Much Coveted Servility

Chapter 2

April, 1889

"Please," the boy begged breathlessly. "Please, Sebastian..."

"Don't be greedy now, Young Master," the demon replied with a mischievous grin. His crimson eyes followed a drop of sweat that ran from the boy's temple, down his blushing cheek, past the flushed skin of his neck, and finally disappeared into his shirt. "We've been at this for much too long, and your body needs to rest."

"But, Sebastian...I want more..." The demon's smile widened. "I can handle it..." Ciel insisted with a frown.

"If you insist on being persistent about this, then let me inspect your body for myself first," he murmured huskily, stepping closer towards his charge. His black boots - polished to a perfect shine - squeaked as they brushed against grass wet with morning dew. The sun hadn't completely risen yet, and a fog characteristic to a beautiful day in England hovered over the horizon. The Phantomhive manor was a scenic backdrop to the two figures on its lavish lawn - one tall and dressed in butler attire and the other petite and wearing a white, padded, leather suit.

"You don't have to do that, Sebastian," the boy grumbled, his blush intensifying. As his butler came closer, the Earl stood up, only to sway on his feet. Just in time, Sebastian supported him with a hand at the small of his back. "I said no - "

"Let me touch you," the black-haired butler cut into his Master's protests. Though the Earl tried to wriggle out of his grasp, the demon ignored him. Holding the boy still with one arm, he brought his other hand to his lips and used his teeth to tug off his white glove. Ciel winced when Sebastian's cool palm settled on his forehead. A beat. "Yes, as I thought. You still have a fever."

"I said it's fine," Ciel decreed firmly, pushing at Sebastian's hand. "Someone's going to misunderstand this," he grumbled. After making sure that the boy could stand on his own, the demon stepped back and smirked.

"Since when has the Young Master been so passionate about sword fighting?" Sebastian prodded a discarded practice sword on the ground with his boot and - with a flourish - kicked it into the air. Ciel's eyes followed the blade as Sebastian caught it and presented it to him hilt first. He glared reproachfully at his instructor.

"Since when do I have to explain my orders to my butler?" the Earl quipped, grabbing the sword with unnecessary force. Animated shouting from the direction of the manor interrupted their banter. A slender young man with straight, blonde, hair sprinted at top speed across the lawn. He ran up to them and stopped directly in front of Ciel, leaning forward and breathing heavily as he readjusted his straw hat into proper place.

"Young Master," he puffed, "the Lady Elizabeth has arrived." As always when it came to his fiancé, the young Earl felt several emotions at once. Today, Elizabeth arrived to celebrate Easter. Knowing her, she'd brought a horde of people along. His heart leapt with excitement at the thought of seeing her vibrant eyes. Her warmth, kindness, and love felt like a healing balm at the oddest moments. At the same time, he dreaded the encounter and wished that she would leave. His recent nightmares and the mysteries revolving around the events on the Campania made him want to focus solely on his work. Elizabeth was innocent, pure, and earnest - as all children should be. Ciel had stopped being a child long ago.

"Escort her inside, Finny," Sebastian ordered when his Master said nothing in response to the news. "We mustn't keep her waiting for long, Young Master."

Just a little longer...

"We're almost finished here," Ciel interjected. "Tell the Lady we will be there presently." If Finny felt any kind of surprise at the Earl's decision, he managed to hide it well. Sebastian's mirth seemed to lose some of its steam, though only Ciel - who knew him so well - could possibly make out the change. Ciel's obstinacy even in the face of his fiancé's wishes stood unprecedented. Usually, he knew better than to make the hyperactive girl wait for anything. Without argument, as was proper of a servant, Finny retreated to the manor to relay the Earl's message. Satisfied that they were alone again, Ciel took few steps back and positioned himself into a ready stance.

"Young Master, it is ungentlemanly to make a Lady wait," Sebastian admonished. The young Earl raised his chin stubbornly.

"If I blindly adhered to the rules of gentlemanly behavior, I wouldn't be a watch dog." He raised his sword. "Let's go. I don't have time for games." Sebastian moved to face him, his face still unreadable. On the proper count, the two lunged at each other. Ciel parried blow after blow. With each hit, he felt his irritation mounting. Here he was, soaked to the bone in sweat, while his opponent hardly exerted any effort. Not a hair was out of place on him.

I'm fighting a demon - he argued mentally. What was I expecting?

He parried a blow from above. An image of his dream flashed in his mind's eye - Sebastian lying dead in his arms. Gritting his teeth, he dodged a slice from his right and tried to cut upwards. These were not fencing swords - they were sabers. Unlike the light foils that he was used to, this blade felt heavy and bulky in his slight hand. Despite practicing every day for the past week, the Earl's movements were still slow and hesitant. His arms screamed in pain from the effort of swinging such a heavy weapon; his legs protested the endless jumps and twirls. His butler, of course, excelled even in this endeavor. Good. Ciel had counted on that.

Several days ago, he'd requested that Sebastian expand his weapon training. He refused to explain why. In truth, the horrible dream of the Campania and its disastrous voyage haunted him every night. Witnessing Sebastian's death over and over again in his dreams unsettled him so much that he felt determined to try and improve his self-defense somehow. He tried to reason that what he experienced was just paranoia. After all, in reality Sebastian hadn't died. In fact, though his injuries were severe, he'd recovered fairly quickly. Yet, no matter how firmly Ciel stuck to that knowledge, he couldn't shake the dread from his gut.

The two swords cried out in agony as their edges collided violently. Despite his firm resolve, Ciel was tiring quickly. He had yet to completely recover from his bout of sickness. Though Sebastian severely restrained his ability and checked his strength, each hit felt like it jarred Ciel's very bones. Yet, still the young Earl persisted. When he fell, he got back up. When he needed to cough, he forced himself to stop. He needed something - anything - to help reassure him of his strength. Though, in the end, he knew the search was useless. As a King, he clearly understood the limitations of all his pawns and pieces, including himself. Though he wielded authority and power, he was - by rules and mechanics - weak in physical strength.

Sports had never been his strong suit, and he doubted that any amount of training would change that simple fact. Why did he refused to accept it, then? Blame it on Phantomhive stubbornness and pride. He pressed harder. Though he was at the limit of his endurance, he put more and more strength behind each blow. He rolled out of the way of a few more cuts before springing forward in a stab aimed for Sebastian's vulnerable side. Apparently, vulnerable at least. With Sebastian, no opening was ever truly an opening. For the Earl, however, this was different. Any vulnerabilities he had were immediately exploited. A sharp blow struck between his shoulder blades. He stumbled forward and barely suppressed a coughing fit.

"You're wide open, Young Master. Remember to watch your back."

"Again," Ciel growled when he regained his balance. Sebastian obeyed. Once more, the two opponents jumped at each other. This time, Ciel's movements were even slower than before. His fingers felt numb; his vision spun. Suddenly, the boy's eyes widened when Sebastian's grin faded into a hard look of disapproval. Before Ciel could blink, the demon knocked away his blade. The weapon flew back behind him and plunged into the wet ground. In the confusion of the sharp movement, the Earl's foot slipped in the mud; he groaned as his shoulder took the full impact of his body hitting the earth. When the white stars of pain stopped dancing in his vision, he stole a glance at his instructor. To the Earl's surprise, Sebastian looked far from amused.

"The lesson is over," the demon declared, leaving little room for argument.

"It's over when I say it's over," Ciel challenged. He thought he saw the corner of Sebastian's eye visibly twitch. Without warning, the butler yanked the Earl up by the front of his tunic until he was face to face with him.

"Again, you're being unreasonably stubborn," he bit out dangerously. "You are sick, your movements have been getting clumsier, you're attacking blindly without paying attention to defense, and -" he abruptly paused. The uncharacteristic outburst from the demon surprised them both, it seemed. The last time Sebastian had been this impatient was when they'd first met three years ago. With a weary sigh, the demon ran his hand through his hair and lowered his charge to the ground. "This situation is ridiculous. Honestly, Young Master, what do you hope to accomplish?" When the Earl didn't reply, Sebastian grasped his chin and forced him to look in his eyes. "A gentleman must know the graceful art of fencing as part of a proper education, but this," he pointed to the saber, "is not a part of that. What purpose does this serve aside from bruising your body and your ego?"

"Protection," Ciel mumbled before he could stop himself. He regretted it the instant that a smug smile thinned Sebastian's lips.

"Protection?" The butler brushed a hand against the boy's eye patch. "That's what this is for, isn't it? That's what I am for. Just rely on me. Isn't that what the King does with his knights and pawns?" As Ciel stared into his demon's glittering, garnet, orbs only one thought crossed his mind:

Until they break.

OOOOOOOOO

Elizabeth's surprise egg hunt passed by without much fuss. Though Ciel dubbed the entire event as an enormous waste of time, he admitted that he'd briefly enjoyed himself. Seeing his fiancé again had been especially gratifying. Dressed in her new, verdant green, dress and fake rabbit ears, she'd definitely taken the spotlight among the guests. When he and Sebastian won the hunt, he'd even allowed himself to feel elated when she hugged him. He recalled how he used to flinch from any sort of touch, even Sebastian's. The handicap still troubled him, but the situation wasn't nearly as bad as it used to be. He supposed that Elizabeth was partially responsible.

My Lizzy…

She touched him whenever she could – a hug, a shy peck on the cheek, a hand wrapped around his. She couldn't have possibly known how much he feared physical contact. But, even without that knowledge, the girl somehow managed to chase away some of the darkness that surrounded him. Like the Spring rain that washed over a Winter-dry hill, she helped him see that life moved forward. For that, he treasured her. For that, he hated her. Hope had no place in his life now. Only victory. Only pride.

By the time Elizabeth and the guests left, night had fallen. They'd wasted the entire day on frivolity, much to Ciel's chagrin. He only had a few hours to work before retiring to bed. Though, if the need arose, he planned to stay up late and finish the more urgent tasks on his list. Not even Sebastian could persuade him to rest. As soon as the company left the mansion, Ciel retired to his study with only a candlestick as his companion. Now, dressed in a relaxed robe and loose pants, Ciel sipped a cup of tea and drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. The drinks Sebastian made always soothed his nerves. Over the years, the butler had truly developed a magnificent talent for brewing various types of tea.

Spicier than usual – he observed. Had Sebastian used a new kind of herb? He tugged a white handkerchief out of his side pocket and wiped some sweat off his brow. Either the hot tea was raising his temperature or his fever was back for another losing battle. A thought suddenly flitted across his mind. Reaching into one of the small drawers under his desk, he pulled out a golden chain of lockets.

It's my treasure – the Undertaker's voice whispered in his memory. Closer inspection of the intriguing chain after their return to the manor revealed that the lockets resembled traditional hair jewelry, a type of memento some kept after a loved one's death. Though they looked like lockets, Ciel still had to find a way to open them. As far as he could tell, this wasn't possible. Either that, or there was a special way of doing so that only the owner knew about. One particular piece captured his attention –

Claudia P.

13 July 1866

Out of all seven lockets, he'd inspected this one the most over the past few days. The craftsmanship was impeccable – gold complimented with insets of amber. The creator twined the hair itself into a looping figure eight. Symbolically, it resembled the sign for "infinity". There were a few other strange details he couldn't quite make sense of, however – such as the circular symbol around the infinity or the loops that resembled the leaves of a branch. Why would a former Shinigami keep such a sentimental thing? Ciel clearly remembered the look on the Undertaker's face when he lost the trinket. Shock, fear, a brief anger, then acceptance. If this thing meant so much to him, how could he have allowed Ciel to keep it for so long?

Claudia P.

Phantomhive? But, no. As far as he knew, none of his predecessors held that name. A furrow creased his brow. Reaching into another drawer, he withdrew a set of hardcover books bearing the Phantomhive family crest on the front. The family registry. The gears turned in his thoughts as he flipped through pages of records, looking for any entry that contained "Claudia". A part of him hoped to find something related to that in this book, while another wasn't so sure. Did he want the Undertaker to be related to his family somehow? As far as he knew, the former Shinigami had only ever served in a professional capacity before his involvement in the Campania events. Unfortunately, many records and documents had been lost in the fire three years prior. Perhaps some of the older records would have made his life – and his job – a little simpler. Ciel grinned. Not that he didn't appreciate a challenge.

No Claudia anywhere – He snapped the book shut and sneezed when it kicked up a cloud of dust. I'll have to have Sebastian clean these out. Lost in thought, the young Earl rubbed his chin.

13 July 1866 – the date nagged at him for some reason. Historically, it meant nothing. He couldn't recall any events from that particular date from his studies. Unfortunately, though his predecessors had kept old newspapers on file for just such occasions, they'd all been burned away with the previous mansion. There is one more place I could check, but it won't be open until tomorrow. Absentmindedly, Ciel dabbed at his face again with the handkerchief and fanned himself with his hand. An odd haze settled over his thoughts; he blinked to clear his suddenly blurry vision. Then it clicked. He quickly glanced at his tea cup and clenched his jaw.

It can't be…

He pulled the cord to ring the servant's bell at his desk then changed his mind. Scooting back his chair, the young Earl jumped down and staggered towards the door. As he pulled it open, he saw Sebastian standing on the other side, his hand raised as though he'd just planned to knock.

"You called, Young Master?" he asked innocently.

"What did you put in my tea?" Ciel demanded hotly. His knees felt like rubber.

"You don't look at all well."

"This is your doing. Answer me. What did you put in my tea?"

"Your tea? It's just the usual evening brand that I make for you, Young Master."

He has the nerve to feign ignorance? – Ciel wanted to reprimand him. His hand flew towards the butler's chest, but dropped mid-way. Sebastian caught him as he careened forward and lifted him up to rest against his shoulder.

"You'll regret….this," the boy threatened faintly even as his eyes drooped closed. Beside him, the demon smiled.

"I'm sure you'll do everything to make that true tomorrow, my Master."

OOOOOOOO

The boy's fortitude really impressed him sometimes. Though the butler had added a fair amount of Laudanum to his tea, the boy still clung to awareness. After the incident at the Earl's study, the demon carried him down the hallway to his bedroom, hoping that his charge would finally get a decent rest. However –

"Sebastian?"

"Yes, Young Master?"

"Date…1866…does it mean…anything to you?" In respect for the boy's almost blind devotion to his work, Sebastian suppressed his urge to chuckle at the ridiculousness of the situation. Even in this state, his Master was first and foremost a Phantomhive workaholic.

"Not particularly," the butler replied, slowing his pace. Choosing to drug his Master wasn't to his taste, but neither was using his powers to force him to sleep. A little Laundanum wouldn't hurt, especially since his physician had recommended it to soothe his cough at night. "Why do you ask, Young Master?"

"Th' locket…'s the year on it…" This time, Sebastian had to work harder to keep a straight face. Hearing Ciel slurring his words was a priceless experience that he wanted to savor.

"Which locket is this?" he urged, his eyes softening. The boy didn't reply, but Sebastian felt no surprise. He'd sensed him drifting off the moment the puffs of air that tickled his neck lengthened to full breaths. Eventually, he made it to the door of the bedroom. Without letting go of either Ciel or the candlestick he used for illumination, the demon flicked his finger and unlocked the door. He stepped into the room, warmed pleasantly by the nearby fireplace. Just as he set down the candlestick, his Master reached up and wrapped his arms around Sebastian's neck. Frowning, the demon loosened the boy's grip so he could put him on the bed.

"Don't go…" the soft words, whispered right into his ear, froze him in place. Not again. This side of his Master distinctly perturbed him. During the past several days, he saw changes in the young Earl that confused and mystified him. The boy who hated fencing now wanted to learn swordplay. The child that despised being touched now slept trustingly within the embrace he should fear most. The Ciel that was independent, aloof, untouchable, unbreakable – that was the soul that he respected and yearned to devour. This kind of vulnerability – this kind of trust – should have disgusted him. Yet…

Disgruntled and perplexed by his own indecisiveness, Sebastian grimaced. He struggled between two options: force or coercion. Because he reasoned that the Laudanum had knocked the boy out cold, he knew the latter would fail. Yet, using force in response to this felt somehow wrong. Why didn't he just toss him onto the mattress and be done with it? In his state, he wouldn't feel a thing. Damn his diplomacy. Was this what spending so much time at a human's side did to his character? More than a little annoyed with himself, the demon finally settled for prying his troublesome Master off of his neck and putting him to bed using as few movements as possible. With the same haste, he removed his velvet robe to make him more comfortable. As he did so, something shiny slipped out of the garment's front pocket. He caught it before it hit the floor and inspected it closely.

1866…does it mean anything to you? – slitted pupils narrowed as red eyes roamed over seven unique lockets attached to a thin chain of gold. He recalled that this had belonged to the Undertaker. Unconsciously, he pressed a hand to his chest as though remembering the nearly fatal wound he'd received from the former Shinigami. He spent enough time to memorize the details on each item separately then set the chain down on his Master's bedside table. He had a strong feeling that the Undertaker would cross their path again, especially if this trinket remained Ciel's safekeeping. Until then, he was certain that his Master would investigate it to the best of his ability. Checking his pocket watch for the time, Sebastian sat down on the edge of the bed and studied the Earl's features, wondering why he felt relieved when he saw how peaceful they were.