Bleeding Love

The Arc

The first one was found at the frost fair by a little girl named Elizabeth who wanted nothing more than to be adored and forgiven.  She couldn't stand the thought of her young fiancé never wearing a single cute thing again, all because she broke some stupid ring.  Out of greed, she lost her common sense, and bought something that couldn't possibly have been original.  An arc, even bigger than the garish hat she'd worn, had been displayed at the cold celebration, and Lizzy had picked it out hastily without thinking twice.  She screeched in her pitchy British tone that she needed the object, and Paula, her lady's maid, obliged obediently.  When the girl returned home for the day and showed her father, she found that he had at least a shred of intelligence somewhere in that brain, and could easily see the arc was a fake.  Elizabeth was foolish, and it seemed that only she could make such a mistake, as it was cleanly avoided many times before and after.  Take Alois Trancy, for example.

"Oh, Claude, look at this!"  The thin earl sneered, pointing an accusatory finger at a neatly painted toy boat.  "It's disgusting.  Such dull colors, such plain designs..."  Pondering the pitiful object for a moment, Alois reached out and knocked carelessly on the bow.  "The wood is so weak, it could break under my breath!"  He cried, turning to look up at his butler.  Claude was emotionless, watching the arc, but looked down at his master, calm as ever.  "Indeed, your highness."  He said, his voice low and monotonous.  "It's an obvious fake.  The design is quite close to the original, but it's still hideous, as we are speaking of the Funtom company."  Usually, the demon didn't say much, but he had a particular disliking for the Phantomhive household and their toy company.  Alois didn't reply, only wrinkling his nose with a hideous smile.  "Hey, you!"  He shouted, roughly poking a man's back.  The stranger jumped nervously, yelping in surprise.  "I- Oh!  Just a little kid..."  He sighed, putting a hand to his forehead as if checking for fever.  Claude watched, gingerly adjusting his glasses, seeing no need to intervene.  Alois huffed, leaning toward the salesman threateningly.  "I'm no little kid!"  He said loudly, then lowered his voice to a hiss.  "You should watch what you say, or you'll get what you deserve for selling fake products."  The man stiffened, squaring his shoulders.  "I see..."  He replied falteringly, beads of sweat materialized across his forehead like a quivering crown.  "Imbecile," the short blonde added as he walked off, followed closely by Claude, wondering momentarily if the salesman had heard the comment and hoping he had.  Whether he insulted Alois or not, the man would get the prize for his crime, whatever Scotland Yard assumed that would be, as Alois didn't stand for such a dumb scam.  It was absolutely boring.

Later that evening, the Trancy manor was quiet, save for the repetitive tapping of a pen on wood.  Alois was seated at a desk, his feet resting on a short pile of papers, his hair lying loosely around his eyes.  A loud, curt knock interrupted that of his pen, and he blinked, looking up toward the grand set of doors.  "Claude?"  He asked, curious.  "Your highness, you've received an envelope from Earl Phantomhive."  There was always venom laced through Claude's voice, but now, it seemed as though the lacing had been torn and all his tranquility had been shredded and sloppily glued back together.  "Give it to me,"  demanded the small boy, holding out a pale hand.  Instantly, he was holding a slightly faded letter, an indication of the writer's disdain for the Trancy manor and its inhabitants.  "An invitation..."  Alois mumbled, his bright blue eyes flitting from left to right as he went down the page.  "Tonight, some sort of ball.  It'll be at Ciel's mansion."  Alois's tone was thick with boredom, but Claude sighed shortly, adjusting his spectacles in agitation.  "We're going."  Came the expected response from his master, and the tall butler coolly snatched the envelope back, leaving the letter to Alois.  "Yes, your highness.  Shall I prepare your attire?"  The young earl only nodded, his eyes still on the letter, rereading the text coldly.  Ciel was so rude and so polite all at once, so much so that it curdled Alois' stomach until he thought he'd have to kill the boy.  And yet, he'd just agreed to attend the Phantomhive ball, celebrating some anniversary of the Funtom company's beginning.  Again, the Trancy manor turned quiet, but Alois' bored drumming had also been silenced, as all he did was grip the invitation and think.

A/N:  Hey, so, this is my first published fanfiction!  I hope it's alright, as I'm pretty proud of it...  Thanks for reading, and please, let me know if there's anything I can improve upon or correct.  The next chapter should be up soon!

P.S., sorry if the ball seems like an overused concept, but it seemed really logical and I couldn't think of anything else...  oops