Unfortunately, I do not own Kuroshitsuji. I think everyone here would like to, but we sadly do not.

Also, this is the story of Sebastian's past, so no Ciel. I'm also calling him Aquila, which means Eagle in Latin.

Confusion

Summary: The pain could not be compared to fire. Fire was something good, something pleasant. Fire was his brother. This felt like his stomach was tearing itself apart with its own acid.

In the middle of the desert was a man. Or a man shape, anyway. The man opened his eyes a tiny bit, and recoiled with a hand over his face. Shading his face in shadow with one hand, the man searched for this strange, blinding invader, before realizing that it was sunlight. Impossible! He thought. Sunlight is warm, and kind, and…bad. The thought invaded like a virus. Sunlight=bad. What? The man shook his head. There would be time to dwell on that later. Next on the list of thoughts scrolling through his brain: why did his back hurt so much? He felt winded, as if he'd fallen flat on his back. But from where? There were no rocks to fall off of, and the sand was rather soft. Odd.

Still shading his eyes, the man sat up and looked around. His back was in pain. Lots of pain. Wincing, the man put his hand over his shoulder, to assure himself that he wasn't seriously injured. To feel the comforting softness of his wing feathers. The man froze when his fingers brushed the area between his shoulder blades, where glorious white wings should have been. Nothing was there but the smooth fabric of his battle robes.

The man's breath came in short gasps. This cannot be. My wings! He racked his brain to think of what had happened, but could only remember snippets.

Everyone was sorry for Tsala. One of her two sons had turned to darkness. Not even three decades old, and he had Fallen. But the other, Aquila, stuck close to his mother's side, comforting her. He was a promising angel, always with his holy rapier by his side. Ever since his brother had left, the threat of attack was imminent…

Snippets. Snippets of memory, the man that was Aquila tried to piece them together to make a whole memory. He remembered a battle, and he remembered seeing his brother and his followers on the other side, the attackers. The demons. Aquila remembered that he hesitated when his brother faced him head on. They had stood there, eye to eye, for an entire minute. Green eyes staring into vermillion. And Aquila couldn't do it. How could he kill his own brother? And another angel stepped forward, to do the deed he couldn't do…

But what? What had happened afterwards? Why was he flat on his back, wingless, confused?

And then Aquila became aware that he was in pain. Agonizing, fiery pain. No, not like fire. The pain could not be compared to fire. Fire was something good, something pleasant. Fire was his brother. This felt like his stomach was tearing itself apart with its own acid. He was hungry. No, that wasn't right either. He was past that. Long past famished, long past starving. Ravenous, his mind whispered. That's it. He was completely and utterly ravenous. Calm down, Aquila told his stomach. I'll eat something soon. And as if in answer, the pain dulled, appeased by the prospect of food. But where to find it in the desert? Aquila set off at a brisk walk in a random direction.

"Oi! You there!" a voice hailed him, after Aquila had been walking for what seemed like an hour. He looked around, and spied a man dressed in black sauntering his way toward him. Aquila's eyes narrowed as the man drew closer. He had black nails.

"You lost, mon chou?" the man asked.
Aquila snarled in answer. He didn't know why this demon was addressing him in such a casual manner, nor why he was calling Aquila his cabbage. For starters, he wasn't green. He was also mildly surprised at the feral sound that had come out of his mouth.

The demon held up his hands. "Woah there, brother. Just being, ah, friendly. Haven't seen you around before, so I thought I'd help you out."

"I am not your brother," Aquila growled, crouching for attack. "And why should you be friendly to an angel?"

The demon looked puzzled. "Pardon? What angel?"

"Me, you idiot!" Aquila snapped. "Who else could there be?"

The demon relaxed. "Ah, not figured things out yet, have you?" he winked cheerily. "I'd take a look at my nails, if I were you."

"There's nothing wrong with my—" Aquila glanced down and cut his sentence short. Cautiously, as if it might cause an explosion, he poked at one glossy black fingernail.

"I take it by your horrified silence that you have only recently woken up?" The demon—the other demon—Aquila thought with a shudder, said the sentence so politely it was insulting.

"Look, this is all happening way too fast…" Aquila began.

"That's what she said," the other demon snorted with laughter.

Aquila frowned, irritated. This guy really got on his nerves. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Asmodeus," the other demon said, his hair turning an interestingly vivid shade of pink. "Patron of Lust. And who are you, tirraloo?"

"Aquila!" Aquila replied with another snarl.

"Well then, Aquila," Asmodeus grinned. "I don't suppose you've eaten yet, have you?"

Aquila opened his mouth to reply that there was no way he was going to eat whatever disgusting thing a demon ate, but his stomach renewed its assault against him. It was like the thing was holding a grudge. He tried to close his mouth again quietly, but a whimper of pain escaped and betrayed him.

"What do you eat?" he asked Asmodeus carefully.

"All in good time, little wild one, all in good time," Asmodeus replied. Aquila was rather suspicious of that answer, but his stomach left him with no choice. He followed the demon over the sands.