March, 1889
England
"…And this mark shall bless you as the flesh of the holy feast."
Hands (or were they bones?) painfully pinned the boy's arms and legs to the altar, prohibiting any movement. He lay shivering, naked, exposed as dozens of faceless worshippers grinned down at him.
A hissing sound broke through the layers of chanting and captured the ten-year-old's attention. Still trembling, he barely managed to turn his head to the side in time to see the sizzling poker as it drew near, ready to brand him with a symbol that glowed white-hot.
"The holy feast…"
Those three words echoed in his head as the poker made contact with the skin of his left flank. The boy's body convulsed with the most torturous of agonies-
And then Ciel awoke, bolting forward in his bed and gasping for breath.
The Earl was unsure of how much time passed before his chest returned to rising normally. With morbid curiosity, the thirteen-year-old noble peeled up the side of his nightshirt (now damp with sweat) to peek at the part of his torso that had been stricken in the dream.
The brand was still there. Only now it had faded to a dark red and molded against his skin.
Ciel Phantomhive sighed and allowed the fabric to fall back down. It was no mere nightmare; it was a memory. That day, the fire, his abduction, the ceremony…all of it would haunt him forever.
But why did it happen? What did it mean? The mark, what does it represent?
Ciel swallowed and closed his eyes hard against the final question he knew could never be answered: why me.
"Good afternoon there, lad!"
The young Earl leapt in his bed and nearly screamed from fright. To his immediate left Ciel found two bright, golden eyes staring into his.
"Wha-what is this?" The boy demanded shakily, backing up so that his palms rested on his pillows, "Who are you?"
The man, whom Ciel could not see in the darkness of his bedroom, sounded hurt as he replied:
"You don't even know who I am? But you invited me!"
"Invited you?" Lord Phantomhive repeated incredulously, his asthma forcing a cough as it itched, "I can't even see you!"
Instantly, the room's candles lit themselves and Ciel's guest was revealed. He appeared to be an elderly man in a stylish lavender coat. His hair (a fine silver) was neatly combed back and set in his sharply featured face were two yellow eyes with a slightly inhuman glow to them.
"There we are, certain that's better," He said in his cheerful northern accent, "I sometimes forget how limited mortal eyesight is. 'Specially when they don't have eyes."
The old man chuckled at his own joke, which Ciel couldn't begin to fathom.
"So, who are you? And what do you want?"
The guest grinned and took a seat on the bed.
"I am here because you, lad, summoned me. It seems you were having a wee bit of a bout with insanity just now."
Ciel nodded in understanding, "I see. This must be the following dream then." The thirteen-year-old paused to massage his forehead lightly, "I should stop drinking tea before retiring, I suppose."
"This is no dream, kiddo, this is the real thing." The stranger said softly. Then he interrupted himself with a frown, "Unless we're all dreaming right now. No, this isn't one of my dreams. For one, there would be far more intestines to tear apart if it were." Suddenly, he brightened, "And there'd be loads more sweetrolls, too!"
"You mentioned mortals earlier," Ciel cut in, trying hard not to be disturbed by his visitor's apparent lunacy, "What did you mean by that? Are you a demon?"
"A demon?" He iterated, brows raised. "No, but I know a lot of demons. You know, my servants and all. Oh, how I love them," He chuckled, "Those immortal demons and their insatiable need to sacrifice themselves to me."
"If you aren't a demon, then what are you?" Ciel persisted, frustration evident in his tone. Speaking of demons, where was Sebastian? It deeply perturbed the Earl that his Butler had not come to his aid by now.
"I am the Prince of Madness, Sheogorath."
The little Lord's eyes widened and he held back a gasp. It was clear to Ciel that the old man wasn't human, but the patron of insanity? Just what exactly was happening?
"But I see you've managed to snag a demon's service as well. That's impressive, for a mortal." Sheogorath shrugged, "Still, I don't want him bothering us just yet."
"What?" Ciel blinked, "You know about my contract?"
"O'course I do! I know everything!" The Madgod cackled, then lowered his voice to a whisper, "And at the same time, I know nothing."
"Your little 'Sebastian Michaelis' has been trying to get into this room for hours. He keeps whining at me to let you go." He laughed again, "It's quite cute, really."
"So Sebastian is protecting me…" Ciel murmured to himself.
"He's trying to, at any rate," Sheogorath agreed, "A fine servant. Reminds me of my own chamberlain, Haskill."
"What do I have to do to get you to leave?" The Earl asked solemnly.
"It's simple, lad." The Prince pointed to himself, "I am here because you doubt yourself." His hand returned to rest on the quilt.
"You're here, but you think you're somewhere else. Or maybe you are somewhere else. Or maybe…" The Madgod's voice lowered itself to a demonic whisper again, "someone else."
"Stop speaking in riddles."
"Don't tell me what to do. I don't like your tongue, boy."
Sheogorath smiled, a gesture that sent shivers down Ciel's spine, "But the rest of you is rather exquisite, especially that soul of yours. How I'd love to have it in my collection…"
Without warning, the Prince of Madness burst into a laughter so great he slapped his hand against the quilt multiple times.
"There he is again! Oh, Ciel I love your butler! He's making me want to take him home too, yes he is!"
Ciel swallowed. The old man's mention of his soul is probably what relit Sebastian's determination. If Sheogorath was a being more powerful than a demon, he was capable of voiding Ciel's contract and taking the boy's soul for his own.
"You want me to figure out who I am?" The Earl wondered, hoping he could draw the Prince's attention away from his struggling servant.
"Yes, that's right." Sheogorath nodded, still grinning hungrily, "And if you can't, you get to come back with me to my palace! We'll have a wonderful time, you know. Until I get bored with you and decide you look better without legs."
Ciel forced himself to think, despite the stranger's chilling giggles. In his nightmare he'd been forced to relive his abduction. It was a memory he revisited often, though never voluntarily. The priests of the cult had tried to kill him, and that was when Ciel signed his contract with Sebastian. The contract saved his life, but sacrificed his soul.
His soul…the Madgod was right. The ten-year-old boy Ciel had been that day was dead. Sacrificed. Now he was someone else.
"Your butler has such a beautiful voice, lad," Sheogorath chuckled, "It feels like silk on my ears! How I'd love to hear it in bed. Or ripped from his throat as he shrieks in agony."
"I have an answer to your question." Lord Phantomhive said loudly.
"Do you, now?" Sheogorath asked, "That's nice. I don't much remember what the question was, but I do love hearing answers. They always make less sense than the query!"
"I am Ciel Phatomhive." The boy began with a deep breath, "When I was young, my parents were taken from me in a fire that devoured my estate, my title, and my innocence."
"Ooh, if only Haskill were here, he loves this stuff…"
"I was taken by a group of people who, to this day, remain unknown to me. They branded my side with this mark-" Ciel pulled at the corner of his nightshirt, displaying the symbol, "before preparing to kill me."
"However, I summoned the demon, Sebastian Michaelis, before they were able to complete the ceremony. Under my orders, he slaughtered them all. Now my sole purpose in life is to find the ones responsible for the fire and end them. After that, my soul will be devoured by Sebastian Michaelis, who until then will serve as my butler."
"Is there anything you'd like to add?" Sheogorath prodded, his voice low and intimidating.
Ciel shook his head, "No. I have spoken only the truth."
The Prince of Madness sighed in defeat, "How terribly disappointing. It seems you've got everything sorted, lad. I won't be taking you home with me after all."
The Earl watched in silence as his visitor removed himself from the bed and straightened out his purple coat.
"It's been a real pleasure speaking with you, kiddo, a real pleasure." Sheogorath said mournfully, "But I've got a realm full of nutty people to deal with now. Ever wondered why they call them 'nutty' and not 'leafy' or 'berry'? I've thought about that a lot."
Noble etiquette required that Ciel relinquish some sort of farewell, but the Earl couldn't bring himself to say anything.
"Well, so long. Maybe I'll return for you some day."
As the old man disappeared in a burst of light, Ciel shuddered and uttered a prayer that such a day would never come.
The crack of a door being thrown open made the boy jump once again.
Sebastian dropped to his lord's bedside in an instant. What scared Ciel was that the demon looked positively exhausted.
"Deepest apologies, sir," The butler gasped, "I have made a most grievous error and brought shame to my position-!"
"Shut up." Ciel mumbled and squirmed back into his bed.
Sebastian climbed to his feet and leaned over the Earl worriedly, "Are you injured, Lord? Did he take anything from you?"
"No, we just had a little chat." Ciel answered gruffly and pulled the quilt around himself. "Now go away and let me sleep."
"Yes, my young lord."
