As I've written some "Fun with Holidays" extras for one of my other FFs, Watchdog of the Queen, I wanted to write something for The Stars of the Night too! I am late as always though.

TSotN is a Ciel-Elizabeth (and, well, McMillan)-centric FF, but this extra is all about Angelina and Ciel (and cake and baking) because, well, in my timeline, it's pretty hard to fit in August holidays.

I've actually planned to make a "future segment" (the segment you can read here is the "past" one), have even started it but I thought over finishing and adding it to this extra and decided against it. You might get to read it... eventually.

The next thing I'll post for TSotN is (hopefully) the next actual chapter. ^^'
(I am terribly sorry for the delay, for not updating in so long. I've had a million other things to do, and for some reason, I have quite the problems with Chapter 6...)


Fun with Holidays:

Lemon Meringue Pie Day (August 15)


"Cake for later, cake as a way of life."

― Laini Taylor, Dreams of Gods & Monsters


London, England, United Kingdom – August 2015


She blinked it away, shoved her thoughts away – but when she was dreaming, when she was careless for even a second, she could feel the pain through her body, could remember the feeling of her heart being torn apart when her sister announced her engagement.

Her engagement to the man she loved.

So many years had passed, and Angelina Dalles' still felt the pain in her bones, in her heart.

So much had come and gone – her sister, her brother-in-law, her husband, her unborn child… they had all gone away only a month apart.

Her nephew Ciel had gone too, but he had returned – had returned different, changed; had returned as a reminder of what she could never have, of what she had given up for others to be happy.

But no matter what, he was still the only family Angelina had left.

However, after returning after a month of darkness, Ciel had distanced himself from his family. Angelina visited him as often as she could, always watching over him as she was his legal guardian now. She protected him from the press eager to tear the story of the fire out of his traumatised, scarred hands. She distracted him from his Watchdog duties by taking him to amusement parks and supported him during his missions.

Angelina was always by his side – and still, Ciel didn't allow her to get closer to him. She had seen him grow up – but watching someone growing up was easier than raising them by yourself. Especially, if said person was a Phantomhive.

Today, Ciel was at school even though it was Saturday and in the middle of the summer holidays.

"Crime is never on holidays," Ciel had told her when she had asked him on the first day of the summer break why he was going to school – or, more accurately, to his detective agency's HQ which could be found inside his school.

Last year, Angelina had proudly enrolled her nephew into Weston College, a prestigious British school every Phantomhive before Ciel had attended – and the place where Angelina had first met Ciel's father, Vincent.

Ciel had been home-schooled for his last year in primary school, and when it had come to light that he would continue his education at Weston, the media had gone crazy. Angelina had feared that Ciel would never be able to make some genuine friends in this chaos. Not that her stubborn nephew had even tried to make friends. But then, the pet rabbit of one of Ciel's classmates had been abducted and he had helped to find him – and this incident had helped Ciel to find a friend: A boy named McMillan who had sat next to him for quite a while had gathered his courage shortly afterwards to talk to Ciel, curious to find out more about Ciel's deduction skills. And the months had passed and they had become friends and opened a detective agency at Weston – "McMillan & Phantomhive Detective Agency – Chocolate for Investigating."

It had been hard for Ciel to adjust to his new life after the fire although he did his best to cover it up. That's why Angelina had been extremely joyous when Ciel had told her about McMillan and the agency, was grateful to McMillan for wanting to be Ciel's friend – but her joy had only lasted for a short while until sadness caught up to her and Angelina started to wonder how happy her sister, Rachel, would have been if she had found out that her little boy was doing so well despite everything.

Rachel had married the man Angelina loved but, deep down, buried in sadness and pain, Angelina had never stopped loving her sister.

And no day passed without missing her.

Angelina shook her head and added an egg to the mixture of butter, flour, and icing sugar. In a little bit more than two hours, Ciel and McMillan would come back, and until then, she wanted to finish the cake.

Two weeks ago, the Phantomhive townhouse had been partially damaged in a Watchdog affair, causing Ciel and his servants to move in with Angelina. At first, she had thoroughly enjoyed her house suddenly being so full of life and having her nephew so close by her side but with time, she became wearier and wearier. Ciel's servants which he had collected and employed in the year after his sudden return were terribly clumsy and not very suitable for the jobs to which they had been assigned. His butler, Sebastian Michaelis, was a nuisance to Angelina's own servants as he managed to single-handedly make them all jobless. Lastly, Ciel had taken custody over Angelina's study, and he didn't do anything else than meeting McMillan at the agency in the forenoon and working on Watchdog cases in the afternoon except when McMillan came over like today.

More than once, Angelina had wanted to kick them out but, every day, she came back home after a long work day and was met with new warmth and laughter, albeit there were screams too, and knew that she would miss this chaos as soon as they were gone and hoped that they would stay as long as the repairs took.

Angelina whizzed the mixture to which she had added a tablespoon of water too before rolling it into a ball.

As children, Angelina and Rachel had started to bake together. At first, they had almost set the kitchen on fire but with time, they had become more and more skilled and adept at creating wonderful confections. After the car incident which had taken away the lives of Angelina's husband and unborn child, she hadn't baked anything anymore – then, one day, Rachel had proposed to her to bake something together again on Ciel's birthday. But it had never come about as the fire had torn everything apart – from the manor's walls to lives and families and dreams. Dreams and wishes.

While rolling out the dough on the work surface, Angelina's hands slightly shook. She hadn't done this in so long that long vanished insecurity had returned to her fingers. She still wasn't sure if she should be doing this, if she was already ready to bake something again, to pick up an activity again which she used to do with her late sister. But when Ciel had mentioned in a whisper yesterday that tomorrow was "Lemon Meringue Pie Day" Angelina had been determined to make him such a pie. Right before going to bed yesterday, Angelina had told Sebastian that she would be the one baking the pie – not he as the magnificent butler had also caught Ciel's broad hint. After a short argument, Sebastian had nodded and retreated. And for half the night, Angelina had laid awake in her bed, her body filled with the excitement of standing in the kitchen again.

Angelina put the rolled-out dough into a flan tin, tucked in the corners, covered it in cling film, and put it into the refrigerator.

Just like his mother, Ciel was very versed when it came to cake and pie related little holidays. Lemon Meringue Pie Day used to be one of the days when the Dalles sisters came together and bake. Angelina couldn't believe it that she had almost forgotten this special day, and she blinked away tears while mixing the lemon juice and zest with flour for the pie's filling.

Two years. She had baked her last lemon meringue pie two years ago – it wasn't so far back in the past, but felt like an eternity had passed since then.

Angelina was using the same recipe she had used back then.

With her sister.

With her…

"Annie, why are you continuing to stir the paste? It is already smooth enough."

Angelina abruptly let go of her whisk and turned around – seeing Rachel chuckling at her before she blinked and the image was gone.

An echo of memory. It was nothing more but an old memory's echo.

After all, that's what Rachel told me two years ago when we stood together in this kitchen.

Together…

Angelina took a few deep breaths before finishing the lemon filling and taking the flan tin out of the refrigerator.


Angelina heard the opening of the front door the moment her egg timer rang. She had stared at the pie in the fifteen minutes it had to take its final round of baking so that she was sure not to accidentally burn it. Now, a sigh left her mouth as she took the cake out of the oven and it looked like one of those fancily prepared lemon meringue pies seen in cook books.

Hopefully, it tastes as well as it looks.

Angelina put the cake on the working place to cool down and hurried to the entrance hall.

"Welcome, Ciel, McMillan!" she exclaimed with a smile on her face before she went to hug Ciel. "How was the agency work?" Angelina asked while Ciel gasped for breath. "Air, Aunt Anne! Air!"

She let go of him, and he adjusted his clothes, scowling at her.

"Good afternoon, Doctor Dalles," McMillan greeted her, showing his adorable tooth gap while smiling. He was cute but in a different way than Ciel. McMillan had messy brown hair, freckles, and big, shining eyes behind round glasses, and Ciel had big blue eyes and the endearing, soft face of his mother.

The face of his mother…, Angelina thought, and she slightly shook her head to push away the coldness filling her body at this thought.

I am seeing ghosts at every corner.

"Lost keys found in pockets," Ciel suddenly said. "Arguments over stolen and eaten gummy bears. An exam counterfeiting ring. Nothing out of the usual, Aunt Anne."

"Oh, I see," she replied before turning to Sebastian and clearing her throat. "Could you lead them to the parlour?"

"Of course, Baroness," Sebastian said, briefly bowing. "And should I prepare some tea to go with your pie?"

"That would be lovely," said Angelina, and they both exchanged polite nods before they headed to different directions.

She liked Sebastian, was thankful for everything he did for Ciel. But just like she never dared to ask Ciel what happened on the day of the fire, where he was in that dreaded month, she never got herself to raise the question where Ciel had found a butler resembling Vincent so much – a circumstance which often left Angelina with goose bumps.

Of course, Angelina had never asked Ciel about anything from that time – years had passed, time had gone on but the wounds the incidents had left on them were still fresh and bleeding.

Ciel was still traumatised, was still confused, still bringing order into this mess. Asking him could make it worse. Asking him could trigger something in him. Asking him could upset him, could make him feel constrained.

That's what Angelina had been telling herself for one year and a half now.

That not asking was for the best.

That it was better to wait for Ciel to be ready to tell the story when he felt the time was right.

But, perhaps – perhaps, Angelina was just afraid to face the truth.


Carefully, Angelina carried her pie to the drawing room. Sebastian had come and prepared the tea and returned to the drawing room – he was so fast, and she so incredibly slow and the cake hadn't cooled as quickly as she had wanted it to be.

Sebastian opened the door for her, and she looked into the drawing room – and for a split second, it was August 2013 again, and she entered Phantomhive Manor's beautiful, illuminated parlour with her sister and was greeted by the smiles of her loved ones. But when she stepped over the doorsill, the memory faded away and revealed the sparsely lit parlour with only Ciel and McMillan inside.

So much had come and gone because, with time, old things were replaced with new ones but that didn't mean what was old was gone forever. Now, Angelina loved Ciel, her last relative, and all his servants, no matter how odd they were, no matter how annoying, and McMillan for making Ciel belong to more than to the Phantomhives, to the Watchdogs.

But that didn't mean that she had forgotten, had stopped to love those she had lost in the flames. Those she had lost in all those terrible accidents, incidents.

With a faint smile on her face, Angelina approached the large table in the drawing room and put the cake on it. "Guess what, Ciel! I have a lemon meringue pie on Lemon Meringue Pie Day!"

Ciel stared at the cake – and those who remotely knew him would think when seeing him now, that he was only staring at it because he loved cake so much, but Angelina knew better.

He is thinking of two years ago. He is thinking of happier times when we were not so alone.

Angelina's smile widened. "See? You always complain that I don't listen to you but I've listened when you whispered that today was Pie Day."

"You baked this, Doctor Dalles?" McMillan said, his eyes wide behind his glasses.

He didn't ask "Did you bake this?" even though I could have ordered Sebastian or my own cook to bake it. He…

Angelina pushed the thought away and nodded, still smiling. "Of course, I did."

"May I?" Sebastian said, suddenly appearing behind them, bringing plates and forks, a knife and a cake lifter with him. The teapot and cups he had carried into the parlour earlier had already been placed on the table.

Angelina sat down, and she, McMillan, and Ciel watched Sebastian skilfully distributing the plates and forks before elegantly cutting the lemon pie into even slices and lifting three on each of their plates.

"To go with Madame Red's lemon meringue pie, together with my mentor, I have chosen Hōjicha, a Japanese green tea type," Sebastian announced, pouring them all a cup of tea.

Angelina picked up her fork but didn't let it sink into her slice. Instead, she looked up and watched Ciel putting a piece of cake into his mouth.

His face which had been slightly tense before relaxed. "It is… it is good," Ciel said in a low voice before continuing to eat, and McMillan nodded at his friend's statement. Angelina smiled weakly before she tasted the pie herself – and it was good. The filling was soft and creamy, the dough was crispy, and the sweet meringue perfectly balanced out the sourness of the lemon juice.

They ate in silence. McMillan was usually very talkative – and Angelina was glad that he had realised that today held a special place in Ciel's and her heart, and ate and didn't talk, letting them be, letting them dwell in memories with every bite. Letting them mourn while remembering all lost and all gained.

Ciel was the first to finish his slice. He put his fork down and said without thinking, "The cake was wonderful. Thanks, Mum." McMillan looked up, his eyes widened in confusion and surprise. Only a second later, Ciel himself realised what he had said. He gazed at Angelina – and she stared at him.

Then, she burst out into laughter.

She saw Sebastian softly chuckling in his corner and McMillan suppressing a silly grin and giggle – and, most importantly, Angelina saw Ciel's cheeks turning red in embarrassment.

From one moment to the other, the atmosphere in the parlour had completely changed – from silent and sad to loud and joyful.

And now, McMillan didn't stifle his laughter anymore and joined Angelina. Even Ciel chuckled a bit.

It was such a wonderful, refreshing moment tearing through Angelina's inner pain and sadness – it felt like the sunlight, the warmth from outside fighting its way through the curtains and lighting up the room in gold and comfort.

It made her forget her thoughts from before; it filled her with bliss; it kissed her with warmth and gave her hope for all the days and years to come.

Angelina stopped laughing and watched McMillan teasing Ciel over his blooper, heard Sebastian making a snarky remark about it to his master. Both of them received scowls in return – and Angelina noticed in this very moment that while Ciel was still hesitant and careful, was still keeping himself on distance, he had found a place where he could belong even if he didn't know about it himself. A place among his household as the head, a place among his schoolmates as the agency's detective and McMillan's friend.

And Angelina – Angelina had tried and tried, had smiled and laughed: But where was her place to belong? She had forced herself for so long, she had forgotten to find a place just the way she was.

But why could I feel the warmth on my skin but not inside of me?


The lemon meringue pie recipe I've used as reference can be found here: www . bbc . co . uk / food / recipes / marys _ lemon _ meringue _ pie _ 02330