A/N: Yeah, the title is cheesy, but it just seemed to fit. This idea wouldn't leave me alone, so here's a self-indulgent oneshot.
The board was set. Ciel rolled the black king around in his palm for a moment, bored, before setting the piece in its designated spot. Waiting was always the hardest part. He was starting to wonder if his informant had been correct. How long had he been sitting here now? Ten minutes? Thirty? He had to stifle a yawn. If it took any longer, Sebastian would berate him for being difficult to get out of bed in the morning. Honestly. Why couldn't criminals ever plan assaults in the morning or afternoon? The young earl didn't appreciate running on someone else's time.
His one sapphire blue eye was focused on the window across the room. In the pocket of his newly tailored jacket (made just in time for the Season's latest fashion trends), he ran his thumb over the handle of his pistol.
A gun wouldn't do for him this time around. In light of the situation, there was a very obvious sword sheathed and set on the ground at his feet. Ciel could use a sword, certainly, but he had always found firearms to have certain showmanship to them. There was something flashy about using them — no pun intended. He didn't enjoy the messy, hands-on effort that it took to kill a man with a sword. He would have to use it regardless, but Ciel kept the gun on him anyway. Ever since he learned how to handle one at the age of ten, he never went anywhere without a pistol of some sort on him. He loathed the idea of being comforted by an inanimate object, as though it was some sort of security blanket, but it was safer to have it at his side. It was useful for stalling until Sebastian decided to do his job.
There. The tree branch outside the window shifted, scattering a kaleidoscope of moonlight through the curtains. Ciel didn't shift his relaxed position. There was nothing to gain from letting the enemy view him as weak. The only change he allowed was heightened attentiveness as the window was silently pushed open.
A man stepped one foot at a time into the room, his entrance muffled by the plush carpet. Luckily, his shoes didn't leave a mud stain. That would have been tedious.
It would have been dramatic for a breeze to accompany the man inside, to stir the curtains and skewer the pale light leaking into their rendezvous. But there was no wind outside, and the only atmosphere was the tension between the earl and the home invader as they made eye-contact.
For a moment, the man looked genuinely surprised. His hand twitched for the dagger strapped to his thigh, his fingers brushing the hilt on instinct. Before he could pull it and ruin the peacefulness between them, Ciel smiled. It wasn't a kind expression. It was the sort of gleaming expression that sent shivers down the spine. The child gestured to the chess board in front of him, all lying charisma and false politeness as he said, "Won't you join me for a game? I'm sure you know how children love games."
The hand reaching for the dagger stopped short as the man raised a wary brow. "A game?" He repeated. He took a step toward Ciel. A fly unknowingly approaching the spider's web. The man laughed. "Really, Phantomhive? What's to stop me from killing you now? A little lad like you?"
"I'll go first." Ciel picked up the pawn in front of his left rook, moving it two spaces forward.
Though the man chuckled, more out of surprise than anything, he didn't move any closer. "You're not supposed to be here," he said instead.
It was difficult not to roll his eyes. "Really?" Ciel remarked dryly. "You figured that out all on your own, did you?"
To his credit, the man wasn't as indignant as most adults were when a child insulted them. He scoffed but finally crossed the room to the chess table. He stood across from Ciel, one hand resting on the back of the opponent's chair. There was a pause, as though he was waiting for Ciel to give some indication as what to do next. The earl gave him none. Their gazes met, but Ciel didn't so much as twitch under the man's steely stare.
"You didn't answer my question," he pointed out. Still standing, the man decided to humor Ciel and moved the pawn in front of his queen forward a space.
"Another astute deduction." Flippantly, Ciel decided to move one of his knights out. Why not? "I'm already quite certain that you won't kill me," he replied. "Your boss wants that pleasure for himself, does he not? I imagine that he would be most displeased to learn that you stole the honor from him."
The man chuckled. "Perceptive, aren't you, Phantomhive?" He pulled the chair back and took a seat. He was quiet as he made his next move, studying Ciel as they played back and forth a few times. Inevitably, the sweet silence was broken. "Why haven't you killed me yet, mutt? If you knew I was coming, I'm sure that you know why I'm here."
"For my fiancée. Yes, I am aware. How original of you," Ciel drawled. He placed a hand over his mouth to cover a yawn, subtly enjoying the flash of annoyance on the man's face. He moved his bishop to take the man's rook. "But, to answer your question, I haven't killed you because I don't want to quite yet. Simple enough for you to understand, I hope. That said, you understand why I can't allow you near Lady Elizabeth. Not only as Her Majesty's Guard Dog, sworn to protect her loyal citizens, but also as a betrothed lord. You and your kin aren't the first to attempt a kidnapping."
There wasn't an immediate reply. The man pretended to be more focused on their game, moving his queen to take Ciel's knight and unknowingly leaving his king open for check. "I would be surprised if we were. You have so many enemies that it's hard to believe anyone close to you is still alive. Surprised that you haven't done them in yourself, 'o' villainous noble.'" He smirked.
Years of discipline kept Ciel's expression blank but, inside, he was struggling to bite back the memory of Madam Red's face while she choked him against a dirty brick wall. That would never become Lizzie. He refused to live long enough to attend any sort of funeral for her.
Barely a heartbeat passed. Ciel moved his second knight into place. "Check."
A chuckle came from the man as he moved his king out of the way. "What is it, Phantomhive? Did I strike a nerve? Are you worried? I've seen the photos of her, you know. The Lady Elizabeth is quite lovely."
Finally, Ciel's mask chipped. His eyebrow twitched. "Don't you dare defile her name with your filthy mouth." The game was nearing completion. The man had boxed his king in. Ciel moved his bishop into position.
"I suppose you have a point," the man sighed. His rook took one of Ciel's pawns, close to the king. "We're not supposed to refer to targets by their names, anyway. You understand why. It makes them more sympathetic. I won't say your lady's name. I'm sure that there are better ways to defile her."
Anger was immediate and so quick that Ciel didn't even remember reacting. Suddenly, he was on his feet, hand on his gun and the tip of a dagger against his throat. The man dug the edge in, but Ciel barely felt it. He was dizzy from the sudden head rush of adrenaline, stubbornly remaining where he was and fixing the would-be-kidnapper with a cool glare. The game board had been jostled. Very deliberately, Ciel reached his free hand down and put his king back in its proper place.
The man guffawed. "You have a funny way of organizing your priorities, Phantomhive. What do you say we cut this stupid game short and you come along quietly so I don't have to hurt your sleeping little miss?"
Ciel cast his gaze back down at the board instead. He curled his slim fingers around his queen, leaning into the dagger at his throat to set it in place. "Checkmate."
With a swift kick, Ciel's chair toppled backward at the same time that he dropped to his knees to grab his sword. The armchair hit the carpet with a muted thud, accompanying the smooth slide of the blade along the sheath as Ciel pulled it free.
There was still the chess table between them, but Ciel didn't waste any time to let the man puzzle through that one on his own. He had to keep this quiet. They were in the upstairs parlor of the Midford estate, and Lizzie's room was only a few doors down. If she walked in on this, he would never forgive himself for it.
Murder was never pleasant. Ciel opted to make it quick.
He backstepped to avoid a slash from the dagger, the man stepping out from behind the chess table to follow Ciel's retreating footsteps. Though he obviously came from a well-off family, the man's handling of a blade was shoddy at best. He acted as if scared of his own dagger and his stance left his torso completely open.
The next time he went to slash at Ciel, the earl brought his own blade up. In one stroke, he had slashed the man's knuckles to the bone. Gasping in pain, he dropped the dagger and took a knee. His eyes were big with surprise. Adrenaline must have been keeping the worst of the agony away because rather than screaming, he was letting out noisy pants for air through his mouth. Ciel appreciated that he was keeping it quiet.
The young lord held the sword away from his body, not wanting to stain his fine clothes. Blood was already pooling in the carpet. They would need to replace it if the blood dried and the stain set. The man barely paid Ciel any attention. He was blubbering now, trying to wrap his bloodied hand in his jacket. Standing behind him, Ciel took the time to line up his second strike. He didn't want to waste energy on a third.
Perhaps Sebastian was right when he said that Ciel loved to drag this out. He sure did take his time. Certainly, Ciel thought, it would have been easier to do this as soon as the man entered the manor. There were numerous ways that he could have made this process quicker. Sebastian was constantly suggesting faster and more efficient possibilities. Why bother playing games with pawns? It was because Ciel had to. It was his personal responsibility, to know the faces of the men that he had inadvertently allowed to target his betrothed. As long as he knew the way the light left their eyes, she wouldn't have to.
In an elegant thrust of the arm, a twist of the wrist, Ciel buried his sword in the back of the man's neck. He had eyeballed it correctly, and the blade slid smoothly through the narrow gaps of the vertebrae that made up the spine. Ciel's expression didn't change. He remained impassive as blood gurgled out from the dead man's lips. His head lolled, hanging on only by torn muscle and flimsy skin. The corpse twitched, but Ciel wasn't shaken. He knew that, for all intents and purposes, the man had died on impact. There was a sick, sticky splash as Ciel let the body topple forward into a pool of its own blood. He grimaced faintly, stepping away from the grotesque display before the red could stain his polished dress shoes.
When Ciel turned back to the chess table, Sebastian was already there. He set the pieces back into their starting positions. All except for one. A smirk played on the butler's lips as he held up the black queen, pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
"Is she really worth all this trouble, young master?" Sebastian asked with a tilt of his head. "I could have disposed of him far more quickly and without the unsightly mess."
Ciel glanced over his shoulder at the corpse, folded over itself with his sword still gleaming proudly from where it stuck out of the neck. Where the man's Adam's apple once was, the tip of his sword protruded. The earl turned back with a sigh. "You know very well why, Sebastian. We have discussed this before. Do not waste my time with frivolous questions."
Obedient as always, Sebastian placed the queen down and put a hand over where his heart ought to be, bowing politely. "Quite. Yes, my lord." And if he was still smirking when he said it, then Ciel ignored it.
The young earl tilted his head back. A moment later, Sebastian was gently pressing his handkerchief to the thin cut over the hollow of Ciel's throat. His butler was lion holding a slight blue bird in its maw. Not for the first time, Ciel imagined if the ease of it tempted Sebastian. Al he would have to do was press down. The bones would snap, and Ciel would drown in his own blood if he didn't suffocate first. But Sebastian gave no indication that he was thinking such a thing. He finished drying the blood and straightened back up smartly.
Exhaustion was beginning to set in. Ciel wanted to get out of his stuffy clothes and crawl into bed. He gestured flippantly to the messy body with a faint grimace. "Make yourself useful and clear that thing away. Wash the stain before it sets. Aunt Francis would be most displeased to find a blood stain in her parlor in the morning."
"Not nearly as displeased as she would be to find you so close to the Lady Elizabeth without her knowledge," Sebastian remarked, his tone as close to humorous as he was capable of. Still, he moved to obey Ciel's orders. He crossed the room, easily picking the body up by the waist so as to not get blood on his satin gloves.
There was no reply from Ciel. He let his butler work, watching idly with a vacant expression in his eyes. How many times was this now? Eight? Maybe twelve? Ciel had lost track of how many people had made attempts on his life, let alone Lizzie's. He knew that Sebastian could handle it on his own. He was always the one to point Ciel's attention towards a plot against his fiancée in the first place.
But that was just the thing, wasn't it? His fiancée. Not Sebastian's. Not the Phantomhive's. Not the Queen's. His power, his reputation, his manor, his land, his wealth… All of it could be attributed to his butler, his parents, and Her Majesty. But not Elizabeth. She was the one thing that Ciel could say was his. It wasn't as though their engagement was required. The Queen had offered it when she had given him his title as the Earl of Phantomhive, but Ciel had accepted. He was the one trying to keep Lizzie happy and safe. She was his cousin, his fiancée, and more importantly, his friend. One of very, very few.
Perhaps Ciel loved her, and that was why he insisted upon this. He was fond of how she always smelled like citrus and expensive tea. He was endeared to the way she always seemed to be moving, always had something to be cheerful about. And as irritating as it could be, he had even grown comfortable with seeing his manor covered in pink. It meant that Lizzie was still around. It meant that, for whatever reason, she still cared for him. If he was the sky, then she was the sun that made his world brighter. She made it liveable. Was that love?
Was it love, to care about another person for unselfish reasons?
If it was, then Ciel was certain that he wasn't in love with Lizzie. Had he truly cared for her, he would have wisely called off their engagement years ago. But he was selfish. Greedy. It was only right, then, that he faced his mistakes personally. He was the one to trap Lizzie to the shadow of the Phantomhive name. It seemed a small price to pay, then, for Ciel to take a few hours every now and then to keep her unaware and asleep in bed.
"My lord," Sebastian spoke, jarring Ciel from his thoughts. "I've finished. Shall we depart? Your schedule for tomorrow is extremely busy and you need a full night's rest."
Ciel nodded absently. He walked over to the chess board, idly running his fingers over the black queen. He hated that Lizzie was on his side, sometimes. White suited her much better. Light and purity and goodness. All things that a life with him would never be able to give her.
"Let's go, Sebastian," He said, dropping his hand and turning to his butler. "We've no further business here."
His butler smiled, thin-lipped and mocking. "At least, for the remainder of the night."
Other than a narrowing of his eye, Ciel didn't reply. He let Sebastian host him into his arms, the two of them leaving the same way that they came in; through the window. The parlor was as polished and untouched as it was before they got there.
If only Ciel could wash Lizzie of his sins in the same way.