Sleeping in the grim reaper's arms (part1)

Alice sat at the dining table, the grand hall around her too vast, too elegant for her presence to feel anything less than misplaced. The high vaulted ceilings seemed to stretch endlessly, their dark wooden beams adorned with golden carvings.

Candlelight flickered along the walls, their glow casting long shadows that danced with a life of their own. Yet, despite the grandeur, Alice couldn't shake the feeling of being small and out of place.

Sebastian sat at the other end of the table, his posture straight, his hands clasped neatly before him. He exuded an air of effortless poise, the kind that only centuries of existence could refine. His sharp features were illuminated softly by the flames, making his pale skin appear almost luminous. His piercing eyes, as cold and unyielding as the winter winds outside, were fixed on Alice.

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, her fingers fumbling with the edge of her napkin. The silence between them was thick, oppressive, as though the very air was holding its breath. Midnight, perched on a wrought-iron stand near the window, tilted his head and ruffled his feathers, breaking the stillness with a quiet caw.

"Eat," Sebastian's voice broke through the silence, smooth and commanding. It wasn't a suggestion but an order, spoken with a tone that brooked no argument.

Alice hesitated, her gaze flickering to the plate before her. The meal was a work of art a tender cut of meat glazed with a rich sauce, surrounded by vibrant vegetables arranged in a meticulous pattern. It looked almost too perfect to touch, and she felt a pang of guilt at the thought of ruining it.

"Thank you," she murmured, barely audible, before picking up her fork. Her hands trembled slightly, the sting from her earlier fall still lingering on her palms. She tried to focus on eating, but her mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the evening and the endless spiral of self-doubt that followed her like a shadow.

Sebastian watched her with quiet intensity, his thoughts a tempest beneath the calm surface of his expression. He observed every detail the way her fingers trembled, the flush still lingering on her cheeks, the subtle downturn of her lips that hinted at the storm raging within her. She was an enigma, a puzzle he had not anticipated.

He took a slow breath, his mind returning to the thought that had lingered since she entered the room: Is this what it means to be alive? To stumble, to falter, to feel the weight of every misstep and yet continue forward with determination?

For centuries, Sebastian had carried out his duties with precision and detachment. Souls came and went, their lives little more than fleeting sparks in the vast expanse of eternity. He had long since ceased to wonder about their struggles, their triumphs, their pain. Yet here, in this fragile, clumsy girl, he saw something that stirred a part of him he thought long dead.

"Tell me," he said suddenly, his voice breaking through her thoughts. "What is it that troubles you?"

Alice blinked, startled by the question. She looked up at him, her golden eyes wide and uncertain. "What?"

"You are distracted," he said, his tone matter of fact. "Your thoughts are written plainly on your face. Speak them."

Her cheeks flushed deeper, and she looked down at her plate, her grip on the fork tightening. "It's nothing," she mumbled. "I'm just... tired."

Sebastian's gaze didn't waver. "Do not mistake my inquiry for idle curiosity, Miss Alice. You carry a weight with you, one that clouds your every movement. I would have you unburden yourself."

His words were precise, his tone devoid of pity, and yet there was something in his demeanor that compelled her to answer. She hesitated, her heart pounding as she grappled with the vulnerability of opening up. Finally, she took a shaky breath.

"I just... I don't belong here," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Everyone in this castle is so perfect so composed. And I'm just... me. I trip, I break things, I make mistakes. I don't know why I'm here, and I feel like I'm just in the way."

Sebastian listened in silence, his expression unreadable. Her words echoed in the stillness of the hall, each one laced with raw honesty. For a moment, he said nothing, letting her confession hang in the air.

"You are mistaken," he said finally, his tone as calm as ever. "Perfection is an illusion, a facade that masks the imperfections we all carry. Those who seem composed are often the most fractured within."

Alice looked up at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. "You don't mean that," she said. "You're perfect. You never make mistakes. You're... you're like a statue beautiful and untouchable."

Sebastian's lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "A statue may appear flawless, but it is cold, unfeeling. It knows nothing of the world, nor of the trials that shape it. To falter these are the marks of life, not failure."

Alice stared at him, her mind struggling to reconcile his words with the image she had of him. How could someone like him, who seemed so composed and untouchable, speak of imperfection with such conviction?

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked softly.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving hers. "Because you are more than you realize, Alice. You see yourself as weak, as flawed. But it is your flaws that make you resilient, your weakness that grants you strength. To rise after falling that is the essence of life."

His words struck a chord deep within her, and for the first time, she felt a glimmer of understanding. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps it wasn't her mistakes that defined her, but the way she faced them.

The meal continued in silence, but the atmosphere had shifted. Alice felt a newfound sense of ease, her earlier embarrassment fading into the background. She still had a long way to go, but for the first time, she didn't feel entirely out of place.

As the evening drew to a close, Sebastian rose from his seat, his movements as graceful as ever. He glanced at her, his expression once again unreadable.

"Rest well, Miss Alice," he said. "The path ahead is uncertain, but you are stronger than you believe."

With that, he turned and left the room, his footsteps echoing softly in the hall. Alice watched him go, her mind swirling with thoughts she couldn't yet put into words.

In the shadows, Midnight let out a quiet caw, his eyes glinting with a knowing light. The raven understood more than he let on, and as he watched Alice, a sly smile played across his beak.

"Stronger than you believe, indeed," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "Perhaps there's hope for you yet, little one."

After dinner, Alice found herself drifting towards the back garden of the castle, driven by a vague desire to escape the cold walls and stifling atmosphere within. The snow had stopped falling, but it left the ground covered with a soft white layer, reflecting the moonlight faintly like magic. The surrounding tall trees leaned their heavy branches toward the ground, as if they embraced the garden with quiet protection.

Alice walked slowly, her steps sinking lightly into the snow, leaving delicate tracks behind them. It was cold, but the fresh air filling her lungs was different, as if it was washing away the worries of the day. She arrived at a large tree, its trunk wide and its branches extending like vast arms, standing there in the middle of the garden like an ancient sentinel.

She decided to sit under it, letting the snow stick to her dress a little, but she didn't care. She gently pushed her back to the cold trunk, and pulled her knees towards her chest, observing the flowers that remained steadfast in the snow, as if they were defying the harshness of winter. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing slowly, letting the silence of the night surround her.

But the soft sound of two wings beating suddenly broke the silence. She opened her eyes to see Midnight, the black crow that accompanied the castle like a permanent shadow, landing lightly on the snow in front of her. He took small, hesitant steps before jumping into her lap, sitting confidently as if he knew exactly where he was.

"You know, Alice, if you keep staring at flowers like that, I might start thinking you're trying to compete with them in fragility."

Alice's eyes widened in shock, her heart leaping in her chest. "W-what?! What do you mean?" she gasped, her voice not too loud.

"Uh? You seem even more fragile than them." Midnight replied, shaking his wings slightly as if testing his own movements.

Midnight tilted his head dramatically, as though considering his answer. "Also, Alice...Why are your eyes devoid of their stupid sparkle?"

"I... I was just lonely," she admitted softly, her face flushing with a hint of embarrassment.

But this time, Midnight didn't tease her. Instead, his tone softened ever so slightly as he said, "Loneliness is a familiar feeling here. But I must admit... you're not as dull as I thought you'd be."

"That's... thank you? I think?" Alice replied, still reeling from the revelation.

Midnight stood up on her lap, flexing his wings lightly before hopping gracefully to the ground. He turned to look back at her, his black feathers glinting faintly in the dim light of the snow-covered garden.

"You know, Alice," he began, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful, "there's something unusual about you. Something even you don't realize yet. And maybe, just maybe, that's why you're here."

"What do you mean?" she asked, leaning forward slightly, trying to grasp the meaning behind his cryptic words.

But Midnight didn't answer. Instead, he spread his wings and hopped onto a low-hanging branch of the tree, staring down at her from above.

"You'll find out soon enough," he said, his tone tinged with mystery. "But until then, try to keep your head up, even if you do trip over your own feet."

With that, he let out a quiet, low caw, one that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, before taking flight. His dark form soared through the snowy sky, leaving Alice alone beneath the tree, staring after him in astonishment.

Something had shifted in that moment something inside her. For the first time in a long while, she felt as though her presence in this strange castle might have a purpose. Even if she didn't fully understand it yet.

Tears fell from her eyes again as she stifled her sobs with her hand. She tried not to breathe so as not to make any sound. This was the worst feeling for her until she let herself cry with faint, shaking sounds.

She held her necklace in her trembling hands. The dark atmosphere was pulsing with soft violet light. She wanted to be herself...The cheerful sun in the lives of others..but she felt embarrassed by her reality..Because there weren't even 'others' she was just a person that others saw as a curse.

Under the ancient tree, Alice sat with her knees pulled to her chest, her breath visible in the cold night air. The snow around her seemed to shimmer faintly, and the world was wrapped in a serene stillness. Yet, within her, the turmoil raged on. She gripped her necklace tightly, her tears falling silently onto the soft fabric of her dress.

The quiet crunch of footsteps startled her, and she looked up to see Sebastian approaching, his dark figure cutting through the pale glow of the snow. Without a word, he lowered himself to sit beside her, his movements fluid, as though the cold of the snow didn't bother him in the slightest. He didn't speak, didn't ask why she was there. He simply sat, his presence grounding, a silent acknowledgment of her pain.

Before Alice could think, before her mind could catch up with her body, she turned toward him and wrapped her arms around him. Her head pressed against his chest, and she clung to him as though he were the only anchor in a sea of despair.

Sebastian froze, his sharp eyes widening slightly in surprise. He hadn't anticipated the gesture, hadn't expected her to seek solace in him. For a fleeting moment, his hands hovered in the air, unsure of what to do. But he didn't push her away. He didn't even move. He simply looked away, his gaze distant, as though trying to maintain some semblance of control over his own thoughts.

The minutes stretched on, and slowly, Alice's sobs quieted, her breathing evening out. Her grip on him loosened, but she didn't let go entirely. Sebastian let out a barely audible sigh, his gloved hand hesitating for a moment before resting lightly on her back. His touch was careful, almost hesitant, as if he feared shattering the fragile moment.

"The air is cold," he murmured, his voice low and soft, meant only for her ears. "Let's go inside."

But she didn't respond. Her golden eyes were closed, her breathing soft and rhythmic. She had fallen asleep against him, her exhaustion finally claiming her.

Sebastian turned his gaze to her face, studying her features with an intensity he didn't quite understand. Her lashes rested gently against her flushed cheeks, and her brow, often furrowed with worry, was smooth in the peace of sleep. He found himself drawn closer, almost unconsciously, his sharp features softening as he took in the delicate curve of her face.

He leaned in slightly, the faintest of movements, as though compelled by a force beyond his understanding. But he stopped, his lips tightening into a thin line. What was he doing? What could he possibly hope to achieve by entertaining such thoughts?

He pulled back abruptly, his expression hardening as he reminded himself of who he was what he was. A reaper of souls, a harbinger of death. What right did he have to linger like this, to allow himself to be moved by something so human?

"Woe is me," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with self reproach. His hand remained on her back, his other resting lightly against the snow beside him. He couldn't bring himself to move.

And so he sat there, his gaze locked on the horizon, the weight of his own thoughts bearing down on him as the girl in his arms slept peacefully, unaware of the storm brewing within him.