Hey people! I'm quite new to the Kuroshitsuji fandom; this is my first CielxSebas fanfic. I'm more at home in the Death Note or Durarara! worlds, but I am rapidly warming up to this one :)

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. If I did, would I really be writing fan fiction and posting it for free? Just saying.

About my story: I have to say right off the bat that my Ciel is 20 years old, plenty of legal age, so if you were looking for shota, it ain't here. This is going to be AU, in a world where Ciel parents died in a fire that as far as anyone knows was a horrible accident, and is unrelated to their work for the Queen. Ciel never had to go through the traumatic experiences that he did in the original story. Still, he did have to take over the role of the Earl at 10 years old, and thus still has a very jaded view of life. Because of the changes in his past and his age, my Ciel will be somewhat OOC in comparison to the original Ciel.

I hope you all will enjoy this, and let me know what you think by writing a little review or PMing me if you wish, I love to hear from you all!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rubbing dreary eyes from their not-quite-yet-morning sleepiness, Ciel crept down the dark hallway, clutching at the hem of his silk night robe. Portraits lined the walls, glaring down at him, devoid of the daylight that would transform the now dark and menacing faces into the smiling visages of his family. His quiet footfalls echoed in the pervading silence, reminding him of his isolation; the servants had all gone to their quarters, leaving him alone.

When he was only ten, his parents perished in fire that consumed the mansion that had been his home for as long as he could remember. He had only been spared by a chance visit from his cousin and fiancée, Lizzie, and Madame Red, his aunt, who had taken him away for the day on a hunting trip in the nearby grounds. His father, Earl Vincent Phantomhive, who was caught up in a particularly difficult business deal, had opted to stay behind and finish his work. Ciel's mother, Lady Rachel Phantomhive, had waited with his father to keep him company, and trusted the boy to her sister to look after.

They left without a care in the world but for the enjoyment they planned to have.

They returned to the smell of smoke and a sky filled with red.

The young boy had now become the young Earl Phantomhive, who held the sole responsibility for the bearing the Phantomhive name, a name that was very well known in England. It was famous not just for its extensive business roots, but also infamous regarding its work for the Queen in England's filthy "Underground". It was always dangerous, seldom appropriate work for a boy of his age, but such was his burden, and he bore it heavily, quickly adopting the demeanor of someone much older than himself. His childhood had gone up in flames along with his home, his family, and everything he loved about life. Dealing daily with criminals and lowlifes, he quickly became jaded, and his once beautiful smile was now rarely seen.

Because his home was now burnt beyond repair, Ciel chose to leave unhappy memories behind and moved into their summer home in the English countryside, complete with a butler, servants, furniture, extensive grounds, and the like. The beautiful place held so many precious memories, but the emptiness of the huge manor continually reminded him of what he had lost.

His first act upon moving in had been to fire everyone who had been previously working there, except for Tanaka, who had been a personal friend of his fathers as well as a loyal and competent butler, and as such Ciel couldn't bear to turn him away. Then, thinking of his own protection, he unearthed several servants he deemed necessary, hiring them under the harmless pretenses of maid, chef, and gardener. The maid, Maylene, who used to be a sniper, was chosen for her amazing eyesight over long distances. A great asset to Ciel, she was also unfortunately a hopeless klutz, constantly breaking things she was trying to clean. Baldroy, his chef was a retired explosives enthusiast and an American war hero, and as such offered a high level of security; that is if Ciel didn't have to constantly worry about simply dying from the "food" he made, if charcoal could be considered food. Finally, the strangest of them all, was his gardener, Finnian. Ciel had stumbled across him while on one of his jobs for the queen. There had been reported suspicious activity at a local hospital, and he had been scent to find out what was going on inside. He discovered that they had been conducting experiments on orphans that they picked up off the streets, and kept them locked inside, away from the sun. Ciel found Finnian hiding away in a corner, the smashed remnants of his room surrounding him. The injections he had been given had given him superior strength, to the extent that at first it was nearly impossible for him acclimate to normal life, as he kept destroying the things around him. Still, he was unspeakably grateful to Ciel for allowing him to work outside as his gardener, and Ciel in turn was grateful for the protection his inhuman strength offered him.

After these precautions had been taken care of, he made no motions to hire any more servants or employ anyone besides the occasional tutor or decorator. He preferred to keep his mansion the way it was in his mind: empty and lonely. He had always been a loner, keeping to himself rather than playing with the other children, so he wasn't missing any friends that he might have moved away from, but he had loved his parents dearly, and losing them had made him feel hollow inside. Even now, ten years later, nothing had been able to fill the hole, not even the frequent visits of the eternally bright and girlish Lizzie, whom he was fond of, but not in the same way that she was fond of him. Still, the wedding was logical, considering her family background, and she was a lovely girl. He couldn't wish for a more opportune choice for his family line. And yet, here, in the dark, he found himself wondering yet again if "logical" and "fond" were the best reasons for marriage.

He passed a rather elaborate sitting room, filled with period furniture and intricately designed Persian rugs. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he sighed dejectedly at the time that was unwaveringly displayed on the towering grandfather clock by the fireplace. He wasn't completely sure what had possessed him to rise from slumber at such an ungodly hour and venture through the lonely house, but watching the moonlight spill past the curtains into the room directed his purpose toward the staircase and out the large creaking doors that led into the midnight air.

He couldn't help thinking that the gardens really were magical at this time of night, the moonlight reflecting off smooth, dark, leaves and bathing the daytime brightness of flowers in a softening silvery glow. In an unusually poetic mood, he wandered aimlessly amid the shining plants, here and there letting slim fingers dance over slender green stems, turned silver in the light.

And suddenly, there it was: the sound that had woken him from his fitful dreaming, a light tinkling of bells, a fairy noise, that he would have attributed to a small wind-chime, had he not known that there was nothing of the sort on his property. He spun in bare feet, toes digging into the soft earth, his clear blue eyes flitting rapidly over the garden, searching for the source of the noise that was growing steadily fainter. He allowed the rare indulgence of emotion and curiosity to overwhelm him and headed for the source of the noise, steadily picking up pace until he was running through the darkness, the wind running its fingers through his hair, its natural bluish grey color exaggerated by the soft light of the moon.

Branches whipping across his face and arms he ran, through the garden and out of it, away from the mansion and into the woods, chasing the sound that was fading into the night. He slowed to a stop, breathing harshly, as he realized it had grown so soft that he was no longer hearing it; it was only a memory echoing in his ears. He bent over at the middle, small hands resting heavily on his knees, trying to catch the breath that he hadn't even realized he had lost. After a long minute, after his panting had slowed gradually until it was under control, he straightened, taking in his surroundings for the first time.

He found himself on a small bank of a pond, a still place in the midst of what was usually a rapid creek. The silver light trickled down through the leaves of the willow tree above his head, its branches dipping lightly in the breeze, alternatively brushing the smooth surface of the water and leaving ripples to shimmer across the moon reflected there. The place had a sense of almost otherworldly quiet and calm, like it was completely untouched by the horrors of the world that Ciel was so used to dealing with.

And there, lying in a patch of clover on the bank was a carefully wrapped bouquet, filled with flowers of every color and kind, tied neatly with twine. As quietly as he could, not wishing to break the silence, Ciel made his way over to it, gently lifting the flowers from the grass. At the center were three roses: one as white as the moon reflected in the water, one a deep blue, dark as the night that surrounded him, and one as red as if each petal were filled to overflowing with life blood, each one as beautiful as the silence and as mysterious as the sound of bells.

Carefully tucked behind the twine was a note written in elegant letters so perfect it was hard to believe they had been written by a human hand.

Three flowers, three wishes...
White for that which all wish for more, but none have enough...
Blue for that which all strive to know, but few offer without a price...
Red for that which makes all of it worthwhile.
In three days, the bells will ring, here where the moon shines;
Give me your answer, and over all three,
You will have power for eternity.