Bound and Shackled- Various Black ButlerxOC

1. Tragedy

December in New Hampshire was dreadfully cold and gray. The grounds of Dartmouth University were littered with snow and naked branches of trees. What was normally a lush and vibrant landscape had been silenced by the years heavy snowfall. Up in a private dormitory Ophelia Phantomhive busied herself with her studies. Her quill slid gracefully along her parchment as she slaved over her thesis. The term was quickly coming to an end and soon the young woman will don her cap and gown as a graduate. Ophelia planned to return home with her diploma and begin a career as an alienist. Her studies in psychiatry focused on new humane forms of treatment and their implementation. She dreamed that she would pioneer a new age of treatment and pull the field out from it's barbaric dark age.

As she wrote in fluid movements a soft rap was heard on the outside of her door. She pried herself away from her quill and answered the door. She was shocked by the appearance of the Dean and class prefect. Their grim expressions sent a shiver down her spine and made her stomach churn in worry.

"Welcome sir," She said with a dry mouth, "To what do I owe this most splendid company?"

"Lady Phantomhive," The Dean broke eye contact and sighed, "I think it's best that you sit down."

"You look disturbed sir," Confused and anxious Ophelia sat at the wooden chair adjacent her desk "Whatever is the matter?"

A crippling eerie silence fell upon the room. Tension was thick as Ophelia pondered the nature of this unexpected and uncomfortable visit. She clasped her hands together tightly as she sat in proper posture. Outward displays of her worry were unbecoming of a lady of her stature, so she sat looking calm and composed.

"There was a sudden tragedy," The prefect finally spoke and handed Ophelia a letter bearing the royal seal, "A fire ravaged your estate and your parents have been confirmed as deceased."

Her heart stopped and a loud ringing filled her ears. She sat silently as she stared through the bearers of bad news. Her mouth had dried and she attempted to swallow. She felt paralyzed in the wake of this news.

"What of my brother?" She finally managed to whisper.

"His remains haven't been found but he is supposed dead by the authorities."

After that moment she heard and felt nothing. A frost rushed over her body and spirit in that moment and stole away all her thoughts and words. She felt lost in her body as the dean began to detail her travel arrangements. She was to return immediately to England and was assured that she would receive credit for her studies. She sat unblinking for what seemed like an eternity after they had left. In her hand she held documents detailing her transfer of guardianship to an Earl Trancy. She was to be his ward until she was properly married off.

The voyage home felt as if she was trapped in an eerie state of purgatory. Ophelia found herself unable to eat and without energy to leave her quarters. For the two weeks of travel she laid about on her bed taking the sweet reprieve of sleep as often as she could. She remained trapped in a dreamlike trance until the very moment the ship docked in the harbor.

England was bitterly cold and gray. The smog in the air suffocated Ophelia as she and her luggage were led to a carriage. The footman hoisted her luggage into storage as Ophelia sat despondent on the cushioned bench inside. The coachman urged the horses towards Trancy Manor and began the long travel to the countryside. She sat limp with fingers laced together on her lap. Ophelia had been unable to shed tears for the loss of her beloved family. She was left nearly soulless by the tragedy. She wished for nothing more than to be reunited with them in death.

Upon arrival Ophelia was led to an ornate salon in the manor while her luggage was attended to by the house staff. She sat upon a sofa embellished with crushed red velvet and golden stitching. Looking around the salon and its extravagances Ophelia felt as if she herself was under decorated. Although she was naturally beautiful with alabaster pale skin, long flowing blonde hair, and deep blue eyes her period of mourning left her washed out. She looked as pale as a ghost in her black mourning dress and bonnet and dreadfully gaunt. Her bespoke clothing hung awkwardly on her frail frame. The stress of her sudden tragedy had resulted in her losing nearly a stone of healthy weight.

"Welcome to my humble abode Lady Phantomhive!" Her attention was caught by the earls greetings, "It's unfortunate that we had to meet under these disheartening conditions. Your father was an honorable man."

"It's wonderful to meet you my Lord," Ophelia stood before Earl Trancy and curtsied politely, "I must thank you for your kindness and generosity; taking me as a ward in my time of need."

"Oh, darling girl the pleasure is mine!" The man's voice was sickeningly sweet, "You are to be treasured infinitely in my home."

"I could not possibly wish to impose on you." Ophelia spoke softly.

The man before her made her feel dreadfully anxious. Earl Trancy was a large doughy man that struck a resemblance to a wild boar. His eyes were small and lifeless perched above a wide, snout like nose and a mostly toothless smile. A sheen of grease glistened off his pink skin and drew unwanted attention to the constellation of dark growths lining his face. His white hair was thin and stringy grown nearly down to his shoulders. And such a smell of rot emanated from his pores, a miasmic combination of liquor, cigars, and bodily uncleanliness. Ophelia shuddered as the older male placed his bloated fingers on the small of her back.

"There is no trouble on my behalf, rest assured. Let me show you to your room and let you rest until supper."

Ophelia was led to a large suite in the manor overlooking the gardens. Her clothes were unpacked and hung in a large mahogany wardrobe with golden inlays. In the center of the room stood a large four poster bed decorated with a deep red goose feather down comforter. On the mantle above the fireplace rested the busts of several taxidermy beasts all with the same dead eyes as the Earl. The room was undoubtedly ornate with expensive furnishings and baubles, but a musty smell permeated the room. The mildewy stench permeated the bedding, the carpets, and even the tapestries besides the windows. She opened a window to air out the room. She sat on the bed and closed her eyes, lulling off to the comfort of a dreamless sleep.