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—-
Far from the filthy streets of London, across the shimmering green trees of forest land, the grandiose halls of gracious Phantomhive Manor stood, serving as a home to Earl Ciel Phantomhive.
Ten years had passed since the murder of his parents.
Ciel was left grieving and broken after his family's demise.
Soon after, the Earl had employed his butler, Sebastian Michaelis, to help him reclaim his nobility and achieve revenge on those who had wronged the Phantomhive name.
In return, the Earl agreed to give Sebastian everything.
His wealth, his status, his power, everything.
But, from the beginning, Sebastian was not interested in the money or social rank Ciel had to offer.
Not really.
At first, Sebastian had agreed to help the boy simply because he was bored and he really had nothing better to do.
And because Ciel intrigued him….
At first…..
Then Ciel annoyed him.
In the beginning, Sebastian often wondered if he had made a mistake…..
But, as time passed, he began to enjoy his position as Phantomhive butler and intended to stay in his master's employ for a long time.
And by his side to the end.
The end?
When Sebastian found Ciel, he was weak and injured, shivering and afraid.
Sebastian had hand-raised that fragile little creature from sniffling child to dignified nobleman.
Sebastian had worked so hard to help Ciel restore his position in society.
Sebastian wanted Ciel to have his rightful place, to have his dignity, as a proud aristocrat should.
Sebastian had toiled for ten long years…
And as he gazed down at his suffering master one morning, he couldn't help but wonder if it was all for nothing.
"This is one of the worst cases of pneumonia I've seen in a long time, and in an asthmatic patient! He won't make it out of bed for a month at least, maybe two…..." The elderly doctor said, removing his stethoscope from Ciel's shivering chest and placing it in his bag.
The physician looked at Sebastian and added grimly, "...If he makes it at all."
Ciel hadn't yet had his revenge.
Ciel had no children.
No siblings.
If he died, the house of Phantomhive would end.
Sebastian would no longer be the Phantomhive butler.
Sebastian would be a failure and Ciel would go to his grave with his parents unavenged, his pride and dignity stripped away…..
No.
No!
Sebastian could not allow that to happen.
Would not allow that to happen.
"What can I do for my master to help him recover?" Sebastian asked with a frown.
"Here's a list of strict instructions to follow. The important thing is plenty of rest and fluids. Keep this man warm and dry. See that he eats but don't force food. I've written everything down for you here." The man said, handing Sebastian a paper. "And call me immediately if he worsens."
"Yes, of course. Thank you, doctor." Sebastian nodded, holding the instructions for Ciel's care as the man took his leave.
Sebastian put his hand to his chin and thought.
His dark eyes were soft with concern as he gazed upon Ciel's suffering frame.
"Is this it, then, young master?" Sebastian asked softly, sitting on the bed.
"Sebastian…"
The butler's eyes widened as Ciel cracked his sapphire orbs open to look up at his servant.
"Sebastian….." Ciel murmured again weakly.
"My lord?" Sebastian answered, leaning closer so Ciel wouldn't strain himself trying to speak.
Ciel wheezed for a moment before he spoke, "I…...I haven't had…my…...revenge yet."
Sebastian frowned and whispered back. "Master, I-"
Sebastian blinked as Ciel's hand shot out and gripped Sebastian's lapel. "Find…...find…..you have to…...find luck…..delighted….Lady Luck…"
Oh dear…..
Sebastian blinked at Ciel and felt his forehead as he rambled. "Master, I think I should take your temp-"
"Go and find delighted luck, in my study! The box! My blue box! Sebas-ACK!" Ciel's eyes were wide and wild. He was almost screaming at Sebastian, he was so desperate, until a violent fit of coughing cut him off.
"Young master, please calm yourself!" Sebastian urged loudly over his master's coughing.
He gently helped Ciel roll over onto his side.
After the bluenette coughed up some of the thick phlegm that was threatening his life, he settled down, his heart racing, his face pale, and looked at Sebastian pleadingly.
Even as a grown man, Ciel was very short and petite, with a fair complexion.
But now his cheeks held an unhealthy pallor.
"If I die now…..my life was for nothing….my final order is for you to find delighted luck and…...bring…...here….." Ciel wheezed as his eyes closed, sleep overcoming him. "Sebastian….."
"Young master." Sebastian sighed forlornly, watching Ciel.
The Phantomhive Earl was gravely ill, indeed.
But his eyes….
The determination…..
The desperation….
Perhaps…
Perhaps Ciel's exasperated pleas weren't just the ravings of a high fever.
Sebastian stood and left Ciel to rest, his perfectly polished shoes clicking down the hall as he approached Ciel's study.
Sebastian thought to himself as he opened the door and walked to the large, wooden desk.
He opened the right bottom drawer and eyed the blue box inside.
The box?
Ciel's blue box.
In all of his years serving the Phantomhive house, Ciel had kept that box in that desk, never revealing its contents.
Sebastian admitted to himself he had always been a bit curious about what was in that box and now, Ciel had given him permission to look.
How interesting.
As close as Sebastian was to his master, it seemed there was always another hidden facet to the Phantomhive name.
Heh.
That much, Sebastian had learned over the years.
Sebastian pulled the box from the drawer and gently cracked it open.
What facet would be revealed today?
Sebastian blinked as he pulled the lid off the box.
Papers.
Lots of papers.
Sebastian scanned through them.
Newspaper clippings, letters, pictures…
All centered around the French, international ballet star, Dame Chancé.
Sebastian's eyebrow raised.
Dame.
The female equivalent of knighthood, an honor received from the Queen herself.
Sebastian knew of this Dame Chancé, as everyone did.
He recalled when Ciel attended a ball at Windsor palace in her honor two years ago.
For some reason, Ciel had declined to approach her about advertising for Funtom, although he had no trouble asking other, less popular entertainers.
Hmm…...
The medieval term for the queen's honor meant delighted….
Chancé.
The French word for luck…
Sebastian looked at the ballerina in the picture.
She was certainly very beautiful, round eyes, dark hair, pale skin.
Sebastian couldn't make much else out, the picture was in a sepia hue and quite faded, as if maybe Ciel had carried it for some time…..
Sebastian narrowed his eyes.
Had he?
Why?
Ciel hated the ballet.
And the theatre…...
And music….
Why did he have all of this?
Why would he ask for this…...woman….on his deathbed?
Sebastian curiously removed one of the old letters from its torn envelope and began to read it….
Ma petite,
I am so happy we were able to meet in secret during my ball at Windsor! I have missed you so and my heart nearly burst to see you again! Ma petite! Do not trouble me so! Life should be told through dreams not spent suffering in nightmares! I decided to follow my future instead of pacing in the past! No one expects you to! Stubborn homme! Come to Paris! I promise the city will wash it all away! My heart aches each day we're apart and I know yours does too. Wishing you will show up at my door one day….
Amour,
Sebastian blinked.
At the bottom of the letter, there was a very intricate, incredibly accurate Phantomhive crest hand drawn in place of a signature.
The butler's eyes narrowed and he felt a bit anxious for some reason, no…...jealous?
Cheated?
What on earth was this?
Who was this woman that Ciel never mentioned?
Was this letter from her?
Or to her?
No, it couldn't be, that didn't make sense.
Why would she draw a Phantomhive crest at the bottom?
How could she possibly have replicated it in such careful detail?
Elizabeth couldn't have drawn it that exactly.
Sebastian scowled.
This woman must be Ciel's lover.
Sebastian smirked.
That was all but impossible.
Sebastian was with Ciel nearly every second of every day for the last ten years.
And Sebastian's master was a horrible liar.
Not to mention awkward with women…...
How…?
Sebastian stood and tucked the letter into his tailcoat.
His questions would not be answered by sitting in the chair.
Besides, Sebastian had an order to carry out.
According to the most recent newspaper clipping, delighted luck still seemed to reside in France's capital.
It looked like the Phantomhive butler was bound for Paris.
—-
After making a few arrangements, Sebastian had quickly rallied Finny, Snake, Baldroy, Mey-Rin, and Tanaka.
He briefed everyone on what was happening and where he would be going.
He entrusted Ciel's care with Tanaka, the only one he knew was capable of following the doctor's orders word for word.
Sebastian didn't want to leave Ciel at a time like this, but he had no other choice.
To stay would be to disobey his master's order.
—-
Later, Sebastian arrived at the Paris docks in astonishingly good time.
He smirked to himself.
The evening wind whipped against Sebastian's trench coat, rustling along the brim of his top hat.
He wasn't quite sure where he would find Dame Chancé, but Sebastian could be very persuasive….
And he spoke a great deal of French.
Delighted luck would be out of Paris and on her way to the Phantomhive estate before the night was over.
He spotted a woman moving some flowers inside a shop before the chill of night caused them to perish.
Sebastian smiled as he walked up, greeting her politely with a tip of his hat.
First, he would need directions.
—-
Not far from that same flower shop, the evening's ballet was just finishing at the opulent Palais Garnier.
Ladies and gentlemen, dressed in luxurious evening wear, applauded and cheered as the final curtains came down.
Dame Chancé held her curtsy until the red velvet touched the wooden floor in front of her.
She closed her sapphire eyes, breathing hard, an elegant arm clasped to her chest, dainty fingers brushing over her navy corset, idly stroking the black beads that dotted her costume.
"LA REINE DU BALLET!"
"BELLE!"
"LA REINE DU BALLET!"
"INCROYABLE!"
"LA REINE DU BALLET!"
Dame Chancé's lips curled into a proud smile at the words of admiration that were thrown at her from behind and in front of the curtain as audience and theater staff praised her.
Her brown hair was up in a bun, thankfully, else her friends and admirers would have pulled it from her scalp as they fawned over her with words of congratulations and praise.
Normally, she would have gone to the after party in the Palais lobby to assert her status as head of the Corps du Ballet by flirting with the gentlemen and mingling with the other dancers.
But her smile faded as she put weight on her right ankle.
Not tonight.
Now that there was no stage lights and no audience, the pain of her injury was apparent.
"Let's get you back to your room." A blonde girl whispered in her ear, supporting her as they began to walk.
Dame Chancé grit her teeth behind her smile, waving as she limped along.
She looked over at the blonde, agreeing silently.
The Queen of Ballet was tired.
Yes, if she had any admirers this evening they would have to seek her out on her throne.
—
"Dangereux, Chancé, dangereux." The blonde girl scolded the brunette as she helped her into her navy blue, flowing, fur robe, tying a satin black ribbon around her petite waist.
"Silencieux, Emilié. It's only a sprain. I've danced with a sprain dozens of times." Dame Chancé sighed, the ballerina lying to stretch out on her tall, chaise lounge, the elegant mink fur robe spilling over the furniture, framing her lithe figure.
It was quite chilly that evening in the ballet dormitories of the Palais Garnier, even with the fireplace blazing.
"This will make you feel better!" Another blonde girl called, skipping into the room and handing Dame Chancé a box of expensive chocolates from an unknown gentleman.
"So will this!" A red-head giggled, running in with a bottle of pink wine crammed into an ice bucket.
Presumably from a different unknown gentleman….
"Mi amours! How thoughtful!" Dame Chancé exclaimed with a smile as her friends sat around her and the group of girls began to share the chocolate and the alcohol as they chatted.
Dame Chancé hissed as Emilié wrapped her sprained ankle in a towel full of ice.
Slowly, painfully, her battered ballet shoes were carefully unwrapped and pulled off.
"Ahhhh…." Dame Chancé hissed, wiggling her toes and gripping the lounge.
Bloody and raw, her feet were quickly bandaged by her friends.
"You should give it a break, majesté." One girl remarked with a frown. "The biggest show of the century is in three months. If you push yourself too hard, you could risk missing the performance of your life, eh?"
Dame Chancé laughed. "I don't have time for breaks! I'm a dancer! Dancers rest in their graves, oui?"
All of her girlfriends laughed heartily at that.
—-
Outside, Sebastian walked up the steps to the Palais Garnier…..
Truthfully, Dame Chancé had been taking a break for many years…
Every day she spent as a ballerina, she was taking a break.
A grand escape from her actual reality.
But of course, Sebastian didn't know that.
Yet…...
"Pardon me, but is there any way I could meet Dame Chancé?" Sebastian asked a young ballerina, giving his most charming smile.
"Oh~! Of course, monsieur! I will show you the way!" The young girl blushed.
Little did Dame Chancé know, but her break was quickly coming to an end…..
—
"I am most honored, my lady." Sebastian smiled cordially as the young girl led him back to the ballet dormitories.
Everything had worked well so far.
The lady at the flower shop happened to be a ballet fan and informed Sebastian Dame Chancé lived at the opera house, with all of Paris's best ballerinas.
Sebastian removed his trench coat and top hat as they approached a grand room with a large, gilded door at the end of the hallway.
The young girl blinked at the Phantomhive crest on his lapel.
Sebastian glanced at her and she shyly looked away, taking her hand and knocking on the door with a bright smile.
Sebastian heard the laughter of women inside as several voices giggled, "Come in!"
The large, gilded door opened and Sebastian stepped in after the girl.
Sebastian looked around the room.
Shabby elegance.
That was the best way to describe it.
The room was opulent, but a bit thrown together at the same time, just a touch disheveled.
Though the room was full of velvets and satins, beads, and stained glass, there was clearly no routine cleaning staff that kept things polished and pristine, it was a bit dusty, a bit rumpled, but not filthy.
Functional.
Baroque.
In the middle of the room, a small ebony table stood beside a red velvet, tufted chaise lounge with a high back.
On the chaise, Dame Chancé held her wine glass, waiting.
Sebastian couldn't see anything about who was on the chaise, but since all the other girls were sitting on the floor, he assumed that must be Dame Chancé.
"Dame Chancé! There's a tall, handsome gentleman that's come to see you!" The girl beside Sebastian chirped cheerily.
"If it's Jacques tell him I am still considering the gala at the Louvre."
Sebastian felt chills run down his spine.
My!
What a low, sultry voice!
Mysterious and alluring, almost erotic…..
"It is not Jacques, majesté." The girl smiled.
"Oh." The voice cooed.
A moment's pause…...
"If it's William, tell him I will write when I want to see him again."
That voice seemed to curl in the air around Sebastian's ears…
Slow, deep, enticing…..
Sebastian was so caught up in admiring the voice, he did not notice how much he himself was being admired.
All of the girls on the floor were staring at Sebastian with pink cheeks and open mouths.
"It is not William, either, majesté."
A longer pause….
The voice seemed to be thinking.
"Very well. Who is it?"
"I…..I don't know his name…..He wears a uniform with a pin on his coat. It's a strange symbol. A shield and two eagles."
"Oh dear…."
The voice sighed.
Sebastian heard a swallow from behind the back of the chaise.
Sebastian saw an elegant hand reach from the chaise lounge and gracefully sit a wine glass down on the ebony table.
"In that case, please inform him that I am dead."
"He is beside me, majesté." The girl frowned.
"How unfortunate, then." The voice sighed.
Sebastian noticed the perfect pink of the nail beds, the gleaming white of the nails themselves as the hand rose up.
The fingers snapped in the air.
Immediately, all of the girls jumped to their feet and cleared the room, scampering past Sebastian in a herd.
The last one to leave closed the large, gilded door, leaving Sebastian alone with that voice.
"Who are you?"
That sweet, intoxicating voice purred.
Sebastian smiled even though no one could see him. "Pardon me, my lady, but I am Sebastian Michaelis, the Phantomhive butler and I have been sent here by my employer, Ciel Phantomhive to-"
"I have no butler." The voice interrupted.
Sebastian didn't know what the importance of that statement was, but he detected just a hint of sadness.
There was a very pregnant pause….
Was the voice going to say something else?
He waited a moment.
Silence.
He decided to begin again.
"Well, I am very sorry to hear that, but I-"
"So then, what you say is impossible. I am the Queen of Ballet. Why have you come to my throne to tell me lies?!" The voice growled.
Sebastian blinked.
"My lady?"
Slowly, very slowly, Sebastian saw a figure rise from the chair.
At first, he saw only fur, mink fur that was…...bluenette.
Custom dyed the exact same color as the Earl Phantomhive's hair.
Bluenette fur.
Bluenette hair.
Sebastian's eyes widened.
There was bluenette hair spilling down her left chest as a young woman stood from the chaise and turned, using a hand to pull off the brown wig that served as Dame Chancé's hair.
Sebastian's jaw dropped.
Dame Chancé was a lie.
A disguise.
In front of him stood the real woman behind Dame Chancé. Her hair a deep bluenette, an exact copy of his master's, eyes a bright sapphire hue and round, round as a cat's. Her face was truly elegant, beautiful, slender, angelic features set in sparkling porcelain, lips as pink and full as fresh cherries.
Her regal shoulders were thrown back, high and proud. Her back was pin straight, the woman held herself with impeccable posture. Her modest figure was tucked beguilingly under that fur robe.
And that smell….
A high-inducing, dizzying scent that was reminiscent of spring mornings and winter nights, floral and exotic all at once.
Innocent but powerful.
That scent seemed to hit Sebastian squarely in the chest, not overwhelming but enrapturing as the bluenette came closer.
Sebastian couldn't help but notice the woman seemed to limp slightly.
Although it was apparent she was trying to hide that, that hint of weakness.
The flowing fur robe slid over her petite frame as she walked, her black and navy jeweled corset peeking out, her costume still in place from the ballet she performed earlier, just a bit of pearly cleavage glistening…..
Sebastian was in shock.
Speechless.
Never had…..
Oh….
"What you say is impossible! You can't be sent from Ciel Phantomhive. You can't be Ciel Phantomhive's butler. I am Ciel Phantomhive!" The woman spoke.
Then her eyes narrowed as she added in a low, angry tone. "Unless dear brother is still using my name…."
Sebastian blinked.
Suave and debonair, he usually was not one to struggle for words, but this was quite a shock.
Twins…..
What to say?
What to think?
What to feel?
He…...he still had an order to carry out here.
From the first Ciel…
But did that even apply now, since he was talking to the real Ciel?
Of course, his master was still his master, no matter his name.
Sebastian opened his mouth to speak, finding it difficult under the intensity of this new Ciel's piercing sapphire gaze.
Sebastian's directive was still to take her to see her brother.
Two Ciels…...
One manor…...
One butler…..
Oh dear.