~Quoth the Raven: Yes, My Lord~

By: WhipOfLightHeartOfSword

Rating: M/R

Pairing: Ciel/Sebastian (Ciel is 19 and therefore legal by modern standards.)

Timeframe: Takes place in 1894-1895. AU from the point when Sebastian and Ciel should have gone to Paris. Ignores Season II for now because I haven't finished watching it and the jury's out on what I think of it.

Warnings: Yaoi, mpreg, and cross-dressing at points because homosexual relationships were illegal in the 1890s. Also an incident of technical dubious consent because Sebastain's contract is totally not interested in what he thinks of Ciel's orders, and how much gender-bending he has to do to carry them out. (I'm taking some liberties with the workings of a demon contract, and whether or not it can be cancelled or if it's absolute and permanent until fulfilled. I would have thought it was permanent on both ends, except for comments made during the first season asking if Ciel was giving up his revenge and abandoning the contract, which would indicate some kind of termination clause exists, but not what its details are. For my purposes… I'll let you read and find out.)

Feedback: Yes, but no flames. Constructive criticism only, please. If you don't like what you read then hit the back button and find something else.

Full Summary: Unwilling to risk Lizzie being brought down with him when his quest for revenge reaches its conclusion, Ciel grows more and more irritable as his twentieth birthday approaches, along with the family mandate that he must marry by then in the interest of begetting an heir for the Phantomhives. In a fit of angry sarcasm, he orders Sebastian to provide him the heir his family wants so that the engagement can be voided, not realizing that such a thing is absolutely possible, or that the contract would take his comment literally and force the demon to conceive. But rather than facilitating his goals of vengeance, the child's existence only serves to threaten Sebastian's very life and instigates conflict after conflict, as people of both Heaven and Earth would love to have a say in whether it should exist at all. With his chances of getting revenge becoming more and more remote with each new turn, Ciel must choose between abandoning everything he's built for the peaceful life he could have had with Lizzie, and taking the uncertain road of standing by the halfbreed child and demon whom so many would love to destroy…

Author's Notes: Ack… I have a boat-load of Bleach, Inuyasha and Final Fantasy VII bunnies, multiple WIPs, an insane and ubberly-important workload for the next two weeks… and That Damn Muse decided that this was a good time to hit me with an irresistible new bunny. *sigh* Ah well… that's what I get for watching a suggestive-as-all-hell anime where the sexy main character literally says variations of: "When my Master gives an order I exist only to fulfill it" and "It is only natural for a Phantomhive butler to be able to (insert unreasonable thing to expect of a normal butler here)". Oh Sebastian… you will so regret saying such things in front of my muse… So of course I am now temporarily back to being a bad student and playing keyboard monkey for the muse while my textbooks sit alone pleading "Come back! Your graduation is at stake!". Hopefully getting this much written will appease the muse so I can get back to work.

I must also point out (since I know not everyone's a history buff) that in 1823 a strange decision was made by the British government to change the legal marriage age from 16 or 17 back to 14 for boys and 12 for girls, as it had been during the Tudor's reign. Of course this didn't ultimately last, but for most of the 19th century people found themselves married with children during their teen years, and becoming grandparents by their mid-to-late thirties. So for Ciel to be the last of an important noble family and have no wife or heirs by age twenty, you can see how resurrecting a medieval marriage custom would seem like the logical thing to those clueless but well-meaning relatives.

~*~Chapter 1~*~

His Butler, The Messenger. His Lord, Mocked.

It was on one of those obnoxiously bright and cheerful mornings that Ciel Phantomhive found himself looking out his carriage window at the passing greenery, his mansion flitting in and out of view between the trees as they drove along the winding path towards home.

The young Earl sighed. This latest excursion into London had been a complete waste. Almost all of the cases in the last six years had been a complete waste! Ever since Lau had turned on him, leads to his parents' betrayers had dried up to a mere trickle at best. A whisper here, a promising glimpse there… But ultimately, nothing ever came of them that would bring him closer to his goal.

Ciel's fist thumped against the cushioned seat. Six years. Six years of nothing! They'd gotten nowhere!

His one normal eye glared up at the canopy overhead, as the morning sunlight peaked through the thick, late summer foliage. Within a few weeks the air would grow colder and those leaves would begin to change their colors as autumn set in, but the changing seasons meant little to the nobleman beyond the relentless and remorseless passage of time that they marked, mocking him with the knowledge that for all his years of sweat and blood, his enemies remained unpunished for their transgressions against him.

A flash of light caused him to blink in discomfort as a bright spot was burned into his vision. Stubbornly he resumed glaring at the culprit as it lit the leaves from behind, darting out to blind him again with another brief flash before concealing itself once more; acting just as his quarry had done time and time again since he had been a mere boy, mocking his inability to put an end to its taunting.

The sun. Seeing only tiny hints of that greater entity—knowing that there was so much more of it than was visible, but that he was powerless from where he sat to uncover it—was too metaphorically representative of his situation for Ciel to tolerate or ignore. It was only for the sake of not appearing to have devolved into a stark raving lunatic that he refrained from ordering Sebastian to stop the carriage and forcibly remove the tree-tops that just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when their owner was in a bad mood.

Instead he merely kept his gaze on those elusive glimpses of light, seething and hating their abstract representation of his wretched ongoing situation.

Just as so many creatures craved to stand in the full light of the sun, so too did Ciel crave to stand in the presence of those who destroyed his family, and his chance at a real life. And just as the plants and beings of the daytime longed to drink in the sun's light, so too did he long to drink in the sight of his unveiled enemies' blood as it was spilled by the hands of the demon whom Ciel had given up his very soul and future to gain an alliance with.

That one word made him pause in his fantasizing about his faceless enemy's destruction.

Future.

It couldn't come up around him anymore without giving him the urge to scoff.

'What future? Their torture sent me into the depths of Hell itself. Without the contract I might have simply been lost there forever. I can't even say a Reaper would have bothered to find me to give me a proper judgment. Even if I had gotten out, what then? More prolonged torture until I finally died for real? Even if I'd somehow escaped that fate and was allowed to go free, without Sebastian to carry out my will I would never have achieved much anyway. Being a child, I would have been passed off to someone to be kept as a ward while the company was taken over by adult administrators who would have reduced me to a mere figurehead, and my place as the Queen's Guard Dog was given over to a placeholder. Neither birthright would have easily been recovered, if they ever were at all. It's very likely that I would have been a superficially notable remnant of a has-been family, ripe for the killing if anyone decided that one surviving Phantomhive was one too many.'

He sighed a second time.

'There is no future. The night I was branded was the night my future ended. The contract with Sebastian was only to allow me the little extra time I needed to get the only kind of justice my family will ever know.'

The trees parted, and the sprawling buildings of the Phantomhive estate came into full view.

Ciel bit back a third sigh, this one not of anger or frustration, but of disappointment at being made to return empty-handed once again.

He longed for things to return to the way they were during those first three years of searching. So much had been accomplished in that time. Little by little, headway had been made. The steady progress made the time seem to fly faster instead of slower because it was constant, relentless.

Victory and vengeance had been in sight, and everything else—the company, his social life, his engagement, even attending to the Queen's interests in the cases she'd sent him—had just been a temporary ruse to keep up appearances until it all came crashing down in a blazing, glorious finale…

Or at least that's how Ciel had once envisioned it. But by the time the fourth year of his contract was reaching its end, he had come to the horrible realization that the tables had turned.

Now the duties, appearances, summons, and obligations had become reality instead of ruse, and vengeance was merely a sweet dream he longed after as a hunting hound longs for the scent of its quarry.

The carriage stopped in front of the main entrance. He could hear Finny's voice as the blonde youth arrived to take hold of the horses.

The door opened, revealing Sebastian's black-clad form. As usual, the creature hadn't even jostled the vehicle while climbing down from the driver's seat like a proper human would have.

'Tch, demon.'

The butler's soft smirk deepened a fraction, his unearthly garnet eyes glinting as if he'd heard his young master's thought and found it amusing.

"My Lord," he stepped aside and bowed slightly, his faintly humored visage becoming half-hidden by the fringe of his midnight hair. Ciel could practically hear the entertained response in his head.

'Really, bocchan.'

Hatred bloomed hot in Ciel's chest, giving him pause to glare momentarily at the butler before he rose and stepped down onto the cobblestones. He loathed the feeling of being mocked, and the demon's ability to convey said mocking without actually having done anything out of the ordinary. Ciel refrained from hitting him for it only because it might cause more problems later than it would make him feel better now.

Rule number one of keeping a demon: never give them reason to torture you through loopholes in your contract.

Resolutely he strode forward, refusing to further acknowledge that he was being made fun of. Sebastian closed the carriage door and followed, keeping a perfect number of strides behind his master until they reached the front doors, at which point he perfectly timed the moment when he would stride ahead to open them and usher the Earl inside.

When Ciel's coat and hat were taken from him, he turned another glare on the butler, suddenly irritated to notice that even after nine years, the demon was still almost a head taller than him. Ciel still couldn't be sure if it was because he simply wasn't destined to grow more than average-sized, or if it was Sebastian's dark sense of humor that made him keep his form slightly taller than his master's, while tricking the eyes of the general public so they wouldn't see his height as anything unnatural. It was most likely the latter, so the demon could always subtly remind his keeper just who ultimately held the real power in their twisted relationship.

This further infuriated the young man.

No matter how much Ciel wanted to say that he was the master because he was the contract holder, the reminders would always be there that he was playing with fire, and destined to get burned no matter how many times he allowed himself to fancy that he had that fire tamed.

No matter what, to Sebastian he would always ultimately be the lesser, weaker creature; and he would always be made to know it. Whether it was because the demon could literally look down on him, or because he could make Ciel squirm with an otherwise innocent gesture or look, the message was clear that the title of "master" would only be held by the human for as long as it took for Sebastian's end of the contract to be fulfilled. The moment the demon was free of his obligation to follow the Earl's orders, Ciel would hold no more power than a cooked goose did at Christmas dinner.

The fact that the contract held so many loopholes for the demon to exploit to give these reminders only made his mockery of Ciel's authority more effortless, and more instigating.

The smoldering hatred seared hot again.

"Bring tea and scones to my office," he clipped, "And cancel my appointments for today."

Since he really couldn't do anything to make Sebastian, well, less demonic—and therefore less taunting and sadistic—Ciel might as well make use of him and send him back to the kitchen where the other servants could suffer from his presence instead. Or Sebastian could suffer from theirs (Ciel still wasn't quite sure if it was either or both).

"Yes, my Lord," Sebastian bowed, right hand to his breast as always.

Ciel strode up the stairs, fuming silently.

At this rate, with his mood as foul as it was he was unlikely to accomplish anything, but he'd take a crack at his paperwork if for no other reason than to keep things from backlogging later—which would mean being shown up for the umpteenth time by the demon who naturally would always make him look sloppy and disorganized when it came to getting work done. That he would like to avoid, if possible. Such a thing would inevitably turn into more mocking or subtle rebuking for the unseemly sulking Ciel would do afterwards (according to Sebastian), and would almost guarantee that his ill-temper lasted throughout the rest of the week as opposed to just the day.

Not a good idea if he was to make any progress with the investors from Poland with whom he was negotiating the construction of a new factory.

Unfortunately the sight of his office only made Ciel's foul mood even blacker.

Several deep breaths and a concentrated effort not to slam the door like a tantrum-throwing child were necessary before he crossed over to his desk and sank into his high-backed seat. The neatly stacked letters and missives practically taunted him from where they sat innocently awaiting his perusal. Several more deep breaths were needed to prevent him from spitefully shredding them.

A glance at the clock informed him it was merely 11am.

Unless something came along to jolt him into a better frame of mind, it appeared this was not going to be one of his better days.

Sad to say this moodiness of his was becoming a standard thing of late, as the evolving content of the paperwork and personal messages gave him a constant reminder that his borrowed living time was dragging on far longer than it should have.

Six years ago, he'd never thought it would be possible that he might actually get to see the dawning of the new century everyone had been raving about. He never thought that he'd be forced to live as though he had a future, and six years of being made to pretend that he did were beginning to take their toll on him.

As he had earlier felt mocked by the sun's unconscious imitation of his enemy's taunting of his current helplessness, he felt the same with practically everything else in his life.

Running his company, seeing it expand and grow, actually living to reap the long-term benefits of the work and effort he put into it—mocked him.

His job for the Queen—mocked him.

Going out on cases hoping every time to finally get that long-lost lead, and then always returning empty handed—mocked him.

Going to social gatherings and being made to admit that he might actually expect to live and have to endure the same event the following year—mocked him.

Acknowledging that he might want to refrain from scoffing at the suggestions of being invited to so-and-so's debutante ball or wedding in several years' time (because he very well might still be around to attend them)—mocked him too.

Between his bumbling staff, the demon masquerading as his butler, his elusive quarry, the thankless jobs from his equally thankless monarch, his family's business, the irritating expectations accompanying his social standing, and the simple fact that he was still alive after all this time with no idea how much longer he had before his demon butler literally ate him, Ciel was hard pressed to find something—anything!—in his corner of the universe that didn't mock him in some way.

If it wasn't for his resolve to see his family avenged, Ciel couldn't be certain how much more of it he could take. In the beginning it was so easy, living for revenge and accepting that to get it he'd have to hand over his soul. It was supposed to be a quick thing; only a few years of taking care of this unfinished business of his, and then retirement to the afterlife (or whatever awaited those destined to be demon food). The only difference he saw between himself and a ghost was that in order to get the job done he had to stay corporeal and keep up the front of being just another generation of nobleman.

It was an unhappy thing that the longer his revenge dragged out, the more complicated and far-reaching his demise would become, and the more people would be affected to a degree that he'd never intended.

For him to have died young, unmarried, and childless would have been seen as tragic, but it would only have meant that his property would have been dispersed among his mother's relatives as they were his only living family, and his duty to the Queen would be bestowed upon another household. His company would have either been taken up by a cousin or uncle, sold off, or liquidated. Lizzie would have simply been engaged to someone else without any smear on her reputation, and would have gained the sympathy of others for fate robbing her of her fiancé.

Ciel himself would have stayed fixated on his goal and righteous anger. He wouldn't have had time to heal from his trauma and develop a taste for living again. He would never have to risk wanting to reclaim a future for himself, and coming to live in dread and regret that his contract with Sebastian wouldn't allow it.

But time was creeping on, he was still alive, he still couldn't get revenge, and certain things outside of his control were beginning to encroach on his plans. The longer he lingered, the more his death would reverberate throughout the lives of others in ways he never wanted it to.

Ciel Phantomhive would to his dying breath refuse to admit it, but his hardened heart still held a single soft spot—he had no desire to see innocent people dragged down with him when the end came. The only ones deserving of suffering were those who crossed him. Causing pain to innocents was never part of his agenda. He'd still use people as pawns when necessary, but he'd prefer to keep that list as limited as possible, and there were certain individuals he wanted kept out of things entirely.

Especially Lizzie.

For him to still be alive at the age of nineteen meant that certain obligations were about to be demanded of him that wouldn't be easy to delay, and almost impossible for him to avoid, like finally wedding his childhood fiancée and starting a family. Once burdened with a wife and child, Ciel couldn't make any promises that they wouldn't become targets like he was, or that he'd be able to protect them.

He wasn't the stupid, naïve child he'd once been. The closer Lizzie got to him, the more danger she'd be in, and marriage between them was something that had to be avoided above all. The risks to her just for being his cousin and close companion were more than enough. For the last two years Ciel had wracked his brains for a means to get her engaged to someone else without creating new problems for himself by doing so, but to no avail.

Ciel's twentieth birthday was drawing closer by the day, and the Marquis was getting more and more anxious that his daughter was well into her best years and still unmarried. Ciel had no desire to disgrace her by taking up a fiancée of a different household and casting doubt on her suitability as a bride, but neither was he doing her any favors by indefinitely delaying their wedding, and giving her family reason to wonder if he simply intended to put it off until she ended up an old maid unfit to marry anyone.

The Earl toyed with his letter opener, frowning with frustration. He couldn't take on a wife, and he'd already vowed six years ago that if there was one person he would spare if he could, Lizzie was it.

'This is the reason I cannot have a future—people I do still care about will be hurt, and it will be my fault. Revenge is something I must see through to the end, but they deserve better than to become involved… And… I deserve not to allow myself to get attached to a life I know I'll be asked to toss aside. That's a pain I will not allow.'

But neither could he deny that with each passing year, the temptation to move on and embrace life again was getting harder and harder to ignore, and knowing he absolutely could not give in to it was steadily reducing Ciel to a miserable, angry mess. Sequestering himself in his mansion and limiting his interactions as much as possible helped, but it was by no means a permanent fix.

Ciel lifted one of the letters and broke the seal. It was a missive from a cousin of his, asking if he was intending to celebrate his birthday at his home that year, or if he might come visit them for a birthday banquet and stay through the Christmas holiday.

Ciel bit back a growl. His birthday wasn't for a good three months! Must they really go out of their way to try to get him to celebrate it?

His birthday…

Ciel dropped the letter and stood, stalking over to the window where he could allow the view to soothe him.

That cursed day would always be unpleasant for him regardless of what age he was, but as a Phantomhive this particular one had the capacity to be disastrous as opposed to simply unhappy.

A person's twentieth year was a significant one for the Phantomhives, and the point at which the window of time for his uncle to play family tradition against him would close. The next three months would determine a lot in how the next few years would play out, and with his patience at a low point Ciel wasn't enjoying the wait in the slightest.

Once again he felt the twisted pang of regret and anger.

'Dammit! I wasn't supposed to have lived long enough to have to deal with this…'

A knock at the door signaled that Sebastian had brought his tea.

"Come in."

The demon opened the door and pulled the tea cart inside. Ciel waited silently while his paperwork was moved aside and a cup was poured for him and placed along with a pastry on his desk.

"This morning I have prepared for you Earl Grey accompanied by a strawberry custard tart. Also, this message has just arrived for you," Sebastian held out the silver tray with the letter resting at its center.

Ciel took it, ignoring the butler who stood awaiting further instruction. Petty as it was, making Sebastian wait around for his orders was one of the very few ways in which he was able to repay the demon's earlier covert teasing, and he was in a lousy enough mood as to want to keep Sebastian waiting for long as possible before he finally sent him on his way. It was hardly much of a punishment for a hell-bird who for all intents and purposes might be older than the Bible itself, but it was all he had and so he'd exploit it if only to make himself feel marginally better. It wasn't as if Sebastian hadn't come to expect it over the years.

He was very unhappy to recognize the seal on the letter as belonging to the Middleford household.

'Think of the Devil…'

Considering the nature of the butler standing nearby, he wasn't going to contemplate the irony of that saying.

Breaking the seal, Ciel stepped back to his desk and took a sip of his tea as he began to read.

Only to spew it all over the paper a moment later.

"Sebastian!"

The demon butler's gloved hand darted out, snatching the letter away so he could lay it down on the tea cart and dab at it with a cloth.

"Can you save it?" Ciel absolutely never wanted to read the damned thing again, to be truthful, but he had to confirm that he wasn't hallucinating. To do that, he needed the letter to stay intact.

"Of course," Sebastian responded smoothly, adding his characteristic, "It is only natural for one who serves as a Phantomhive butler to be able to do this."

A moment later the letter was returned to the Earl, slightly damp and tea-stained, but with the ink intact and perfectly legible.

And as damning as it was to read for a second time as it had been the first.

Dear Earl Phantomhive,

It is with utmost urgency that I write to you in regards to my daughter, Elizabeth, to whom you have been engaged since childhood. You have long-since reached your majority, and Elizabeth is of ripe age to take up her duties to your household as your wife. I would humbly remind you of your duty to your family, that although you have performed admirably in your efforts to restore the Phantomhive name and business, you have yet to take your bride and perform that most sacred duty that will provide for you an heir and successor. I have delayed my inquiries out of sensitivity of your situation following the deaths of your parents, but the hour grows late and I must be made aware what fate awaits my beloved daughter. In consideration of your household's precarious situation, having only yourself remaining, I implore you to reinstate the custom your forefathers followed in the interest of preventing your line from failing. As that tradition mandates, you have only three months left with which to inform me of a legitimate reason that your engagement to my daughter should be brought to an end. Should you have no reason, then I will inform my household to continue preparations for the wedding, to take place on December 14th, your birthday. Unless of course an earlier date is more to your tastes.

With fondest regards,

Marquis Middleford

Ciel felt the bile rise in his throat. With a snarl of rage, he crumpled the letter and flung it across the room, before slumping back in his seat and gouging his fingertips into the polished wood. Head bowed, he fought to keep from screaming.

Was there never to be a time that something in his life chose to refrain from making a complete mockery of him?

Still waiting to be dismissed from the room, Sebastian tilted his head in amusement, not in the least disappointed at his unnecessary detainment. For all that his silly human leash-holder loved to pout and flout the only actual means by which he could compel the demon, Sebastian only rarely found it to be anything worth being irritated over. After all, there were so many ways in which he could make his master regret keeping him in the room.

This however, was something entirely unexpected. Hateful that his silly human quest was taking so long (if one could call a mere decade 'long' when one was a millennia-old demon), Sebastian had nonetheless rarely seen Ciel riled enough in recent years that he would actually indulge in behaviors that he had seemingly given up as the last of his juvenal years waned. For him to be so upset something personally significant to the Earl had to be going on, and naturally that had the demon's interest piqued.

"Is there something you need, my Lord?"

"Not unless you have a convenient way to void a ridiculous, outdated custom without disgracing my household," Ciel muttered.

"I'm afraid I have nothing to offer without knowing the details of what you are referring to," Sebastian replied, privately eager to hear more. Ridiculous came in many forms when humans were involved. Any number of them could be counted on to be entertaining.

Ciel sighed and cast his eyes to the ceiling, looking ironically like one beseeching the heavens or perhaps God for answers.

"You know that during the Middle Ages people lived much shorter, less healthy lives. Naturally, combined with the high rate of infant deaths, it was necessary for people to marry young and produce as many children as possible in the interest of at least one of them surviving to carry on the family name. To ensure our bloodline would endure, the Phantomhives developed a custom of requiring their descendants to marry by the age of twenty. Of course someone could avoid it if they had a legitimate reason to stay a bachelor, or felt they needed to find a more suitable partner, but in the interest of not causing scandal one had to be careful in naming one's motives for doing so. Especially in the case of the heir it could easily be looked at as jeopardizing the bloodline, and could create a case for giving leadership to another, more "responsible" descendent."

Ciel took his eyes off the ceiling and stared balefully at the letter resting on the desk in front of him.

"In 1709, one of my ancestors declared this tradition to have outlived its usefulness, and began a trend of Phantomhives ignoring it in favor of marrying when they felt ready to, instead of when they were expected to. But considering that I am an only child, and that the Phantomhive household has been reduced to only myself, my Uncle—probably with my Aunt's urging—has seen fit to call that custom back into play."

He raised his eyes and met Sebastian's gaze.

"I did not mention this family mandate in the hopes that they might overlook it. In the meantime, I have searched for a plausible excuse to convince my Uncle that Lizzie and I will marry when I reach the age of twenty-five. However, it's a slim hope," he frowned. "This is why I was hoping to have concluded our contract by now. It's not just my household's name that is at stake—the Middlefords' is as well. By now any other potential suitor Lizzie might have had is probably married or engaged, and the number of stragglers like myself are dwindling."

Sebastian nodded in understanding. Ah, the follies of brief human lifespans… "With no legitimate excuse for the delay, the noble households will begin to wonder if there is something about her that makes her undesirable for marriage."

Ciel nodded. "I concluded a long time ago that I wanted my revenge complete in time for her to find another suitor. Now time is running out before our contract becomes a liability. I cannot break the engagement without Lizzie being humiliated and severely hurting her marriage prospects. I also cannot marry her as I do not want her to become more involved with me than she already is."

The demon smirked. "Ah, so my young master has realized he actually has feelings for someone? Enough to care if they get hurt?"

"Baka!" Ciel barked. "You know that she is the only thing I care to see remain unharmed. Of the few things of my past that I have left, she is the only one I still consider untainted. I won't have her marry me only to be targeted and possibly killed, or widowed and left with the burden of finding a husband who will accept her since she is already halfway through her fertile years."

"And what of your heirs?" Sebastian quirked an eyebrow. "Do you also desire to die childless and take your line to your grave with you?"

Ciel frowned unhappily. "I never wanted to be the end of my line, but yes, I would rather it all died with me instead of future Phantomhives suffering as I did. Especially since I am guaranteed to leave my child fatherless when we complete our business, and I know how likely it is for them to be exploited and overrun because of their youth. If I had them with Lizzie, it would also mean that she would remain a target if someone wanted to take control of the household, or wanted to try another elimination attempt."

Sebastian tilted his head, curious. "So what then does my master wish to be done about the situation?"

"For now, invite the Marquis to tea. Ask him to come alone so we may speak about the engagement. I will see if he is willing to delay, and if he is then you and I will be stepping up our hunt to finish off my enemies before Lizzie becomes condemned as a member of my house or branded as an old maid," Ciel replied.

"And if he refuses to delay…?"

Ciel sighed. "Then you and I have three months to come up with a solution to stop my wedding to Lizzie, without ruining her."

Sebastian smirked. Noble marriages. Oh, this had the potential to be very fun for him indeed…

"Yes, my Lord."

~*~TBC…~*~

A/N: Ah, those two are so un-cuddly it's not funny, which so amuses me because of all the times they end up having cuddly moments anyway. Actually this fandom has the potential to be a lot of fun for me, as I love otherworldly creature characters that live to entertain themselves by capitalizing on humans not paying attention enough (though ironically I loathe such traits in humans, go figure). But let's face it—demons and fey have this behavior down to an art form, and it is way fun to write. And then there's also the contract between Ciel and Sebastian. It being both very specific and very vague at best is just sheer awesomeness. Not just because it had to be that way to help the show's interesting-factor, but also because I don't have to do much with it to make the fic work— instead I can just kick back and enjoy playing with the power struggle, as orders backfiring on Sebastian is just as hilarious as it is finding loopholes for him to taunt Ciel with.

At any rate, expect to see many amusing fireworks between now and when the romance actually starts. (Can we even say "romance" with these two? O.o?)

Anyways, please remember to feed the muse and review!