So I decided to revise the chapters. Nothing much, just some editing to make it all read better. I realise that the beginning sucked really badly, so I will be editing chapters 1 to 8.

I still own nothing!

Street Rat

My footsteps pounded on the rough cobblestones. Behind me, the cries of the men were growing much louder. If I wasn't careful, they would catch up with me soon. I turned a corner sharply, leaping over a deep-looking puddle of murky water – remnants of the earlier summer rain – and quickly vaulted over a broken wheelbarrow that had been left in the dark. It was piled high with all sorts of rubbish, and had probably been turned into a sort of local dustbin.

I skidded slightly on the slick moss-and-algae covered ground, but managed to regain my footing. I smirked and spun around, my foot connecting with the near-broken handle. The wheelbarrow tipped over, and began to roll, spilling rubbish and clattering noisily. I didn't wait to see if it did its job, but judging by the disgusted cries I guessed that it had performed well. Still, that would only be, at best, a quick deterrent. The more determined and more desperate ones would soon come after me.

If there is one thing that my life has taught me, it's that it's dangerous to trust people. Humans are fickle creatures who change their thoughts, opinions, and emotions at the drop of a hat. At least, if you're on your own, then you only have to worry about yourself. Other people just get in the way.

I skirted a corner and found myself bursting out of the alleyway and into the busy London streets. The feeling of emerging into sunlight after being in the dark, it was painful. I blinked twice to allow my eyes to adjust, and heard the angry shouts from behind me. Out of habit, I lowered my head, tugged my cap further over my forehead, and hunched my shoulders up. Several people shot me angry glares, but I ignored them and ducked easily into the streets.

Out in the open, they wouldn't dare to attack me. There was a constable nearby, and I had learned that they were easily persuaded by a pretty face (whether male or female, although female worked better) and a few coins.

I glanced surreptitiously over my shoulder, and spotted them just a few yards behind me. There were only three of them now, out of the eight that had preceded them. I couldn't help smirking faintly, and then making a left as though I was about to head back into the alleyway. Their steps quickened. I made another left and disappeared into the darkness.

A second later, they thundered past me, calling out insults and slurs. When I was certain that they were gone, I jumped down from the small niche I'd pressed myself into. Idiots, I giggled lightly, and then I walked back out again. I made my way to a single scuffed, painted brown cab that had been loitering on the street for quite a while.

The cab driver glanced at me warily, his eyes narrowing faintly as he took my scruffy, street urchin appearance. "You don't look like paying customer," he glared at me. "Clear out. I don't give charity rides."

"How rude," I flicked out a shilling, and then another, watching in satisfaction as his eyes widened and his fingers twitched. "There's more where it came from," I pulled out my small pouch of coins, ignoring the pocket in which some aristocrat's wallet was now sitting. "How far would you be willing to take me for this?"

His eyebrows went up at the sudden display of riches. As I expected, he didn't ask about the origins. People like him rarely ever did. "I could take you as far as Houndsworth, kid," he eyed the coins in my palm greedily. "But it isn't a place for good children."

"Does it seem like I care?" I tossed the coins into his hands and hopped into the back of the cab. There was the sound of a whip cracking, and then the carriage began to move off.

After a moment, I leaned up and closed the window that would allow the driver to see me. Once that was done, I raised my head and reached up to pull off my hat. Once freed, my hair spilled over my shoulders and down my back.

My hair was white mass that slowly darkened to dark red at the tips. Because of this unique gradation of colour, I usually hid most of it under the hat. I suppose I could cut it, but I wouldn't. I suppose you could call it simple vanity, but I liked my hair quite a bit.

My name is Thalia Hawthorne. It really is too fancy a name for an orphan and a street urchin, but that doesn't really matter. As the great poet once said, what's in a name? On that note, Juliet ought to have had better things to do that simply leaning against her balcony and waxing poetic to the moon. Their whole story got on my nerves. Star-crossed lovers indeed.

As for names, they're just a bunch of letters put together and sounded out, and we all simply decided to answer to them. Who knows, maybe there's more to it than that. Names do have meanings, and words have power. My name means 'blossom', and I have yet to find out how that's supposed to be of any use.

I tossed the cap onto the seat beside me, and raked my fingers through my hair. When was the last time I'd combed it? Who cared? I usually went about the streets dressed as a boy, and no one was about to glance twice at a little urchin boy in too-big clothes. Dressing as a girl attracted all kinds of unsavoury attention from the wrong people.

Besides, trousers were far more comfortable than skirts, and offered more movement when it came to self-defence.

My fingers snagged on a particularly large knot of hair, and I winced. As soon as I get the chance, I'm going to wash my hair. I sighed, and then I slid my fingers into the pocket of my trousers and drew out my treasure, the thing those men had been following me for.

A silver ring sat in my palm, in which a dark red stone had been embedded in the centre. It was my mother's ring. She had given it to me the night before she'd died. It hadn't fit me, so I worn it on a chain around my neck to keep it out of sight.

I held the silver band up, letting it catch the light from the window. When I held it up to my face, the claret red stone gleamed the same colour as my eyes.

Idiots, I slipped the ring on and examined it in the sunlight again. It fit perfectly, like it was always meant for my finger. Like I would ever give this up. They could pry it from my cold dead fingers.

The carriage rumbled on, bumping occasionally when the road became rough. I exhaled softly and watched the illuminated dust drift, occasionally roused into storms by my breathing. Slowly, I felt my eyes begin to slip shut, lulled into calmness by the steady rolling of the carriage, and then I was asleep.

oOo

No One's POV

The carriage rolled over the road noisily. It was clear that the track had not been used often, and clearly not in a while. The road was flanked on both sides by low hills and higher, sloping ground. The sky above was grey and overcast, but not with rain. It merely seemed to be the default setting of the weather in this place.

In spite of this, most of the occupants of the carriage seemed rather excited to be in such a dreary place. "Resort, resort! We're on cloud nine!" They continued to chant this, and had been chanting this, for quite a while.

The occupants of the coach beamed round at each other. "It's amazing, isn't it Mey-Rin?" Finnian grinned at the woman beside him, a redheaded maid wearing comically large, round spectacles. "Doesn't it move you?"

"It truly does!" She replied back, with just as much excitement. "To think that we were invited to visit and spend time in her majesty's own resort!"

"Our young master definitely has his good side too!" Bard grinned.

At the front of the carriage, a black-clad butler smiled. "They're certainly in high spirits, aren't they?" He directed this question to the young boy beside him: the young master in question, Ciel Phantomhive, who was definitely not feeling the same level of cheer and excitement as the servants. "It seems that they are thanking you, young master."

Ciel scoffed and looked away, denying the compliment. "It would be problematic if we left them at the mansion and they ended up destroying it."

The butler, who went by the name Sebastian Michaelis, smiled to himself with some amusement. "Indeed," he agreed. Just then, they reached a dirt-and-mildew crusted sign that read Welcome to Houndsworth in faint black paint. A dog chain hung from one side, and a raven perched on the other. It cawed loudly, warningly. Sebastian pulled the stagecoach to a stop and looked at the sign. "This is the village entrance."

Beside the sign was a large tree, which was bare and ugly. Metal dog collars and chains hung from the branches like nooses. On the ground, below the tree, were the grey-white skulls of numerous dogs that had been left there for quite a while, the flesh having rotted away and the bones picked clean.

The servants screamed. Ciel inclined his head towards them. "I forgot to mention earlier," he said. "But this is the planned construction site for her majesty's resort."

Their disillusioned groans were obvious. "Young master…"

Mey-Rin exhaled a disappointed breath, and then blinked when something caught her eyes. "Huh, what's that?" She pointed at a nearby tree. This one had no chains, but it was as bare as the others, apart from a branch.

There was something perched on one of the branches, though it was difficult to see exactly what it was due to the foggy weather. Upon closer inspection, however, it the shape appeared humanoid. Below the tree were two dogs that growled lowly as they circled the tree, but the figure didn't seem too concerned with them. After all, dogs couldn't climb trees.

Ciel blinked, and then looked away, on the verge of telling Sebastian to hurry up and continue. However, something made him pause. Was that person a villager? If so, he or she could be of some use. He turned to his butler. "Sebastian, get rid of those dogs."

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian jumped down from his seat and began to walk towards the tree. As he walked, he noticed the unconscious body of a man lying a few feet away in the sparse grass. The dogs, sensing a new intruder, turned to him and pulled back their lips in a snarl. Sebastian's eyes narrowed and glowed slightly.

Immediately, the dogs whimpered and cowered back, sensing that they were no match for this entity. The person in the tree whistled admiringly. "Whoa, I have got to learn how to do that!" With that, they hopped down easily. "Thank you."

Sebastian studied the figure in front of him. From the angle of the hat, he was unable to tell exactly what gender the person was. The voice sounded feminine enough, but the height (or lack of it, he or she was only about three inches taller than Ciel) as well as the lack of any visible feminine curves also meant that it could be a young boy. However, the manner of speech sounded a bit too mature.

He nodded at the person, shaking off his curiosity, and smiled politely. "You're welcome."

Thalia's POV

I tugged my hat further, shielding myself from the prying eyes of my saviour, and feeling a faint blush rise on my cheeks. He was undeniably attractive, with hair like black silk and eyes like rubies and blood. People used to liken my eyes to red wine. His eyes were even more beautiful, and they glinted with something strange and wild behind the calm exterior.

The bundle in my arms moved and I looked away from him. "What is that?" He asked curiously. I smiled and uncrossed my arms to reveal something black and furry, with small white teeth and a coiling tail.

"It's a kitten," I showed it to him cheerfully, feeling more at ease now that I wasn't thinking about how handsome he was. The kitten in my arm yawned, and her claws extended slightly. "I found her a little way away, after I…"

There I paused, because I couldn't tell this finely dressed stranger that I'd had to defend myself against my cab driver after he'd tried to steal my money, because then I'd have to explain where the money came from (answer: some rich aristocrat).

"...after I got off my carriage," I finished with a shrug.

He gave me a look like he knew I was withholding information, but didn't care enough to extract it. I hesitated too long. Get a grip on yourself Thalia. His gaze returned to the cat, and I saw the way he was staring at it: like it was the cutest, most amazing animal in the world and he really, really wanted to cuddle it.

No. We need to go. Say thank you and leave. Instead I smiled and held out the half-grown kitten. "Here, you can hold her." The fuck did I say? "I named her Morgan, by the way." And now we're engaging in polite conversation?

"Morgan…" he murmured, and in that moment I could have sworn that he was sparkling. "Soft, so soft…" he tickled my cat under her chin, and squeezed her paws gently. I had to admit, it was kind of interesting seeing a grown man playing with a cat, but also kind of cute.

Cute? Cute!? Did you hit your head at some point? This was not like me. I did not express attraction towards the opposite gender. I ignored them, and occasionally spoke with one if needed. What was I doing referring to some strange man as being cute?

The man in question suddenly raised his head to look at me, and his eye narrowed. "You're hurt."

"I am?" I blinked and looked down at my arm. Oh, he was right. There was blood seeping out and staining the white fabric of the shirt I was wearing. I shrugged, ignoring the pain that had suddenly decided to make itself known. "Oh, the guy who owned the dogs had a knife. He must have landed a cut before I knocked him down."

He handed me back my cat – with some noticeable reluctance – and bowed slightly at the waist. I recoiled when he did that, what was he doing bowing to someone like me? "Then, would you permit us the pleasure of your company?"

No. I arched an eyebrow at the sudden invitation. "Don't bother," I kept my face lowered. "You don't have to drag me anywhere. You already scared those dogs away. Anyway," I turned to leave. "I'm sure you wouldn't want someone like me anywhere near your carriage." After all, he'd more or less plucked me off the road (or tree, if we're being completely literal).

I had only taken two steps in the other direction when arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and I found myself being carried. His eyes gleamed wickedly, and there was the beginning of a smirk on his lips. "It was less of a question, and more of a polite order."

"What the-?! Hey, let go of me!" I struggled in his arms, mindful of the cat I was still holding, but it was no use. His grip on me was like iron, and I got the feeling that even if I had been fighting with maximum strength, I still wouldn't have been able to escape. Still, I tried. "Put me down you bastard! Oi, are you fucking listening to me?!"

Apparently, he was not, and we must have looked like quite a sight. He carried me to his carriage easily, somehow ignoring the pain my flailing limbs must have been inflicting. For a moment, I stopped struggling to stare at the occupant of the carriage.

Sitting in front was a young boy, he could only have been twelve or so, wearing a top hat and a black cloak. His expression was stoic, nearly emotionless, and he wore an black eye-patch over his left eye. His other eye was dark blue in colour, and it narrowed in annoyance. "Sebastian, what is this?" He snapped. "Why did you bring this boy here?"

The guy beside me – so his name was Sebastien? – bowed at the waist, still with me in his arms. "This person has injuries, young master. I simply felt that we could assist him."

"And I told you not to bother," I snarled back, struggling some more. This time, I was able to jump out of his arms, but all my movement had managed to dislodge my hat and it flew off. "Ah fuck," I groaned, and then I straightened my shoulders from their hunched position and glared at the boy. "Well, there you have it: I'm not a guy."

If he was surprised by this, he didn't show it, he simply glanced at the butler behind me, and a second later I found myself tossed into the carriage. This constitutes as kidnapping! Wait, they were nobles. I was in a noble's carriage. There had to be something valuable around that they wouldn't notice! I huffed and shoved my hair out of my face, and jerked as the coach started off again.

Sebastian's POV

The second her hair came down, a delicious scent flooded my nose. How had I missed it? What was this? It smelled…sweet, ridiculously so. It made me think of fine wine that had been left to age for years.

With the ridiculous cap gone, I was suddenly aware of everything that made her feminine. The slope of her nose, the gentle tapering of her fingers, the soft crescent of her bottom lip, coated with a glistening sheen over the pink. Her eyes gleamed dark red with flecks of gold, and some part of me wanted to grab her by her hair and yank her head back so I could see if she tasted as sweet as her scent suggested.

But all in good time. After all, we were here to work. Still, there might be time to engage in...other pleasures.