove it during his cleansing.
His hair, now a blazing red (he was safe at home so the disguise had no need), was slightly caked in blood, he would have to rinse that as well. He stripped himself of his slacks and undergarment (his glasses were left on the counter by the sink), then he made his way for the bath. He dipped his hand in, he was satisfied with the water once more, and eventually he gripped the edge of the rim with both. He brought a leg over and hoisted himself into the water.
A sigh escaped once more as he lowered his being into a sitting position. The blood within his hair immediately diluted into the water like ink, his hands scooped up a bit to wash his face. He washed his face once more, making sure to get rid of the dried blood. Once more he did so, but as the last drops of water dripped to the surface, he heart the unmistakeable clicks of heels against the marble tiles of the floor. He turned his head, for his back was to the entrance of the lavatory.
"You're awake," Grell said, voice echoing throughout the room. He saw her at the corner of his eye, the faint outline of red grew more defined as she approached closer. Soon enough, she was at the side of the tub. He had little decency to cover himself up in his nether regions, she was a woman, he expected her to be mature about situations like this. And, above his standards, she never wavered before him.
"Yes, I am. I must admit, it was rather cold there, in that room," she spoke quietly, but he was aware that she had awoken alone and had quickly went off to find him. He could see her clearly now, there was a slight smirk upon her face. "My clothes are dirty...is it not your job to actually ensure that I am presentable at all times?"
"True, true, though being a servant through and through doesn't mean that I have no partnership with you. Please, I suffered more regarding dirtiness, allow me to bathe. This all is a facade." He washed his face once more. He waited for an answer from her and when he cleared his eyes of the water, he saw that the overcoat of Angelina had been stripped away, revealing only a white blouse that covered her bountiful chest, though it and her waist were strangled by a corset underneath. "Madam?"
She took a stool and sat upon it, her hands took the cuffs of each sleeve and rolled them up. To her side was a bucket, she took it, submerged it into the water, and poured it onto Grell, soaking his entire head and only the top layer of his hair. It all happened so fast, he never expected it.
He looked forward.
"If you're not my servant, say you take this as yourself being an all powerful deity, I have the responsibility to care for your appearance just as much as mine," she giggled, he noticed that her spirits had lifted considerably,"you are, in the reality, a guest to my house and this world, it's the least I could do."
Grell had never counted on her being so generous towards others in such an intimate way, especially to him. In fact, it was the first time she had been this kind to him. He thought back throughout his life. It was the first time in his long life that someone had shown some sincerity. He wanted to cry at that, for this human had touched a spot in his heart that triggered a deluge of emotions, his mind spun as his thoughts reeled on to his views upon her.
Another bucket of water was poured upon his head, her hands were suddenly running through his endless strands of his brilliant, red hair. They were gentle to his scalp, trying to figure out where to start for washing his lengthy mane. Eventually, her hands pulled away and water was poured to his hair once more.
He had realized that he truly loved Angelina.
But then she asked the question that surprised him of her sharp memory. "Earlier you said that you had a plan, but then I spoiled it for myself so you decided on a different one. What was it? Do tell me."
Grell felt his lips curl at both ends, he turned his head once more to look at her in the eyes.
"I confessed earlier that I am a doubtful person, I fancy myself as a playwright and actress, both of which are helpful tools to create masterpieces though there comes a time when you need romance to your story. Life is an ongoing piece, yours was lacking so much in what you needed so I find that it wouldn't hurt to try and spice things up a bit. I wanted to see if you fully understand that I am manipulate you to my will, but now I want to see if you are capable of love on your own. If you can say, I did heal you but can you maintain that for yourself?"
She sighed, without words he knew that she had confused her.
He thought for a moment. "Wait...ah, let me say this differently. Hm. Oh, Angelina, you've twisted me into my own story, for I had forgotten the plan to begin with. Today was something in which you gave me hints to a dying question. Answer me, though I don't even have to look at your Book to know. Angelina, I find that I'm in love with you now, I truly am, but would you return my affections?"
Water dripped. Her face changed to being so loving, so relieved, it was as though her burden had lifted. She could only answer with,"I've been waiting for you to say that for a long time, Grell. Yes, I'll return your affections under one condition."
"You will never leave my side. Ever."
And then his heart broke but he answered anyway,"It shall be done."
Oh, when the time comes for them to part, the pain he would have to comprehend would shatter his world completely. He had clear knowledge of this but he was a playwright with the attributes of a god, he had the powers to change fate, he will cheat Death. He will cheat himself to keep her alive, what a cruel irony this is for Grell Sutcliff.
A/N: Originally this was supposed to be a one-shot but I guess I'll let this go on for another chapter to close it up. Promise for the smut in the next chapter.
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