Italics indicate flashback scenes

Replies to Reviewers:

Iamskittles: Thank you so much for your review! It was so kind and I'm so happy you thought the last scene was beautiful. It was emotional to write ;a; I hope you enjoy this chapter ^.^

BBFan: HELLO AGAIN! OMG thank you so much for your review, it was a blast to read XDDD I'm glad you liked the flashback scenes and nods to history. I'M THRILLED YOU LIKED THE FIGHT SCENE between Ciel and Lizzy (ngl I had a blast writing it and i like to make the characters suffer a bit so it's totally okay haha :3 ) I think Sebastian figures that all humans look similar so he just through something together and Ciel was not putting up with any of his nonsense LOL Rosula is indeed a terrifying disease and the whole truth has yet to be revealed! *EVIL LAUGH* AWWW Thank you so much! I'm so happy you're enjoying the story ;a;

p.s those appetizers are bleh indeed! no doubt she left the dinner hungry LOL

p.p.s hahahah yes :D the old shrew is Elizabeth's paternal grandmother and she makes her debut in this chapter :3

p.p.p.s hahaha same XD I loved it! I also really liked 'This is Me," that song is just so beautiful. Oh and "The Other Side."

Chapter 13: To Strike a Bargain

"Love is a magnificent thing, but, incidentally, it can also give birth to a dreadful tragedy…"

-Vincent Phantomhive

Many suns and moons passed in the Otherworld. Just as the plague faded and waned, so did tragedies left in its wake. Fae died and Fae were born. The kingdom shrunk and then it grew. The pain, the strife, the horrors of the dead…Fae desperately wished for this dark age to be forgotten. And it shall! For two young princes grew up into fine Fae. Arawn has come of age and his duty to his kingdom was soon to be fulfilled. Coronation day was steadily approaching. Arawn, blessed by the magic of the sun, would soon bring his kingdom out of the dark age and into the light.

He would be crowned king.

That day may have approached sooner, if Arawn's mind stopped wandering out the window. His starlight hair gleamed like fallen snow and his eyes burned bright as the sky. Contemplating in thought. He stared past the open glass panes and into the Sea of Crusoe. The sea was shimmering miraculously. An emerald green. It was a perfect day to go swimming. He sighed.

Rowan snapped his fingers.

Arawn stifled on his throne. "Hm?"

"You're losing focus." Rowan said, bluntly.

"I beg to differ. You have my undivided attention, brother. Please, continue." Arawn sat up straighter, trying to hide the fact that he was day-dreaming about being somewhere else other than in the court room. He eyed the members of his council, a group of haggard old males who desperately hooked their claws in this court to keep their high positions. These councilmen also belonged to Arawn's late father, and for that reason he despised them.

Rowan stood with his hands behind his back, tall and slender. His blonde hair, the color of corn-silk, was parted back and his eyes shined just like the sea Arawn wished to dive into. His aura was noble, and his gaze was cutting, and anyone who crossed paths with him and knew his power dared not to underestimate him, even if he was a Fae with impure blood. Arawn supposed that was why his little brother developed a chip on his shoulder, one can only take so much belittlement and mockery for things outside of their control, before guarding themselves with a wall. A very thick wall. Rowan belonged to the Fae, but his heart belonged to the mortal beings. His heart and body were divided between the two, never fully belonging to either kind.

Another round of portraits, gilded with gold, floated towards the throne before Arawn in a perfect line. Portraits of young suitors (of noble birth of course), both male and female, awaited the fate to be chosen as Arawn's partner when he ascends the throne.

Arawn smiled through thin lips and gave off the impression that he pretended to be more interested than he truly was. This wasn't how he envisioned finding the love of his life. And he most certainly didn't trust his councilmen to play matchmaker for him. These men were haggard and old and bitter and clueless about love even if it hit them right on their heads. Arawn rested his chin on his hand and feigned interest as a portrait of a male suitor floated in front of him.

Rowan read the name aloud of the young male in the painting. The young fae had blonde hair, tendrils of it curled into supple locks. His eyes were a deep purple, radiant like amethyst stones. It all complemented his teardrop face and his rosy cheeks. "Cowan Elderwood hails from the winter court. I believe you two have already been acquainted at the Winter Solstice Ball this past year."

"We have." The crown of frost and snow around Cowan's head accentuated his beauty as a Fae belonging to winter, but Arawn didn't look the slightest bit interested.

Rowan glanced down at his notes. "He invited you along an archery trip with him in his family's woods to shoot game. How was that?"

"Cold." Arawn said, coldly.

"Yes…Winter court is… cold." Rowan rummaged through his notes and gulped. Hoping there was some other interesting detail to say about Cowan. There wasn't. He dared to ask, "how was his archery? I believe you praised it. You said it was better than most."

"I said it could be better."

Rowan's eyes scanned the parchment and then his eyes bounced off the last line. Defeated. There weren't any more interesting details about Cowan and it almost seemed as if the winter Fae had as much personality as a plant. Which was sad that a plant couldn't be compared to a more interesting Fae, Rowan thought.

The councilmen began to voice their opinions, but mostly concerns, 'Cowan Elderwood descends from one of the oldest noble families in all the realm, surely his lack of archery skills can be overlooked,' 'he would be a very good match if you so desire,' 'you fool, not you your highness, the Elderwood family has been concocting to join the royal family for centuries. Cowan's mother was one of your father's suitors and surely his rejection of her as her sent her on a plight for vengeance,' 'I agree, all the winter court Fae have cold shoulders. Literally and figuratively,' and 'he's too short to be prince consort.'

Rowan's quill flew out of his hand and floated above the male who made that last comment. A visible foot above the Fae's head. "Oh come now. Height shouldn't make a difference. Everyone knows you have to be this tall to enter court and we still let you in."

The shortest Fae, the height of a gnome, was simmering with rage. He was tall enough to kick Rowan in the shin, but feisty enough to slap Rowan in the face. However, slapping the younger brother of the prince was forbidden in court. The councilman was hoping that unspoken rule will be lifted when Arawn becomes king. The only thing the councilman could do was giving Rowan the stink eye. Rowan would have taken the threat more seriously, if the Fae didn't need to step upon a stool, or two, to meet Rowan's gaze.

Arawn turned his head down, suppressing his laughter. "Next candidate."

Cowan's portrait floated away and Arawn wrinkled his nose as the second portrait floated up to him. It was a portrait of Gwendolyn Faire, hailing from the summer court. Rowan spoke, "Gwendylnn performed a ballad during the Feast of Givings here in the castle. It put many listeners into a state of pure bliss."

"And sleep." Arawn yawned, looking more disinterested than before.

Rowan coughed, "Well…sleep is blissful."

Before Arawn could voice his opinion on the matter, his councilmen (unfortunately) spoke first. 'She's too young for the position as Queen,' 'the politics of court will only wither her,' 'but her family is one of the most respectable in all of the summer court. All the land they have! We wouldn't have to bargain for grain ever again,' and 'her nose is crooked.'

"Gentlemen," Arawn shouted from across the throne room. They ceased talking immediately. He smiled, hiding the irritation in his voice. "I was under the impression that I would be the one deciding who I am to betroth, if am to betroth at all."

The council looked like they were going to have a panic attack. One brave male stepped forward from the group, his palms open. "Sire, we meant no disrespect. But we have advised your father, bless the stars, in his betrothal which turned into a successful one. We only wish to aid you in this momentous decision that will be the first to define your reign. The advice we offer is not only for your benefit, but for the kingdom's as well."

Rowan mumbled under his breath, mockingly. "Stars forbid we chose a future queen with a crooked nose. I can't fathom how that would shake the kingdom."

This councilman looked taken back at Rowan. The fact that the impure prince talked back to him was enough to rile his blood. "I beg your pardon."

Rowan barely turned to the male, "It is superficial to judge a Fae's character based off how they look, even more so for interpreting it to how they will perform as queen. If they are chosen."

"I'll have you know that facial features can speak volumes about one's character. Even how other's perceive her as queen." If Rowan had read this councilmen's book, 'facialology: the ugly truth behind a troll's face,' then he would understand the argument at hand. Sadly, no one in court read that book, and it was insensitive to trolls and Fae who had the misfortune of looking like trolls. "Her nose harbors a bad omen. In chapter 24 of my book—"

"So is yours, yet you're still in court." Rowan rolled his eyes.

Arawn snorted. Quickly covering up his error with a cough.

The councilman lifted his hand over his nose, defensively. His cheeks flaring up just like his anger for the impudent prince. Trolls point out the misfortunes of others, but sometimes the worst troll is the one that can't even recognize its own haggard self in the mirror. Rowan was never his favorite because of that smart mouth of his.

Arawn stood up and suddenly the portraits began to float down the line in which they came and stacked on top of each other. Arawn was through with looking at potential candidates today. He looked down at his council and clapped his hands together once. "That will be enough for today. Thank you for your suggestions. I will certainly…think about them. Yes."

The councilmen bowed practically until their pointed hats touched the ground. Rowan always wanted to tell them they looked ridiculous wearing such old fashioned garbs, but he thought that somehow, they already knew that. The cloaks of the councilman flickered against the marble floor and the door closed behind them. One councilman whispered that there was nothing wrong with his nose. The other councilman told him to shut up. And so they left behind the two princes. The two brothers.

Arawn laughed, leaning towards the open window letting the breeze waft through his hair, "why is it your goal to make enemies with all my advisors." Not a question. A fact.

Rowan leaned against the wall; arms folded. "They wouldn't like me any better if I stayed silent, so me voicing my opinion wouldn't make that much of a difference. Some of the things they say though…it's archaic."

Arawn chuckled, lightly. "And I am thankful for you. You're the only one I truly trust. I am surrounded by Fae whose judgement I constantly question even if their hearts are in the right place."

Rowan feigned shock. "Members of court have hearts?"

Arawn nudged his brother's elbow. "My first act as King will be revamping the court. As I still under a regent, I have no authority to make change."

"They'll be groveling on their knees to stay in your council."

"Let them grovel. It won't keep them in court." Arawn stared out into the sea. Rowan saw the longing, the desire in Arawn's eyes to escape the castle. He wondered why. "You won't survive in court if you don't make a few friends, brother. It is against your nature, but I urge you to try complimenting some of the Fae I will be ruling beside for years to come."

"Oh, let's see, I'll try as you say. Hm," Rowan swiveled around and pretended the stone bust in front of him was the Fae with the less than desirable nose. He patted the bust, but soon retreated his hand, that was too forward of him. Arawn laughed. "I truly admired the way you backstabbed your fellow councilman to attain your station in court. I barely even noticed the blood on your hands—"

"I don't appreciate you mocking your future king."

"Arawn, one can't truly make friends in court."

"No? Kings collect friends. Queens collect friends. Money can buy friendship when needed."

Rowan raised an eyebrow, perplexed. "Are you really telling I am in need to purchase allies? Brother, you are not sounding like yourself. Have you been swiping apple tarts from the kitchen again? You know they have gin in them?"

"Rowan."

"And you cannot hold your gin."

Arawn ripped his gaze from the sea. "Brother, I am serious. What if there comes a time when I am not here? Who will have your back when I cannot?"

There was a pause. A long breath apart. Rowan finally broke it. "Why wouldn't you be here?"

Arawn sighed and spoke softly. "Hypothetically. What if there comes a time when you are on your own? Give me the comfort that you will have friends to protect you if I am unable to, for whatever reason."

"I don't see why I need to surround myself with fake friends. Surely, they would be the first to abandon me in times of trouble. You are my only friend, brother. My true friend. And one friend is of far more value than a hundred fake ones."

A pair of hooves trotted along the marble floor. A pair of little, mischievous hooves. Theriot came in, bearing a letter for Arawn in his hands. Arawn broke the wax seal and read the contents of the letter. He looked displeased.

"What is it?" Rowan asked.

Arawn rubbed his temples, "it seems as if the council has made a unanimous decision to invite Gwendolyn to the castle so that we may become better acquainted," Arawn coughed. But this time it was hoarse and rough in his throat. Finally, it subsided. Arawn smiled. "No matter, just promise me you will at least tolerate my council, and even if you have none, Theriot will always be your friend, isn't that right?" Arawn looked to the little Faun and saw him nibbling on a honey cake. Theriot seemed more preoccupied with the dessert and answered a heartbeat later.

"YES! I'll always be yours and Rowan's friend!"

Both of the brothers laughed. Theriot didn't get it, but he had his cake, which was delicious.

"I will agree as long as you take your suitors seriously, Arawn. This is the third set of suitors you went through and no one has caught your eye yet. You need a partner to ascend the throne with. I wish I could say there is more time for you to choose, but I do not want to tell you a lie."

Arawn gulped. Rowan has figured him out. "Yes…you're right. I'm reluctant to say that my mind has been dwelling on other matters than that of court. My life is only second to my kingdom and I've forgotten that recently. I promise, when Gwendolyn arrives to the castle, I will focus solely on her, and other suitors if I find that we are not meant for one another. But I head your warning, brother. I will make a decision, one not only fit for me, but for the kingdom."

Rowan smiled, relieved. "I'm happy to hear it."

"Although," Arawn crossed his arms, "I can't marry anyone if I don't get your approval."

"My approval is of no importance."

"But it is! My future spouse must love you as I do. How could I love someone who declares themselves your enemy? Family dinners would certainly be awkward."

"Alright," Rowan chuckled. "I'll probably like—"

"Only probably? Hm, that's a bigger probability than I initially thought."

"Whoever you love, I will approve of."

Arawn bit the inner corner of his cheek. Hesitation creeped up to him. He narrowed his eyes and quirked up an eyebrow. "You will approve of anyone?"

"Anyone you love."

Arawn narrowed his eyes. "…And it could be anyone in this entire kingdom? It doesn't matter who they are. Just that I love them, and they love me in return?"

Rowan narrowed his eyes in return, suspiciously. "Yes. That is indeed what I implied."

"Anyone."

"Yes. Anyone."

Arawn couldn't contain his happiness. He smiled, radiantly. Giddy as a young faun with a honey cake in hand. "Anyone, it is."

"Is there something you're not telling me, brother? Is there anyone you have in mind?"

"Oh nothing." Arawn summoned his wings and lept through the open window. Flying towards the sky. The gust of wind rattled and shook the stack of portraits from the prince's sudden departure.

Rowan shouted as he leaned out the window, steadying himself, "Where do you think you're going?"

Arawn spun around midair. The wind swept through his white cotton shirt, fluttering. "I'm going swimming."

Rowan held out his hands, exasperated, "Why? It is too cold to go swimming."

"The cold doesn't bother me."

Rowan was flabbergasted. "You hate the cold! You even said so a moment ago when you rejected that winter fae!"

Arawn waved his finger back and forth, flapping his wings. "I only said that the court was cold, but that doesn't mean I disliked it. Besides, Cowan knew plenty of ways to keep me warm whilst on the hunting trip."

Rowan blushed from ear to ear while his eyes widened. "Keep those dirty thoughts to yourself!"

Arawn's pointed ears perked up. He smirked, innocently. "What dirty thoughts? I only said Cowan kept me warm. Brother, you must keep your head out of the gutters, they're terrible filthy." He erupted into a fit of laughter while steam hissed out of Rowan's ears.

Theriot looked at them, lost and confused. The castle doesn't have gutters, as Theriot was aware. And if they did (they do) surely Rowan's head was too big to fit into them. Or maybe Rowan was just dumb. Theriot had other important matters to cater to, like his honey cake that was melting faster in his hands if he didn't finish eating it sooner.

Rowan dropped down to his knees and squatted below the windowsill, but Arawn could still see his brother in his embarrassed state. How Arawn enjoyed poking fun at his brother. His brother made it too easy. Soon, Arawn flew off towards the glistening green sea, where his heart was as endless as the abysses within it. He became lighter—freer—when he flew closer towards it.

Rowan was still squatting on the ground when Theriot patted him on the head. "It's okay, I don't understand it either." Theriot handed Rowan (the smaller) half of his honey cake to make Rowan feel better. Sharing is caring after all. Rowan, eventually, took the smaller half of the creamy honey cake while Theriot sat beside him. Honey dribbled down the little faun's mouth and chin and Rowan just sat there doing what he does best. Sulking.

Theriot eyed Rowan's honey cake when he finished gobbling his own. His eyes sparkled iridescently.

Rowan sighed as he handed back the honey cake after taking one bite of it, "you can have it."

Rowan thought to himself as Theriot devoured what was left of the honey cake and noticed how sad he was when it was all gone. Arawn was acting very suspicious and it bothered Rowan that he was left in the dark about it. As Theriot was busy licking his honey covered fingers, an idea popped into Rowan's mind. Theriot is Arawn's personal runner. Fauns are swift and fast, by blessing of the sprite of the wind, Obelia. Theriot is naturally close to Arawn, relaying messages to him from near and far.

Rowan narrowed his eyes at Theriot, to which Theriot shuddered.

Arawn said Rowan had to make friends in court. And a friend he shall make, starting with the faun.

The halls of Phantomhive manor were bustling with activity. Maids and butlers were busy at work setting up tables and chairs, sweeping the floors, polishing the stairs and banisters and silver until it was all spotless. The manor had to be spotless. There shouldn't be any specks of dust. The cushions and curtains must be ridden of seams and tears. Even the carpets had to be flattened out to rid of footprints. Sebastian wanted to make the manor look as if no living being lived in the manor. It had to be spotless. Why? Because the manor will host a party, a grand party, with the single most important guest that will ever set foot within this manor. Her Majesty. Queen Victoria.

Sebastian walked down the staircase and swiped his gloved finger on the railing. Not a speck of dust was left on his white glove. Excellent. This is the home of the Phantomhive Family, home to a fine and respectable nobleman that serves the crown. They can't have the Queen step into a dirty hovel.

"Excellent work, Mey-rin. I want every corner of the manor spotless. So spotless one can see their reflection. Understood."

"Yes, sir!" Mey-rin scrubbed the staircase as if her life depended on it.

Ciel was overlooking the progress in the main dining hall and ballroom. He could have let Sebastian overlook the entire process, but Ciel wanted to see to things done himself. Sebastian was more than capable of adding extravagant flair to the party, but he obeyed his master when told to stay on the side lines. Along with the servants, Ciel opened the curtains and shed light into the vast ballroom. Shining off his cerulean hair. He squinted his eyes as the light poured in, bouncing off the freshly polished floors. Ciel gazed upon the room, watching as tables and chairs and were being set up. The dais was in the front of the ballroom as well. That is where the Queen will sit, and where the fairy will be given to her. The ballroom…it's been years since a party was held here. It's been so long since people danced and laughed and smiled in here. This room has been locked up in the dark for so long that Ciel forgot how empty it felt when he stepped back into it. It was so big. Too big even. That Ciel shrunk in comparison at the thought of it. The last time he was in here it was when he wasn't the only Phantomhive in the manor, but that was a long time ago. He wondered when there will come a time, if there will come a time, when there will be another Phantomhive to stand beside him. He wondered when the Phantomhive Family, would become a family again.

Someone was shouting.

Ciel made his way towards the main hall in haste. He rounded the corner and found an old woman, dressed all in black, ordering the staff to place the flowerpots there and decorations here. She was practically ordering them around like a drill sergeant and the servants didn't hesitate to follow her commands.

Cordelia Midford. She was a noble woman; but she was a Midford and that made her all the more frightening. Cordelia Midford is the mother of Marquess Alexis Leon Midford and the grandmother of Elizabeth Midford. Her black gown touched the ground and the only accessory to complement the gown was a pearl necklace. Her grey hair was tightly bound in a bun, pulled back so far not even a single strand stuck out. Cordelia believed, just like Queen Victoria, that frizzy hair was not to be tolerated. But there were even worse things than frizzy hair that she did not tolerate, and that was her grandson who inherited his intolerable nature, and to be very clear, he inherited it from Rachel's side of the family.

Ciel knew better than to run away (Cordelia was fast and would most likely catch him before he could even make it to his office.) He simply approached his grandmother with a smile and welcomed her to his manor, even though she came unannounced. There were two things Ciel did not tolerate and those were surprises and Cordelia. And Cordelia was a woman full of surprises.

Ciel and Sebastian's eyes met. And they understood each other immediately. It was Sebastian's job, as politely as possible, to get rid of his grandmother. Respectably.

Sebastian bowed to Cordelia Midford, smiling, "Welcome, my Lady. Pardon the mess, but preparations are underway for her Majesty the Queen. Perhaps you would like to visit another time when things are less chaotic—"

Cordelia tossed her coat at Sebastian. It landed on his head in midbow. "I would like my tea in my grandson's office. No cream. No sugar. And it must be slightly above room temperature." Then she turned to Ciel. "Ciel, my dear." Kissing him on both of his cheeks. Then she pinched his chin, practically squishing together his lips. "Are your servants feeding you enough food? You're as thin as I twig, I could snap you in two."

Ciel knew she could do that, but he simply faked a laugh (and not so forcibly removed her hand from his chin. She has an incredibly strong grip.) "I am well. Thank you, grandmother." He kissed her hand, which she expected of him to do. "How are you? I see you are in mourning attire. I wasn't aware of this dear friend's passing?"

"My dear child. One doesn't need a special occasion to wear black."

Sebastian hung up her coat in the closest. "The madam is right."

Cordelia ignored the help. "Now." She intertwined her arm with Ciel's, ready to be led to his office to conduct important business. They walked. "When do I have the honor of having tea with my darling boy. Oh, it is wrong of me to call you a boy, but in my eyes, you will always be my darling. Now, let me tell you. I was having tea with the Badmintons one afternoon. Mr. Badminton, what a foolish man, he is smitten with recreational sports, football and the like. But he insists on playing in doors, I pray for Mrs. Badminton for putting up with such an energic man every day. While I was there, four vases were smashed and seven teacups. Absolutely horrid. I shudder at the mere memory of it. Rightfully I told Mr. Badminton right there that sports of those varieties are too dangerous to be played in the home, something far and not suitable for a gentleman of his status." Ciel could feel himself falling asleep. He fought a yawn as she continued. "Naturally, Poona was the only solution. It's a game with a racket and a thing they call a bird, it most certainly has bird feathers on it. Perfectly safe indoors. But they said the name of it was far too smelly sounding and of course I offered Midford but they chose badminton instead. Who would ever in their right mind want to play a game called badminton—"

"Madam," Ciel spoke. "That sounds like an astounding game. I shall have to play it some time, but I believe this information was not the sole purpose of your visit."

Cordelia smiled. "I prefer to tell my story to completion whilst uninterrupted, dear. While I was visiting the Badmintons, I received the most unfortunate news ever to come to my attention that you and my darling Elizabeth have stalled your engagement. Pray tell, why I should have received this news at all."

Stalled wasn't the right word Ciel would have chosen. Ended, called off, and irreversible were all perfect words. "Madam, I believe there is a misunderstanding—"

"Indeed, there has been." She said, her voice soft yet stern. "That is why I've come here to make things right and unite the two of you once more."

"There is no need for that. Elizabeth and I ended the engagement on equal terms. It was what we both wished."

Cordelia narrowed her eyes. She didn't believe that.

They walked down the corridor and into Ciel's office. Sebastian was already serving Earl Grey tea to which Cordial inspected with a sharp hawk's eye. She took a sip and determined that the tea was palpable. Though it could have been a little cooler. Sebastian took note of her advice, no matter how nit picky she was being.

Cordelia's teacup clicked against the saucer. "This has to do with this charlatan girl I've had the misfortune of reading about it the papers."

Ciel raised an eyebrow whilst sipping his tea. "I know of no such girls."

Cordelia scoffed. "The one who talks about the fairies." She said the last word as if she was spitting out a fly.

Ciel smiled to himself.

"You do know her then," Cordelia grumbled. "Ciel, do not make a grave mistake. For your judgement is fogged—"

"My judgement is crystal clear."

Cordelia spoke in a hushed tone. She didn't want the servants to hear, especially that butler. "It is obvious that she is a charlatan and this whole fairy business—a hoax in my opinion—if nothing but a scam. Many people claim the validity of the supernatural whilst preying on the weakness of others. You, my darling, are not weak, but she is preying on men's natural weaknesses. She is fooling you for her own gain."

Ciel wondered what weaknesses of his that Elias was preying on, if any, but all he could think about was when she pushed him into the river at Cottingley. He was sour then, but that was the most fun he had in ages. "I can assure you that Miss Wright, that is her name, is not the charlatan you claim she is. On the contrary, she is by far one of the most endearing young women I ever had the pleasure of meeting in my life."

Cordelia looked appalled. Ciel was glad. "Ciel. My dear. Be honest with me. You don't actaully believe in the supernatural?" She asked, in a hushed tone as Sebastian brought in a tray of scones with raspberry jam and butter. Ciel motioned for Cordelia to take one as he did.

Ciel looked at Sebastian then back to Cordelia. He leaned back. "Do you really suspect me of believing in all that hogwash?" Ciel thought that if he showed her the 'fairy' she will only believe it's another gimmick. Like water turning into steam on a hotplate, or an illusion created by electricity.

Sebastian smirked.

"The Lord is my one true God." If the Lord was money than it certainly was his own true God.

Sebastian snorted. There was no rule that said Ciel couldn't lie in their contract. Cordelia turned around swiftly at the sound, but Sebastian was already out of the room. She turned back around. "Of course, worshipping any other idle beings is blasphemy, but I didn't come here to question yours beliefs." No matter how questionable in the moment they seemed. "I implore you to rid yourself of this, this," she fumbled for the right word and a Midford never fumbles, "infatuation you have for the girl. It's fleeting, as all infatuations of the heart are."

Ciel thought to himself, 'of the heart.' What a wonderful feeling it was for him. "I suppose it's that."

"Then we are in agreement." Cordelia was pleased with herself. That was until Ciel spoke.

"In this day and age, people marry for many reasons other than love. To increase their social standing, to have a roof over their heads, even monetary gain. Though, I am not entirely against those things, survival and clawing ones way to the top comes naturally to people. And people need to survive. However, you married a man who belonged to a class below you."

Cordelia was baffled, "Yes, but the circumstances were different. Charles worked alongside my father for many years and I truly became well acquainted with his character. A noble and honorable man. I would never have married him if that wasn't the case."

"Of course not." Ciel titled his head, in agreement.

"But this, you and Miss Wright," The name didn't feel right in her mouth, "have not been acquainted long enough. How can you judge her character in such a short amount of time? It's unthinkable to pursue a relationship that will have no clear end with her. You're setting yourself up for ruin."

Sunlight streamed through the glass panes. Light poured into Ciel's cup. The dark honey colored liquid swirled in his cup. It reminded him of the woods, solitary and peaceful. Even little things, like a cup of tea, reminded him of her eyes.

"Ciel?"

"When my parents married, they chose one another out of love, not duty. That is what Elizabeth and I wish for ourselves. With your blessing of course."

Silence consumed the room. Finally, Cordelia stood up. There was no getting through to him. She blamed Vincent for Ciel's stubborn nature. "Thank you for the tea, but I must be leaving now."

"So soon?"

"Don't mock me, boy." Cordelia swiped her coat from Sebastian and left for her carriage. It was truly a tragedy that her grandson was setting himself up for ruin. This talk of love, Ciel was obviously blinded by an illusion of it and her poor granddaughter had to stomach it all with a brave face. Cordelia knew that behind Elizabeth's smiling face was devastation and heartache. Cordelia reasoned that Elizabeth wanted to spare her from her unhappiness and therefore wouldn't admit to it. Poor girl.

Cordelia knew that the fate of her family's happiness rested upon her shoulders. As it always does. That is why she ordered her driver to take her to Cottingley.

To strike a bargain with Miss Elsie Wright.

Elsie was surprised by this visit, and so were her parents. Frances had to stay up stairs in her room as she was feeling unwell again, and just when she started to get better. Elsie didn't pay much attention to Lady Midford, Elizabeth's grandmother, and she didn't care. Elsie was through with Ciel and this woman didn't need to tell her to back off when Elsie already walked away from it all.

That was until the woman's butler placed a medium sized box on the table, to which the butler opened.

Everyone's eyes at the table popped. It was money. Pounds and pounds of money! More than Elsie has ever seen all at once!

Her mother quickly spoke, nervous. "This is too much money."

Cordelia drawled. "Yes to you, it may look like a lot. Pardon me, but can you open a window?" Cordelia eyed the small room she was sitting in, making it seem more crowded and cramped and stuffier than it really was. Elsie didn't like her for that. Elsie's family may not live in a big mansion the likes that Cordelia is used too but she lived here with her family. The furniture was well worn, the walls were decorated with Elsie's watercolor paintings, the kitchen where they eat meals together, and the river was outside in the backyard and in the summer it was enchanting. For all those reasons, this home was the loveliest home in all of England. Elsie wouldn't have this woman claim otherwise.

Her father spoke now, "this is generous, but we cannot accept it."

Cordelia seemed to breath better with the window open. Seemed to at least. She smiled, but Elsie saw the venom behind it. "It is a gift for your daughter." She turned to Elsie. Elsie didn't return her smile. "Maybe you can use it to go to an art school instead of scribbling on the walls." Cordelia saw no talent within the paintings, of the river and nature and family.

Elsie gripped her fists on her lap. Her cheeks flared. They weren't scribbles and Elsie hasn't drawn on the walls since she was three and didn't know any better. How dare Cordelia throw insult after insult at her? In front of her family? In her own home? Yes, it was Elsie's dream to go to an art school, but not with hush money given from this vile woman.

Cordelia's smile faded. Her green eyes narrowed when she spoke, it brought her unforgiveable pain. "He loves you."

"He doesn't." Elsie rejected the notion of it. Still, her heart thrummed in her chest.

"But he does. He made it very obvious." Cordelia regretted.

The tea kettle hissed on the stove top. Her mother went to take it off.

Cordelia hissed bluntly. "Ciel broke off his engagement with my darling granddaughter. You must be thrilled considering that was your intention all along, wasn't it?"

Ciel did what? Elsie was speechless. Finally she spoke. "I had no part in their decision. It was theirs to make, not mine."

"Elizabeth is devastated."

"Did you ask her if she was?" Elsie spoke, a little louder. Courage opened her mouth when manners forbade it to stay shut. "Last time I saw her, she thanked me."

Cordelia grinded her teeth. "She wants of nothing other than what is rightfully hers. She has been trained and poised and tutored to be the wife of the Queen's Watchdog her whole life and you will not go and take it from her."

What a trapped life Elizabeth must have had, if all she could ever amount to was being some man's wife. "Did you ask her if that is what she wants out of life? Or did you just assume she wanted to be married off and tossed aside like other chess pieces to declutter the board in your game."

"Enough." The woman scoffed. "That's why you weaseled your way into the Earl's heart. He may not see it, but I do. You want money, isn't it? Don't play innocent with me, child. That's why you concocted this 'Cottingley fairy hoax' in the first place. To fool people, prey on their sadness and make them believe there is something out there in this sad world. Dangling hope in front of their noses. You're no different than those gypsies that perform seances claiming to talk to the deceased on the other side. What I'm offering you is more than those silly photographs could ever have made for you. I'm giving you what you wanted all along. Abandon this silly pursuit of him, it will never work out."

Elsie's blood boiled. This woman had no idea why she made those photographs, and Elsie never even got a pound for them. Even Arthur Conon Doyle profited off her photographs more than she did. 'I just wanted my sister to smile. I wanted her to forget her pain, even for a moment,' was her reason, but Elsie knew it would be a waste to tell Cordelia that. It wouldn't convince the woman anyway. And Ciel…it wasn't this woman's business what was going on between the two of them, or what was left of it anyway. But the fact that he did break off his engagement with Elizabeth…

He wasn't lying, after all.

Elsie's bangs fell across her eyes as she stared down at her gripped fists, gripping tighter and tighter. Finally, she looked up. Boldly.

She reached for the box of money.

Cordelia smirked. "I knew it."

Elsie pushed it back towards the woman.

Cordelia's smile faded.

"Take back your money."

Cordelia simmered with anger, and it was visibly boiling over like a tea kettle. "What I'm offering you is much more than any other would give you to stay away from my grandson. Did tearing apart his engagement give you hope that he would choose a harlot like you—"

A chair screeched. It was her father. "Madam, the only harlot I see is you, insulting my daughter in my own home. You overstayed your welcome. I ask that you leave. This instant."

Cordelia breathed. Then stood up. Silence was all that was between the two. "Very well." She turned away with her butler and took the box of money. No one escorted her out. She could find the door herself. Cordelia looked up, towards the staircase and saw a little girl peeking through the wooden railing. "No one likes a spy." When their gazes met, Frances fled to her room, but not before sticking her tongue out at the woman.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. The little girl was spunky just like her older sister. So there was no hope for either of them. What a shame. Cordelia left their home. Elsie's father quickly went on a rant about how vile that woman is, a devil was more like it! Even though Elsie felt the same, she didn't feel like talking. Instead she went to the kitchen and prepared a tray of dinner. Broiled trout and carrots, and a glass of milk. She walked up the stairs with the tray and brought it to her sister's bed, who looked as if she just jumped into it.

Elsie set the tray down. The silverware clinked on top of it. "I thought I told you to stay in bed and rest."

Frances peeked her eyes above the covers. "But it's so boring up here and so fun downstairs." Frances jolted upright, raising her hands in a fighting position. "And I could sock that lady with both of my hands!"

Elsie huffed. This also comforted Elsie, knowing that Frances was feeling well enough to snoop, and to make threats. Then she saw a peculiar thing. A rose petal stuffed between the folds of France's blanket. Elsie picked up the petal and felt it between her fingers, it left a red faint imprint on her finger. How odd. "Eat your trout."

Frances did just that.

During the middle of the night. Elsie had a dream. A strange dream. A dream that felt like it wasn't her own.

And yet, her surroundings were familiar. She was walking near the river. Stepping one foot then another into the chilly water. Cold against her skin. The bottom hem of her nightdress was soaked, but Elsie didn't care. She loves Cottingley, and she loves the river. A soaked dress didn't bother her.

But she wrapped her shawl around herself, huddling for warmth. For a dream, it was awfully cold. The mist hung low to the ground and swarmed around her. She couldn't see that far ahead, and soon she was standing somewhere in the water which was rippling around her ankles. Not knowing where her village or home were. The mist was dense and deep. She feared if she stepped inside of it, she would truly become lost.

"Elsie." A voice called out to her.

"Frances, is that you?" Elsie replied, shocked. Her sister was here too?

"Elsie, come and play with me." The little girl's voice beckoned.

Elsie didn't hesitate to walk into the mist. "Tell me where you are and we will get out of here together." She couldn't see where she was going. She held her arms in front of her, afraid she might bump into something, or someone.

"ELSIE!" the little voice shrieked.

The voice came from behind.

Elsie turned around and saw her sister, but the sight of her made Elsie want to crumble and fall. Frances was wearing a white nightdress as well, but she looked sickly and pale and thin. So thin. The white nightdress she was wearing was meant for eternal sleep, not for one night. Frances held her brittle hands to her pale lips—and coughed. Hacking and wheezing.

Then she lowered her hands, slowly. They were filled with rose petals. Red rose petals.

The petals fell. France fell.

And so did Elsie to catch her sister.

Elsie held Frances in her arms. The little girl was so light—it broke Elsie's heart. Her sister closed her eyed—and they did not open. Elsie shook her lightly. "Frances." She shook her again. "Frances, wake up." Her skin was so cold. "Wake up. Please, wake up."

A sharp pain radiated in Elsie's hand. She pulled it back.

She opened her bloody palm and saw a thorn. She pulled it out and blood poured.

Elsie's whole body quivered, and her voice did the same. "Frances…"

Elsie shrieked.

Black thorns grew. Wild and untamable, pierced flesh. They rose from the little girl's body one by one by one.

Tears pooled in Elsie's eyes. She covered her mouth when she screamed.

"Would you like to strike a bargain?" A voice hidden in the mist called out to her. It belonged to a man. One who did not know the meaning of no. It was Rowan. Elsie wanted to curse him out, wherever in the mist he was hiding.

Elsie staggered backwards when a small vial floated down towards her. It was a purple glass bottle with a hexagon stopper. It was small enough to fit into her hand.

Rowan spoke. "One drop will cure your sister."

Elsie closed her fingers around the bottle. She reached for the stopper. One drop will save her sister.

"However, the vial is only part of the bargain. When you open it, you promise to be mine."

Elsie's hand stopped. She spoke, slowly. Miserably. "You're not ever going to give up, are you?" Elsie didn't have to see the smirk on his face. She desperately wanted to smack it off his face.

"You'll have time to make a decision before that happens."

Elsie knew what he was referring to, but she didn't have the stomach to look at Frances. Or the roses blooming from her body. It all made her sick to her stomach.

Soon she saw a figure appear. A silhouette walking towards her. She knew it was him. She grinded her teeth and bellowed at it, "this is what I think of your stupid bargain!" she threw the bottle at the figure and when it did the mist vanished.

And Elsie woke up.

Elsie woke up in a cold sweat, panting. Her nightdress stuck to her skin and she could feel herself burning. She looked around the room filled with morning light. Night has passed, and so has her nightmare.

Curled in bed, she refused to move. Her eyes drifted slowly to her sister who was soundly sleeping in her own bed. No petals or thorns or stems in sight. Phew. It was only a nightmare. She prayed that was all it would be.

Elsie felt something cold in her bed.

She lifted the covers, and there was the purple vial. In the palm of her hand.

As it turns out, according to Arawn's cold hearted advice, friendships can be bought at the right price. More specifically, Theriot's friendship can be bought with honey cakes.

As a result of the sugary transaction the little runner, Theriot, told Rowan exactly where Arawn was disappearing to and why.

Rowan flew to the Sea of Crusoe. He felt the wind beneath his wings and finally landed on the sandy beach. His wings tucked in and disappeared; he can summon them at will whenever he wishes. He walked along the uneven beach of sand and rocks and broken shells. He watched the ships tussle among the waves, bobbing up and down. Theriot told Rowan exactly where he needed to be in order to find Arawn.

It was at the cove where the tides meet mountains. Otherwise known as The Lovers Cove.

Rowan sighed to himself. He really should have seen this coming sooner. He mounted the beach and stealthily made his way to the cove, which was protected by walls of stones and gems, and at night, when the moonlight hits the sea just right, the light shimmers off the gem encrusted walls. Rowan realized why this is considered a romantic place, though he never imagined himself venturing into it for that purpose. The mermaids tend to flock here at high tide…Rowan prayed to the stars above that his brother wasn't smitten with a mermaid. Or a siren. Although more than half the kingdom, both land and sea, was in love with his brother so it was a possibility.

Rowan reared a corner—and bumped into Arawn. Rowan was shocked, specifically at what Arawn was wearing.

"What in the Otherworld is the crown prince wearing?" Rowan questioned, eyeing his brother from head to toe. Arawn was rid of his fine clothes and wore wool instead. The fabric was dyed a dull color and his shoes were worn out to the point of bearing holes. And he smelled like fish (no one tells you that about Lovers Cove before you get there.)

Yet Arawn was all smiles. "Crown Prince? No good, sir. I am no prince. I am but a humble fishmonger."

Rowan gawked at him. "You've gone mad."

Arawn pulled Rowan aside, hiding behind the giant stones. He looked behind him quickly and Rowan saw a young lady, a beautiful fae with long black hair as if it was spun from spider's silk, run over the rocks with her basket of shellfish in the opposite direction.

Oh.

His brother was mad. Madly in love. So this is what his brother meant by 'anyone.' Arawn was in love with a pauper. Rowan knew immediately that the council would never allow it, and from Arawn's disguise, Rowan sensed his brother knew it too.

Rowan slapped him on the shoulder.

"What was that for?!"

"You've mean to tell me that this is the reason you've been rejecting all your suitors? So you could sneak out of court to visit your lover at the beach." Rowan snarled in an angry whisper.

Arawn, not listening to his brother, wore a dreamy expression on his face and sighed, "her name is Muirín. Born of the sea. Life among the waves. If she were a river, I'd drink her and never be thirsty again."

Rowan wasn't listening to Arawn's madness. He took a deep breath, and out. "Does she know you're the crown prince?"

Arawn waved his arms up once, gesturing to his fishmonger costume.

"I guess not." Rowan asked why Arawn put together this…clever disguise. Arawn happily told the tale of how he met his precious sea cucumber, Rowan told him to work on better lovey-dovey nicknames, to which Arawn told him to shove a sea cucumber in it. The tale begins on one glorious morning, which shined brighter than the rest. Arawn decided to, actually, go for a swim, but ended up swimming too far. He was then swept up by the waves and they pushed him to the other side of the beach, a side he has never been to before. Soaked and confused, he met Muirín. She is the daughter of a simple fishmonger family. In the morning, she gathers clams and shellfish that wash onto the shore, after the starfish have had their time pulling off the shells. She was kind and sweet, and like many commoners she did not know the face of the royals that rule over the kingdom. She did not care for his station.

"She loves me for me, not for my station." Arawn said.

"Brother…you've only just met her."

"Well," Arawn sounded insulted. "She and I know each other better than any of those suitors my council throws at me in court. They only see the crown behind the Fae, not the Fae behind the crown."

Rowan paused, then he spoke slowly. "Which village did you say she was from again?"

"Muirrallen. Why?"

Rowan gripped Arawn's arm. Panic rose within him. "Brother, I've heard rumors of the plague resurfacing in some villages near the coast."

Arawn pulled Rowan's arm off of him. "I am aware. Whatever you heard, it's just a scare. No victims have been reported in this area for years. It's safe."

That didn't stop Rowan from worrying. "The late king toured the coast in his final years, where a plague outbreak was revealed after he departed."

Arawn's eyes hardened. "I am well aware; you needn't remind me."

"…sorry." Rowan shuffled his feet. "Believe me when I say that there are clever ways to cover up the disease, to quarantine it from spreading, to quell rising fear but I beg you to not risk your life especially right now."

"She's not infected, if that's what you're implying. I've seen Rosula up close. I know what it looks like."

"Do not make the mistake of wandering around the kingdom before your coronation. If anything should happen to you—"

Arawn looked back to the cove, to the spot where his beloved left. The time they spent apart ached him terribly. He said solemnly. Nodding slowly. "I understand."

Rowan sighed.

"But I love her. And that is not a fool's mistake."

The waves brushed against the shore. The wind blew between both princes. "I know you do."

Arawn snapped his fingers and immediately his fishmonger disguised disappeared and was replaced with his fine clothes he wore at the castle. His sapphire wings appeared out of thin air, spread wide in the evening light—and he took flight. Rowan followed.

"I want to marry her." Arawn said, wind beating against his skin. They passed through a cloud; the mist felt cool against their skin. "I will notify the council of the proposal. And if they give me permission, I will ask Muirín for her hand. I don't want to promise her anything beforehand if the council refuses me…It wouldn't be fair to offer her an empty promise."

Rowan flew beside his brother, nodding. "If that is what you wish, brother. Then I'll support your proposal to the council."

Arawn smiled, as soft as morning light. "Thank you, that means—"

A shard of iron pierced through the sky.

Arawn was shot with an arrow. Through his chest.

Arawn's wings slowed. They sagged and drooped and eventually they stopped moving at all. He began to plummet towards the forest whose name was old and ancient and terrible. It bore the name of a language that was no longer spoken by Fae. It was simply referred to as the Forest that no Fae should ever wander into. Yet Arawn plummeted down towards that ocean of trees. And it welcomed him with open branches.

Rowan's instincts instantly spiked. He plummeted down to catch his brother when another horde of arrows came their way. Rowan shrouded both of them with his ruby wings and screamed as the arrows pierced through his red scales. His vision began to blur when he saw the glistening tips of the arrows. A green liquid that mixed along with his blood. Rowan hissed as he attempted to flap his wings. The arrows were poisoned.

There was no other choice.

Rowan gripped his arms around Arawn as they spiraled down towards the forest. They broke and crashed and tore through the dead and bare branches of the forbidden woods. Pine needles and thorns ensnared them as they crashed. The forest quivered from the shock as if struck by lightning. When Rowan's wings disappeared, the arrows fell to the ground. Rowan freed himself from the poison arrows, but Arawn… The arrow protruded from his chest as if it was a stone trapped in a stone.

Arawn opened his eyes and hissed as he gazed on the arrow. His hand quivered and his movements were slow, but he grabbed ahold of the arrow and tore it from his chest. Pain radiated throughout his body, and he cried out. Rowan's knees buckled as he stooped and held his hands over the wound, blood pouring out of it. The palms of his hands began to glow faintly with magic. He used what little was left of his magic the poison didn't take from him. Blood that flowed out of Arawn's body reversed its path and reentered the wound. Skin stitching itself up. Rowan's brow began to sweat, and his head ached.

Arawn examined the arrows and recognized them. The tip of the arrows, the poison that coated it. Poison meant to kill. These were used by assassins.

There were Fae who wanted both of the crowned princes dead. Arawn wouldn't give them what they wanted.

A branch snapped.

Both of the princes turned to the source, startled. Their assassins may have made them weak, but their fighting spirits did not wither from the attack. A light as bright as fire burned in Arawn's eyes, vines around them twisted and coiled, creating an enclosure around them, others sharpened to that of dragon fangs. They would face their foes and make them regret shooting those arrows.

Arawn screamed, grabbing his chest. His heart laid in agony within him. The enclosure of vines fell.

Someone moved within the shadows. A Fae. A willowy silhouette walked out of the darkness with grace and poise, as if she was its mistress. Chaos seeped from her eyes and a song of destruction sang off her lips. She held out her palms towards the princes and smiled, venomously. "Care to strike a bargain?"

A/N: thank you guys for reading! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! I told myself i was going to write fluff but then THIS happened haha. What did you guys think and what were your fav parts if any? :3

A new OC, Cordelia, was introduced and even though she's horribly mean i had a lot of fun writing her XD And the whole conversation she had with Ciel about Badminton, that's a true story dfgdfg, i just wanted to include it because it's ridiculously funny XDD what did you think of Cordelia's conversations with Elsie? A lot of the fluffy moments i wanted to write ended up being pushed to the next chapter AND THE BALL IS GOING TO HAPPEN SOON XD At this point, Elsie has had enough with Rowan's persistence, but Rowan has his reasons...which will be revealed next chapter *dun dun duunn* I hoped y'll enjoyed the flashbacks with Rowan and Arawn, even though things don't look so good for them AND AN EVEN NEWER OC (who will be revealed next time ) wants to strike a bargain with them bc of REASONS to be revealed next time :DDD I hope things aren't confusing. In other news the fic is getting really close to hitting 100K, i can't believe it!

ALSO! i was wondering if any of you could recommend some Kuroshitsuji fics that you enjoy reading? thank you! And please check out the fic's blog on Tumblr. Two amazing artists drew fanart for the fic and i couldn't be happier ahhh ;a;

Again, thank you for reading the chapter! Please review and see you guys next time ^.^

BYE!