Character Ages

Elsie Wright-16 years old

Sieglinde Sullivan-16 years old

Ciel Phantomhive-18 years old

Tommy Hopkins-17 years old

Frances Wright-9 years old

Chapter 7: I Spy A Fairy!

"True love is usually the most inconvenient kind."

-Kiera Cass, The Selection

Normally, when an individual falls out of their window (two stories high) they tend to flail their arms and scream their lungs off. That is according to normal individuals that are aware of their surroundings and their impending doom. Broken bones and impalements tend to make people a tad bit apprehensive, and wary around open windows.

Now, if Elsie were of sane mind and awake she would in fact flail her arms and scream her lungs off as she was currently falling out of her two-story high window. The curtains flapped in the wind, almost saying goodbye to her.

Her eyes were blank. Her face was expressionless. Her limbs were limp. And her ears were jammed with music that was ethereal and beautiful, as it was lethal and dangerous.

She would either fall to her death, or very close to it.

But instead, she fell into a demon's arms. Some would argue that that was worse than death itself. But one can't be picky when falling out of a window.

Sebastian's tailcoat wisped in the wind. His suit, his hair, and soul were black as the night. All except his eyes. A fierce, scarlet red that cut through the silver moon's gaze and the forest's dark brushwood. He wisped through the air, silently, as he held Elsie in his arms. He caught her just before she hit the potted plants and wild flowers growing in the front yard.

What a shame, he thought, well-groomed flowers shouldn't suffer the repercussions of some fae's dirty tricks.

The demon sighed. A slither of hair falling in front of his eyes. He narrowed his gaze towards the forest, and heard the wind howling and retreating within its fortress. Sebastian imagined the wind to be snarling and growling at him. He was right. He heard a faint whisper, like autumn leaves quietly descending from trees.

Demon, the voice echoed in the wind and growled deep in its throat. Demon, go back to your borrow in hell and rot in all your carnage, the wind snarled and bore its icy tendrils away from the monstrous demon and released its grip from the girl. A gust of wind quickly cascaded over the lawn, sending some of the fallen leaves into a spiral, and into the forest beyond.

The night became calm once more, and Sebastian gazed down upon the sleeping form. A young girl who garnered the wrong attention from the wrong fellow from the wrong realm. This was a fae's work. Sebastian steadied one hand on the girl and the other viewing his pocket watch. The girl's nose wrinkled, and she let out a small sigh. The fae's magic was wearing off. Good. Sebastian despised the scent of it.

The best repellant to ward off a faerie was a demon and the best repellant to ward off a demon was a faerie. Two species that naturally despised the other's guts. A hatred as old as time itself.

It was now midnight, and this wasn't the only task the young master assigned him for the night. Sebastian thought that he was honesty being reaped of his benefits. Now he had to carry out his orders in the dead of the night. The thought irked him, mainly because he spends the nights correcting any mistakes around the manor that the other idiots, ahem, servants neglected to properly finish during the working hours. A vein throbbed in his head. No, the entirely of the staff are single cell amoebas that wouldn't even know how to breathe unless given the instructions on how to do it, thrice! Sebastian spends his nights how no other butler does in the entirely of England. Knowing the extremely high intelligence of the Phantomhive servants who were handpicked by the young master for their impressive skills and impeccable qualities, surely, they wouldn't personally give Sebastian a challenging time with their mediocrity. Now would they? No. Sebastian was positive that he aged 500 years because of their stupidity. He bleaches the silverware that was polished by Mey-rin with black ink (the nitwit broke her glasses and apparently can't tell the difference between two bottles that look drastically different.) He cleans and removes the charred remains of goat bones from the kitchen stoves (of course it was Bard's bright idea to cook a roast whole, instead of dividing the meat into suitable and edible pieces.) And then comes the garden with Finnian…(For once Sebastian was at a loss for words since he had no idea what Finnian did to the garden. Only that it looks as if hell swallowed it, chewed it profusely, and spat it out through its gullet. And Sebastian would know.) The only joy the tired butler experiences at the manor comes from Tanaka because the man does absolutely nothing. One less eyesore, one less mess for Sebastian to clean up. For once in his painfully long existence, he was thankful. Sebastian pondered that if he replaced the staff with monkeys, they would perform equally better or more than the previous staff before them. Which was actaully a compliment (to the monkeys), but people wouldn't know that coming from Sebastian, since he rarely gives compliments. A butler of a highly esteemed family, the Phantomhive Family, should not be surrounded by so many oaths. He already must deal with a whiny brat that he has to cater to day and night (his bratty boss). Yet, he was no ordinary butler, and he didn't work for an ordinary family. He worked for the watchdog who served her Majesty the Queen. Queen Victoria.

Sebastian brushed the strand of hair poking his eye and tucked it behind his ear. He must give himself a haircut soon. It was a nuisance forgetting how quickly hair grows in human form, even though it was a façade, it had to be kept convincing to those around him.

He looked down at Elsie and cocked his head to the side. Ciel ordered that he'd watch over Elsie. She is safe for now, whoever among the fae has set their sights on her. But for what reason? She is an ordinary human, that much Sebastian can sense from her. But maybe it was Sebastian's demon nature that did not allow him to see past Elsie's humanity.

The young master didn't need to tell him that Elsie is special to him. Watch over her, protect her. After Sebastian warned him of the danger of the fae folk this evening. Those words by the young master were laced with sentiment from the heart, as for what reason, Sebastian could not guess, for he is a demon, and he seldom could understand human motives that do not correlate with his own.

Elsie struggled to open her eyes when morning arrived. Her limbs and her head ached, but that wasn't the strangest thing she noticed. There was leaves in her hair, with several broken off bits, and her feet were dusted with dirt.

Did she sleep walk through the garden last night or something? A ringing noise pierced through her head as she tossed her head back onto her pillow. All she wanted to do was stay in bed, but the sun is up and there are chores to do, so she had no choice and climbed out of bed and cleaned up, reluctantly.

She made tea for her mother and father and cleaned and replaced the towels by Frances's bed stand. She scrubbed the pink stained clothes until they were gray again and hung them on a clothesline along with other laundry in the sun. As she shook out a damp blanket and clipped it to the line, she heard a familiar sound come trotting along the cobblestone path.

Her choices included cowering behind the blanket, pretending to shrink and become invisible behind it's massive form or run away. Running away was a tempting option considering she recognized the horse drawn carriage that was approaching her home, and the butler stirring it. He was clad in black, and his eyes burned like the sun. She was afraid he would incinerate her with his gaze, or what of the occupant within the carriage. Was that man here for another silly fairy hunt!? Elsie prayed he didn't bring more of those wacky fairy lovers with him. Or else she might toss Ciel in the river herself just to be rid of him for good.

But she was not close to the river and her mother was standing beside her. Therefore, it was impossible for a young lady to throw an eligible gentlemen of high English society into the river. Now, if Elsie were an Edward, the situation would encompass two English gentlemen to settle their differences diplomatically (She still would toss Ciel into the river with great satisfaction.)

She looked to the carriage, which now passed the stone fence, and she looked at her mother. Elsie laid a hand over her mouth and another over her stomach. There was only one thing to do. Feign to be deathly ill then spontaneously recover in full health with the visitors of least desired interest leave the premises. Elsie was already feeling ill this morning, so her act would be all that more believable. It was a full proof plan, and who dares to stand in a young lady's way who hurriedly scurries to the washroom in a moment of dire urgency?

"M-Mother, I feel faint." Elsie stammered. She looked at her mother who already seemed to notice the carriage, and the butler, approaching the cottage. Elsie grimaced as her mother tried to fix her hair, which was loosely tied with a pink ribbon. "Mother, my hair is fine."

The woman glanced over her shoulder quickly and whispered gravely. "If I knew we would be receiving company, I would had set out a nice dress for you to wear, cleaned the living room, made tea for bloody sake." She wiped her hands down her own apron, marked with creases and stains.

"I feel sick," Elsie hunched over her stomach, faking nauseas (with a good reason), then sprinted through the front door and into the safety of the washroom. It was time to hold down the fort. No one was going to pry her from this room.

Mrs. Wright would normally chase down Elsie and tell her to greet the guests properly, but the carriage stopped, and the butler was already one step on their property, and he was incredibly gorgeous. Not one second would be wasted turning away from this ethereal beauty. The woman folded her hands neatly and curtsied to the man standing before her, Sebastian Michaelis, head butler to the Phantomhive Family.

According to her mother, the visit was brief. Sebastian, in place of the Earl of Phantomhive, came to drop off a gift for Miss Elsie. A gift box that was wrapped with striped red and white paper, that failed to be ripped apart by Elsie and instead by her younger sister Frances. Which the child did so very eagerly. Frances wore the decorative white ribbon from the package on her head and father was delighted in that they received not one gifts, but two.

Upon opening the box, through an ocean's worth of pastel tissue paper, there was a dress. Any other young girl would swoon over this decadent evening gown. It was a deep maroon dress, with a modest but low shoulder neckline. The shoulders were trimmed with lace and adorned with puffed sleeves. Her mother lifted the dress from the box, and the edges of the gown swooped down to the floor with a delightful thud. The skirt puffed out with two layers was trimmed with ribbons. The top scalloped layer was red, and the bottom scalloped layer was white. Along with the dress, there were matching gloves, a simple red cloth necklace, a pair of gold hued binoculars, and a letter stamped with the Phantomhive crest addressed to Elsie.

Elsie would have delicately ripped the wax seal open, but her mother insisted on heating the wax over a candle gently. Finally, Elsie opened the letter herself, away from prying eyes. She paused, silently reading the letter:

Miss Elsie Wright,

It would be an honor and give me the greatest pleasure if you were to join me in attending the theatrical production of 'Le Petit Prince et la Rose' at the Royal Opera House this evening. Allow me to apologize for my past transgressions. I look forward to our meeting.

Sincerely,

Earl Ciel Phantomhive

Elsie's face flushed, what gave Ciel the audacity to think she would accept this proposal out of the blue!? He was pompous for thinking she would just blindly say yes. Wasn't the Royal Opera House the most prominent theatre within London, within all of England for that matter? And why did he go ahead and buy her a dress she had no interest in wearing? There was nothing wrong with a light dress and apron and boots she was currently wearing.

Apparently, Frances proved to be in better health this morning as she was chanting a silly rhyme she learned in school, before taking leave, behind Elsie's shoulder. "Elsie and Ciel sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes loves, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage."

Elsie swiftly turned backwards to face her younger sister and stirred up a storm with an abundance of tissue paper. Frances didn't seem to mind, she pretended the thin paper were snowflakes, and she was the snow queen.

Elsie folded the letter neatly and stood up briskly, lifting her head high. "It's a pity this dress will never be worn. Father, when is it possible to return it?"

Her mother joined in, baffled. "Then what will you wear to the Royal Opera House?"

"Nothing," said Elsie, plainly. "For I will not be attending. Earl Phantomhive will have the pleasure of attending the venue by his lonesome self."

"What does he mean by 'apologize for my past transgressions?' Her father inquired, suspiciously.

"Who knows." Elsie mumbled quickly. "Nobles tend to fret over the most smallest things. Maybe he apologizes for walking alongside a peasant, or perhaps apologizing for his bland and boring nature."

"Elsie!" Mother rebuked. "This is rude behavior regarding someone who has been showing all of us endless kindness and hospitality. It is only right for you to accept this invitation."

Elsie wanted to choke on those words, 'endless kindness' and 'hospitality.' That boy has been trying to expose her of fairy fraud since day one of her submitting those photos to the London Gazette newspaper. He was trying to end her, and all her mother cared about was accepting his invitation. "It is my right where I choose to go and with whom I choose to go with. I thank the Earl for his invitation, but I, not at all regrettably decline his offer. Now if you will excuse me." Elsie picked up a bucket and lifted her head high. "I have goats to milk."

Frances ran up to Elsie and pulled on her apron and coughed. Elsie stopped in her tracks, "Elsie! This is just like Cinderella. Your fairy godmother gave you a beautiful dress and a carriage to go a party with prince charming."

Sebastian is not her fairy godmother and Ciel is not a prince, nor is he charming. (well, only a little charming) The Royal Opera House is not a party, it is a playhouse where she has to sit silently next to Ciel for several hours surrounded by strangers. She'd rather do all of Cinderella's chores.

"And then you will kiss the prince and break the curse he is under and become a princess."

"Frances, I don't think that's what happens in Cinderella's story." Sure, Cinderella gets a night out to party at the ball. Meets the prince and inevitably falls in love with him and becomes a princess, but nowhere is it mentioned that the prince is under a course by an evil sorceress. Elsie feared if she were to kiss Ciel, he would put her under a curse instead, probably turning her into a toad or something.

Frances huffed her cheeks, "but this is just like a fairytale."

"No," said Mrs. Wright as she commanded authority in the room. All eyes were on her as the room silenced. Finally, Elsie thought, she has come to her senses and sees how ridiculous this event is. How ridiculous the Earl is. There were more important things to do than attend some silly opera.

Her mother placed both of her hands over Elsie's shoulders, smiling. "This is better than a fairytale."

Elsie considered that now would be an appropriate time to run away, if it weren't already too late.

Night arrived too quickly.

Neither did that carriage clad in black returned so swiftly, it was as if it never left the cottage from the morning. And the butler looked the same as he did that morning. Smiling contentedly and smug.

Sebastian greeted her, helped her enter the carriage. She didn't consider the awkwardness that would beseech her sitting alone with Ciel until they arrived at the Royal Opera House.

A hand outstretched from within the carriage. A hand that she needed to grab in order to actaully step inside of it without falling face first within it. Her eyes caught the sapphire ring on the gentleman's hand. She dared to meet his gaze as he greeted her. His voice was as smooth as honey and as decadent as the wild flowers growing in the meadows of her home. She hated that he reminded her of home. That now he has left his mark here, in her home, in the brushwood of Cottingley, and in her memory. And she regretted deep in her heart, that she did not mind that he did.

Ciel titled his head slightly and smiled pleasantly. Her hand felt warm within his, sadly, according to the rules of diplomacy, he forced himself to let go. "I am humbled that you accepted my invitation. Let's have a splendid evening together, shall we?"

Let's have a splendid evening together, shall we? Elsie wondered if all his words were laced with sarcasm. "Thank you for inviting me. I hope this isn't too out of the way for you." Reciting what her mother prepared her mouth to say. Which was probably for the best, if Elsie were to truly speak from her mind, her language would be far too colorful for the Earl to handle.

"Not at all." Ciel mused. "London has so many spectacles to offer. What kind of patron would I be if I didn't support my friends?"

Elsie wondered how many business ventures Ciel partakes in. As far as she knew, he runs a toy and candy conglomerate that was supposedly turning into a growing monopoly that the Queen was turning a blind eye to. He was a greedy monopolist that was extinguishing small businesses. That and he was the Queen's personal watchdog who was ordered by the Queen to deliver her a fairy as soon as possible. Ciel would have to extend that request, indefinitely at best.

"Pardon me Elsie," Ciel interrupted Elsie's thought. She was too busy imagining Ciel as a shrewd businessman, she entirely neglected the fact that Ciel was speaking to her. And she thought the night couldn't go by any more slowly. "I'm guessing that you eagerly await the opera." He laughed softly. "I said, I hope it wasn't too bold of me to purchase a gift for you. I'm not too familiar with fashion and my eye for it may be skewed, but you truly look ravishing. Well, you already are ravishing, especially when one can't help being born into perfection."

Someone was born with a silver tongue, Elsie thought. Or at least he was taught to speak with one and he was very eloquent at it too. "I suppose one cannot." Elsie mused. "But I can't speak for myself for no one is born into perfection."

"Ah," He sighed, with a voice like warm milk. Comforting. "You're right. Imperfections govern us all, no matter how hard me try see past our own mistakes."

"Mistakes make the world feel real, more believable." Elsie's gaze met Ciel's. "It lets me know that I am not living in a fantasy. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I do." Ciel breathed. "I also believe that it is our mistakes that brought us to meet this very night."

Elsie stared down at the ground, if she only could if it wasn't for her massive gown.

"Elsie."

She looked up and met his eye. Which was the color of the morning sky in the first hours of dawn. Her favorite time of the day.

"After everything that's has happened, you most likely think ill of me, don't you?"

Well, he wasn't wrong.

Ciel took that silence as a yes. "I wish to make amends. I sincerely apologize for all the trouble I have caused you…the other day when scouting for fairies."

Elsie waved her hands in front of her face, "oh no, it's not a problem at all. Let's just put it all behind us—" that was a poor choice of wording. "I mean, it was just an accident and no harm was done. Were you alright after that man helped you out of the river?"

Ciel could tell that she was holding back a laugh, and sadly she wasn't the only one who did. Ciel pretended to shiver, which released the hold off Elsie. She laughed softly, and his spirit rose triumphantly. "Ah yes. It seemed as if a fairy spirited me away. Personally, I imagined fairies to be smaller in real life and less…muscular. I can only blame the tales told by my nannies when I was younger. Nevertheless, I was fine afterwards."

"I am very happy to hear that Earl Phantomhive."

"Please, call me Ciel."

Just then, the carriage jostled and slowed down. Lights gleamed, and joyful voices could be heard outside in London streets. Elsie peered out of the window viewing the glorious playhouse in Covent Garden that stood before her, backing in the artificial lights of London. The Royal Opera House. Ciel rapped his walking cane twice on the ceiling of the carriage. As the door opened, Elsie caught a glimpse of all the guests entering the theatre. Noblemen and woman, the aristocrats of high society, members of parliament, wealthy entrepreneurs, aficionados of the fine arts. Men wore fine black suits and the women were adorned in all the latest fashion trends circling through London. Then there was her, suddenly she felt so out of place here. Elise was just a school girl with pockets full of lies.

As guilt seeped into her heart, Ciel held her hand within his. "The Opera is not as boring as people say it is, though it doesn't hurt to sneak in a nap during the overture." He guiltily admitted. "But I assure you that this play is one of the best the house had put on in years."

They stepped out of the carriage, Ciel escorted Elsie by his side. How cozy it felt, Ciel thought, how her arm fit perfectly into his. "Oh, have you seen this particular opera before?" Elsie asked.

Sebastian walked behind Ciel and handed the tickets to the maitre d to be checked at the front entrance. They were granted to go in. An abundance of voices rose in the hall, people chatting amongst their own accord. Ciel had to lean into Elsie's ear just to get his voice heard. "On the contrary, this is my first time seeing it as well. But it has it be good, otherwise I wouldn't offer it my patronage."

Elsie has only been to a playhouse once, and it was only in a small theatre out in Cottingley country. It was a school trip with her entire class. The theatre was small, but comfortable. And they saw a production, well more like a parody, of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Rather than it being portrayed as a tragedy, it was portrayed as a comedy. Elsie could have sworn she punctured a lung after the play was over.

But the Royal Opera House was nothing like she experienced before. She thought they would be sitting in the stalls of the theatre, in the front area near the orchestra pit. Instead, Elsie looked down towards the galleries and balconies of the raised platforms beneath them, Sebastian had to lean his arm in front of Elsie, in fear that she might topple over (she did forget the window incident that happened just last night, but Sebastian wouldn't take any chances.)

They were seated in state boxes, also known the best seats in the house. Boxes are separate rooms with an open viewing area that can usually seat up to five people. But three was a satisfactory number and was the number of occupants to fill up the box. Elsie could see an entire panoramic view of the playhouse!

A red curtain adorned the stage, and downstage was the orchestra pit. She saw the musicians preparing their instruments, last minute alterations fine tuning them. Violins. Flutes. Cellos. And other's whose mysterious nature piqued her interest. When the maestro dressed in black approached the pit, he adjusted his cufflinks, loosening them. As if preparing for the battle awaiting him. The maestro tapped his baton against his stand, commanding the attention of his orchestra and the audience. The lights began to dim, and the theatre silenced. If a pin dropped, Elsie thought she could hear it click against the floor. The conductor's movements flowed like the ocean's wave. He commanded his orchestra. He commanded the music.

And it played, beautifully.

The overture began to play first, it was the orchestral introduction to an opera. The curtains opened, revealing a beautiful backdrop depicting an ethereal garden and sitting in the middle of this beautiful land were two figures, each with a pair of wings that adorned their backs and crowns over their heads. The thought of angels first entered Elsie's head, but then the realization swept over her. They actors were not portraying angels. They were portraying fairies.

Of course…

There was a man and woman fairy, surrounded by a devoted court of other fairy creatures. Each actor was adorned with luxurious accessories of pearls and fake jewelry and flowing garbs. Their hair curled and wisped with freedom. The two figures with the crowns, looked to be weeping, and the court erupted into a fit of woes in return. Only when they began to sing, it was in a tongue that was surely beautiful, but one Elsie was not familiar with!

The opera was performed in French!

As the story continued, Elsie had no idea what was going on. She picked up her binoculars and examined a closer look at the actors. One could still understand the plot of the play without the language, right? Elsie examined the actress who looked to be the Queen as she handed a young boy who was freed from his chains a book, Elsie looked down at him and the boy sang in a tongue she could not understand. Maybe the boy was just as worried about not understanding the other actors as well and the book he was handed was a French to English dictionary. Elsie's guess was as good as anyone else's. In school, the language she studied to master was Latin. Which sadly was of no use to her in this situation.

Suddenly, she heard a whisper. She turned her head to her left and noticed Ciel garnering her attention. Without acquiring unwanted attention, she moved his chair closer to hers. Both his hands laid on the head of his cane. He looked straight ahead towards the stage and its actors, but his voice and mind he relinquished to Elsie.

Their room was small, and he leaned in closer, a distance no one would notice, and he whispered into her ear. She felt the warmth from his breath caress her neck, and she fought the urge to sigh in pleasure. Her cheeks flushed, but the room was dark, and nobody noticed.

The corners of Ciel's lips curled into a decadent smile as he whispered lucidly. "Oberon is the fairy king and his wife, Titania, is Queen of the Fairies. They gathered all the members of all their courts, spring, autumn, summer, and winter, and plead for a champion to save their daughter who was kidnapped by the Orge king, Danann."

"Hmm?" Elsie briefly turned her head towards Ciel, but quickly averted ger gaze. Their faces were too close together. "Y-You speak French?" Was all she could mumble in return. Of course, he knew French. Or he lied and knew the plot of the play beforehand. Which was very well possible considering he was just as capable of lying as much as she was.

But she began to think otherwise, as his attention was split between the play and Elsie, translating what the actors were singing into her ear, giving her commentary as the play progressed. She smiled and giggled lightly as Ciel was giving reacting to scenes in the play that had him surprised, astounded, perplexed, and snorted (briefly and gentlemen-ly as possible.)

Ciel whispered into her ear and Elsie leaned forward eager to know what will happen next to the little champion on stage. So far, all of the best knights in the fairy realm were slain or turned to toads by the Ogre King, Danann. The ogre contained powerful magic by stealing the sacred grimoire book of spells and vowed that no one would interfere with him marrying the princess.

Ciel shook his head playfully, "The champion, the little boy, was only a human boy when he was taken by the fairies to serve them. He challenged the King and Queen that he could save their daughter in exchange for his freedom."

"Oh, he has so much spunk."

"I agree," Ciel concurred. "But the court discriminates against humans and so does the King for that matter." He rolled his eyes.

"The boy can save the princess and yet they won't let go of their stubbornness. It will surely be the King's downfall."

"Stubbornness is an unfortunate vice. You can be a playwright my dear Elsie."

Suddenly, she whispered into his ear this time, and Ciel was caught off guard. Feeling as if the sun only shined on him in this dark room. His heart swelled knowing Elsie was near the crook of his neck. Welcoming. Inviting. Loving. His breath hitched unexpectantly.

"Hmm?" Ciel didn't hear what she said, on account of his clogged mind that refused to open up his ears. Instead, Elsie smiled and leaned back into her seat, watching the opera.

Ciel's heart deflated, feeling foolish not to listen to the words that escaped her lips and even more foolish for keeping his own lips clasped shut, and not asking her to stay close to him again.

The lights began to brighten, the curtain began to close, and incoherent mumbles began to disperse throughout the theatre. The play was devastatingly long, and it was only intermission. Elsie wanted to stretch her arms and legs and walk around the theatre a bit. There were even waiters serving individual boxes with snacks and refreshments. A waiter tapped on the door to their box and Sebastian opened it, scrutinizing the waiter from head to toe for any potential danger. It was only an old man with a homely expression on his face. But this was London and this was Ciel Phantomhive he was watching over, who not that many people thought fondly of. Anything could happen. He let the waiter pass who was carrying in a tray of refreshments. The cart containing decadent sweets was left in the hall, considering it couldn't fit through the door.

As Ciel began to open his mouth to discuss the most thrilling plot twist that was revealed in the play, the princess was in cohorts with the ogre to overthrow the fairy King and Queen. Ciel opened his mouth, but no words escaped. Only words that did not belong to his tongue, pierce through the theatre in a high-pitched tone, one filled with giddiness and an over excessive amount of happiness. Ciel wanted to roll back into his seat. But he was a gentlemen and Victorian etiquette forbids gentlemen from slouching.

"Oh! I absolutely loved their costumes! The Queen's dress was extraordinarily beautiful and so were all the members of the fairy courts! They were so cute!" proclaimed Elizabeth Midford, who was seated in another box that was perpendicular to his own.

Ciel's eyes widened as he shared a look with Sebastian, who also stared blankly with wide eyes. A dire moment that foretell disaster brewed between them. If Ciel was noticed by Lizzy, she would surely come over and create attention. But worst of all, the nights were on and Ciel recognized several faces he regularly did business with, and many gossiping housewives who had too much time on their hands. Many of his colleagues know he is engaged to Miss Elizabeth Midford, soon to be marry for that matter. Word would spread that he did not venture to the Opera with his betrothed to be, his fiancé Elizabeth (who he has been not specifically, purposefully avoiding these past few weeks…since he was so busy with the Queen's demands to find a fairy, and Elsie. Elsie preoccupied his mind these past few weeks.) Instead he came to the Opera with a lady who IS NOT his fiancé. Ciel already forecasted how much of a scandal this would cause, but only if Elizabeth sees him, or Elsie for that matter.

Sebastian quickly moved into action and shielded Elsie from the open view of the opera. "My lady, would you care for a refreshment, or appetizer perhaps? Or shall I call a maid to escort you to the washroom to freshen up?"

Elsie tried not to gawk. They serve desserts here at the Opera! Her nose could already trail the scent drifting through the hallway. Ah, chocolate cake and apple tarts. The last theatre she visited only sold one kind of treat, and it was caramel popcorn found wherever between the seats and cushions. "Oh, I'm alright. Thank you. But I would like to walk for a bit."

Sebastian bowed. "Of course, allow me to escort you."

Ciel wanted to do one of several things. He wanted to feign to be deathly ill and retreat to the all men's parlor and then miraculously return to the box after intermission with full health. It has been a while since Ciel pretended to be sick. There were few times he pretended being sick in his youth, considering he spent most of his youth being sick. Well, he should have enough experience for his plan to pull through.

Sadly, he shouldn't have stood up so quickly.

The top of his head collided with the waiter's silver tray, knocking over drinks and glasses. Sebastian moved at a lightning pace and caught the tray and glasses before they shattered on the floor. Ciel already covered the 'making an idiot out of oneself with a clamorous bang to attract an abundance of unwanted attention.' Sebastian saw no need to contribute to it, since the young lord was a master at it already.

The waiter apologized profusely to the Earl as Ciel laid on the ground, withering in agony. The noise momentarily silenced the theatre, indeed attracting the unwanted attention of an abundance of people. Elsie caught the gaze of a young noblewoman. With her curly blonde hair and eyes as green as Cottingley's pastures. The lady more a sophisticated sapphire blue dress, and a diamond choker around her neck. The aura around her was regal and elegant, but also fun and full of life as she could see in the lady's smile reaching out at her.

Elsie quickly turned her attention to Ciel, kneeling beside him. Sadly, they would be missing act three of the play, as the lights faded, and the curtains opened. Ending the intermission.

Ciel winced as a wet cloth met his forehead.

"Hold still, and it won't hurt so much." Elsie said. Ringing the cloth in a bowl of water. They were currently in the women's parlor, normally Ciel wouldn't be allowed to enter, but the opera commenced once more signaling that they would not receive more visitors in the parlor, and the Earl received an injury to the head. Slightly bloody. Sebastian was waiting outside the parlor, patrolling the entrance.

"Trouble seems to follow me around lately." Ciel admitted.

"Lately you say? Here I thought you were naturally unlucky."

"Unlucky? How could I be unlucky with London's luckiest girl within the city, standing beside me, tending to my wounds?"

"Well it's not working." Elsie stated bluntly. "Have you considered four-leaf clovers, or perhaps rabbits feet?" Elsie brushed away a lock of Ciel's cerulean hair behind his ear, dabbing at his mortal wound. Which was just a scrape that grazed his forehead, beneath the string that held in place his eyepatch. Her fingertips grazed over the strings. Ciel flinched, slightly. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Ciel said, slowly. "It was a long time ago."

Music from the orchestra carried itself into the parlor. Elsie could hear muffled singing across the halls. She stammered to lift the conversation. "What you said during the opera was funny. There is no way I could be a playwright. I enjoy stories, as do most people, but I lack the creativity to produce such work. But, Frances on the other hand. She is overflowing with imagination."

"Will I expect to see her work on this stage some years from now?"

"Most likely. Though they be not on stage now, mother, father, and I get a front row seat to all her skits at home." Elsie reminisced. "Frances is a riot." Elsie also wanted to say that Frances casts her many roles in the plays she creates, predominantly boy roles. Elsie was very good at being a boy.

"And she has already acquired the trust of patron when she makes her debut in London. He's a nice fellow, is a little intimidating at first, but that is the eye patch's fault." Ciel mused, "But deep down, he just likes a good story."

"As people look beyond the surface, they notice that he is much kinder than they expected."

"Thank you," Ciel smiled. "I mean, my friend is most thankful for your kind words."

"Frances will be happy to hear that she has another friend in London. Now hold still. It looks as if the blood is drying up now."

Ciel perked up, "Elsie."

"Hmm?"

"If you are interested, a friend of mine works for the ministry of medicine. Her name is Dr. Sieglinde Sullivan, a renowned doctor, whose research continually helps to accelerate the evolution of medicine and technology."

"She is remarkable lady." Elsie laid the wet cloth on Ciel's forehead. Dabbing away the few remnants of blood. She read articles of Dr. Sullivan's contributions in the medical field and how she is highly valued by Queen Victoria. Sullivan pioneered and debunked the myth of blood transfusions. Her techniques proved to be successful and were utilized in hospitals around the country.

Ciel grasped Elsie's hand, with the cloth within it. His hand slowly descended with hers in it. She held her breath as muffled music continued to sweep throughout the room. Only now, it was just the two of them, no need to worry about wandering eyes or side glances.

"I assure you she is, or I wouldn't recommend her work otherwise despite her outlandish behavior." Ciel coughed. "She has helped my health condition in the past and I am forever in her debt. She is very well acquainted with consumption, ahem, tuberculosis, and agreed to examine your little sister Frances-

Ciel would have finished that sentence. If not for the young girl slung around her shoulder's. His shoulders were quivering as her arms wrapped around his, and tears filled her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. Ciel's cheeks blushed deeply. He was afraid to wrap his arms around her, afraid that he would never let go. "She must be the world to you." He spoke with all his remaining strength, tenderly.

Elsie stifled a cry. "She is not just the world. She is everything that is good within the world." She looked up Ciel, her eyes brimmed with tears and she smiled at him. "Thank you."

Ciel's breath hitched, and his lips parted as he looked down to hers, and she looked up to his. He was overcome with fear and passion, a dangerous combination. His fingertips trailed over her gloves and then touching her forearms. Elsie felt his touch. Felt it trickle over her skin, sparks flurried beneath each touch. His fingers trialed around her shoulders. He was either afraid to stop, or afraid to continue.

Elsie wrapped her fingers around his, and for a moment, she held her breath afraid for what might happen. Excited for what will happen.

"May I?" Ciel breathed slowly, his breath intermingling with hers. "May I kiss you?"

From her cheeks to the tips of her ears, Elsie knew she was the spitting image of a piece of burning red coal. Their cheeks touched, then their noses. He was waiting for her to answer. He was waiting for her to say yes.

And she wanted to say yes.

But the door opened, and they pried away from each other as light cuts through the dark. They were both red-faced, and there was no time for her to give an answer.

Sebastian bowed, "My Lord, the opera is nearing the finale. Do you and Miss Elsie wish to venture back into the theatre?"

"Y-Yes," Ciel stammered. "Thank you, Sebastian."

Arm in arm they went, both drenched with a sense of nervousness that they didn't enter the opera with but will be leaving with. A feeling they will remember whenever they grace the other's presence, whenever they gaze into the other's eyes, it will keep their tongues tied and their minds hazy. It was there. And it settled deep into their hearts, anchored down.

Love. If one were to call it that.

Elsie was no longer paying attention to the Opera. They only thing she noticed was the distance between her and Ciel. He was still translating the plot, what the characters were singing, what lied in their hearts. But the distance between them widened from before.

It was an interesting play. By the end, the boy defeated the Ogre King by turning him into a single rose and returned the princess (reluctantly) to her parents. The boy then gifted the rose to the Queen and returned the grimoire book of spells to her. He challenged the King and Queen and the court for his freedom, and he won.

But the Queen was touched by his bravery and valor, for she saw his journey through her looking glass and saw him struggling to survive, to fight, to live, and at the same time, still do what was right even though he wanted to run away (several times.) Bravery, said Queen Titania, means standing tall in the face of fear and still doing what's right. Fear is the precursor to bravery. And to becoming a hero.

The Queen granted the boy much more than freedom, she turned him into a fairy prince and all the fairies of all the courts bowed to him, and he was given a new name. A name that was magical and gave protection against malevolent and evil beings. The young servant boy, now a prince who will one day become king of the fairies and rule all the realms, stood tall and proud.

The young actor on stage was drenched in the spotlight, his shimmering wings emerging from his back.

The Queen and all the courts called out the young prince's name joyously.

Rowan.

The curtains dropped, the actors bowed, the crowd cheered, the play was over, and it was a hit.

The finale of the opera was beautiful, as it was unbearable.

Rowan sat wedged between two very plump humans. One kept muttering to him about the play, saying each scene after the next was her favorite. The woman clapped exuberantly and leaned into his shoulder. Rowan wanted to lean away, but the other potato sack next to him took up too much space, and Rowan's left armrest.

"That," said the woman, dressed in an inordinate number of feathers. Rowan wondered if it was fashionable for human woman to mimic animals. If so, this woman is the spitting image of a turkey. "The finale was my favorite part. It most definitely was."

"Are you sure?" Said Rowan, sarcastically. His head resting on his hand. Are you sure it was really your favorite part? What about the one before the finale, and the one before that too. He wanted to retort back.

"Well, they were all very good." The woman said. She lifted her gloved finger and began a critical analysis about the overall opera, mainly about the costumes and accessories.

It was time to leave, he thought he could pass his time by watching a play, of course it was about this romanticized version of fairies and their kings and queens and followers all dusted with glitter and shells and feathers and snowflakes and leaves. The sight of it made him gawk. The man rolled his eyes, at least they got his name right in the play. But it was the only fact they got right.

The man narrowed his gold eyes, cold and dark. He narrowed his gaze on the boy actor, on the actor who played him. Who impersonated him. Who mocked him. But it was all pretend, Rowan had to keep reminding himself as embers flared and sparked in his mouth, that he had to extinguish with frost and snow. What he was looking at was all pretend and make-believe.

They will never accept you. Thought Rowan as he looked at the boy. Impure fae blood is worse than human blood. They trap you between two worlds, never belonging to neither human or fae. Finally freeing yourself from a spider's web, but the home you knew was gone, rejected, and there was nowhere else to go. So you in stay in the web. Stayed in the spider's web. Becoming neither the spider nor it's prey. Just a hollow husk of a shell of a boy who used to exist.

Rowan stood up from his seat. The night was becoming too depressing for him. He stared at the boy, walking off stage with the rest of the cast. The man lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, once.

The boy slipped on his robe and crashed down on stage.

Memories of his past kept resurfacing, which made his stomach curdle unpleasantly. And tonight, wasn't supposed to be an unpleasant night. It was the night he was supposed to become acquainted with his future Queen. He looked up at the box seats high in the opera, staring at the girl in the red dress, next to some other young man who was looking quote squeamish about being seen in public with the wrong girl by his side. It obviously didn't help that the director of the play got wind of London's most beloved girl watching the play seated in the best seat of the house (who served as inspiration for the creation of the play, and the other on a very old legend) she was handed a bouquet of flowers and all the audience gazed up at her, and the handsome boy she was with, and his butler.

His disgusting and ugly and revolting butler that reeked of rotten flesh and maggots. Rowan was aware that demons form Faustian contracts with humans. Before contracts, demons would scour the battlefields of recently fallen soldiers, collect and scavenge souls the grim reapers have yet to reap. They prey on the souls of the weak and those that have forsaken God. Rowan narrowed his eyes. It was the young man. He could sense the mark of the beast on the man's right eye. Huh, so that explains the eyepatch. At first Rowan thought it was a fashion statement, considering he spent three in half hours sitting next to a talkative chicken.

Rowan left the theatre, circulating away from the demon as much as possible. He bit his tongue, wraith raging in his heart. That was the same demon that who stopped him from making his advances on Elsie the night prior. He would have spirited her away, but he did not have the magic to do so. Not yet anyway. And that demon and his contractor. He will have to take precautions to avoid them.

Rowan was bid goodbye by the staff, they were convinced he was a nobleman from Scotland. Possibly royalty they mused to themselves.

Rowan walked down the streets of London, basked in the artificial lights of the city. The streetlamps replaced the stars in the sky. The city lights replaced the starry sky. It truly saddened him for it was one thing about the human realm he thought was so beautiful. But the moon was still visible. He welcomed the moonshine as it blessed his skin.

He dove into his pocket and pulled out his grimoire book, his book of shadows containing all his spells. The pages were torn and threaded and yellow, the book was the size of a thimble, but it enlarged once placed in his hand. A page opened, indicating a drawing of an hourglass. The drawn sand continuously poured down the glass in sync with the rhythm of the world. Rowan cursed to himself. He was running out of time.

The pages flipped on their own as he recited an incantation. Slithers of moonlight ripped from the moon's beam and gathered in front of him. Gathering in a ball of blue light that was there and was not there. Faded and glowing. Rowan closed his book and breathed into the ball of light. "Go. Find me my queen."

The ball of light fragmented and burst into thousands of lights. Bright needles weaving strings of blue light into the dark sky. Their blue tails faded, and the lights took up their own form, scattering throughout England.

Rowan hummed to himself. If all of England was so giddy and high on fairies, if was only his right to show them real fairy magic. Well, he snorted, trouble and magic go hand in hand. Trouble was any fae's specialty. Tricks always did make humans think twice about their foolishness.

Elsie was through with all this fairy nonsense. At the end of the opera, she was handed a bouquet as people applauded her and thanked her nothing more than bringing 'magic' back to London. All she did was take a few photographs and lie to the newspapers, and they believed her.

Things have gone too far. She rode home in the carriage with Ciel in silence. Guilt swelling her heart.

"Until we meet again." Ciel said.

"Until then," She replied.

When she walked through the front door at home Elsie wanted to sink down to the floor and lie there, forever if she could.

The lies were catching up to her. They were becoming too heavy to carry. They sank into her bones and nestled into the grooves and cracks.

Her parents, mainly her mother, bombarded her with five thousand questions about the opera. What was is the Royal Opera House like? Are the costumes beautiful as they are rumored to be? What did you and Earl Phantomhive speak of? He's not a married man, is he? Good, so when is he going to propose to you?

But Elsie was too tired to talk. To talk of her heart ache. She ascended the wooden stairs, creaking with each step she took. She held her shoes in one hand, and the hem of her dress in the other.

She stopped in front of her and Frances' bedroom door.

No more hiding. No more lying.

Elsie gripped her hand into a fist. She was going to tell Frances the truth, that there is no such thing as fairies. It was all a joke. The photographs, the paper cut outs, her basket hidden in a pantry in the basement, the one containing all her lies.

Her and Tommy venturing alone in Cottingley Meadows taking pictures.

Tommy.

Elsie closed her eyes and thumped her head against the door. Her mother called from the bottom of the stairs and asked if she was okay. Elsie said she was fine (she wasn't.) This was no time for her heart to be confused. She loved Tommy and Tommy loves her. Or at least she thought she loved Tommy…

Elsie brushed her fingers against her lips.

Ciel asked if he could kiss her.

Elsie quickly shook her head and took a deep breath in and opened the door.

This was no time to think about which boy she liked. Ciel was kind in that he would get Sieglinde Sullivan, a highly esteemed scientist and practicing physician, to diagnose her sister and cure her. Yes, this was the answer to all her problems. Frances was going to get better. Maybe the Cottingley Fairy Hoax was a clever idea after all. It was just an idea to make her sister happy, to uplift her spirit in these dark days that were told to be her last. But now there is hope! Dr. Sullivan can give Frances a long life! Then she'll be able to go back to school, then to college, then marry, have children, and explore the world! Frances would have the life she deserves, a long and infinitely happy one.

If it weren't for the Cottingley Fairy Hoax she would have never met Ciel. Who was a pain in the arse at times, but proved to be sweet as well.

"Frances, I'm home." Elsie smiled as she saw her sister. Sitting up and standing in front of the window sill, gazing up at the full moon. Such a precious little sister she has. "There is something I need to tell you-

Elsie's voice froze, and her body was stiff. Her eyed widened, shocked.

Her sister turned around and her hands were cupped angelically. What lay in her palms was a thing, bright and glimmering like the moonshine from the night sky.

Frances smiled ear to ear as her cheeks flushed a rosy red. She lifted her hands towards Elsie and spoke a voice as sweet and beautiful as a cherub. "Look!" said Frances, holding the tiny willowy winged creature in her hands. It moved and danced and glowed with moonlight. "Look! It's a real fairy!"

THANK YOU FOR READING! Did you enjoy the chapter? And what were your favorite parts? I'd love to know please *hearts*

Sebastian why did you ruin their moment!? smh lol So Ciel and Elsie had their almost first kiss, and Elizabeth spotted the both of them at the opera. I'm really excited for Lizzy to become part of the story! How do you guys think she's going to react to Elsie and Ciel? And Rowan! He's come to England searching for a queen, but for what purpose? He'll have his own chapter that will describe his backstory, called 'The Tale of Rowan.' Just when Elsie was going to break the news to Frances, she's got a fairy in her room XD oh boy there is no going back now lol

And a special thanks to James Birdsong, BBFan, and Tanaka-chan for leaving such kind reviews! Thank you for your support! And thank you to everyone who reads, favs, and follows the story! Don't feel shy to drop in a review ;D

See you guys next time! Bye!