Black Butler Backgrounds Novels & Stories

Twelve chairs surrounded the table—and each one was occupied. I froze. The guests were human in form, yet too still, too perfect. Eyes wide and unblinking, their skin as pale as marble, lips curved into static smiles. They were dressed in funeral finery, like royalty attending their last supper. But I recognized them. From portraits, paintings, family histories. The ancestors. The dead Blackwells. “Ethan,” came a voice from the head of the table. Deep. Commanding. I turned. A man rose from his seat, cloaked in black with long silver hair falling down his back. His eyes burned like dying coals.

"But..' she whispers. 'Not now..' he said again, and completely vanished from the room. He walks outside the main gate of the palace, where the garden lies. Petals of sakura leaves were falling down from trees. Surrounded by the sakura trees and a fountain in the middle. Alkhun looks at the water in it and saw the reflection of himself. Black greyish eyes, with black messy hair and white tan skin, pointed nose. Nothing special really, except. He shoved his hair on the forehead theirs a noticeable black scar, a Finger big, undefined shape. He doesn't hate it, he sure doesn't. It is the symbol of the Witch Family of the West.

How have I missed him before? He is Alaric’s exact height. The same lean but muscular build, even the same quiet posture. But where Alaric’s ethereal beauty catches light, his butler absorbs​ it. Black hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. Eyes so dark they seem almost matte, swallowing reflection and light rather than returning it. He is quite literally a shadow. He stands half a step behind Alaric, neither looming nor deferential just aligned. He is shadowing so precisely that I wonder whether he has been trained to minimize his presence or more like extinguish it completely.

I couldn't continue looking back, I had to keep moving forward. I looked around the room. It was a large room, but it felt dark and dreary. Not a single portrait or art covered the light grey walls. All furniture was black Not a single item sat on the black dresser on the far side of the room. Even the large, oversized chair, that sat next to the window, was black. I wasn't sure if this room was his or not. I suspected it probably was.

Betty smirked at her. They have reached the end of the hallway and it lead them to a more gorgeous part of the house. A freaking Lanai. Covered with monsteras and there was an infinity pool that looked so cool. Max. All of a sudden had the urge to swim. It was getting pretty warm in Alabama these days. There sat, Quentin Black. In his velvet black robe and a white shirt inside. Still in his blue pajama and leather slippers.He was peacefully sipping a steaming hot cup of coffee. In front of him, lay a newspaper and a cellphone.

Koishi gulps in response, bits inside his cheeks. "I will be there by your side, master" with the gentle look over the face of the butler with a small smile on his lips. "Thanks, Damien for everything. I don't know what would I do it you weren't there. Thanks for everything" making a butler freeze for a second staring down at his master, eventually nodding his head hearing the door being open. Just then, to see a lady with black hair tied into a bun opens the door, the cat-like eyes with beauty over the side of her cheek. Her eyes move towards the butler then at Koishi making her eyes go wide in response.

(Black butterflies. They weren't beautiful, not like the azules and amarillas that fluttered around Dragon when he was a child—innocent specks of color in his small world. These were dark and menacing. Their wings like shards of obsidian, sharp and glinting. They poured from the crumbling walls, an endless stream of blackness against the decaying adobe. Wings armored like beetle chitin, glinting with miniature skulls etched into the blackness. No—not just skulls. Faces. His face.

Her skin was practically translucent now, golden light pulsing beneath it in time with her heartbeat. "It won't stop," Vivienne said, something like compassion crossing her features. "But you can choose how it proceeds." The first figure appeared in the chamber entrance—Leon Blackthorn's dark suit immaculate despite whatever chaos he'd navigated to reach them. His eyes were no longer human, shifting between obsidian black and midnight blue. Behind him came others: a red-haired man whose skin seemed to shimmer with heat, a pale blonde whose breath frosted the air around him, a silver-eyed man with electricity crackling between his fingers.

Just a flick of his gloved fingers and a door opened with the whisper of something ancient. The hallway beyond was long, crimson-lit, pulsing like a heartbeat too slow to be human. I walked it alone. Not because I wasn't afraid. Because I wanted them to see me that way. The Black Room wasn't black at all. It was obsidian and wine and gold, everything decadent and dangerous. The walls breathed shadow. The ceiling flickered with low-hanging lights like the last embers of a dying fire. A long table stretched in the center, but only one figure sat at it.

Alpha Magnus sat there, his dark hair streaked with silver, dressed in a robe of deep burgundy trimmed with gold that matched the banners behind him. His golden eyes, cold and dismissive, scanned the hall with unyielding authority. Beside him, his Beta Ethan stood tall with a broad shoulders, the direct opposite of him. On the other side, the elders wore robes of darker hues, black and deep gray, each embroidered subtly to denote their status.