Chapter 9: You Are Magic
Excerpt from the Fae Folk Book of Common Law
II
The Otherworld is governed by the royal family, Fae who descended from the Tuatha De Danaan blood line.
There can never be a single sovereign to rule over the Fae alone. One Fae will crush under the weight of the crown, but two Fae will support it together.
Marriage is necessary to succeed the throne. Consent is mandatory, always.
Robert Slaughter was amiable and an excellent conversationalist, as told by his friends. Which had to be true as it was told by his extremely close friends, which he knew them to be truthful on most of their days. So yes, Robert was amiable and kind and selfless and handsome and very robust. Though his friends did not say those words exactly, but he was sure they meant to say them eventually. Robert was a man of fifty-two with a buddy passion as the editor in chief of the London Gazette should be, which was one of the official journals of record of the British Government. In his opinion the London Gazette was far superior and more modern than its competitors including The Edinburgh Gazette, The Belfast Gazette, and even The Oxford Gazette. As editor in chief, Robert chooses which notices deserve to be published and which ones deserve to be thrown out the window. In fact, he knew The London Gazette was the most superior to all the other newspapers, as was told by his wife whom he knew was always truthful, on most of her days. Nonetheless, Robert feeling as though the newspaper should plunge straight forth into the modern era rather than be drowned and sunk by it, made the most marvelous decision of being the first newspaper to publicize The Cottingley Faeries photographs to emerge from England. Yes. He made the most marvelous decision indeed. He was marvelous at coming up with ideas for new stories and headliners for the paper, and he thought up his best ideas when reading leisurely in the family den of his home in London surrounded by his dear wife knitting by the fireplace. He thought up of even better and even more marvelous ideas when reading leisurely in the family den of his home in London surrounded by his dear wife knitting by the fireplace whilst soaking his feet in a warm basin of water. He thought up many marvelous ideas whilst soaking his feet, some of his life's best ideas actually.
And his theory proved to be right, yet again, when a colleague from the newspaper headquarters came rapping on his front door that one morning whilst leisurely soaking his toes in the den of his home. The colleague gasped for air, panting profusely, as he ran all the way to the editor in chief's home just to tell him in person. Well, what news could be so important that had to be brought to the editor in chief's home on a wonderful and marvelous Sunday morning? Robert leaned forward in his chair, curling his toes in the basin of warm water. He knew it had to be a marvelous idea. He could feel it in his toes.
And truly it was a marvelous idea! For the Earl of Phantomhive sent an urgent letter to the London Gazette, wanting to tell only the London Gazette out of all the others (upon praising this paper specifically, ever so nicely), that he has captured a fairy and now it resides in his manor on his estate and he wishes to make it public for all of London, for all of Great Britain to know!
Interviews. Pictures. Articles. Earl Phantomhive wants the London Gazette to reap all these honorable benefits first before any other newspapers could. No sooner did Robert's feet leap from the silver basin of water and jam on his shoes, now wet and moist, kiss his wife goodbye, and run off to headquarters to assemble a team to work on those interviews and pictures and articles.
It truly was a marvelous idea. Robert's toes never lie.
Phantomhive manor was buzzing with excitement as the maids and butlers and staff catered to the journalists of the London Gazette newspaper surrounding a rather pompous young earl, a metal cage holing the prized fairy, the earl's esteemed guest of honor, Elsie Wright.
She sat next to Ciel, reluctantly, as a reporter looked from his memorandum notebook back to the earl himself. Jotting down every word the earl said, even if it wasn't that important, but Ciel had an amazing gift that enabled him to make everything he said sound unbelievably important. And because of that the reporter had to take up another notebook and fiercely scribble down every word he could hear from the earl.
"Earl Phantomhive," the reporter turned the page of his notebook to a clean and empty one. "I must say, I've ridden to your manor in disbelief and even walking through the entrance and corridor and parlor and towards your private study I was certain this shenanigan of fairy nonsense was absolute folly, I beg your pardon sir, but now that I see this beautiful creature here before me. Well, it is just like the stories my mum used to tell when I was a boy! It is most certainly delightful!"
Ciel laughed, enchantingly, partly to convince himself that he enjoyed this irksome interview, partly for show, and partly to show Elsie that he was having the time of his life. Smiling joyfully made a wonder of a difference for him and to those around him. For it was much easier to trust a smiling face than a grouchy one. "There is no need to apologize for I too thought the same. It reminds me of my days with my governess, when I was well-behaved she'd humor me with such myths and stories, that I once thought were all poppycock. Know I realize that myths really do draw from reality."
Elsie raised an eyebrow, Ciel's governess told him fairytales when he was well-behaved? Then she must have never told him not one story if that were the case, Elsie thought.
"But believe me I am no more surprised than you are, and I can't tell you how truly wonderful it is for magic to come back to London. Oh, Miss Elsie," Ciel turned to her, wearing that façade smile of his, one that Elsie wasn't sure if he was the beacon of a lighthouse or the storm raging around it. Pretty people with pretty smiles were never to be trusted. That's why Ciel has invited her to take part in the interview today. To gloat. To boast. To chastise her. One look at their prettiness and they have you melting at their feet. "Tell us, when you were a girl, which I'm sure wasn't that long ago, did you fancy these make-believe stories told by the adults in your life? Are you just as surprised as we are to find them to be true? Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sure that is not the case at all, for you were the only one to believe in the authenticity of magic while all of England was blind to it. We must look silly to you, don't we?"
Fortunately, Elsie was becoming immune to Ciel's pretty smile. She would not melt at his feet. Not today or any other todays of tomorrow. Elsie's hands lay folded in her lap. Her voice was calm and stoic. "Contrary to popular belief." She looked at the reporter whimsically. "As a little girl, magic was the last thing I believed in, and so was the belief of my parents. My mother and father did not spare their time reveling in stories of brave knights slaying dragons, ancient kings and queens of forgotten kingdoms, or fairy creatures."
"Then they are practical people, as parents should be." The reporter said.
"So, tell me," Ciel leaned on his arm chair, curious. "How does two practical parents who live very practical lives raise one particularly, very un-practical daughter? I am truly stumped."
"As I am, Miss Elsie." The reporter chimed in. Scribbling in his notebook.
As much as Elsie wanted to tell them both to mind their own business, she told something that was far from a lie. She told the truth. Something that felt marvelous rolling off her tongue, almost cleansing it from all the lies she's spun in the past. "I had an older brother; his name was Jacob. Jacob Wright. I was barely walking when he passed away. I don't have the honor or privilege of keeping him in my memories. But my mother and father do, and they told me, the day Jacob died, so did all the magic in the home and all of England for that matter. They firmly believed that it did. I began reading about magic in picture books then novels in my school's library, stories that I began telling my little sister who quickly became enchanted by them." Her gaze softened. "Stories that made her so happy to listen to, like she knew she was part of their world. Flying with dragons, swimming with mermaids, and wishing upon stars. She didn't just picture the stories, no, she lived in them."
A smile spread on the reporter's face. "Then the first pictures taken of the Cottingley Fairies were for her, weren't they?"
Elsie nodded. "They were. Frances wanted to see a real fairy and I was committed to finding one. I'd never imagined I find one so soon." She laughed, shyly.
The reporter tried not to scrunch up his face by blinking his eyes shut, trying very hard not to cry. He was convinced Elsie had the purest of hearts he has ever seen! Oh! Poor little, sick Frances must be so happy to have such a caring and loving older sister! Oh, dear the tears were falling. The reporter blew into a tissue that Sebastian handed to him. Sebastian set the entire box of tissues next to the reporter.
A rap was heard upon the door, to which Sebastian answered it. Elsie saw a woman standing behind the maid, a woman who wore an elaborate shawl laced with impeccable detail and a portfolio in her arms, Elsie wondered what was inside of it. The maid said, "Lady Agatha Redwood is here to discuss and finalize the wed-"
Sebastian gave her a look.
The maid faltered, "to discuss the arrangements with Lord Phantomhive, sir." She curtsied and left the room.
Silence ensued (as the reporter blew his nose). Ciel's mouth was dry, he never knew Elsie had an older brother, one who died so young and so innocent. He thought she faked the photos to gain fame and glory and attention. He thought she wanted the spotlight all to herself, but how wrong he was to think that poorly of her. Ciel mistook the ill company he spent so many hours surrounded by in the underground for her's…Elsie was kind, truly kind. He finally realized that now. Just then, she looked so lonely sitting their beside him. How horrible he felt not knowing how to ease her sorrow. He was about to lift his hand and place it over hers, but then she smiled and began to talk once more, and his hand laid where it stayed. On his armchair, cold and cowardly.
"Yes, I suppose you can say that they are practical people. I love them with all my heart as any daughter would towards her parents. But I believe that magic never died with Jacob, nor has it died in London centuries ago. It was always alive and well, for true magic comes from our hearts. True magic is the kindness and goodness of our souls that has the power to burn brightest during our darkest hours and shine upon those who need it most. If magic lives in our hearts and the hearts of those dearest to us then it lives on forever, don't you think?"
The reporter fiercely scribbled down her words more ferociously than the earl's. For Elsie's words were like water to a dying man in the dessert. Longing to grasp and revel in its refreshing splendor.
"And for you Earl Phantomhive, how did you stumble upon this fairy?"
A moment paused as memories flooded Ciel's mind of the madness that ensued the night before. Midnight turned into chaos as his carriage was attacked by a mob of these so-called fairies. He remembered the brutal battle he endured riding inside the carriage. That tiny little and evil thing residing in the cage was hellbent on ripping all of his hair out. It was a godsend, a miracle, that Ciel was able to capture it in his suitcase before it succeeded in its devilish plight to make him bald. Upon returning to the manor, Ciel walked with a limp and held the suitcase close to his chest, worried that the fairy would fly out of it or that he would fly with it. When he handed the case to Sebastian, who triumphantly was able to set the winged creature in a cage, Ciel did nothing but relax for the rest of his remaining night (which wasn't that long). While Finnian, Mey-Rin and Bard admired and goggled the spritely fairy (who feigned to be in good and non-violent spirits and attempted to pull not one single hair off of anyone's head) Ciel took a very long bath. To the point of not wanting to come out of the warm, comfort of his bath to the cold and crisp sheets of his bed.
"Earl Phantomhive?"
"In my garden." Ciel said swiftly. Avoiding his humiliating tale. He heard Sebastian snorting in the background.
The reporter stared at the enchanting creature floating around in the metal cage. Its color was that of moonshine, it was brilliant and dazzling to look upon. The man couldn't help but lift his hand towards the cage and his fingers couldn't help but touch the silver bars.
"I'd advise you to not stick your fingers in the cage," Ciel warned, eyeing the beastie creature in the cage. The thing stared back at him and laughed mischievously. It laughed like that of a single twinkling bell, to which the reporter fell into a fit of giggles and thought the fairy to be enticingly adorable.
The fairy stuck out its arm from the cage towards Ciel as it continued to laugh like bells. "Oh!" Exclaimed the reporter, "perhaps it wants to play you? It looks so happy to see you, Earl."
"Perhaps."
The metal cage wobbled on the table top.
Sebastian covered the fairy cage with a heavy drape.
Ciel concluded that he would officially unveil the fairy to the public eye when he gifts it to Queen Victoria during his annual masquerade ball, which was approaching very shortly.
As the reporter left, Elsie wanted to do the same, but Ciel (being the Victorian gentleman what he is) invited Elsie to walk with him throughout his gardens. In that moment, she saw everyone looking at her, the reporters from the London Gazette, the butlers and maids. The activity of the room almost seemed to spot in wanting to wait for her response. She felt their unspoken language around her neck. Suffocating.
So, she said yes, and the activity in the room resumed again. The reporter jotted down one more scribble in his notebook, with a wide smile spread across his cheeks. Elsie would already imagine what he wrote and suddenly wished she declined Ciel and walked out of the room instead. For that one inconsequential moment decided the header of tomorrow's paper.
Not only was there magic in London, but there was also love.
Elsie wanted to rip that notebook out of the reporter's hands and shred those silly notions into oblivion. But she was already out in the garden when the reporter was no where in sight, and neither was his dreaded notebook.
Oh, how Elsie despised writers who fabricate and romanticize the affairs of the heart. Who misinterpret and exaggerate small and insignificant gestures for greater and nobler acts of love. She reasoned that if a man sneezed in her direction, it meant that he confessed his undying love for her, and if he stepped on her toe, it meant that he wanted her hand in holy matrimony. And oh! If he dared to cradle her in his arms into Cottingley river who knows what that would implicate!
The newspapers would have a field day on Elsie's and Ciel's humiliating expense if they knew. A day that was not at all eventful or juicy as imagined. But that is a writer's job, to spin dull and unimaginable days into enticingly eventful and juicy ones. Which was magic of its very own.
Horseflies flew over their heads as they walked in the garden, arm in arm.
She could hear the voices of the winds whistling through the branches of trees, of the water rippling in the fountain, and especially of little Frances playing with Finnian. The treatments Dr. Sullivan's been giving to Frances seem to be working tremendously. Frances's coughing fits have decreased, she barely coughs up blood (only thrice a day instead of five!), and the color in her cheeks swelled like that of pink roses. Frances looks so happy weaving flower crowns with the blonde-haired gardener, she imagined Finnian looked like a fairy prince of a spring court that Elsie has read about in some books of magic. A book written by an 1800's English magician named Jonathan Strange, who has traveled back and forth between the fairy Kingdoms. She read about this magician in her school library. Not that there were many books about English magic, but there were a few to catch her fancy.
There was something about walking with Ciel that made her feel at ease, like she didn't want to let go and be thrust into the world beyond. In his arms, it felt right. The world stilled and stopped its drama, and it felt right. Her sorrows and woes didn't distract her, and it felt right holding his arm. But she didn't know how to explain it any more than that. On account on other times she'd much rather prefer to chuck him across the room, or over the fountain in his own garden. She reasoned that she could, on account that she can carry 4 full pales of milk at once, walking uphill. An earl doesn't acquire that ability sitting at his desk all day.
Ciel's voice broke through the cacophony of the wind and water, but his voice sounded just as natural as a robin's chirp in an elder tree. A voice that belonged in this garden. A voice that commanded its attention like a king ruling a benevolent kingdom.
"I'm sorry to hear about your brother." Ciel said, sincerely. "He must have been such a beautiful boy."
"My mother described him as the light of her world. I only wish I could remember seeing his light and his joy." Elsie looked around the garden, and all it's flowers. "You must never get bored of this garden. I could walk around here for hours on end."
"In the sun and even in the rain?"
"Even in the rain."
"Well, while you have fun in the mud, I'll be other there sitting by the fire in my study. Dry and drinking a cup of hot chocolate."
"Ciel, you haven't truly lived if you haven't taken a stroll in the rain. Without an umbrella."
"To catch a cold!"
"The more adventurous the better."
"How daring you are! And whilst I'm warming myself by the fire, I'll be thinking of you Elsie and how you chose rain clouds and mud puddles over hot chocolate." Ciel shook his head, playfully, as if anyone could pass over a cup of hot chocolate. "Would it be too bold of me to ask for an answer now?"
"An answer to what?"
"The question I asked you the night at the opera. Oh Elsie, it happened not long ago. Should I ask it to you again to jog your memory?" He smiled.
Elsie's cheeks blushed, deeper than any pink rose growing in the garden. "I remember your question perfectly well, Ciel. I am sorry to say that I do not have an answer for you."
"Not today."
"Or tomorrow."
"Perhaps the day after."
Elsie shook her head.
Ciel pouted. "What about a kiss on Christmas day, out of a pity."
"Ciel, I didn't know you were the type to grovel. But I don't think a kiss solely out of pity is worth that much."
"Says the angel who knows not how her prayers reach thousands of ears. A few enchanting words make one's soul feel anew. Imagine what a single kiss would do to a man. Imagine what a kiss from you could do to me."
"I shan't think of its consequences." Elsie nudged his shoulder. "You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, weren't you?"
"Hm," Ciel mused. "Some tell me it was gold."
Elsie's laugh was better than the sound of a twinkling bell. She was all he could focus on, a brilliant star that shined in his eyes, the only star in the sky he could gaze upon for hours and hours. He wanted to map it, charter it, draw it, memorize its coordinates in the sky, and wish upon it from his bedroom window every night. He wanted Elsie. He wished upon the star for her and only her. He wanted to be her star in return, but as far as he could tell, if his star was anything like his soul. It would be dark and dull and fade into the midnight sky unnoticed and unseen.
"I want to thank you," Elsie said, smiling lightly at Ciel. Rays of sunlight caught in her hair. His breath caught. "Thank you for Dr. Sullivan's treatments for my sister. She is improving every day, happier and healthier."
"It's the least I could do for a friend."
Elsie smiled. "yes, for a friend."
Ciel coughed. This was going to be hard for him to say. "Elsie." He coughed once again. Correction, this was going to be very difficult.
"Yes."
"I wanted to tell you…" a flower petal landed on his shoulder and before he could lift his hand to swipe it off. Elsie did before him. She wondered why she was able to act so freely. But she held the lavender petal in her hands and twirled it in between her fingers before blowing it away with a soft whisper of her lips.
Ciel's heart practically wanted to leap out from his chest. Cupid was utterly cruel to him. How that winged baby enjoyed making him fluster and stutter and not act like his regular self. "I wanted to apologize." He said these words before he recognized their meaning.
"For?"
"For the hard time I've been giving you over the Cottingley fairies. During the walk in Cottingley meadows with my unique guests, guests who I now regretfully brought with me at the time and everything else." Ciel spoke, languish. It was rare to hear the earl of Phantomhive apologize sincerely. It was equivalent to witnessing a miracle by a patron saint. Rare like a shooting star and largely unheard of presently.
"How long have you've known these unique friends of yours?"
"No longer than you have. I had Sebastian acquire them the morning of my departure to Cottingley."
"I'm impressed he found that many on such a short notice."
Ciel was disappointed in the amount Sebastian produced. In truth he wanted triple the number of fairy enthusiasts, yet fairy enthusiasts who publicly proclaim their love for such creatures were scarce to come by on such short notice. Ciel had to make due with what he had.
"Your word was authentic, and I didn't believe you. You can't fathom how surprised I was when I found out fairies truly existed."
Me too, Elsie thought, truthfully.
"I mistook you for qualities that do not belong to you. The papers did not lie. You truly brought magic back to England."
"Oh no, you give me too much credit."
"Not at all. Now that I have the honor of knowing who you truly are, the honor of knowing of all the kindness and goodness in your soul, of the light and beauty in your eyes, of the sweet decadent laughter in your voice, I know that is the magic you have brought with you to London. I see that now. You are magic, Elsie." He held her hands in his, gently.
The smile on Elsie's face faded. How could she revel in the kindness Ciel's words spoke, when Elsie knew she was all lies? Her sister now distrusted her, and she didn't have the heart to tell Ciel the photographs she took were really a lie as well. But she couldn't tell the truth because there are now real fairies flying throughout London, and that there is currently proof in Ciel's private study.
Suddenly, Elsie heard music. Wonderful sounding music! Upbeat and joyful music that made her instantly want to dance. Ciel heard the music too that piqued Elsie's curiosity. They walked further out of the garden and into the greater field of his estate in his domain, there were young boys and girls and ladies and gentlemen dancing in circles holding colorful ribbons, drinking ale and cider, and laughing along with the music of the band.
Because of the interview with the London Gazette, Ciel completely forgot about the May Day celebration in his domain. Farmers and craftsmen and all parted with their work for today and celebrated the pinnacle of spring.
A current of wind whooshed past the both of them, almost ushering them to take part in the merriment down below. The dancing was bright and merry and enticing.
Elsie grabbed Ciel's hand. "Let's go dance!"
Ciel's face lit up like a hot ember. He can't dance. He was the Queen's watchdog, earl of London's dark underground, but above all he was an awkward teenage boy that performed horribly in social circles and parties. He was excellent at looking gloomy in the corner of the room, but dancing in the center of it, well, he'd rather he thrown back into Cottingley river again. Which said a lot. "I-I can't."
"You weren't shy when you asked me for a kiss, but now you are shy when I ask you to a dance."
"These are two completely different things, I assure you. One involves making a fool of myself in front of you, and the other involves making a fool of myself in front of you and many other people."
"And whose opinion do you regard more highly?"
Ciel was at a loss of words, he was sure to say everyone's opinion, but maybe that wasn't the answer Elsie was looking for.
"The only opinion that should matter is your own."
"I knew that."
"Of course, you did."
"But I don't know how to dance." He looked at the villagers dancing happily to the music in the field. People were twirling and jumping and hopping and it all looked very complicated. It was like none of the dancing he has seen or learned in London's banquets and ballrooms. Nothing at all taught to him during etiquette lessons by Sebastian. He was at a loss of words, technically he was at a loss of steps. Nevertheless, he was at a loss at everything in Elsie's presence. His mind just seemed to melt into a giant puddle whenever he is around her.
"Then it would give me the greatest pleasure to teach you how to. If you would be so kind." She curtsied and extended her hand for him to take.
He did.
"Forewarning, but I may or may not step on your feet."
"Not a problem, Frances purposely steps on my feet when we dance together. She's become quite good at it too." Frances was also unapologetic about it. How Elsie adored her little sister.
"I admire her vigor."
"As do we all." Elsie placed Ciel's hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders. She told him to follow her lead and for the patron saints of May of spring he was able to do just that. They followed the rhythm of the music and of their own laughter. The heat of the sun blazed high above in the sky and soon they took refuge underneath the shade of a weeping willow tree. Ciel threw off his coat jacket unto the grass. The tendrils of soft branches swept past their skin and shoulders as they danced and danced. Soon, Ciel was becoming quite confident in his amateur dance abilities and decided to mimic one of the dance steps he's seen the villagers do.
He dipped Elsie.
More like he tried to dip Elsie. He didn't account for the amount of force he needed to apply and his necessity for upper arm strength in attempting this dangerously daring move. This move should be illegal for all the calamity it caused.
Ciel misplaced his steps and suddenly they were both rolling on the grass, laughing at their own clumsiness.
"I told you I don't know how to dance." Ciel laughed a hearty laugh in the green and yellow spring glass. Blades of grass tickled his nose and skin.
"It was better than most, honest."
"You're lying, I can see it in your smile."
"Better than some."
"I appreciate your honesty."
The wind shifted, and they stared into the other's eyes. Finally, it dawned on them the positions of their bodies and the distance between their lips.
They managed to control their wild breathes.
His looked down at her as his arms laid across her shoulder, tenderly stroking it. And hers caressed his cheek as she could feel the peach fuzz of skin and jaw and neck beneath her fingertips. She saw flesh of skin, of his chest, peek out from one of his buttons. A lock of his flew hung over his eye, she brushed it behind his ear and could feel his breath against her hand and how warm and cool it felt when he sighed.
Her heart rapped inside her chest, and so did his. A question dawned on Ciel's mind, but he wondered if he was too impatient to ask yet again.
Beneath the shade of the willow tree basked in the cacophony of the grasshoppers and wind and far out of reach for the May Day dwellers to see, Ciel's voice reached her and only her. His voice was only meant for her. "May I kiss you?" He asked, his voice tender and soft.
Elsie whispered a word that sent of shrill of pleasure through his spine. She said yes.
Ciel heard his and her breathing and nothing else of the world. They looked towards the other's lips. Pink and red and luscious and soft and knew that was all they wanted to taste against their own.
He lowered his head towards hers and she felt his bangs tickle her forehead and his nose touched her own and his breath mingled with hers.
It almost became unbearable without with his lips upon hers.
Then, the sweet release came. Tender and soft was the kiss. Tasting like fresh apples. Maybe even milk and honey. He held his lips against her, slightly ajar, parting and un-parting. Then he let go, and spoke in a ragged sort of breath, as if he was being pulled from a trance he did not want to awaken from.
"I fear that if a continue to kiss you, I won't be able to stop."
"Then don't stop." She whispered back into his lips and his mind couldn't find a reason to disagree. He ran his hand through her hair, to the back of her hand, down her back and she felt his grip on her waist and sighed when he pressed his lips against hers more boldly, more confidently, more passionately this time.
Elsie ran both of her hands on his back, feeling the curve of his muscles as she pulled him in, closing the distance between them. Until there wasn't one.
Ciel pulled back, barely, sucking in air, as if the pleasure of kissing has made his mind numb like dough that made him forget the simplest of acts such as breathing. Elsie heard his ragged breath intertwined with her own and felt her own mind melt, something she promised that she would never let herself do. Yet, we all break promises we meant to keep to ourselves, she thought as she stole a kiss from his lips that he let her steal, gladly. Sensations pulsed rapidly throughout their blood, as he sneaked his mouth towards the edge of her mouth then to her chin then to her neck. Which he found a lovely spot that made her moan quietly. He sunk his lips deeper into her skin. Wriggling. Pulsating.
Her neck tingled wherever he kissed, lightly then strongly then lightly again. Alternating between a pleasure that sent withering and aching desire for more of his touch.
It became a habit for them to forget to breath and come to a short stop as they gasped for air. Each waiting for the other to catch their breaths, listening and waiting for the moment to resume. For each moment they waited between these gaps were agony. This throbbing and tempting agony neither of them could live without. She pulled his face to hers and gave him her breath, from which he was revived once again. A hand trailed over his breast pocket of his shirt, and he wanted nothing more than to feel her hand against his flesh right there.
"Ceil," she spoke his name like it was candy and she sighed into his ear like it was poetry. The taste of her lips on his, on her skin on his, was nothing like the sweets he has ever eaten before. Neither would the sweets he has yet to taste compare to that of her. Her lips blossomed like a budding flower and he longed to lick the honey and nectar between the two as he opened his mouth a little and hers a little more, and tongues danced better than their feet ever could. Wet and rolling.
A sound escaped from his voice, one he has never heard of before, one he discovered he could make in the shade of a weeping willow true, one that Elsie pulled out of him. Their cheeks touched and pushed and caressed the other.
His hips rocked against her thigh and for a moment, Elsie became alarmed and pulled back.
"I'm so sorry." Ciel stammered out quickly, he could feel the heat of his skin fuming behind his clothes. And when he imagined it could have been the same with Elsie's as his eyes wandered down her chest and waist and adored her supple curves. He pulled back. "This isn't how a gentleman should behave."
He prompted himself against the bark of the willow tree, running a hand over his face. Embarrassed for what he has done. Ashamed for what his mind wanted him to do next. Though, he reasoned that it wasn't his head that dictated his actions. Not that he was reasoning or thinking at all while mindlessly kissing Elsie. A mindless act he didn't mind as so long it was with her. No one has ever made him so mindless before. Ciel didn't realize how much power Elsie subconsciously had over him.
But above all, he was guilt ridden.
"You've done nothing wrong," Elsie said. She could feel her cheeks fading and resuming their natural color.
"I have."
"Do not feel ashamed of a few kisses." Elsie wondered if she was the one being too bold here.
"No, they were beautiful gifts. The best I have ever received."
She turned her head away and smiled bashfully, blushing again. "Then what is wrong?"
Ciel breathed. "I am betrothed to another."
It was heartbreaking to see the smile crumbling on her face. How it instantly faded and withered in just under five words. How he tried to hold her hand in his, but she shied away. No, she despised his touch and the memory of her heart aching as it does now in her chest will always be remembered as she gazes upon sad, weeping willow trees.
Elsie will tell her theoretical future children to never trust a one-eyed earl or willow trees. They are both two-faced and nothing good could come from them.
Elsie spoke stoically, "so all this time you were courting me while you were engaged to your fiancé? Was this all a fun game to you?" Her voice rose. "I heard nobles enjoy the pursuit of the hunt rather than the catch at the end." Then her voice softened to that of a whisper, laced with sadness. "You are in love with another."
"No, Elsie, you are the my one and only. Believe me." Ciel countered. "I am not like those men. You are the first girl I have ever fallen in love with. I love you."
"Oh, now you say you are in love with me after you tell me you have a fiancé? Did you say that to your fiancé as well, wait, does she know of your true feelings? Or is that something all scalawags say to their mistresses." Maybe he said the same words to his fiancé under this very tree. Lies and deception were all around her. She thought his kisses were full of love, but they were really empty and hollow and cruel. It was becoming sickening. Was it customary to break a commoner's heart under a weeping willow too? Elsie couldn't imagine the heartbreak his fiancé must feeling, knowing her true love in the arms of another. The dirty betrayal. The disloyalty! It enraged Elsie knowing Ciel willingly courted her, but also that Elsie blindly accepted him.
By the end of the day there would be two very, very unhappy and ill-tempered young ladies in London. Also, by the end of the day the young gentleman to cause such unhappiness will most likely need another eyepatch. Your guess is a good as mine that he should make a dashing start and run for the hills. Yet, he did the unthinkable and justified his mistakes.
"My fiancé, Elizabeth, and I have known each other since we were children and the idea of marriage, a political alliance, was simply arranged by both of our parents when we were little. Neither of us had a say in the matter. If I was given the choice I wouldn't wish to marry my first cousin."
"But you do now." Elsie yowled. "You have a choice who to love now. You say marriage is a political alliance, but your heart is not dictated by contracts or alliances or rules. Love knows no bounds." Oh my god. He was engaged to his cousin!? Elsie heard that noble and rich families tend to marry within their own noble and rich families. She heard it was because they didn't want to give their money to outsiders and to protect their interests, so the strawberry noses and habsburg jaws were inconsequential in their eyes. Elsie even heard that Queen Victoria's children and grandchildren suffer from hemophilia, as a result of inbreeding.
Elsie pushed herself off the ground and counted her blessings that she wasn't born of noble blood.
"Elsie, please wait." Ciel spoke wildly for her to look back at him. She didn't. "I do not plan to marry her. I was going to call off the engagement before any more wedding preparations progressed."
"I beg your pardon Earl, but my eyes must have deceived me when I saw back in your study, who I now know, is a wedding planner. I have yet to receive an invitation to your own wedding. Will I be seated in the front or back of the chapel? I wouldn't have even known about your marriage if you didn't tell me just so. Were you planning to tell me that you are happily wed after the wedding reception or the honeymoon? Both seem ill times to reveal such news to a lowly, common girl. Don't you think?"
"I have been the one avoiding these preparations the most of all. How can I marry someone I do not love, when my true love is standing right here before me? You say my heart is free to choose who to love regardless of alliances that I am continuously fed up with. Then marry me Elsie Wright!"
Elsie stopped in her tracks and looked back. Well, she scowled back. And glared like a demon.
Dear Lord, whatever Ciel said he shouldn't have said it. Did marriage proposals upset ladies?
She tossed whatever she could find to throw at the insufferable young man. Handfuls of grass and weeds and finally this poche jacket coat. She flung it right in his face and stomped off, infuriatingly.
She didn't want him to see her with tears in her eyes.
For a long while, Ciel mindlessly sat underneath the shade of the weeping willow tree and contemplated all the reasons why he was an idiot. All his reasons could fill up Cottingley river, a river he was convinced he should drown in as soon as possible.
Misery does not complement a lady at all. Yet, when Elsie wore it, it seemed refined in her scowl and elegant in the way she trotted bitterly past the happy dancers of the ongoing may day celebration.
Ribbons of blue and pink and green and yellow blew through the breeze attached to may poles. She heard the band which comprised up of fiddlers and drummers, and there was even a bagpipe.
Elsie sat down on a tree stump and hunched over. Worry and doubt and anger weighed down upon her shoulders and it was becoming too much to bear. She was surrounded by happy villagers' dancing to happy songs surrounded by even more happy villagers dancing ever so happily. She regretted the fact that she let Ciel into her heart, and for that one moment, she enjoyed giving it to him.
Tears trickled down her cheeks as she continued to wipe them away. Were all men like this? Do they say these delightful thoughts and fancies to get what they want? Was that all Elsie was to Ciel, a passing fancy to distract his mind before he became a married man?
Tommy wasn't like that.
Finally, Elsie made up her mind.
How dare he! Elsie stood up straight like an arrow. She was done with men. Through with them for the rest of her life. She was going to grow up to be an old spinster and not give a care in the world for men or marriage. Who needs a man to be independent? Elsie could do that all by herself. And if that doesn't work, she will join the convent and devote the rest of her life to God. Sisters of the faith are treated very well in the monasteries and lived their lives without men, and that sounded perfect to Elsie's predicament at the present moment.
Just when Elsie was deciding upon her new convent name (she was debating between Sybil and Esmerelda), a hand appeared in front of her. Attached to the hand was a finely tailored suit then to that was the face of a man who wore an enchanting smile and emerald green eyes.
He spoke with a thick Gaelic accent. "Who was the fool who made a beautiful girl sit by herself and left her without a dancing partner?"
"He was more than a fool." Elsie muttered under her breath.
"Then his foolishness is my blessing. For he has given me the chance to ask you for a dance."
Elsie shook her head, sluggishly. "I am not in the mood for dancing. I danced my share enough for the day."
The man hummed, bashfully. "My dear, I saw the tears that fell from your eyes only a moment ago. And though those tears are diamonds on your cheeks they do not compare to your smile. Who gave you the displeasure of casting a shadow on your radiant beauty? Whoever makes a lady cry is no friend of mine."
Elsie smiled, barely. "You are very kind, sir. But I'd hate to bore you with tales of love that was never really there."
The man sat down on the grass beside her, and he looked about himself, to his right and left. "There is a scoundrel afoot isn't there." He wrinkled his nose. "May day brings out the worst in people. Never really liked it."
Elsie laughed, lightly.
"My name is Rowan. Care to tell this scoundrel yours?" Although, he already knew her name. But he must hear it through her lips. She must say it to him.
"Elsie."
"In my homeland of Scotland, the name Elsie means 'pledged to God.'"
Elsie snorted, unironically. "A few moments ago, I was contemplating to become a Sister in a convent."
Rowan laughed with her. "Convents are old and stuffy, and you are none of those things. Please tell me your mind has since swayed away from joining one."
Elsie hummed, sweetly. "For now."
And soon she found herself spilling her woeful tale of love that wasn't really there to Rowan.
"So, let me get this straight," Rowan said. "This bastard, do you mind that I call him that, no, thank you, was leading you on while he was already betrothed to another. And their marriage is soon approaching, and he thought it was a good time to tell you now." Rowan shook his head, Englishmen weren't good enough for Elsie, neither was any human in this realm for that matter.
"Ciel thought he could play with my heart, but he shan't get the best of me." Elsie thought of also finding his finance and telling her that Ciel has been two-timing her. Not out of spite, but to warn this fiancé for the future. If Ciel cheated on her now, what will prevent him from cheating on her again in the future? Will Ciel's soon-to-be wife be plagued with constant worry and sadness that her husband remains unfaithful to her? No one deserves such betrayal. His fiancé's name is Elizabeth and that is the only clue she has.
"No one deserves to have their heart broken." Rowan agreed. "It leaves a horrible ache in your chest, and the question if anyone would ever betray you again weighs on you whenever someone tries to get close. You keep your heart guarded, shrouded by thorns, to prevent yourself from ever getting hurt again."
Elsie nodded her head. "You know what it's like then?"
"I wish I didn't have the unfortunate pleasure of knowing this dreaded curse called heartache." Rowan felt the wind and the air touch his skin and felt stronger because of it. "What if I told you there is a way for you to never bear that curse again, would you believe me?"
"I think all of England would love to know."
"Elsie," Rowan stared into her eyes, an earthly brown that reminded him of Scotland's moors. Brown mixed with red and orange, the colors of fire, the colors of his home. "I know it was you who took those pictures of the Cottingley fairies, and I know that they were faked. Very convincing to mortal eyes, I do say, you have a such an artistic eye. I cherish the fact knowing you honor the Fae Folk more than any other human I have encountered in this realm."
Her blood froze. Sweat creased her forehead, anxiously. Was this man going to tell? Who would he tell her secret too? There are already real fairies flying all over London, so it wouldn't make a difference even if he did tell. And what did he mean by realm?
Elsie looked at the dancers and her eyes shot open. She saw a girl who jumped in the air with her partner waiting to catch her with his arms wide open. They waited and waited and they stayed still in the air and their expressions remained the same. All the dancers were like that. There wasn't a ribbon that flapped in the wind nor young girls running through the fields with wild grass brushing past their legs nor were the birds flying through the spring sky.
Elsie stood up frightened. The world had frozen all except her and Rowan.
He stood up with her and stepped closer.
"Do not be scared. I wish you no harm." Rowan said, tenderly. "I've come a long way from the Otherworld to find you."
Elsie ran.
She ran past the frozen dancers and frozen girls and frozen birds. She dashed into the silent woodland. She did not hear the running of a river nor the creak of forest trees nor chipmunks scampering in their dens. Fear overtook her.
Elsie fell backwards in the dirt as a shadowy figured stepped in front of her wearing that smug smile on his face. Rowan. She was out of breath and her hair was wild from running fast, how did he outrun her whilst breathing so calmly as if he didn't even move a muscle and break a sweat?
"My dear," Rowan adjusted his cufflink, nonchalantly. "If we are to have a conversation, it's best if you stay in one place. But if you insist upon running whilst we talk, I do not oppose if this is human etiquette, but human ways are very much foreign to me and hard to understand. England especially. Though, I used to have been human myself, but I forgot those savage ways centuries ago. So, forgive me if I am slow regarding our cultural differences."
Human ways? Centuries ago? Elsie steadied herself and grabbed the biggest stick she would find. It was a hefty branch with twigs and leaves still attached to it.
Rowan eyed her from head to toe to stick, curiously. Oh, how long he has been away from the human realm to completely forget their ways. He doesn't remember this rule of greeting the other with a big stick. Rowan awkwardly grabbed a twig off the ground and waved it faintly in the air as if it were a flag.
Elsie narrowed her gaze at him, weirdly.
"Well," Rowan twirled the twig around in his fingers than tossed it back to the ground. He saw Elsie stare at the frozen birds eating worms in midair and squirrels stuck in place scaling up trees with acorns in their mouths. Frozen time bewildered her, and Rowan deemed that it was best to have a sane conversation with her without this distraction. So, he snapped his fingers and the world resumed as it once was.
Elsie jumped unexpectantly when time resumed, though Rowan thought the pausing and playing of time was indifferent. He assumed it was just a human thing to be startled by it.
Elsie didn't let go of her stick, she held onto it tightly. Rowan wondered if having a lady glare angrily at you and wanting to beat you with a stick was also customary. "What are you? What do you want?"
Rowan smiled and bowed his head. "I am Prince Rowan, son of King Gwyn ap Nudd and Queen Olwen, King and Queen of the Fae Folk (they were king and queen of the fae, now they are dead, but Elsie didn't need to know that detail) I am heir to the royal thrown in the Otherworld in the realm of the Fae. I have embarked on a quest to the human realm in search of a bride to take the crown with me. And my quest was successful, for I have found you, Elsie."
Rowan stepped forward and Elsie swung her stick. He frowned. First running away from a royal prince and now swinging decayed branches at him. Human etiquette was becoming quite irksome. With a flick of his wrist, sparks flew out of Elsie arms and the giant branch she was holding was now nothing more than a flimsy piece of barley. It bent in her hand.
Worry struck Elsie's face immediately. Was the universe laughing at her this very moment? "I just told you I wanted to enter a convent! I do not wish to marry any man, not now, not ever, thank you!"
Rowan rolled his wrists at her silly little worry. "In fear of getting your heart broken?" He shooed away the thought. "If you become mine then I will love and adore and cherish you till the end of our days, which will last centuries might I add. No other mortal or Fae will take up my thoughts. If you become mine, then you will not need to worry about growing old and grey. You will stay young forever, you will never again feel pain or heartache, and you will be a queen loved by all her kingdom. Our kingdom. You will have a husband who will love you unconditionally and give you all that you desire, my precious Elsie." Sparks the color of the moon's rays glowed from his hands. "Care to see a glimpse of what your life could be."
Elsie was no longer in the woodlands of Phantomhive manor. She was standing on a balcony, the colors of platinum and pearl and white, overlooking a see of beautiful faces cheering and applauding and chanting her name as if it were a song. She looked down at her hands and her body and she was dressed in the finest of gowns and jewels, fashioned the colors of the midnight sky. She carried the stars of the sky, and her people wished upon her. Rowan stood next to her, with a crown made of silver branches on his head and the same one sat upon hers. She was in a different world she knew nothing of. This was the Otherworld, land of the Fae Folk.
His voice wobbled in this illusion, enchanting her mind. "I will give you a life you never even imagined to be possible. See how our subjects love you here are at court. What fun you and I shall have together. Fae court will welcome you with open arms. There is magic in your soul, magic that is wasted and unrecognized in the human realm. You belong here with me. Where you were always meant to be."
Elsie stared back into the crowd and only saw faces of strangers crowded among more strangers. She did not see her friends nor her family nor Frances. Home was where she sister was, not among some petty Fae Folk.
Elsie broke free from his illusion and gasped for air. Rowan looked down at his hands and wondered how she was able to do that. "I care not to be a Queen of your home. My life is here in Cottingley, in England. No one, no man, nor you can make me choose otherwise."
"I see." Rowan adjusted his cufflinks, slightly annoyed. He needs her to say yes to him. He's running out of time. He must become king! "You do not care for kingdoms or for gowns. You enjoy the humbler things in life. I see. That is very admirable. But whatever it is you want, I shall give it to you. A little birdie told me that your sister is ill. A sickness I hear that is uncurable in this age. I can heal her sickness, make her healthy and strong, and cast a spell that would enable her to be free of diseases and sicknesses for all her days. Would you like that Elsie?"
Another illusion appeared in front of Elsie. But this time, it was an image of the future. Pictures came into her vision. Cold. Sad. Melancholy. Elsie wore a black dress and a black hood surrounded by more people wearing the color black. Elsie lay hunched over a grave belonging to a little girl, crying miserably.
"Frances will die young. Poor child." Rowan whispered. "That is the future I foresee."
"No!" Elsie reached out into the illusion, but it faded just as she touched it.
Suddenly, more pictures flooded her mind, except these were different. She saw Frances growing up healthy and strong just like Rowan said. Going to school, playing with friends, marrying, being a wife and mother and grandmother. Being a sister. He showed her a happy life for Frances. A full and plentiful and happy life for her little sister.
Tears swelled in Elsie's eyes, "Will this all come true? Will Frances be this happy and well?"
Rowan whispered into her ear. "Of course, she will, but only if you say yes to me. And the other future will come true if you refuse. But the choice is all yours my dear." Rowan got down on one knee and the vine in his hand twirled and curled into that of a ring, with a budding amethyst flower in the middle. It crystalized and shimmered underneath the warm and kind sun. "Leave this world behind and join me anew. Spring, summer, winter, and fall will forever adorn you. Be my Queen, and I your King. I am the moon and you are my sun. You give me light. You give me passion, for you are magic."
The choice was hers to make, he said to her, while France's life hanged in the balance of her choice. Her decision will change France's fate, to live or to die.
Ciel folded and unfolded his jacket in a mindless state while under the weeping willow tree.
The first thing to do was cancel the wedding preparations or stall them inevitably like he has done so many times in the past. But before making any cancellations he has to talk with Elizabeth, surely, she will understand. He wants her to have the opportunity of finding love, true love, that he has. The last thing he wanted to do was make Elizabeth unhappy, especially binding her to a loveless marriage. Elizabeth deserves better. She deserves someone who will adore her and look at her the way she looks at her favorite dresses. The way Ciel looks at macaroons… or the way he looks at Elsie, dotingly.
Ciel blew away a piece of fallen hair that tickled his nose. He closed his eye and for a moment all the expectations and rules and judgmental looks in his life faded away, and he was left with a quiet moment underneath the shade of the willow tree. He heard the tendrils of leaves and twigs shift in the wind, chimes of their own nature, and let his body succumb to the pleasures of relaxation. Something his body desperately craved for years. All he wanted to do was relax here.
A galloping sound broke through the cacophony of nature. Awaken from his rest, he saw a horse coming his way, with a rider on top of it. The rider's hair was the color of corn silk and Ciel imagined that the young man looked like an autumn prince of some fairy land.
The horse stopped, the rider descended, he walked straight to Ciel in a beeline.
What alarmed Ciel was not the stoic gaze of the boy's eyes nor his stature that spoke of defiance nor was it the gun at his side. Ciel has seen plenty of those and many in his direction. No, it was the fact that this boy dare tread on his domain thinking he could readily kill the Queen's Watchdog. Ciel not only regulated London's underground, he was London's underground. And a bullet, no matter how many, was not going to put an end to that.
Ciel recognized the boy as Tommy Hopkins, a dear friend of Elsie, and thought it was better not to ask him to convince Elsie to marry him. Ciel was not inept, he could read social cues, and now was not the time or place to ask for proposal advice.
Tommy placed his hand over his pistol, pulling it out.
Now was really not the time. Ciel wondered if one can love and still be cruel. He was stuck in a tight conundrum.
A gun was aimed.
The target was set.
A bullet reigned.
The throttling sound was followed by silence in the spring woods. Absolute silence.
Replies to reviewers:
Tanaka-Chan: Hi! Thank you for the review :)
P3: I'm happy you stumbled upon my story and found it entertaining! Thank you for all the kind words you said, it made me very happy! :)
BBFan: Hi again XD Yay! I'm happy you enjoyed the chapter! Rowan is definitely a conniving fellow and I hope this chapter shed some light on his motives for obtaining power/becoming king according to fae law. I'm happy you enjoyed learning more about the fae folk and Elsie's inner turmoil and wanting to protect her sister! Sisterly love is really important to me and I hope I can convey that in this fic. Thank you for supporting the story XD
A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading chapter 9! I hope you guys liked it XD... and that little make out scene too (hohoho~)
We learned more about the Fae in this chapter and Rowan's reason for pursuing Elsie (but why he came to the human world specifically, we will learn why later on ;D ) For a moment Elsie and Ciel's relationship progressed, but then regressed right after lol What do you think Elsie will choose, say yes to Rowan for him to save her sister, say no, or do you think rowan is even telling the truth at all? And did Tommy kill Ciel?! What did you think of the chapter, or what did you like the most? I'd love to read your thoughts in the reviews XD
Thank you so much for the favs, follows, and reviews! ;A; *cries tears of joy*
See you guys next time! Bye!