[A/N: This 'episode' turned kind of immense so I'm uploading it in its separate sub-sections instead of waiting until the whole thing's done. It's also taking quite a long time because it's kind of stressful to write; this episode takes Black Butler with Nazis to its logical conclusion. I tried to treat the content respectfully and not get too graphic, but warnings still apply if you feel you need them (although not for a couple sections yet...)]
That Butler, Conflicted
Setting: Europe, mid-1941
I.
"What would you like for lunch, master?" Sebastian asked, looking up from watering the plants as Sigmund returned from the morning meeting he had suddenly been called to.
Sigmund's Berlin apartment was very small, which made it a bit awkward to have a demon butler around. (Sebastian had told him that he had served as a butler for his previous master, the one that psycho Bertrand was so upset about, but other than that Sigmund knew very little about Sebastian's past.) With so little for Sebastian to do in the way of upkeep or cleaning, the demon had taken to caring for the few sad little plants Sigmund kept on his balcony when he didn't have an excuse to cook.
Sigmund had no idea how the demon had accomplished it, but where the wilted little stubs had been there were now hugely flourishing plants. Of course supernatural means had to have been involved somewhere, since Sigmund was certain he had never owned a strawberry plant.
"Can I have cake?" Sigmund asked. "The strawberries are ripe. Again. That's five times in two weeks—you really should tone it down or the neighbors will be wondering how you do it."
"You oughtn't to have cake for lunch," Sebastian pointed out, reaching down to pluck a wilted leaf from the pot of nasturtiums.
"But I want it. Am I your master or not?"
Sebastian sighed. "Very well," he conceded, stepping inside and turning to the stove. The balcony was directly off Sigmund's tiny kitchen, which made it a very handy place to keep a garden.
"Did we have those little herbs on the railing before?" Sigmund asked as he stepped out of Sebastian's way.
"No...hand me the mint, if you please. It's on the left...the other left. What was your meeting about?"
Sigmund sat down backwards on the kitchen's only chair, leaning on the back of it to watch Sebastian cook. "Oh, that. Apparently they're paranoid about spies or something so I have to be the delivery boy for some plans needed at some work camp in the middle of nowhere in Poland. The whole thing sounds very dull." He sighed and began drumming absently on the slats of the chair. "We must be winning the war if there's nothing interesting left for me to do."
Sebastian paused in stirring a bowl of batter, and an instant later was leaning in mere centimetres away from Sigmund's face. "If you're so bored, then perhaps there's something you'd like to wish for…?"
"No!" Sigmund jerked back from the demon's hungrily gleaming smile and nearly toppled the chair. "Not yet!"
Sebastian shrugged and turned back to his cake-in-progress as if nothing had happened. It was worth a try, his attitude said plainly. As the years of the trial contract wore on, the demon had apparently lost his first flush of interest in Sigmund: lately, he had become much more pushy about the final wish. The five years were half through now, with Sigmund no closer to deciding.
"I really can't stand you sometimes," Sigmund muttered as he stood up to leave the kitchen.
"Quite," the demon said in smug agreement.
"Hey!"
Sigmund's lunch was less than pleasant, to say the least. The cake was very nice, but Sebastian loomed about the whole time he was eating, not to mention insisting that he eat some proper food beforehand. 'Proper food' today consisted of steamed vegetables and roast chicken (definitely conjured considering the state of the shops)—ordinarily Sigmund would have enjoyed it, but he didn't like letting the demon win in situations like this.
"When are you leaving for Poland?" Sebastian asked once Sigmund had finished eating. Despite Sigmund's frustration with the demon, he hadn't been able to bring himself to leave any of the food.
"Tomorrow," Sigmund replied. "And we will be gone for at least a week, I expect, so you should do something about the plants before we leave."
"They'll be fine," Sebastian declared. "Although I shall ask Frau Schmidt next door to water them since you're so worried about appearances."
"Don't do that," Sigmund said quickly. "There's too much confidential stuff in the apartment. Just bring them inside: I'm going to start packing."
Sigmund didn't have to pack very much, since if he needed something on the way he merely needed to order Sebastian to conjure it. After he had filled one suitcase he had nothing else to do, so he went down to look over their car, which was parked in the apartment building's sole (and tiny) garage.
Since Sebastian was not terribly caught up on all aspects of modern technology, Sigmund generally took care of the car—his father had been a mechanic so he was fairly skilled at it. In the early days of the contract Sigmund had taken it upon himself to teach Sebastian to drive. After a few mishaps that nearly cut the contract short, he had been successful, but the demon rarely remembered to change the oil or other vital things. Sigmund's car was a very nice convertible staff car issued by his superiors in the Sicherheitdienst, so he was determined not to risk it being ruined over something like that.
Sebastian peeked into the garage a few hours later. "What would you like for supper, Master?" he asked.
"Oh, whatever, I don't care," Sigmund replied, his voice echoing back from the open hood as he inspected the radiator. "But pack something for the trip: I don't know what they have to eat in Poland but I'm sure it's terrible."