Pride {Andrew-centric}

This was supposed to be an one-shot, but this is going to be a much longer thing, describing their relationship. To explain why Andrew still hangs around, and to explain their daily lives.

To be quite frank, I was quite proud of my little lady. She wasn't that little anymore, now, as I watched her, parading through the small chapel with the most happy smile on her face she had in times. She was a truly beautiful creature, if I may say so, and an unique one too.

I still remember the little girl, barely nine years old, laying on the ground, crouching, hiding for the big bad men trying to abuse her. She was dirty, with rags that had once been an expensive gown barely covering her small body. Time stopped as she did what she should have not been able to; a Death God calling upon a Demon. Maybe it was because she was partly human, or that her true power had not been awakened yet. I do not know, nor do I care.
"Do you want to form a convenant?" I asked her. She looked at me, her green eyes blazing. It was then that I recognized the Death God sleeping in her.
"Yes" she said. She was slightly lisping, but that could be from her state, near-death.
"What is the goal of our convenant, then?"
"I want to kill those who did this to me! I want to stop the human trafficking in England!" she said. Her voice was toneless, she was barely raising it.
"Do you know the price?"
"My soul."
"Do you agree?"
"Would you still be here if you knew I wouldn't?"
"A very good answer. Where should my mark come?" The child touched a spot between her collarbones.
"Very well. From now on, till the day you die, I will call you..."

"M'lady Lingersheen?" She yawned and climbed out of my arms. The child was frightened by the idea of a boat, and she had not slept well until I had taken her into my arms. I had cleaned her up and bought some clothes for her. She had picked another set for herself, too, but she did not reveal these to me. As I soon learned, her name was Duchess Chelsea Lingersheen. She was the only heir to the Lingersheen family, and her parents had sold her to these men I had killed. The cabin was small, and we had been sitting on the bed. She sat on the bed and swung her legs. The child was small, with chocolate-colored hair that reached her waist, and polychromatic green eyes. She was dressed in a fine nightgown. She clung to my black-clad arm.
"Andrew" she said, "could you cut my hair?" The request was spontaneous and surprising. It was not befitting for a little noble woman for her age to have such short hair.
"Are you sure, m'lady?" I asked her. She glared at me.
"Yes, c'est un ordre." My little lady had spend fifteen months there, and learned to speak the language fluently before that. I got a knife, and she flinched.

I remember the deep breaths she took. She, looking like a noble boy. I remember how she stormed into the study with a fork ready to kill those who had sold her into slavery. I also remember how she dropped the utensil she had brought with her as she saw a face I have seen only once. I do not know who he is. His hair was fairly grey, and his eyes a dark blue. He was dressed in the clothes befitting a king.
"Danno" she said, breathless. He turned his head and looked at her, his eyes widening before his face broke into a smile. She ran to him, giving him a hug. She did not cry when there was a loud bang. Her eyes widened as she was dirtied with blood of this Danno. There was blood on her face, on her clothes, and her mouth was open from surprise as Danno suddenly slipped out of her grip, into the ground. There was some smoke coming off the gun used to shoot this man in the head. The slightly fat man glared bloody murder at her, the woman at his side frightened and angry at the same time.
"Papa, maman" she said. "C'est vous."
"Chelsea, ce n'est pas possible que vous êtes debout en face de nous."
"C'est possible" she said icy.
"Comment?"
"It seems, papa et maman, I have le diable on my side." And with that, she attacked with this utensil she brought.

There was this time she had made her way into the life of one human trafficker. She sat there in his study with dangling legs, negotiating about the prices of human lives. Mortals were foolish creatures; no men nor women will give it's body without a fight, even if you have payed for it.
"Shall we go for a walk?" the host suggested.
"It would be a pleasure, sir" she replied as she rose to her feet. "If you'd help Gregory, Andrew" she ordered. It meant that she would hit soon, and I was to wait for further orders.
"Facio, ut vis, dominus meus" I told her as I went on one knee and bowed. Why did all butlers here were named Gregory? Soon after, I heard her call through my seal. I hurried there, to the corridor, to the man bleeding on the floor while she was cleaning her sabre and-
"What is this?" she said as she blinked owlishly at the figure nearing. It was a bright and vibrant red creature, on high heels.
"What?" the creature said as it stopped. It was a Grim Reaper, with a pale complexion that rivaled fresh snow. It was peering at us through it's glasses; I could not determine if it was a male or a female. "I am the amazing Grell Sutcliff, shinigami DEATH!" It said while making a move, sticking his fingers in the air and his tongue out of his mouth. It was definitely male. My mistress snorted.
"Sure. Let this servant clean up his masters body" she said before turning around. The death scythe revved and I blocked it with my gloved hands.
"I would appreciate if you left my lady alone" I said before flooring it. We left it there as she left the mansion to burn. Nobody would care, anyway.
That was my mistress first acquittance with a Death God.

(You're such a freaking talented writer )

"You shouldn't play with your meal" I told her. She looked up from the half-eaten plate before she smiled. She chuckled softly.
"So shouldn't you." She's right.