Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The wind howled and bit at her fingertips. The sky was dark with celestial figures as the only source of light, casting shadows on the snow covered trees and ground. The woods were cold, but her determination to escape fueled the fire in her stomach. It had been hours now- no- days since she had set out from her old residence in search for a new haunting ground. If only she could have held out for a few more months, but she knew better than to get comfortable with a soul as restless as hers. Who knew how long it would be before she stumbled upon a building, a cave, or anything to shield from the paralyzing winter night air?

Orbs of light could be seen in the distance if she squinted hard enough. Images of coal mines flashed through her dull mind. It wouldn’t be much but it would provide enough warmth to sleep through the night. Gaining any kind of sustenance was crucial now. Provided, she could hold on long enough to make it that far. Sleeping was a delicacy that came only when her soul- her being- was too restless and over exerted. After the countless days and nights of wandering, she could only pray for shelter before her body collapsed and she fell doomed to an endless limbo between too dead to move and too restless to move on. Rest would come easy even in a dusty cavern.

She swallowed back her exhaustion and began sprinting at full speed to the lights. Eyes closed, she silently let her instincts guide her. Nearing, she opened her eyes and gasped as the reality of the structure came into focus. She stood before a huge manor. Lanterns dusted their way past the wrought iron gate and to the large entry doors. Faint lights visible in the windows, she made the decision to creep up to the doors.

An occupied home wasn’t ideal, but she couldn’t beg any longer. If only it could grant her a night’s rest; then she’d disappear before anyone had the faintest clue she had ever been there at all. Arriving at the doors, she used her last bit of strength to phase through the tall, carved wood; never allowing for any creaking or breezes to meet the warm interior of the home.

She stumbled up the grand staircase, silent as to not alert any of the home dwellers of her presence. Carefully making her way through what felt like an endless hallway, she felt at the walls and took note of dozens of delicately crafted paintings along the path. Candlelights lit the narrow hallways but her gaze was too tired to focus on any singular frame. At last, she came to a room towards the outer home. Reasoning that if anyone were to occupy a room it would be in the central area- in the most concentrated of the heat.

Through the window, the moon shone in, providing enough light to grasp the bearings of the bedroom. It was smaller, at least compared to how she assumed the rest of the manor’s bedrooms varied. Beautifully carved furniture adorned the room’s sophisticated nature. It had been a while since she’d been in a home this beautiful, but as much as she wished to admire and explore the manor, her body screamed for rest.

A steady beating had played in her head for the past several hours, making it hard to concentrate clearly on the elegance of the room. She shed her soaked and freezing clothing and made her way to the bed. As soon as her hands met the feeling of the soft comforter, her body wholly collapsed towards the warmth and fell into deep sleep.

When the morning came, so did the hunger. It pierced her stomach like sharp blades. She looked around the now bright room, taking in her surroundings and gathering her bearings. The sun filtered through the dark blue curtains like they did on that fateful day. Despite the warmth of the manor, shivers ran through her body as nostalgia hit her. It was only a few years ago that it had happened. She remembered waking in the morning to the sunlight shining through her old curtains in her lover’s bedroom. He always preferred dark colors and by association, so did she. She looked at the pile of garments on the floor. The dark tones all mixed together. From an outside eye, it could look like a widower’s laundry after her beloved’s funeral. In a sense, that was the truth. Only the funeral was her own and all that was left to grieve was herself.

Taking deep breaths, she got up and made her way to the pile. The sunlight and warm air had effectively dried them all off for the most part- spare the muddied boots a few feet away. She quickly redressed and took her leave in search of the kitchen. Surely a manor as grand as this would have a dedicated staff to prepare meals so as she followed her nose she turned every corner quickly and passed no open door without peering inside first.

Upon the central island in the kitchen laid a platter of blueberry muffins. She nearly choked at the smell alone. Finding such a delicious treat felt like a gift from God. She quickly made her way to it and messily devoured 3 of the dozen. Surely no one would notice. After living with servants for so long, she knew they were keen on snacking. There would be no question about how the muffins had disappeared.

The hunger pains in her stomach quickly subsided and were replaced with aches; the consequence of overeating that she couldn’t be more grateful for. It had been nearly 2 weeks since her last meal. When a wandering ghost gets restless, there is nothing that can be done to stop them from running. Even when to the point of collapsing, a restless soul can’t rest until they find a new haunting ground. Fighting it was useless. Like an addiction that would tear one apart until it’s given another dose.
The growing pains in her stomach caused it to grumble with anger at her decisions. She knew she couldn’t stay in the kitchen for long before a servant or two would sneak up on her. Her mouth watered with the craving of more food but it was decidingly better to be uncomfortable than to be caught.

The hallway was well lit now as she followed the winding stairs and doors back to her resting room. As she rounded a corner she could see a door was adjacent. Her shoulders tensed with the fear of the living while she tried to focus on any sounds. It remained as quiet as before so she carefully crept to the open door.

Peering inside, there were walls covered in grand bookcases, all filled to the brim with thousands of volumes. There was no way in hell someone could read all this in a lifetime, but thankfully for her, her lifetime had passed long ago. She passed through, running her hands over the spines of countless books, until she came across some familiar titles. “Sherlock Holmes”- adored since she was a kid. It had been years now since she’d found her way to a home that possessed more than a volume or two, but these shelves held all the publications- some even in French. She excitedly grabbed the 4 English volumes and practically leapt back to her bedchamber.

Authors could capture her feelings better than ever could. Though Sherlock Holmes was not a particularly emotional series, it filled her chest with the nostalgia of being a little girl and sneaking to her father’s study in the night just to read. The mystery and wit never failed to excite her. Once, she dreamed fondly of being a detective just like Sherlock. She hoped for her own helper like Watson. Those dreams were far from ever having the merit of becoming reality. Afterall, how many afterlife detectives were there? Nevertheless, she allowed herself to indulge in her fantasy. And as the day turned into nights, she could hardly shake the joy in her heart of what will never be. It seemed that even the shadows gave her grace for her childlikeness.

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Dark red eyes met themselves in the pan’s reflection. A butler must always look established and presentable, even when they are not actively tending to their master. With breakfast served and Ciel on his way to the study for his schooling, Sebastian had the time to clean up the mess from breakfast. He looked blankly at the muffin tray on the center of the counter and sighed. It seems Finnian had managed to sneak in before the Butler had time to clean up. He picked up the tray carefully and called Baldroy to clean the kitchen. His master’s tutoring was going to require extra time today. Checking his pocket watch, he hastily made way to the study where Ciel sat at his desk impatient and angry.

His butler smirked at the dramatics of his master. “Now, what seems to trouble you today?”

“How am I meant to read the material if you’ve confiscated my materials to read!” Ciel shouted back. He looked to the bookshelf at the empty spot where his literature should have been. Sebastian followed his gaze and furrowed his brow. It certainly hadn’t been him to take Sherlock Holmes and the other servants were hardly intelligent enough to read simple instructions, much less an entire 4 volume series.

The air shifted around Sebastian. He had been aware of something being off since mid-way through the night. He paid it no mind, however, since the feeling was no presence. Rather, it could be described as the lack of one. But everyone was at breakfast- so where could this instinct come from? There were very questions Sebastian was unable to answer and it deeply bothered him that this was one of them.

He put up a hand to dismiss his master. Ciel looked back at him only with more annoyance. “You mean to dismiss me now? After you misplaced the materials?” He accused.

Sebastian looked at him with a stern expression. “I can assure you it was not I who misplaced the books, but I intend to find out who did rather promptly.” And without another word, Sebastian left the study eager to get to the bottom of his feeling of uncertainty.

Chapter Text

Sunrays reflected off the week’s snow creating a blinding light in the small bedroom. The floor lit up in an almost shimmery way and snowflakes cast whimsical shadows on the walls. The wood burning in the fireplace gave off a calm aroma, one that reminded her of her home while living.

Her father always made sure to tend to the fires- insisting he knew the secret to an everlasting flame. She sat on the wide settee and watched playfully while he poked and prodded at the parlor fireplace. When he returned to his own ornate seat a more serious expression took over his features.

She had come to his townhouse in London in a semi-panic. He knew from the moment she arrived without warning that something was amiss. He worried it was a report of misconduct from her newly announced fiance. Though he was never the traditional type, he found it odd the man had never consulted with her father before his marriage proposal. Then of course, moving away before they had even become engaged. A string of strange behaviors had taken place over the last several months, leaving him concerned for his dear daughter.

She cleared her throat and started slowly. “There’s been word of a drug trade of sorts in London,” looking carefully to her father, she continued, “James has been acting strange these past weeks. I fear he may be involved somehow.”

The man before her shook his head disapprovingly. Blasted that man! Taking his daughter and worrying her with his impulses. She was right, of course. He’d heard talk about the rampant overdoses and traces of opium. If that man was somehow involved he’d only make her life more difficult and dramatic. He greatly feared what any instability could do to her. “So what do you plan to do?”

She thought quietly for a moment with sadness on her features. “I’m not quite sure. I suppose that’s why I came to you.” Glancing around at the familiar portraits on the walls, she sighed a feeling of uncertainty. “You’ve always been much better with these sorts of things.”

The man looked painfully at his daughter, sorrow filling his eyes. He wished he could have protected her from these things. It was miserable to watch your child grow so lonely, but he knew she had to make her own decisions. Thankfully, he could give the options. “Well, you can come here. Stay in your old bedroom just like you had before. Or you can wait it out with James. I worry about what may happen with the latter, though,” he stopped for a moment and looked his sweet in her eyes, “No one wants to see things get bad again, (Name).”

Carefully, she looked at her father with a small smile, remembering back on the events from her teens. She was a wreck and she wasn’t sure she could survive another break in her bruised heart. “I’d like to come home, please. James leaves for Paris in three days. My escape would be ideal when he isn’t around to stop me.” She stood up and reached her hand out to him.

He smiled and stood to meet her, grasping her hand with both of his own. “I anticipate your arrival then. I’ll have all your bed linens washed and dinner prepared. Just like old times.” They walked to the front door and he hugged her tenderly. When she walked to her carriage, he couldn’t help but look in admiration. Everyday she looked more like her mother. He didn’t know it yet, but the last time he’d look at her she would be the spitting image of his beloved; in a casket and lifeless.

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Growls of hunger came from her stomach. Though she had just eaten the day before, her body required more sustenance to make up for the long travel she had endured. She gathered herself and made her way to the kitchen, retracing her steps from the morning before.

Sandwiches decorated the ornate platter on the counter. Excitedly, she walked over and divulged in the meal. Overtaken with the delight of food in her stomach, she missed the footsteps coming to the kitchen.

The clashing of metal on the floor brought her back to the present where she looked up and was met with the face of a startled boy. Before either of them had time to react, her instincts kicked in and rendered her invisible while she sprinted in fear back to her bedroom. While she ran, a scream could be heard from the boy in the kitchen.

A redhaired maid with large glasses and a cook with a crooked smile and cigarette ran to the young boy’s side. He frantically hyperventilated and started crying from the shock of it all. The woman placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder and got to eye level with him, “Finnian, please just tell us what’s wrong.”

Finnian’s eyes watered and his breathing started to calm down before he replied. “There was a woman! A ghost! She’s disappeared right before me very eyes she has!” His breathing picked up again as he cried into the woman’s shoulder, “Mey-rin, it was terrible! How am I to stay at a manor with a ghost? It’s all just too scary!”

Mey-rin and the cook tried to shush and calm the boy but he wouldn’t stop. Sebastian, with keen hearing, came to the kitchen at once to investigate the ruckus. He looked around at the dropped food and scattered pans on the floor before his eyes landed on the pile of servants. They shamefully told him of their findings with worry for his reprimand due to their carelessness.

Sebastian sighed, “That would explain it then.” The three all looked at Sebastian quizzically. Finnian’s tears started to dry and Mey-rin and Maldroy looked confused.

“But Sebastian… Ghosts aren’t real! That’s what they tell to all those kids to scare em from wandering off!” Baldroy exclaimed loudly. Sebastian looked at them, mentally facepalming. You can live with a demon butler and a teenager with super strength but can’t wrap your minds around ghosts being real? Ridiculous, yet exactly what he would expect from them.

“Please, stay out of my way while I investigate. I’ve no time to deal with your idiocracy,” he said as he walked out of the kitchen, “and clean up the mess!”

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Running through the manor, (Name) allowed herself to physically manifest again as to save her already low energy. A shade spent half their afterlife hiding but it came at a cost. Staying in the shadows was consuming. With a primary instinct to stay distanced from humans, hiding in plain sight took a toll.

The smell of fresh laundry filled her senses. Looking down, her clothes were soiled from the days without cleaning. Mud caked her dress and socks, undoubtedly giving off a foul smell. She followed her nose to the laundry room and was pleasantly surprised to find several dresses hung up to dry. Hanging next to them were several aprons- presumably a maid's clothing. She grabbed a dress and left the laundry to head back to her room, not noticing the soap overflowing onto the floor.

She changed then laid in bed and wondered if maybe she could stick around for a while. This place had food, warmth, books, and was big enough to go by unnoticed. At least until earlier- she cursed herself for being found. Why must she always go and ruin everything? She thought about how she could move on. When she first died, she relentlessly tried to find the reason she was still stuck here. If she could just move on from her ties to this world she could finally let go of it. She was too much, though. She spent her living years hiding from the outside world and it appears she’d do the same in the afterlife; never content and always isolated. If there was a way to give up in death, she’d do it in a heartbeat.

She was snapped out of her daydream by light shifting in her room, a sudden darkness had overcome the once bright room. Looking towards the source, she was met with a pair of burning red eyes.