Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13854498.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Kuroshitsuji_|_Black_Butler
  Relationship:
      Sebastian_Michaelis/Ciel_Phantomhive, Ciel_Phantomhive/Alois_Trancy_
      (Onesided)
  Character:
      Sebastian_Michaelis, Ciel_Phantomhive, Alois_Trancy, Elizabeth_Midford,
      Francis_Midford, Vincent_Phantomhive, Rachel_Phantomhive, Claude_Faustus,
      Maurice_Cole, Arthur_Randall, Frederick_Abberline
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Phantom_of_the_Opera_Fusion, SebaCiel_-_Freeform,
      Demon_True_Forms, Yaoi, Boys_In_Love, Boys'_Love, Boys_Kissing, Singing,
      Operas, Ballet, Alternate_Universe, Phantom_of_the_Opera_-_Freeform,
      Eventual_Sebastian_Michaelis/Ciel_Phantomhive, Poor_Alois_Trancy,
      Kissing, Basically_an_excuse_to_use_manga_version_of_Sebastian's_true
      form, Possessive_Behavior, Obsessive_Behavior, Sebastian_has_a_lovely
      voice, So_does_Ciel, Anal_Sex, Sex, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort,
      Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-03-03 Chapters: 1/? Words: 1302
****** Music of the Night ******
by GrieverBitMyFinger
Summary
     A deep, captivating voice had been heard from the tunnels below the
     grand stage of Salle des Capucines for decades now. Some said it was
     the voice of an angel, blessing them all with his beautiful melodies,
     while others said it was the whispers of a ghost, forever trapped
     within the opera house with nothing more to do than sing his solemn
     hymns. Ciel could not decide if he believed either of the legends,
     but he did know one thing, someone was living far beneath the
     theatre. He had heard him, and he had spoken to him.
Notes
     Hello everyone! I decided to put off writing the Game of Thrones and
     Greek Mythology au's until I wrote this one. I still need more time
     to research for those and after watching Phantom of the Opera again,
     I couldn't get this idea out of my head! I haven't had time to write
     the first chapter yet, and this is pretty much the same as the movie
     intro, but I promise the chapters won't be this close to the
     original! Updates will probably be slow since this is my first try at
     a multi-chapter fic since 2016 and I still have other series to write
     for, but I hope you enjoy it anyways!
It was a dreary day in Paris.
Cobblestone streets were damp and flooded while the air was thick and frigid;
hooves splashing through murky puddles and the idle chatter of lords and ladies
going about their day were the only audible sounds apart from the pitter-patter
of rain.
The wind was beginning to pick up, gradually cooling the temperatures to one
that would soon cause the water dripping from the nearby bakery to turn to ice,
and the pouring rain to turn to snow.
Winter had only just begun and already it had spread a sense of sadness over
everyone in the city.
A week had passed since the sun had made itself known and none of the flowers
offered by local florists had survived for more than two days before they grew
dry and wilted, simply not meant to be carried through such harsh conditions.
Christmas would upon them in three weeks, but no one seemed even remotely
joyous.
It wasn't difficult to see that all of Paris was desperately awaiting Spring
and with it, the promise of more comfortable weather that would allow them to
trapeze the streets and gardens without fear of ruining their exquisite shoes
and extravagant skirts.
But despite the weather, the shops and restaurants were still fairly crowded,
some occupants purchasing gifts for their loved ones while others met with
businessmen for dinner, hoping to strike an impressive deal for their company.
Yes, there were countless reasons for the nobles of France to be out and about,
each more tedious than the last.
However, an event was being held in Salle des Capucines, located on Boulevard
des Capucines in the 9th arrondissement of Paris.
An event that was well worth the time of aristocrats.
A silent auction was taking place within the once-beautiful opera house, and
while not a large amount of items were being offered, it garnered the attention
of many in high-standing, especially those who had visited the theatre in its
glory days.
Over a decade had passed since it had been abandoned by its owners; they had
wished to lay to rest the horrors that had transpired within it, and in turn,
escape the nightmares that plagued their sleep every night because of it.
But it could never be forgotten, it would forever haunt the memories of those
who had watched the scenes unfold upon the grand stage.
The halls that had once been intricately carved from marble, stone, and gold
were now dull, cracked, and covered in dust and cobwebs.
The floor was in pieces and sprinkled with shattered shards of the mirror that
had hung high on the walls with the purpose of reflecting light, its broken
fragments now a bad omen for all those in its wake.
The chandeliers towering overhead had not been lit in years and their chains
were now rusted beyond repair, not that anyone planned to get them back into
working order anyways.
They were impossible to reach now that the stairs were crumbled, and even if
there were a way to safely lower them, no one dared touch them in fear of
angering the dark creature that used to reside in the tunnels below the floor.
Upon a small, wooden podium on a weathered stage, stood a silver-haired man.
The man appeared to be in his late sixties, a few laughter lines around his
mouth and wisdom-filled eyes the only real indicator of his age.
He had a sophisticated air and the monocle in front of his right eye simply
added to that look; his finely plucked mustache and crisp, black suit showed
proof of his wealth, but rather than the dour expression many of the wealthier
men wore on a daily basis, he had a gentle smile.
The last of the guests had taken their seat before the stage when the man
spoke, "Welcome ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for joining us today and hope
that each and every one of you will find something to your liking. Now, without
further ado, let us begin."
The first two items were named and sold at a decent price, leaving the lords
who purchased them satisfied with their finds, though they failed to draw the
attention of a blue eyed woman in the first row of seats to the right of the
stage.
Not a single grey hair was out of place, apart from the long strand left to
hang in front of her right ear, and her painted red lips were set in a stern
line, greatly contrasting with her fair skin.
As she smoothed out her forest green skirt, her calculating gaze landed on a
blond haired young-man across the room, his legs crossed as he stared at the
offered artifacts with blatant disinterest.
He was without question waiting for the same thing she was.
Something with far more meaning than a poster or a stage prop.
"Lot 665, ladies and gentlemen. A music box, found in the vaults of the
theatre. The brim is encrusted in gold, surrounding six sapphires, while the
top and bottom are crafted of Nero Marquina marble. On top is a rabbit figure
in a blue coat with an eyepatch. It's the first and only of its kind and still
plays flawlessly. May I commence at fifteen francs?"
Despite his mournful eyes and stiff posture, the lord with the blond hair
perked up when the music box was presented, immediately raising his hand to
place his bid.
"Fifteen francs, wonderful, sir!"
The lady to the right of the stage raised her hand as well, lips finally
curving into a barely visible smile.
"Twenty, thank you, Marchioness Midford. Do I hear twenty-five?"
The original bidder once again signaled that he would pay the raised price,
continuing on until it had reached thirty-five francs, the point at which his
competitor gave in, allowing him to claim the box as his.
"Sold for thirty-five francs, to the Earl of Trancy!" the auctioneer announced,
offering the piece to its new owner before moving on to the next, and final,
lot.
"It's lovely, just as intricate as he said it was... You will continue to play
even when the rest of us are dead, won't you? Play for him..." the lord
whispered to himself, unaware of the lingering looks from the marchioness.
"Next is lot 666, a chandelier in pieces. I am sure many of you have either
witnessed or read about the odd happenings of December 14th, 1889. This is the
very chandelier that hung above the audience during the final performance that
day, when the Raven appeared for the first and last time."
Everyone waited and watched anxiously, silent as the grave when the white sheet
was lifted from the fixture residing in the far corner of the room, revealing
the lot described, "It has since been repaired and rewired for the electric
light. Perfect for keeping away the darkness, wouldn't you say?"
Suddenly, the room darkened as the merlot drapes were pulled shut by the
auctioneer's assistants, leaving only one source of light, the chandelier that
had been raised and held in place by ropes, as it flickered to life.
The crystals sparkled and gleamed just as they had thirteen years ago, the
golden frame shining with a renewed brightness while the light reflected off of
the clear gemstones, casting unique shapes upon the stone pillars surrounding
them.
The room was bathed in a warm and gentle glow, leaving everyone in the grand
hall transfixed by its beauty.
The aging-marchioness was no less astonished than the others, having expected
it to be left where it was when the theatre was closed, not returned to its
prior elegance.
Despite her amazement, her reaction was felt rather than seen, as she was taken
back to the time when it was first ignited...
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!