Rated for implied sexual abuse of a minor (in the second chapter), which I suppose is unavoidable when writing about Alois's time in the Trancy Manor.

Otherwise, this is a fairly platonic piece with some inferred character history.

Won the Team Phancyhive Winter contest on deviantart. (.com/)

For the last two years, Sebastian had sat stoically through Ciel's solemn winter silences. The season brought with it snow and cold and the reminder of the terror that had plagued the boy so few years ago.

The first snow of the year was falling and Ciel was sitting in the bay window of his study when Sebastian entered the room to bring him his afternoon tea. His face was pressed to the surely cold glass pane and he was distantly watching the snowflakes dive from the sky and slowly accumulate on the mansion's front lawn. The boy either didn't notice Sebastian come in, which was likely as he seemed deep in thought, or didn't care—he hadn't looked away from the window, at least.

"Ciel."

Vincent's voice was soft that evening. Ciel's tenth birthday was only a few days away, but it had seemed over the past few months, even to Ciel's young mind, that his father's moods had grown more sullen. Even when he was smiling, he looked weary.

The boy went from the window of the study, where he had been watching the snow falling outside, to his father's side at the sound of his name and Vincent pulled the small child into his lap.

"I love you, Ciel," his father told him, embracing him.

The tiny boy giggled and replied, "I know, papa."

"Good," Vincent said; he pulled out of the embrace, touched his son's face. There was a certain seriousness in the touch that concerned Ciel and he listened closely as his father continued, "Ciel… I know you are still young, but… There may come a time soon where you will be forced to grow up very quickly. You might have to stand up for yourself because your mother and I might not be able to help you. You might have to make some hard decisions that no child your age should have to.

"But I want you to know that your mother and I love you very dearly," Vincent said, kissing Ciel's forehead, "and no matter what happens, we will always love you. Do you understand?"

Still so young, Ciel couldn't fully understand what his father was telling him. How could he possibly? There was no way for him to know how true his father's words were to become. He had no idea that in just a few days, he would lose everything precious to him, his innocence included.

So, doing what he thought he should to bring some trace of happiness back to his father's face, Ciel nodded enthusiastically and told the man, "Of course, papa!"

When the tray of tea clinked lightly against the surface of the desk, Ciel's head snapped toward the demon (finally acknowledging his presence) before turning back towards the window. Though now the look on his face was decidedly forced, one of aloof disinterest.
Sebastian couldn't help but think it was a look that suited his young master, one that normally had no need to be forced. It was a strict antithesis to the few portraits that had existed of Ciel as a small, happy child, though Sebastian felt all the boy's most attractive features were strangely highlighted when he frowned just so.

"I have prepared a Chinese Ying De Hong tea," Sebastian announced, but then continued with a slight grin, "It's a strong tea with a peppery hint and a sweet aftertaste, said to raise one's spirits. With the winter approaching, I thought it would be appropriate."
Ciel shot Sebastian a quick, almost dirty look before training his gaze back out the window.

The butler acted as though he took no notice of it and calmly poured a cup of tea for the young master, preparing it to his liking before offering him the cup and saucer.

Without looking at him, Ciel took the tea, not bothering to drink it. He was still gazing intently out the window; Sebastian could practically see the gears in his head turning and he watched the boy with amusement, waiting for him to make the next move.

Finally, Ciel asked, "Have you discovered any new information?"

Sebastian needed no clarification. All the boy ever spoke of was getting revenge on the ones who had humiliated him. Surely, the coming season (and the reminder of pain that came with it) had only made Ciel's desire for revenge even fiercer. "Still no culprits have been identified, young master. I assume that whoever was responsible had the resources to cover their tracks."

The boy nodded solemnly with a maturity that should have been far beyond his young face. "Then continuing to wait is our only option."

"It would seem so," Sebastian replied with a light sigh.

A deep frown made its way onto the boy's lips. "I hate waiting."

Suddenly, the three other servants in the manor darted into view of the window, tripping and falling in the snow, laughing hysterically as they tossed snowballs at one another. As usual, they were making fools of themselves, though this time, the amount of fun they seemed to be having could be considered enviable.

Ciel only watched for a moment before he 'tch'ed and finally pulled his gaze away from the window. A distasteful look crossed his features and he muttered, "And I hate the winter."

Without looking back, Ciel climbed off the window's ledge and moved back to the chair behind the desk, setting the tea cup upon it. He leaned his chin against his hand, but Sebastian could tell the boy was only pretending to look drearily at his paperwork. In actuality, his dreariness was very much about anything else.

His mood didn't extend to his butler, however. Quite the contrary, Sebastian smiled to himself, out of view of his master, as he toyed with the image of a tiny Ciel giggling and playing in the snow with abandon, even if the image was surely wrong; he knew that Ciel had been a sickly child, so his hatred of cold weather probably delved deeper than Sebastian could fathom. Ciel had probably been forced to watch others playing in the snow from his bedroom window for years, his parents too terrified that he would catch his death to allow him to join them. And after years of such treatment every winter, his house was then set ablaze, his parents murdered, and he was enslaved. It was reasonable that Ciel would be tormented by the season.

Even if Sebastian couldn't help but muse that the colors of this season most complimented his master's fair skin and ludicrously blue eyes. Of course, he reasoned, that detail could be hardly more than a triviality to the boy.

Though Sebastian would typically be pouring Ciel a second cup of tea by now, he hadn't yet taken a sip—as if Sebastian's comment that it would "raise his spirits" had put him off. The butler shook his head a bit, approached the boy's side, and said, "You should drink your tea, young master."

"No," Ciel replied shortly. "I have no desire to have my spirits raised. Nor do I wish to take orders from a butler."

"Of course not, young master," Sebastian quipped and gave a small bow, in a mild attempt to mollify the boy. When Sebastian wanted or needed to get his way, he knew how to go about doing it. His years at Ciel's side had at least taught him that much. "It was merely a suggestion. The mansion is quite cold and the fireplaces are so dreadfully slow to warm it. The tea, at least, will provide young master with some internal warmth and hopefully prevent him from catching cold."

Ciel eyed the demon suspiciously, but Sebastian met his gaze with an intense, nearly innocent smile and eventually (as expected) Ciel faltered. He looked away from the demon, grimaced, and raised the teacup to his lips. He took a long swig, finishing half the cup in a manner decidedly inappropriate for drinking tea. Quickly, Ciel set the cup back down and threw the demon a purposely hard look. "Satisfied?"

"Never," Sebastian replied slyly, but then bowed and followed up, "but I suppose that's a start."

The boy was practically scowling at him—or he would be, if his lovely face were capable of such an ugly expression (or if Sebastian actually believed the emotion for a second). Sebastian couldn't feel anything other than a touch of amusement.

"Don't you have some other duties you should be attending to?"Ciel admonished, obviously seeking to remove the butler from his study as quickly as possible.

"I do," Sebastian said.

Ciel 'hmph'ed and looked back to his paperwork. "Then you are dismissed. Go make yourself useful."

Sebastian bowed once more. "Yes, my lord."

The butler could feel his master's eyes follow him to the door, but the gaze dropped when Sebastian had nearly closed the door. It gave Sebastian more than enough time to turn to the opening and see that his master's eyes had slipped shut and, for perhaps the first time in weeks, some level of peace had forced its way onto his face, easing the tension in his brow and softening the usually distinct line of the frown on his face.

A grin stretched over Sebastian's lips. He'd lied about the tea, but the power of suggestion was quite incredible.

The last thing Sebastian wanted—the last thing he could stand—was to watch Ciel trudge though another long, eventless winter with that hopelessly depressed look on his face. Not only did the demeanor fail to suit the boy at all, but the effect that such a deep depression had on the flavor of a soul was tragic. While it was rare that pain didn't ensure a more delicious soul, nothing but it left the soul with a rather bland taste. Just as with human delicacies, too much of any one spice would ruin the dish.

If Sebastian had his way, and he so often did, he would see that Ciel had as little time to squander in despair as possible.