To Swallow One's Pride (A SebaCiel/SebastianxCiel Fanfic)

Proulouge

{ALRIGHT EVERYONE! Here goes my first attempt at a SebaCiel fanfic :) wish me luck!

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji though I wish I did. ALL CREDIT TO YANA TOBOSO. WHOOP}

Prologue:

What exactly makes someone evil? Is there a determined definition between good and evil?

Who has the right to say what is good, and what is not? Who ever determined that loving someone is good, and lusting over someone is evil?

Who is to say that loving one of the opposite gender is alright, but loving one of your own gender is horrible and wrong?

And if one loves, not lusts, which is that so called 'omnipotent human' (or rather, humans) refers to as good, but they love one of their own gender, is that good or evil?

Grey exists in the world. There is no such thing as pure white, or pure black. For what fun would the universe be if that were so?

But I am almost pure blackness, and I am one that haunts, that tortures. I am the one that not only thrives in your nightmares, but gives you them to start.

I am a demon.

I am as close to black as it gets.

I've no time for trivial affairs such as love, or any stupid lowly thing such as that.

All I am made for is causing pain, though that gets boring from the centuries I have lived.

When it comes to consuming souls, it's always the same story.

First, the target calls out, usually for a stupid reason, such as revenge for affairs, or business issues.

What a sad price for ones soul.

The latest, before serving the Phantomhive bra-....kid, was a man by the name of Richardson.

He was a stoutly, fat man, around age fourty. He was I recall, a ginger, with hollow blue eyes, and a rather distasteful soul.

I was in the form of his accomplice, for his revenge was in the form of business.

His father had wronged him in their contract for the tax business, and he wanted revenge...by death.

To say he wasn't a fool was to say that dogs do not bark.

He gave his soul away for the price of killing his own father.

Took a few days, at most.

Anyways, second comes the regret.

Once the contract is nearing its end, the victim receives second thoughts on the whole affair, such as 'should I have really sold my soul off to a creature of darkness for the price of some petty revenge on a business partner, or lover?'

Or 'Maybe killing this person was a bad idea.'

Any who, no matter what the case, the contract must be fulfilled.

In Richardson's case, being the fool he is, tried to take off after his father was torn limb from limb. (By his own request of course.)

Obviously, with the contract I had previously placed on his left thigh, I could easily find him, leading to the final, and most pathetic stage of the contract.

Begging.

Every single victim of mine had gone to begging.

As a young demon, I used to gain a sick pleasure from their cries and pleas for mercy, but of late, I grew rather tired of hearing their pathetic cries.

Usually their screams are something around the lines of this.

"Please! PLEASE! I will do anything. ANYTHING AT ALL. Just do not kill me! I have more to live for! Have mercy!!! My children! Have mercy on my children if not me!!! I can give you whatever you please! Money! POWER! PLEASE!!!"

And the most obnoxious thing of all is their groveling, their bowing at my feet.

Just hours before they'd have scoffed at bowing before darkness such as myself, and now, for the sake of their pitiful, useless existence, they begged and bowed before darkness itself.

Fools.

Around then was the time when I casually decapitated, dismembered, or stabbed them, receiving their soul, in which I had no need, nor taste for.

The Richardson fool had fallen in line with my unbroken expectations, and begged at my feet, pledging his loyalty to me, his eternal servitude, if only I would spare his useless little life.

Taken, he didn't use those exact words, but somewhere around those lines.

It had only taken a few moments to have him dismembered, leaving me full, but still rather unsatisfied. I simply left the area, leaving his body on the floor to his measly little office for some unlucky customer to find, and some clueless police to investigate.

And then was the time I vowed to myself that I would await someone worthwhile. I would await the perfect soul, the soul of one so alluring, that they could enchant even the darkest of beings.

During that wait, roughly a decade in human time, I had brought myself to the brink of starvation.

When the call finally came, it was like nothing I had ever heard before.

It was full with hatred, burning anger, loss, horror, disturbance, sadness, and a broken spirit, and yet, hope.

That spark of hope was the most alluring part. To think, someone so brutally hurt, could feel hope still. The thought made me nearly smile.

And it's voice. It sounded like one of a child, and it was beautiful. The gender was unknowable by voice alone, though it did not cease to be enchanting.

This was the one. This was the grand feast I would take. My soul. My prized soul.

Little did I know, this precious soul I was hunting after, would make me feel what I have never felt before.