One button after another, Abhartach put on the shirt that he had worn the day before. His scarred and rough, calloused hands then reached back down to pick up his jacket and his tie. Standing upright again, he flung his long, black, hair over his shoulder out of his face and rubbed his bearded chin. He was pleased with his progress and was glad that even his smaller sidequests were going according to plan. He knew that he should probably wait for Sasha to wake up, but he had other things to attend to. After all, it wasn't as though she could leave this place without him.
Stepping out into the hallway, the man quietly closed the door behind him and set off to change into fresh clothes and do his work. There were so many different groups under his thumb that he needed to ensure that they were certain of their duties. There were the remaining faoladh, the small groups he acquired from Gehenna those captured on New Year's eve, his loyalists, the underlings of Sir Stephane Lexington, and the underlings of his grandson, the partially mechanical Raymond Blythe. Then there was Johnathan Beattie, who had purchased the services of human mercenaries and had promised to allow Abhartach to use them. Truth be told, Abhartach did not like the fact that he had them to begin with. He did not trust Mister Beattie. He had lived long enough to know that one should never trust a demon.
Yet the devil appeared before him at the end of the hall, his eyes red and his face dawning a strange expression that couldn't be read. As Abhartach approached, the demon spoke, saying: "I rattled the Phantomhives. The head of the family is weakened and will be separated from the main group soon. Everything is going according to plan."
"And what, pray tell, do you intend to do with him once that happens?" Abhartach questioned. He raised an eyebrow at Mister Beattie, unfased by his presence.
"Torment him a bit." Johnathan answered. "I'll seek out the people he cares about and destroy them before finally killing him, of course."
"Foolishness. You will do no such thing. Either kill him, or I'll have someone else do so. The longer you keep him alive, the longer he has to get away. If you really think of him as a major threat, you will dispose of him at the first given opportunity."
"He has to suffer for the things that he has done." Johnathan explained with a frown. "Otherwise, my revenge won't be complete. I have an infinite amount of chances, but if I kill him, I have none."
"You have one chance." Abhartach said, putting a hand on the demon's shoulder. It wasn't friendly in the slightest, however. The man was known for his inhuman strength and he showed it by squeezing the demon's shoulder hard enough to inflict sharp pain on a human man. "One chance, Johnny. If this Phantomhive fellow is as dangerous as you say he is and is worth all of this time and effort you are putting into him, then you should execute him at the first given opportunity. Or… Is this just some sort of game to you, Mister Beattie?"
Turning the demon lightly, the revenant asked again. "Hm? Is it?!" His voice boomed and his grip tightened before the demon could reach into his jacket for his gun. The next thing that the demon saw was the floor moving past him as he was hurled into the air.
Once he landed, Johnathan blinked a few times to gather his wits again before retrieving his weapon. He aimed his pistol directly at Abhartach, but Abhartach did not back down. He walked forward, his blackened eyes trained on the demon.
"You have fire, boy, but that is all that you are- a boy." the older man told him. "I see you. I know the thrill of the fight- the thrill of making one's enemy either submit or perish..."
Without a word, Johnathan began to open fire, aiming directly for the revenant's head. Four bullets were embedded in Abhartach's skull. Two went through his forehead, one through his cheek, and the last one through his eye, but Abhartach faltered only for a moment. There was a misstep, but he continued to advance, taking one powerful step after another. His blood had splattered the wall and carpet behind him as it trickled down and stained his shirt, but still, Abhartach moved forward.
"But you lack will." he continued as the gaping holes in his head healed over. The bones reformed over them before muscle and skin covered them. "You must fight with all that you have. Destroy everything in your path and leave nothing in your wake. Without mercy. Without hesitation. Take excitement in your battle, boy, but do not gloat over your victory, or else it will not be your victory for any longer. You lack will and I will not tolerate such weakness."
A head hesitantly peeked from out of the room from which Abhartach had emerged, having been awakened by the sound of gunfire. Watching the scene, the Pomeroy witnessed her betrothed pick up the demon by the neck.
"Your cowardice will not interfere with my plans. Show me your will, Beattie." spoke the revenant. "Show me your willingness to fight for what you desire."
Next thing Johnathan knew, he was deep in snow with shards of broken glass raining down on top of him. What is this? What is this?! Johnathan couldn't understand it right away. Didn't Abhartach know? Didn't he know that he was picking a fight with a demon? More than that! He was fighting the demon that would destroy the legendary Queen's Guard Dog! Johnathan was the demon who buried the Watchdog and took his father's bones! Why did Abhartach feel as though he had the right to strike hime?!
Raising his head, the demon pushed himself up off of the ground. For just a second, his eyes flashed red and he leapt backwards, landing roughly on his feet as a much larger body landed where he was laying. Johnathan snarled at his attacker, drawing both pistols as he gnashed his fangs. Yet Abhartach did not falter. Instead, he stared forwards at the demon, unyielding in his stature.
"What the hell was that for?!" demanded the demon. "My work will assist you! Isn't that good enough for you?! Are you insane? You have no idea what you're dealing with, if you leave Phantomhive as a loose end!"
"Neither do you, it seems." answered the revenant. "Foolish boy… Don't you understand the way the real world works? You can't go prancing around, tormenting people and expecting them not to fight back. They always will, if you let them live. Always. If this Phantomhive fellow is really as dangerous as you say, then why hesitate? Kill him outright! But no, I don't think you take any of this seriously… If you did, he would be dead, but no… you want to toy with him, instead..."
"He needs to suffer." Johnathan growled. "If he doesn't, there's no point."
"Oh, I don't doubt that, but is it worth it? Isn't it better to simply remove his stench from the earth completely? It is the right of the strong to decide these things. If you fight with all that you have and win, that makes right. But, if you fail, then your foe is the better man. That is the nature of this world." Letting out a breath, it escaped Abhartach's mouth in the form of steam as it hit the cold air around the two of them. "Posturing simply won't do. If you are strong enough to defeat your foe, then you are in the right. If you are not, then he will eventually overcome and vanquish you. You have no will. No resolve. Why should I place you in charge of this operation if I cannot trust that you will complete it competently?"
"I will kill him!"
"Liar. I don't think you can. I think that you're all talk. Prove to me otherwise. Prove to me that you have resolve."
With a displeased click of his tongue, the demon moved forward, trampling the snow beneath his feet. With a swing of his arm, he slashed the revenant's neck, causing red to dye the ground as it gushed from the wound. Yet once again, it healed right before the demon's eyes.
"Those are some interesting pistols you've got there." Abhartach noted. "Incredibly impractical. Bayonets on the end? You either need to be a demon or a madman to use something crazy like that."
They weren't Johnathan's to begin with. The Romulus and Remus twin pistols were given to his caretaker, Heinrich Strumer by the Hellsing organisation. They fired both anti-freak and regular bullets, and of course, the blades on the ends of the barrels were blessed. Heinrich was the bodygaurd of his father, and was taken in when he was a young teenager before Johnathan was even born yet. Yet Johnathan himself could not remember that in that moment. All that he could recall was that the weapons were important and that he should be angry at them being mocked.
With his other hand, he thrust the blade of his weapon into Abhartach's abdomen and pulled the trigger. Abhartach only smiled at him, however, as if amused by the younger man's outburst, much to Johnathan's astonishment.
"Wha-?"
"I've been around for over a thousand years, boy." Abhartach said. "I've been in ten thousand more fights! I have a vast library of reference when it comes to pain, and this, boy, is nothing."
Abhartach grabbed onto Johnathan's bicep with his left hand and the demon's elbow with his right. With his right, he pushed up, against the joint, and with his left, he pushed down. Knowing what his opponent was, he didn't hold back. He knew he had to in order to gain the loud cracking sound, followed by the grating sound of crunching that he desired. Suddenly, Johnathan's elbow bent in the wrong direction, forcing him to let go of his weapon. There was only a brief moment where Johnathan let out a scream, but he quickly swallowed it and only expressed his pain with his face.
"Is that it?" questioned the revenant. "Is that the extent of your resolve? From the stories you tell me of this Phantomhive fellow, you aren't anywhere near his level. Yet you still think you can beat him, when you still cower upon simply breaking your elbow?"
As Johnathan held his arm and listened, he watched as Abhartach pulled the bayonet out of his stomach. There was no way that Johnathan could defeat him. Regular weapons did not work and neither did anti-freak ones. However Hellsing was going to try and defeat him was beyond the demon, but more pressingly, he wasn't sure how he was going to win this.
How could he prove his resolve to win against the pure personification of relentlessness? Abhartach was steadfast and always moved forward, no matter what was in his way. If Johnathan could not prove himself, he would be next on his course. The demon was standing right in front of him and Abhartach was deciding whether to simply mow him down or use him. How could Johnathan stand up to him? How could he force himself to push beyond certain doom? An impossible situation. An impossible question. How strong was his resolve and how did he prove it?
How did Ciel Phantomhive prove it?
The man who Johnathan despised, Sir Ciel Phantomhive, the former Evil Earl. How did Phantomhive become so strong? Johnathan already knew the answer. The Watchdog was forged in fire and molded into the daunting force that he was by overcoming impossibility- by enduring hardship, by sacrificing everything for the sake of both his survival and his revenge. His family, his friends, his mindfulness, part of his body, and even his very soul. No price was too high and that is why Ciel Phantomhive earned his right to trample over the weak. It was just as Abhartach said. Those who do not fight with everything they have do not deserve power. They do not deserve to achieve their ambition. They may die in either mind, body, or soul.
"There are two kinds of people in this world: Those who fight..."
Ciel Phantomhive.
"...And those who do not."
Johnathan Beattie?
So that's it. That is how the Phantomhive achieved his power. Did Beattie not suffer enough? True, he was angry about Heinrich's death. He was angry about his father's death. He was even angry about his own death. But was it enough? Was it enough to bring the flames of wrath and fury to their full height? He lost everything, but does Johnathan feel as though he suffered?
No. No he did not. It was sad what happened, yes, but truthfully, Johanathan wasn't sure how he felt. He couldn't remember his father's face. What did Heinrich look like again? It wasn't that long ago, now. So why couldn't he remember? What could he remember?
There was a sharp weapon in his hand- was it a bayonet? No! It was a knife. There were eyes watching him, too. Did they belong to the supernaturals in the house? No… Human school children. That's right. The ground was cold, but it wasn't snow… Yes! It was linoleum! Ciel Phantomhive was there! They fought! Johnathan frantically swung his blade and missed, falling on top of it in the process. That is how he died. Yet, only fragments remained in Johnathan's memory. He remembered the Phantomhive clearly, however. Ciel always stood out in his memory.
It hurt, but the fact that it hurt made Johnathan laugh. So that's it. In order to defeat the monster he was up against, he had to find a way to become an even bigger monster, himself. So! He swallowed his scream and threw his head back in laughter.
"Well?" Abhartach questioned, raising a brow. "What is it? Have you snapped, boy? Have you given up? Or will you prove your resolve."
Johnathan calmed down his laughter until it was nothing more than a chuckle, standing up as his bones snapped back into place. "You're a strange man, my lord..." the demon stated. "But you might know a thing or two… Before I give you my answer, tell me something: Why is it that you need this power so badly? Isn't it enough to be both immortal and invincible?"
"No." the revenant replied with a smile of his own. "It isn't. What purpose is there in having either one if you do nothing with them? In order to continue living, a person must find a way to become compelled to do so. It is the purpose of the strong to continue fighting, climbing higher and higher until they touch the heavens, themselves. That is divine right! If I am truly immortal and if I am truly invincible, then I will be able to achieve that ambition. If I am not, then I will perish with the rest of the unworthy."
Shaking his head, Abhartach threw his hands up with a shrug. "There is simply nothing else for me to do." he said.
"Well..." the demon said. "I'd like to make you a deal… All I want is to break Ciel Phantomhive. That is my ambition."
As of that moment, however, Johnathan felt as though he was too weak. That is why he needed this. "Allow me to occupy him during the attack. In exchange, I'll give you the mercenaries I've hired. In addition, I'll give you my blood."
That made the revenant's smile falter. "What?" he dryly questioned.
"I'll give you my blood." Johnathan reiterated. "Ordinarily, when a demon's fluids make their way into a body, it corrupts them, bringing them far more power than any regular man could even fathom. Ordinarily, it comes with a price, however. The human body can't handle a demon's power, which causes it to break down, but you? You can't break down… Go on. Cut me. Slash me. Draw as much blood as you like and feel free to leave marks. I can't defeat you as you are, so this is how I will prove my resolve."
"Blood, hm?" Abhartach mused, pondering this for a moment. After all this time of demanding his enemies pay him blood tribute in one way or another, a creature that vexed him willingly offered it. It was bizarre enough to make the revenant chuckle. "Are you really willing to endure it?"
"If Ciel Phantomhive can, then so can I."
"Well… If that's how you're going to prove it, I'm willing to oblige!"
With Johnathan's gun still in his hand, Abhartach lunged at the demon with a smile on his face. The expression was returned by Johnathan, who seemed equally thrilled with this turn of events. He accepted every gash readily, as he knew in his blackened heart that it would bring him closer to the rage that he needed in order to overpower and snuff out his nemesis.
It was his belief that fanning the flames of revenge would drive him closer to his goal- that he would have the power to overwhelm the Phantomhive completely. He was itching for this fight and knew that the bluenette wanted his father's remains back. Ciel would come after him and he would not be pleased. It would be a glorious fight that would surely shape the fate of their houses forever. Oh, what a glorious day it would be! The thunderous sound of the drums of war would already be shaking the heavens, and the demons, in their fervor, would cause hell to quake.
At least, that is what Johnathan believed. The reality was, he was nothing more than an annoyance to the Phantomhive at this point in time. Yes, he was angry at him for taking his father's jawbone, but he was also angry for having old wounds scratched at. He felt somewhat bad, but while Johnathan was out there, creating new scars, Ciel was sitting with firmly closed ones. They had grown white with time. Some of them were so faint, that they could hardly be seen. Ciel felt a bit bad that he did not feel that rage on his father's behalf, but he was finding it difficult, given his tiredness. He was content with his life, although there were things that he did in fact want. He wasn't willing to toss it all aside for Johnathan's amusement.
The Phantomhive family was gathered around the table in the dining room with neatly organised pieces of metal separating them. Ciel and Jim had selected the weapons that they or the rest of the family might use either in the event of another attack on the mansion, or when Abhartach was going to launch his attack on England. Theywere joined by Luka and Finnian in carefully cleaning them and getting them ready for war. Finnian was thrown for a bit of a loop, as this had never been a part of his regular duties before. He had to be shown how to clean the instruments, but Alois was more than happy to help him. As for the others, they sat in somber silence as the fear of what was going to happen next seemed into their minds.
Even Luka was cleaning while on autopilot. The boy was asleep when the first attack began, but was quickly alerted to the fact that the garden was in flames. Then he learned about Ciel's torment and all of it brought back memories of the last time he endured an attack on his home. When Krampus' forces attacked, however, they managed to destroy part of the mansion itself. It was quickly repaired by the butler, but it was still scary. He felt an odd sort of comfort in the mutual understanding that he felt between himself and Ciel. They didn't speak, but they didn't have to. All they needed were quiet, reassuring smiles every so often and that was enough.
Sebastian is notably absent from this scene, but not for any longer. The butler entered the room with a pair of gauntlets with noticeable welding marks on them that had been grinded down. "I have repaired them to the best of my ability." Sebastian informed, presenting the gauntlets to the menace. "Unfortunately, due to the nature of the weapon and the extent of the damage, I am almost certain that they are not at full capacity."
"Wow, something you can't do perfectly?" Alois teased. "Is that legal?"
"You are very talented at breaking anti-freak gauntlets, master Jim." Sebastian teased back. "Are you certain that Jarnglofar Mk VI is going to be strong enough for this fight?"
"I'm only on Mk III, thank you very much." The menace informed before inspecting the weapons. "Huh, you even polished them? Good work, Bass-man."
"It is my pleasure." the butler replied before offering a light bow. "Shall I put the guns that are clean back in the armory?"
"Yes, please." Alois smiled before turning his head to notice that he had been stared at.
It was hard for Finnian not to stare, as while Alois was a master of the house, he conducted himself with a certain degree of politeness with the servants that Finnian had never seen before. Perhaps going out of his way to say "please" and "thank you" may not seem like much to the casual observer, but this was a rather big deal to Finnian, considering how servants were treated back in the olden days.
"Here." said the Phantomhive, holding out the gauntlets to Finnian's grasp. He held them there for a while until the other blond realised what was happening and took them. "You're really strong, right? I like to use these, so maybe you can get some use out of them, too. I'm sorry they aren't designed for you, but it's a bit short notice..."
"I can really have these?" questioned the former gardener with raised eyebrows. Even with the noticeable repairs, they were rather elegant weapons. They were designed in such a way that the runes on them appeared to be an aesthetic design choice, rather than a practical one. Alois didn't respond rudely to him, even though he had already answered Finnian's question.
"Go ahead and try them on." the menace urged instead. Somewhat hesitantly, the other man obliged, sliding on one of the gauntlets. As he clenched and unclenched his fist, he was surprised at how powerful he felt.
"They're nice..." Finnian gawked before turning his attention back to the demon. "Thank you!"
"Don't worry about it! We'll get you a better pair that's suited to you, personally when all of this is over."
Finnian was grateful, but still felt compelled to look up at Ciel for approval, as if he were going to spontaneously disagree with his spouse. Luckily, the bluenette did no such thing. He only nodded, silently giving his former gardener permission to use them. His and Alois' plans were often one in the same- often the result of both of them conversing. Finnian would grow more accustomed to assuming this as fact, with time.
They didn't share thoughts, however, so the menace was not privy to what Ciel was thinking about, however. As the Watchdog continued to clean, he found his concerns shifting from the house itself and what it stood for to the people inside. Truthfully, he did not like the idea of leaving Finnian and Luka alone in the mansion while he and the menace went out to fight. Granted, they had Sebastian with them, which set him at ease somewhat, but it was still far too close for Ciel's tastes. Neither he nor his spouse enjoyed sitting there, unable to do anything as poor Luka fretted over the situation. If anyone was helpless in all of this, it was Luka. It was true that he could shoot and could be quite rough with a situation demanded it, but he was no soldier. Naturally, the adults in the household were worried, but what could they possibly say? They could not lie to him. That would only make things worse. They had a human in the house to worry about and a young, teenaged, demon. Neither of which were completely powerless, but it was the duty of the head of the household to worry.
"Are you alright?" quietly asked the bluenette, looking over at the youngest of the demons.
"Yeah." Luka replied, his expression almost disinterested.
"Alright." Ciel nodded, knowing that was a lie. "Tell us if that changes. These are scary times, we're going through. I myself rather detest it."
"It's not a normal mission, is it?" the lad inquired, proving Ciel right.
"No… I'm afraid not." The bluenette looked over at the lad as he said this, but Luka said nothing. The boy's bored face shifted, however, to a somewhat sad expression, causing the Phantomhive's face to shift as well. Uttering a sigh, the bluenette reached over and rubbed the top of the smaller demon's head, ruffling his already messy hair somewhat. This, however, made the boy cease his actions as if to ponder this for a moment.
"Ciel?"
"Yes?"
"Why do you always pat my head?" the lad questioned, causing the man to retract his hand slightly.
"Hm? Oh… Uhm… Well..." stammered the bluenette, using his hand to rub his chin slightly. "I don't really have a wide range of experience when it comes to interacting with younger people, but I know that that's a thing that people do..."
"What people?"
"You know… people?"
"He does it because he likes you, Luka." the menace finally chimed in, beckoning both of their attention. "He's just like that."
"What do you mean 'like that?'" scoffed the Watchdog. "Just what, pray tell, am I like?"
"A huge nerd." Alois bluntly stated, not even bothering to look up from his own task. "But that's part of the reason that all of us like you back."
Ciel opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it again, knowing the consequences. Although the group was now playfully snickering at his expense, it was not malicious, and he didn't want to bring down the mood. In truth, Ciel did know exactly who it was that he got that gesture from, as he had it done to himself when he was a child. It was one of the few things that he could remember about his father- that and the fact that he affectionately called him "papa."
The Watchdog kept this to himself, however, allowing the others to believe that it was just an unusual quirk of his. That was only partially correct. While Ciel was awkward, he always had good intentions when it came to Luka, and as one of the adults in the house who raised the lad, he cared about him and did not want him to be afraid during all of this. It was simply a fact of life, however, that as children age, they become more aware of the matters of the household that typically stays within the realm of adult interest. Unfortunately, that meant being aware of the sense of impending doom that was a constant companion to the Phantomhive family.
With that, however, an alarm went off, causing Luka, Ciel, and Finnian to nearly jump out of their skins. Alois, however, pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and switched off the sound. Instantly upon seeing the device, the group let out a collective sigh of relief.
"Sorry, I need to switch it to sound more harmless." Alois stated while getting up. "I have to go. I promised I'd visit with Kris for a bit today." Pausing, he turned his attention to his husband. "But… I can cancel, if you need me here."
"No, it's fine. Go ahead." Ciel said with a smile. "I'm sure we can manage."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, yes, yes, it's fine." The bluenette stood up and practically shooed his spouse as he left the group and herded the blonde toward the door. "Go ahead. Get some fresh air."
"Is there a reason why you're trying to get rid of me?" asked the menace, clearly onto the Watchdog. When the other man was hesitant to answer, Alois' suspicions were justified. "Is there anything that you think you can hide from me?"
"I mean, I've been steadily losing my mind for a while since this investigation started." Ciel began. "Due to the most recent events, however, it's gotten worse. I'm afraid I don't really have an explanation, Jim."
"You're talking really fast..."
"I'm aware."
Without another word, Alois turned to face his beau, refusing to be pushed completely out the door. As the two of them stood in the foyer, the menace conducted a very small-scale investigation. Suddenly, the menace shortened the gap between them and stared into Ciel's exposed eye so closely that they were just barely touching.
"Your pupils are dilated." the blonde noted. "And I can feel your breathing is heavier than usual."
"Why do you know my baseline for that?" questioned the bluenette in return. His gaze darted to the side to avoid his husband's scrutiny, prompting the other man to take a step back. "Wait, you're my spouse, you know everything..." Ciel muttered, realising the obvious answer to his question. Then, his attention shifted back to the menace himself yet again as Alois pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "Wait, what are you doing?"
Without answering his beau, Alois simply dialed and placed the device up to his ear. After a few moments. "Hey, Kris." he greeted, prompting the Watchdog to raise his brows. "I'm really sorry, but I don't think I can make it… Yeah… It's work. We're still having trouble thinking of a way to put down Abhartach's ass. I'll take you out next time. I'm buying… No… No… Oh, fuck off! Yeah… Laters."
With that, he hung up and returned the device to his pocket before grabbing onto his beau's arm and spinning him around. He then began to shoo the Watchdog back up the stairs.
"What are you doing?" Ciel somewhat indignantly demanded. "Why did you cancel?! Go have fun! The air around here is oppressive! Go have a break!"
"No, no, no, I won't." the menace half-heartedly scolded. "Don't tell me what to do! You're about to have a goddamn nervous breakdown or some shit."
"I don't really know what you can do about it. I don't know what anyone can do about it… Sitting around doing nothing isn't going to work. It'll only make me feel worse."
"I know. That's why I'm not going to ask you to do that." Alois informed as they approached their shared bedroom. Without another word, Alois opened the door and pushed past the bluenette before dissappearing inside. Moments later, however, he appeared with a set of clothes and a pair of shoes for the bluenette before shoving them in the man's arms. "Here."
"What's this for?" questioned the other Phantomhive before examining the garments. "This is a mission suit."
"Sure is." the menace declared, placing his hands on his hips. "If I jut tell you to put on a pair of fuzzy slippers and chill the fuck out, you'll only feel even more restless and feel like what little is left of your sanity is slipping away further into oblivion."
"So we're going on a mission because..."
"You and me are gonna work out that energy with a little bit of exercise. The upside of the garden being trashed is we can be as rough as we want. A little bit of sparring in the snow should help, since your brain is overheating."
Blinking, Ciel simply stared at the menace before offering a sigh. Begrudgingly, he did as the blonde wanted and changed clothes while his spouse did the same. It was an incomplete set, comprising of just the cheap shirt and suit, but no tie and no coat. They knew that when they started, they would warm up, but when they walked outside and were hit by that cold air, the two somewhat regretted the blonde's decision. Yet, they pressed on.
The ground was slick as the fire had melted quite a bit of snow, which then refreezed into rather dangerous patches of ice, but the burned remains of the various plants that used to be there provided some grip. The long, bare limbs of the surrounding trees scrapped against the solid gray sky. Ciel could see his breath and the breath of his spouse, indicating that there was not only some heat, but also life in this seemingly dead area. Alois was the only noticeably living thing the Watchdog could see as the blonde stood across from him. His icy blue eyes and pale hair matched the environment and his haughty smile made him seem like some sort of final boss.
God, he was attractive. Ciel loved seeing him confident and in his element, but everything just seemed so fitting. Yet, he knew that he couldn't underestimate Alois. If he was lucky, the menace might go easy on him since he's feeling bad, but knowing him, Ciel couldn't count on it. Ciel knew he could trust him with his life in the field, but that also meant that it was a bit terrifying to be on the opposite end of him. "The Lion" wasn't just a cute nickname given to him because of his flaxen locks. No, that was a moniker given to particularly powerful and ferocious warriors and warlords. It was definitely fitting of the fearsome Jim Phantomhive.
Suddenly, the quick pace of Ciel's beating heart didn't feel so out of place. While he was nervous about fighting his beau, he also felt a sense of calm. Now he understood what Alois was doing. Alois knew what it was like to be restless. He knew about pacing, fidgeting, and lashing out as a result. He knew what it was like to have one's fight or flight response acting up at a time where it was both inappropriate and unnecessary, so, he reframed things so it was neither. Now the situation was definitely fitting, and somehow, that made Ciel actually feel a bit better. He was doing something about his situation. He felt in control again.
"Feel free to tap out, if things get too rough, baby~!" the menace called out with a wink, but his beau immediately assumed a fighting stance.
"I don't really expect you to go easy on me." Ciel replied, raising his fists. He watched as the blonde looked up with a hum as if to ponder that sentiment.
"True." the blonde said bluntly and in the blink of an eye, he moved, trying to close the distance between them. He was in full charge and looked as though he was going to lunge with fangs and claws ready to tear into the bluenette, but Ciel knew that was a farce. Alois didn't like leaping into the air. It was hard to change directions, leaving him open to attack. He would attack low.
Ciel waited for Alois to get close, and then lowered his center of gravity just as he saw the blonde begin his attack. It was a gut punch, but Ciel was ready. He raised his arm and prepared to swipe Alois' fist out of the way. Alois swung and the bluenette caught it! But! He had to be careful and not let the menace get behind him, so he stepped to the side. He was right to do so, as the menace tried to grapple his leg. His beau was in quick pursuit, following after him and trying to hit every single soft spot he could conceivably reach.
It felt like time was slowing down and Ciel's breathing came back under his control. He could see very clearly what was happening, save for the few times that Alois threw him for a loop. The bluenette forgot for a moment that his beau was ambidexterous, and had no preference when it came to striking hands. One of Alois' tricks was to start fights by focusing his strong punches with one hand and then switch when his opponent least expected it. In a flash, he had tricked his husband into thinking he was going to strike with his right hand, only to be blindsided by a left hook. Quite literally, in a sense, given that it was also on the side that Ciel's eyepatch was on. Before the Watchdog could recover, Alois switched again and struck him with his right hand once Ciel defensively raised his, exposing his stomach. Of course Alois wasn't going to go easy on him.
Reaching out, the bluenette tried to grapple his beau, but the blonde kept squirming just out of his grasp. That's when the bluenette decided to suddenly drop low and grapple the menace's leg instead of his head, just as Alois himself had tried to do before, and lifted it off the ground, throwing off Alois' balance in the process. When Ciel moved forward, it knocked Alois onto his rear and then onto his back. With his free foot, the menace kicked, aiming straight for his beloved's face again, but with a tilt of his head, Ciel caused him to miss. With him on the ground, Ciel tried a different hold, this time holding the blonde from under his arm and around his neck. Things were not simple, however, as Ciel's husband was famously tenacious and refused to give up. He squirmed, he shook, he threw punches in the vague direction of the bluenette with his free arm, but it just wasn't working.
"I'm gonna dislocate my fucking arm." Alois growled.
"Don't you bloody dare..." Ciel shot back, knowing that that wasn't a hollow threat, but sure enough, he felt Alois straining against him, still. Knowing that Alois would definitely do it to win, Ciel decided to release him instead.
"How sweet of you!" the menace noted, scrambling to his feet before punching down at the other Phantomhive, only to miss. He had spoken too soon, as he found his husband's palm striking his nose in an upwards motion, breaking it in one quick motion. Alois certainly didn't expect that after just being granted mercy. Blood splattered the ground as it poured from the blonde's nose and dribbled between his fingers as he clutched at his face in shock. The surprise made his recovery longer, allowing Ciel to get to his feet and sneak in a gut punch, knocking the wind out of Alois in addition.
With that, Ciel quickly made his way behind his beau and clasped his hands together, forming a loop and putting it over his husband's head. Pulling his hands closer and digging his elbows into Alois' back, he pressed the base of his thumb into the menace's throat, strangling him. The blonde's first instinct was to reach up and try to pry him off, but Ciel's grip was firm and he was determined to not give up. Twisting and turning, Alois did manage, however, to topple both of them over. Both of them landed on their backs with Ciel breaking Alois' fall.
"Forfeit!" barked the Watchdog. "Snapping your neck won't help you get away!"
Alois's voice was strained as he swore. His husband was stubborn and was determined not to lose this time. The menace tried a number of things to escape when his thrashing about didn't work. He tried clawing at Ciel's hands and strangely slapping them as if that would do anything. Eventually, however, he remembered that his hands could attack other things in order to free himself, so he reached back and pulled on his husband's blueish black locks, only managing to annoy him. He hit Ciel over the head, but the Watchdog remained firm until Alois changed his approach entirely. Bringing a hand back down, Alois reached behind him and squeezed.
"Urk-!" Ciel's face flushed and he stammered. His voice changing pitch as he furiously tried to move away from Alois' grasp, but that only seemed to make things hurt worse. "Let go of that!" he scolded. Unable to speak, Alois only growled and squeezed a bit harder, causing the Watchdog to squeak. "JIM!"
Ciel was close. He was so close to victory that he could practically envision it, but the pressure that Alois progressively intensified quickly became unbearable. Ciel knew that Alois was willing to do almost anything to win, but he never could have imagined that he would ever go this far. Eventually, it became too much, and the Watchdog was forced to release the menace in defeat. As soon as he was free, Alois let go of Ciel and scampered to his feet, only to immediately feel a bit bad upon looking down.
The poor Watchdog had rolled over onto his side and then tried to force himself on his hands and knees to get back up again. One hand held him upright, pushing against the ground, while the other was between his legs, attempting to soothe the pain of having lost to his beau in combat yet again. He groaned, unable to quite form the words to express his embarrassment at losing or articulate his plight, but after checking his nose to make sure it healed back correctly, Alois made his way over to the Watchdog and crouched down, placing a gentle hand to Ciel's back.
"I'm really sorry about that..." Alois said. "There wasn't enough room for a quick punch..."
"That… That doesn't make it better..." grunted the Watchdog, still struggling to regain his composure. "How was any of this supposed to make me feel better again?"
"Well… Do you still feel restless?"
"I feel like I might be a eunuch..."
"Doubt it." the blonde replied, still rubbing his husband's back. "It's very strong. If you want, though, I could kiss it and make it better."
"I'm not sure if I trust you not to bite it off, at the moment..."
"Fair enough. Can I interest you in a handful of snow for it?"
Taking a deep breath, Ciel let it out again in a sigh before forcing himself upright onto his knees and then to his feet. "I think that's enough exercise for the moment. I'm going to go sit down..."
"For real, though, I'm not bein' funny or nothin', I am seriously sorry..." Alois stood up after his beau and watched as the other man began to walk away. Letting go of himself, the Watchdog did his best to walk normally, but there was still a noticeable limp. "Ciel? Hey, Ciel?"
There was a reason that the duo rarely sparred and that was because the menace was vicious and used whatever dirty trick he could think of. It was a good skill to have in combat, but in a marriage? Perhaps not. Still, the exercise did ultimately do the bluenette some good. A good amount of his restlessness was worked out of his system, so he was fine with sitting down and staying put for a while. It was definitely an improvement overall. The Watchdog even allowed his husband to dote on him a bit as an apology, although Ciel wasn't too terribly angry to begin with. The way he saw it, it was a perfectly acceptable response to being choked, although it was embarrassing. Alois was a scarily practical fighter, as always, but it did show Ciel that it was a viable option, if he became desperate.
Alois eventually rejoined the others in getting things ready, but Ciel was left to sit by himself on one of the frontroom couches in the master suite. He thought about what was to come, as it was unavoidable, but the way he thought about it changed. The image of Alois standing across from him in the snow stuck with him. It's strange sense of serenity reassured him, as he knew that his beau could most definitely mow down any underlings that got in his way. He had seen him do it before. Things weren't so hopeless. Although what appeared to be the final battle between all parties was about to commence in a matter of days, the odds of winning seemed more feasible. After all, what was an army of poorly trained, lower-level supernaturals to one of the most fearsome men Ciel had ever known?
A/N: This is a strange chapter and I'm not really sure what to make of it. There are a few details that may be important, later, though. You won't know which ones until it happens, probably. But that's what makes it fun!
I don't have much else to say, really.
Until the next chapter, my duckies~!
