Lydia lay still underneath the covers of her four-poster bed, staring at the patterned canopy above. Her head was sunken like an anchor into her pillow. She sighed, and even that small movement caused her chest to flare with pain. Over the past week her whole body had become pain, every muscle and joint wracked with it upon the slightest motion. Much to her astonishment, a medical examination conducted by Madame Red had not identified any broken bones. However, large swaths of her flesh had been bruised and bloodied. What wasn't bruised was sprained. And what wasn't sprained was covered in abrasions. On top of it all, Lydia had utterly lost her energy. Upon returning to the townhouse, she had informed Sebastian and Ciel of the happenings during the circus performance, as well as later, when she was whisked off alone with Undertaker. After she finished speaking, she had fallen into a heavy slumber that lasted for two days. Even after awakening, Lydia had not moved from her room. She barely left her bed. Madame Red had been in to visit, as had her father. She was glad to see them again, but answering their questions was a struggle that left her dazed and exhausted. They wanted to know what happened, and she wasn't sure she even knew herself. What had happened over the course of that chaotic night?
While she slept, she saw flashes of people's faces. Joker kneeling before her, telling her to kill him. Derrick Arden lunging hungrily, his awful mouth split apart at the seams. Undertaker looming above her, laughing as the dead surged around him like a plague. Violet's despairing eyes as he was pulled into the darkness of the carriage. There were too many images burned into her mind. They became a swirling vortex of dreams, rattling inside her like a broken nail. She woke up choking and sweating, the taste of blood coating the back of her throat. Not knowing what day it was, or how many days would pass before she remembered. All she knew was that she was losing time that could not be gotten back. The sky grew darker as an unexpected summer storm swept toward London.
/
A silver spoon clinked against the china cup as Sebastian delicately arranged the tea service on the rolling cart. He had placed considerable effort into preparing this afternoon's repast, hoping it would lure his master out of the unresponsive stupor she had been in since returning to the townhouse. He knew she was in pain, having suffered serious physical injury from multiple causes- mainly Undertaker. The demon was furious with himself at the outcome. He had encountered grim reapers before in his many years of existence, but he had not recognized the silver-haired man as one such creature until it was too late. Scowling, he thought back to all the occasions he had accompanied Ciel to Undertaker's shop to seek out information. The mortician was incredibly clever, hiding his eyes, masking his aura, even drinking tea and eating human food to dispel any suspicions about his nature. Yes, he had played the part well, but why? And what did he mean by revealing himself now?
The demon wheeled the tea cart through the hallways, mulling over the situation with a fearsome frown upon his face. He had to quickly adjust his expression when he reached his master's bedroom. Adopting a neutral demeanor, Sebastian knocked politely and heard her faint voice bidding him enter.
"Pardon me, master." Sebastian pushed open the door and wheeled the tea cart inside. Lydia was lying as still as a doll on the bed, head sunken into her pillow. Her face was halfway covered in a warm woolen cloth, and another one wrapped around her neck. Her right arm was bandaged, as always, but now her left arm was also hidden by strips of medical gauze. Sebastian couldn't see the rest of her body beneath the bedsheets, but he knew from assisting Madame Red, who had tended to her niece when she'd first returned to the townhouse, that Lydia's chest, abdomen, and legs were also decorated with bandages covering a chaos of bruises and newly stitched gashes. He also knew Lydia had barely moved from her bed since then.
The demon sat down on a chair beside the bed and leaned carefully over her. "I have brought more hot water for the cloths, master. Please sit up so I can prop up your pillows."
It took a moment for the cobalt eyes to swivel from a blank spot on the ceiling to meet his gaze. Lydia seemed to debate whether it was worth the effort before digging her fingers into the mattress and awkwardly cantilevering herself into a sitting position. Sebastian could see the pain flare in little shivers throughout her body, making its way to her face and manifesting in gritted teeth and pallid lips. Even this simple movement caused her severe pain. He hovered anxiously, supporting her with one arm while he arranged her pillows and lowered her carefully onto them. Once he let go, Lydia's body went slack. A doll with fabric limbs. He wished she would say something, but aside from explaining what had happened at Noah's Ark Circus and providing them with the map to Baron Kelvin's manor, Lydia had said precious little ever since he had saved her from Undertaker's clutches. Even more worrying, her expression never seemed to change. Her eyes were distant and detached, as if she were projecting herself away from the painful confines of her physical body. It made Sebastian want to pick her up and shake her back into herself, as counterproductive as this would be.
Scowling, Sebastian removed the woolen cloths from her face and dipped them into the bowl of hot water on the tea cart. Without them, the damage to his master's body was glaringly appalling. A large, bluish bruise stained the flesh underneath her eye, and another one marred her jawline. Her forehead contained several bruises and two large cuts which Madame Red insisted be washed twice a day. Sebastian wrung the dripping cloths and replaced them over her face and neck. The heat would help the pain, but it wouldn't make her heal any faster. Even so, touching her skin, the cooling light emitting from it was as potent as ever. His eyes flared a dark, troubled red. Human beings really were so fragile. To depend on one like this meant taking a huge risk, a risk multiplied by her refusal to take the contract. Think of all the ways she could have died that night. The little fool, always throwing herself into danger…. But even so, her compassionate nature was exactly what made her useful to him, so he couldn't say he entirely despised that quality….
"Sebastian…." The demon glanced up to see Lydia's eyes centered on him. She seemed to have pulled herself back into her body with great effort. He sat up attentively. "Tell me, Sebastian….why didn't you ever say anything about grim reapers?"
"Ah. I expected you would ask me that sooner or later," Sebastian murmured as he began intuitively preparing her tea service. "You see, master, that is because demons and grim reapers are natural enemies. We prefer to avoid each other as much as possible."
"Yes, Undertaker mentioned something like that. Because you both go after souls, you inevitably end up in conflict with each other. But you knew about grim reapers, and you didn't say a word. Why wouldn't you at least warn us they existed?"
Sebastian felt a tired smile slide over his face. "Because you are human, and human beings are endlessly curious. Curiosity is one of your defining features. One cannot simply mention something as intriguing as the concept of grim reapers to a human and expect them to stay out of it thereafter. Humans always want to find new things, chart new territory. Your curiosity about life and death would inevitably lead you to seek out interaction with such creatures, and as a demon bound to your bloodline, this could create a disagreeable situation for me. Also, since we have never dealt with grim reapers before now, there was no reason for me to give you such information about them."
"Hm." Lydia eyed him carefully. "That makes me suspicious about what else you haven't told us."
"I assure you, I do not keep necessary information from my masters. I merely refrain from overwhelming you with unnecessary information that would distract from your objectives." Sebastian bowed his head gracefully. He did not like the topic, but he was relieved that Lydia's eyes had regained their sharp, sweeping gaze. Her body was still immobile, but he could see her processing his words analytically in her mind. Eventually, she nodded.
"Fair enough, I suppose. You aren't obligated to tell us about things that don't directly affect us. It just feels like a punch in the gut, to come up against the reality of how little I actually know about the world and how it works."
Sebastian huffed. "You see? Already you've begun to desire deeper understanding. That inherent curiosity leads your kind into endless trouble."
"You're one to talk about trouble…." Lydia reached carefully for her teacup and took a tentative sip. "Speaking of trouble, have Grey or Phipps contacted Ciel to arrange our audience with the Queen?"
"Yes, master. It will take place in three days. I shall escort you and your brother to Buckingham Palace, and Her Majesty will receive you therein."
Lydia closed her eyes as if to go back to sleep, but Sebastian suddenly leaned over her, squeezing the wet cloth so that it soaked his white glove and dripped steaming water over her shoulders and throat. "I want to accompany you inside, master."
"Hnnnnhh." Lydia scoffed, cracking one eye open. "Why? Don't you think I can handle myself?"
"Of course I do, master. That is why I want to go." Sebastian whispered, wringing the cloth between his fingers while his eyes gleamed crimson. "I want to see the fire light up your face when you stand before the Queen once again. I want to hear what you'll say, and savor exactly how you'll say it. I want to witness it all. Every last-" drip "exquisite-" drip "detail." drip Sebastian tossed aside the wrung-out cloth and propped himself up on his elbows beside Lydia's silent form. "Surely master would not deny me such a simple pleasure?"
Lydia grumbled something under her breath and closed her eyes again. "Your pleasures are never simple, Sebastian. What's more, you're expecting me to take this opportunity to challenge the Queen? In front of Ciel, who is sworn to serve her?"
Sebastian smirked in fanged amusement. "Do you really think Her Majesty will leave you a choice in that matter? That she will not challenge you?"
"No," Lydia sighed, bandaged fingers rolling the hem of her nightgown. "No, I don't think so. I am not that naïve."
"Then are you planning to give in to her?" Sebastian's eyes flared with crimson intensity, crowding out the rest of the room. "Just like your mother did, like she gave up her happiness, your happiness-?"
"No." Lydia bit down on the word so sharply that her teeth pierced her bottom lip. She had reared upward with no regard for her damaged body, and now she and Sebastian were staring directly into each other's eyes, so close their faces were almost touching. The demon's pupils contracted as they followed the blood trickling down her lip and across her chin. Then he gave a stark, tenor laugh and pressed his frigid lips to the bruise on her forehead. The pain of his kiss settled into her skull like the first twinge of a migraine.
"I know you will not give in, master," the demon purred, curling his fingers around the bedsheets with felid grace. "It is that aspect of you, however maddening….that makes you so very beautiful."
"You call this beautiful?" Lydia gestured to the bandages and florid bruises covering her body, her bloodstained lips and teeth. Oddly enough, the pain had retreated to the back of her mind, swept away by the fervor of reality come crashing into her bedroom. She felt enlivened, risen out of her stupor. Sebastian was right. There was no giving in. Not to the future or the past. Not to demons, nor to rulers, nor to any kind of death. Not yet.
Sebastian's lips curved in a victorious smile as he ran his fingers along the glowing indent of her collarbone. His master had come back to him. He had shaken her awake after all. The cobalt blue of her eyes pierced him like a shard of sky. He reveled in that feeling. "You know I do," he murmured, so quietly that the moths on the windowpane could not have heard him. "I call it beautiful."
