Divine Temptation (Black Butler Sebastian X MC Fanfiction)

🖤Chapter 17🖤

The conference room within the church structure was a grand and solemn space, befitting its sacred purpose.

The walls were adorned with intricate religious tapestries depicting scenes from scripture, and tall stained-glass windows allowed streams of colored light to filter into the room, casting vibrant patterns on the polished wooden floors.

Rows of cushioned chairs were arranged facing a central podium, where the Archbishop and other church officials would preside over meetings and discussions.

A large oak table dominated the center of the room, strewn with papers and documents detailing matters of ecclesiastical importance.

The atmosphere was hushed and reverent, fostering an air of gravity and solemnity befitting the proceedings held within its walls.

“What did you say?!”

Isabella's indignation surged as she leaped from her chair, her expression a mixture of frustration and disbelief. She was clearly irked by the suggestion.

"Please, Bishop Isabella," Randolph murmured in an attempt to pacify her rising anger.

The bold man, with a demeanor exuding confidence and authority, stood his ground, unfazed by Isabella's reaction.

"We simply require your assistance on a mission," he asserted.

Isabella's voice crackled with irritation as she retorted, "And you expect me to embark on a mission to America? Are you truly so desperate to dispatch me so far away?"

"Why are you reacting like this?" he inquired, his tone a blend of confusion and frustration. "When we sent you to Italy, you didn't respond this way. What has changed?"

Isabella scoffed, "Change? The moment I stepped foot in Italy, a few months later, I heard that the Phantomhive Family had been massacred. I wasn't there. It was... perfect timing," she suggested, her voice tinged with bitterness.

"What concern are the Phantomhives to us?" another old man questioned.

"I find it quite peculiar," she chuckled. "During my time in England, the Phantomhive family faced no danger. And even if they did, I was always there to protect them. But when I departed and went afar, they faced a massacre. Interestingly, the one who dispatched me is seated right here in this room," she remarked, her gaze piercing.

“Archbishop Sinclair!” The tension in the room grew palpable as murmurs filled the air, accompanied by accusing glances directed towards Archbishop Sinclair.

“What? I was just stating my suspicions,” Isabella's voice cut through the tension in the room as she defended her statement, her tone unapologetic yet firm.

“Are you really trying to be rebellious right now?” the leader's stern tone reverberated through the room. “Remember your place, Sinclair,” he admonished.

“I don't care about my rank as an Archbishop. I don't even care if you demote me. But,” Isabella's voice carried a sense of defiance, “but you can't do that, can you? If you remove me, someone will have to fill in. But that someone should be like me. Someone who can uphold the church's good image. Thanks to my efforts, the church has maintained a favorable reputation. I've saved countless lives and eradicated dangerous cults. If you demote me, the public will protest. What will you do then, dear leader?” her words were laced with confidence and challenge.

"Defy all you want, but we have the last word. Tomorrow, pack your things and go to America. Whether you like it," his voice carried a finality, "or not."

Isabella's expression hardened, but she remained silent, her eyes flashing with defiance.

"The meeting is adjourned," he declared firmly, and one by one, everyone began to leave the conference room, the tension palpable in the air.

Isabella sprinted out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the corridor as Randolph hurried to catch up with her.

"Isabella... Isabella!" Randolph called out desperately, but she ignored him and continued to sprint down the corridor, her mind racing with frustration and anger.

"Isabella!" he grabbed her arm, but she yanked it away, her expression a mix of anger and frustration.

"What?" she snapped, her voice sharp with frustration. "Are you going to nag me? If you are, please just shut up and leave me alone."

“Please calm down. I can't leave you like this. I know you're frustrated but, you have to follow. This mission is for the best of you. You will save another soul in America. You-” Randolph pleaded.

“I have my disciples to do that. They are as strong as me,” Isabella retorted.

“Isabella...” he began, his voice soft.

“I... I want to be left alone right now,” she said, her voice trembling.

Randolph just watched her walk away, feeling a deep sense of helplessness. He sighed heavily, knowing he couldn't do anything more to comfort her.

Isabella rode on her horse and galloped away, her mind racing with thoughts of frustration and fear.

By the time she realized it, she found herself in front of the Phantomhive manor. She stared at the grand structure, her heart heavy with uncertainty.

“Vincent, how should I protect your son if they're trying to separate me from him?” she whispered, hanging her head low.

“Your Grace?” came a voice, soothing and familiar. She looked up to see Sebastian standing there.

“Sebastian,” she smiled weakly, her voice tinged with sadness. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed in concern.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, his tone gentle.

Isabella dismounted her horse and slowly approached him.

“Your Grace?” he repeated, puzzled by her actions.

He was surprised when she suddenly wrapped her arms around his waist and embraced him tightly. He stiffened slightly, unsure how to react.

“Let me stay like this for a while,” she whispered softly. Sebastian did not emit any warmth; he was cold, but this coldness was comforting to her. It was strangely soothing.

Sebastian felt that Isabella was not being herself. There was pain in her voice and pain in her eyes. It pained him to see her like this.

Sebastian didn't like it. He didn’t like to see her suffering. It was disconcerting. He preferred the rebellious and jolly Isabella.

He embraced her back and gently caressed her hair. “Everything will be fine, Your Grace,” he murmured.

Isabella tightened her arms around him, finding solace in his presence. She liked this. It was comforting. It made her feel less alone.