Author Note: In this timeline, Sebastian is a human traveler. Ciel completed some of the tasks from the original first season on his own but in slightly different ways leading him to be more independent.

The competition will take place over three days, and afterward their romance will more properly begin.

Chapter 1 - Competition Day 1

March was awful for Ciel Phantomhive. It all began when he'd been in his study and had felt warm, very warm, too warm. He asked a servant to open a window. It hadn't helped. His clothes were increasingly uncomfortable, sticking to his neck and back and thighs.

He tried to put it out of his head, to get back to writing checks. His company was his priority right now. When his parents passed he needed power, and he got it in every way he could. Now that he has built up a solid foundation for himself, he can start building up the ventures his parents left him. His thoughts strayed on how much he wanted to return to bed. His desire to be buried underneath blankets only grew, until he set down his fountain pen and made the journey to his room.
By the time he made it there, there was slick running down his legs and he could no longer deny what was happening. It was his first heat. He was an omega. He wanted to scream, curse the world for how unfortunate it was… but he was still in his right mind so he gently informed his bodyguard, Ward, of his condition and that he'd be encompasiatated for some time.
That week had been miserable. It was walking through a dream. Everything was soft and dark and difficult to identify. He'd come up from the feeling a few times a day in a panic to check all the windows and doors and try to choke down bread or soup before he'd be gone again.
The day he came out, he was thin, and pissed. The media had heard. Someone had smelled him, or perhaps someone from his staff had snitched. A doctor arrived shortly and made sure Ciel knew how very fortunate he was for being wealthy and at home during the event. That had not made Ciel feel any better… rather it meant kicking him out and setting up interviews for a new one that would treat him with the same respect as before.
Ciel had a meeting with his servants to inform them of the event, thank them for keeping him safe during, and searching everyone's eyes for any sign of a traitor. Some look away, but only out of respect. Most smile brightly at him. At least those in his staff were loyal, because just later that night he learned just how low the world viewed omegas.
In came a message from the queen. He was hoping for it to be a job, something to get his mind off the past week, fill his treasury even more, and build his legacy, but it wasn't.
The letter was filled with concern. Victoria spoke of the tensions of nobles and public favors shifting. As Ciel had feared the reveal of his second gender was a political and financial nightmare. She assured him that her view of him had not changed, but she had to ask it of him. You must take a mate by your next heat. I'm sorry my friend, but that's an order. Ash was ordered to stay as a guard for him until that was complete.
Ciel had bitten into his thumb, before picking up a pen and beginning with: Let's make a game of it. The rest would appear in the next day's paper, though he did not know until he saw it with his morning tea. I'll hold a competition. A series of challenges, games, and tasks. Whoever wins will earn the right to be my mate. Anyone can apply. If I must bind myself to someone, we may as well have a little fun.

Which leads us here, as Ciel watches hundreds of alphas fill his ballroom, spilling into the halls and courtyard. The conversing is loud as a mass of alphas growl and threaten one another. The smell is pungent and disarming as all the alphas pheromones fill the space, creating a miasma of spice. Ciel had picked a spot to address them that would be high enough to escape the spice that demands subjugation.
When he finally steps up onto his platform, the alphas go silent. Some up front cover their noses as his smell reaches them, trying to retain their self control. Ciel smirks like a tyrant looking over his spoils. He hadn't expected so many to finish applying in such a short time. Noblemen shift uncomfortably amongst the shoulder to shoulder crowd. Commoners and women, even foreigners are peering up at him expectantly. He can't even see where they end all the way out into his gardens. Ciel notes his staff, a skilled army of loyal men and women that don't look as opposing as they are.
"I am Ciel Phantomhive," he introduces, looking down upon them without much interest. Perhaps he should have dressed up considering his future mate is here, but he hadn't bothered.

With a superior stance, an eyepatch covering his rare heterochromia and his revolver strapped to his thigh he likes to think he looks intimidating, but to alphas they would not perceive him as such unless he makes them. So, Ciel is prepared.
"Behind me are Ward, Ash, and Felix. They will be the ones cutting off your hands if you try to touch me. The first challenge will begin immediately after I explain some general rules. This competition will be increasingly difficult and dangerous. So if at any time you do not wish to accept the danger you may leave or simply raise your hand and one of the very capable members of my staff will show you safely to the gate." Ciel looks to Ash to see if everyone is hearing him. Ash nods. Seems the quiet allowed Ciel's voice to carry outside.
There aren't any volunteers to back out now, so he continues. "There will be two challenges today and anyone who passes will be offered hospitality for the night. If you fail, please leave, it's nothing personal. If at any time you leave the manor grounds after now, you'll be disqualified."
"Why are you doing this?" someone asks after Ciel has taken a breath. The man he recognizes as Abel Marlow, a noble from the esteemed Marlow family. The family runs many of the trade routes from India, and distributes specific spices to businesses. Abel was the oldest of the Marlow men. He had just returned from the war front. His face is classically handsome and his clothing is neat and tasteful. Ciel can tell by his eyes he's seen some intense fighting and by the way he moves.
"The queen worries for my well being and it's not in my nature to deny her anything. I do not care for courting or arranged marriages, it all makes me rather sick. So, shall I explain the first-"
The second interruption is rude. A man built of nothing but tan muscles and a dumb smile. "How do we know you won't back out?" His voice is deep but bordering on innocence.
"I'm good for my word. This is quite public and the winner will be announced." Ciel's brows knit together.
"I think he meant from what it entails," replaces a man with a scar across his brow. Ciel knows him as Salvatore Montgomery, a prominanate man in human trafficking and the opiom trade. He must be here to get ahead in the underground. I do have the best contacts. He could be dangerous, but it's all fair.
"Oh," Ciel says after a pause. "It all really depends. If whoever wins wants a bond with me then so be it, but if you only want to be my mate for personal gain, I'll allow it. I'm sure whoever wins will be more than satisfied."
He hadn't meant it like that, but the desire filled growls that follows turns his face pink. Ciel clears his throat. "That's all I'll be answering. If you have any other questions, my servants can answer them in my stead. So, I'll begin the first trial."

Sebastian kept a low profile. His black suit is fine but underneath a long voyage duster trench coat. His face was shielded by a wide brim hat. He's in the middle of the crowd behind a hulk of a man who smells like pine dust and tobacco.
After the Earl leaves, the mob that was behaving to listen becomes very obnoxious. Fights break out, but are broken up by a maid or a gardener appearing quite suddenly and tapping them on the shoulder.
The first game is simple. It's a riddle on a page. The papers were handed out. It's a riddle, but he could tell it's unfinished. It's only half of what he needs in order to answer. In order to answer it he'd have to ask someone else what theirs says. Sebastian's smile is gentle. Lord Phantomhive wanted them to have to work together with a partner to complete the first task. Seems the Earl didn't want someone who could not compromise and work well with the enemy for a common goal.
Then, Sebastian must find someone to work with.
"He smelled so good-" growls the commoner who had interrupted the Earl to an alpha woman next to him. "I bet when he's in heat this whole place smells like chocolate cake. Oh, the good stuff too, the kind that you only get on special days-"
"You understand he owns a confections company, right?" the woman asks as though she's not sure how smart the man she's speaking to is.
"Wait? Really?! Is that how he has all this money?"
The woman's palm slides down her face. "No, you baboon. It's just one of the many business ventures of the Phantomhive's. Why are you here if you do not know?"
"I need to know about business to want to mate with a pretty, rich omega who smells like chocolate cake?"
Sebastian clears his throat. "Excuse me. This game requires exchange. May I see your card? I'll let you see mine."
"What?" the man holds his card to his chest.
"I'll show you mine," the woman offers. "It's clever." They switch cards with familiar ease. "This way he gets rid of every Tom, Dick, and Harry that doesn't work well with others. It'll certainly make for a better batch." She nods and trades back. "I'm Constance Everly."
"Sebastian," he offers a gloved hand. The woman is tall with ample breasts and long chestnut waves. "Lord Phantomhive is my personal hero," she declares. "I used to belong to a cult in the mountains east of here. He showed up one day, and it was over. My mother, who I hadn't seen in years, told me he shot the leader. He was a rapist and hurt children. I am honored to be in the same space as the one who ended our suffering." The woman's soft gray eyes are sincere.
"He can do that?!" Ansel Wolf asks, eyes as wide as dinner plates.
When the hour is up, a few less than a hundred remain, and the Earl returns. Everyone quiets down again. Ansel, the buffoon, had finally figured out what was happening when a flamboyant man floated over to ask for his paper and then pretty much gave him the answer.
"It's good to know there's so many who know how to work together," Ciel praises, making the alphas shift.
"You're so pretty," a man in the front row practically sighs.
"I'm aware," Ciel responds curtly, not even looking at the man who had spoken. "The second is outside, by the edge of the forest. There's servants waiting to guide you there, there's no hurry."
Ciel had space for twenty people to stay the night at the manor. He could fit more if he was willing to have anyone in the servant quarters, but he'd never violate their space for his games. The next task would cut out the remainder.

Sebastian liked this one as well, or more accurately, he liked the way Ciel's eyes lit up even from his chair when a shot hits a target. The boy is lounging in a chair a good hundred yards away, sipping tea, while he watches each alpha try to hit all of them. It was a points game, and only those with the twenty highest scores passed.
"Seems the Earl cares more about marksmanship than status or anything he could gain from this," Lord Marlow complains from a few places ahead in line.
"It is a tad barbaric," a man agrees, looking out at the targets to the one two thousand yards out that no one had yet to hit. "No one can hit that. Can a bullet even-"
The targets were still being set up for Lady Everly, but the target splits into pieces anyway, cracking and disappearing as it shatters and rains onto the fresh green grass. Heads turn behind them to where the shot was heard to see the Earl lowering his weapon with a sneer.
"My apologies, I was getting bored. I didn't mean to give Lady Everly a head start, but since she's a proper lady, it's only polite."
The woman's face lights up with gratitude and awe. No one dares question his giving an advantage as the shot can still be heard long after, perhaps leading Ciel to believe they can't hear his next words.
"I can protect myself just fine, but I refuse to protect someone else." Everyone had heard, and those selfish bitter words speak to the primal need in their hearts to be the protector and prove themselves to the cocky omega.
Sebastian is the first of the contestants to hit that far off target. Ciel took a breath when it hit. This man… he hadn't noticed him, but only because he had not wanted to be noticed. He's hidden beneath a long coat, but as he aims the gun to destroy the remaining lesser targets Ciel can see the lines of a toned body and strong arms. His face is mostly in shadow, but Ciel can make out cool ivory skin, as light as his own, and a devilish smirk.
Only two others hit that too far target, Salvator Montgomery and Abel Marlow. The four who hit it (including Ciel's shot as Lady Everly's) have the four highest scores of the twenty moving forward.
Ciel congratulated them and directed them to return to the manor for a late lunch and get settled with promises he'd join them again later for dinner. Again, no one dared to disobey the omega, something alphas are not used to. If someone said anything against Ciel's games, he'd toss them out. He is the absolute king here, this was his game and they had to play by his rules.

Sebastian leans up against a wall and enjoys some excellently made English tea.
"What do you think he meant by all that 'danger' stuff?" Ansel asks, thick tawny brows pulling together as he thoroughly enjoys a plateful of breads and cheeses, unaware of their names or origins.
"The kid's active in circles underground. I wouldn't be surprised if one of these games would have us killing each other," Salvator answers, pushing pale blond hair away from his sharp black eyes before returning to dissecting his sandwich.
"You came here willing to risk death?" Lady Everly wonders.
"For the hope diamond," he admits with a dismissive wave, "At least two thirds of it." Sebastian wasn't going to tell him that the Earl also possessed the last piece as of recently.
"You're just here for the ring? You don't care about Lord Phantomhive at all?" Lady Everly looks aghast, hand to her chest.
"I didn't say that. I don't mind that the diamond comes with a pretty little mate."
"What's so great about a damn ring?" Marlow scoffs, dipping a biscotti into his tea.
"I don't need to defend it to you. You're also here for personal financial gain."
Marlow shrugs. "That's what mates have always been for nobles. This is unorthodox but a Phantomhive is a worthy prize."
"You're all crazy," Alios grumbles. "He's glorious and you're all lucky to be so near to him."
"What do you think he'll have us do tomorrow?" a man wonders aloud. A maid had entered to deliver more food. A smile pulls her lips when she hears those words and as they continue she can't help her snickering.
"Probably kill each other, he probably gets some sick pleasure out of it," Salvator teases, rolling his eyes.
"He's the king of games. I wouldn't mind some more classic ones," Lady Everly adds positively. She toys with the rim along on her whip topped drink.
"Anyone need anything?" the maid asks before she's about to step out. She wants them to ask for something so she could return and continue to listen.
"Do you know what we'll be doing tomorrow?" Marlow asks, waiting to laugh.
MeyRin's glasses catch the light. A sadistic grin spreads across her face. "Oh yes, I do." She practically slurps with excitement. "But I'm not telling you."
"Then what about telling us more about the Earl Phantomhive?" Alois suggests.
MeyRin settles her serving tray against her hip and sits on a table. "Been working for him for years, I have! Working for Lord Phantomhive isn't just an honor but a pleasure. It is! What would you like to know about my Lord?"
"What's he doing right now?" Lady Everly asks, licking away some of the foam off her drink.
"Last time I checked on him he was scowling down at some paperwork. I tell him it'll age him prematurely but then he just glares. He's always in his study doing that, unless he's doing a lesson or out."
"What lessons?" Marlow asks.
"What does he do while out?" Salvatore asks at the same time. The whole room is listening. Twenty pairs of eyes on the chatty maid.
"I shouldn't say too much. Don't want to ruin tomorrow's fun. I should go run the Master a bath." She climbs off the table. There's lots of noises of disapproval. Some unironic awws along with plenty of encouragement to stay. "Well… just a bit longer." She sits again.
"Did he really not know he was an omega until a few days before putting this all together?"
"God, it was a surprise! He looked like he'd seen a ghost when he properly told us he was going to be unable to do his job for a few days, and it took six days!"
Alpha's hold their mouths to not growl in pleasure. Alois bites into his finger. No one says anything to stop the girl from talking.
"He barely ate. We were all so worried! The Young Master was very angry when he finally came out of his room. I didn't get near him."
"Why was he angry?" a stranger encourages. It was too good, they needed to keep her sharing.
"Because he hadn't known and the public would now see him in ways he is not! That's why I think this is a fantastic idea! We're certainly having fun and if it works out he'll get everything he needs."
Sebastian thinks he hears someone choke. The girl is oblivious to how she's riling up the group.
"When's dinner?" Lady Everly asks. They were all hungry… to see Ciel. There's plenty of food right here.
"Seven as it always is."
A small gardener with a chipper expression steps in. "MeyRin, what have you been, oh-" the boy folds into himself realizing who she's speaking to- twenty hungry alphas, all on the edge of their seats to be fed more juicy details about their master.
"Just answering some questions, Finny. They all seem nice."
Some flash nice smiles, some only manage lecherous grins or dumb lovestruck smiles. Others are polite or strained. Sebastian just remains quiet. Once he's won, he can ask Ciel whatever he wants- but it won't hurt to listen.
"Well alright, I need your help outside."
"Be right there, I've got to run a bath first…"
"Ward already got it."
"Blast! I've been slipping in oils that are supposed to raise his spirits. He'd never let me sneak in. They seemed like they may be working too…" she pouts.
"Come on. I don't know where this stuff is supposed to go."
"I just want to see a real smile from him!" she continues, ignoring him entirely, even as he lifts the table clear off the floor with her on it and carries her out.
"They care deeply about their master," Sebastian voices without meaning to speak. No one adds but a discussion is had about how very not normal the Phantomhive servants are.

"You each may ask me any question you wish, so make it a good one," Ciel had said right as he sat down at the head of the table. His guards are close. They all take a moment to enjoy the sight.
Skin like fresh milk. A soft but striking face with features that are both cute and sinister. A dazzling blue eye. A smooth markless throat awaiting their bond mark. A slightly protruding collarbone and thin shoulders. He changed into a white silk shirt with billowing sleeves. Some think he looks like an angel, but with that blue ribbon tied elegantly around his neck he looks like absolute sin.
Ciel's already eating before anyone has stopped staring. "Let's go clockwise, beginning with you Lord Marlow," Ciel directs. He liked this, being in charge. They weren't even able to fight him.
"After all this, what happens to Fantum? I'd hate to see it be taken over by someone else."
"I have no intention of letting that happen no matter the circumstances. I can't promise it'll remain the same, but wherever it goes, I'll be leading it."
Marlow smiles warmly.

"I've heard you do secret work for the Queen. Can you tell us what you're allowed?"
"Certainly. Whenever there's a problem that is unusual or needs a careful investigation away from prying eyes, I do what I can to ease her sorrows. There are a lot of terrible things out there, and it's my life's work to face them and make things right."
"Y-Your eyepatch," Ansel asks. "What's under it?"
Ciel thinks for a moment. "It's not injured. Merely a color variation. It's genetic if anyone wants to know." Eyes bore into him. He had been so good at ignoring them, but now it felt like they were all taking the patch off with their eyes. "I-I- guess there'd be no harm in removing it…" His hand tentatively goes to the patch.
The group waits with bated breath as his small fingers pull the string holding it in place and it slips down a satin soft cheek, revealing another large eye framed in dark lashes, but in shades of amethyst and moonstone.
Some breaths are sucked in, some shift in their seats. The alpha's mixed scents made it difficult to taste the food, but when they switched to dessert Ciel's own decadent aroma spikes. Sebastian couldn't tell if Ciel was teasing them on purpose with his tantalizing smell or the way his silver spoon lingering on his lips even as he answers more questions.

About halfway Lady Everly asks, "Have you given up on love?" which not only stops Sebastian but the young Lord as he's about to sip his tea, having already finished that night's Waldorf Triangles.
"I wouldn't say I've given up. I could have found someone in plenty of other ways. I could have done interviews, but people lie. I could have accepted courting attempts, but I'm by no means a romantic. I could have chosen someone to benefit me financially or politically, but I have all I need and I'm already moving up naturally. Maybe love is in my future, maybe it's not." Those frail shoulders shrug.
The alpha is about to speak, but Ciel's guard to his left, Ward, lowers himself to whisper something to Ciel. Ciel nods and excuses himself. "I'll be back shortly," he informs them as he walks out. Sebastian had not gotten around to asking anything, but that was alright, he'd have plenty of time after they were mates. For now, he's satisfied having watched him have a proper meal and enjoy his dessert.
There's some civil and not civil discussions, but as time drags on and the Earl has yet to return, the alpha's words get more charged. Until Marlow spots the redheaded maid passing by trying to be sneaky.
"Where's Lord Phantomhive?" he asks her.
"Feel asleep at his desk, he has. I was on my way to get Ward, he has the best chance of moving the young master without waking him."
"You're not waking him?"
Her hands fly to her mouth. "Oh dear no! The master's so over worked and he doesn't sleep well as is. Besides, waking him is a dangerous endeavor."
The crowd looks disappointed. Some are angry. Some understanding.
"Anything we can do to help?" Sebastian asks.
"Not unless you've seen Ward. Best to go get some sleep. You'll be needing it."

So the first day of the competition ended.