A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful support! The replies are at the end as always) This chapter is much kinder to Ciel than the last one - I wanted to give him and Sebastian some (relatively) quieter moments, something that they had to share in-between the cases. However, a few problems still occur ;)
Chapter Nine: Vacation
Even though it was half past midnight, Ciel couldn't sleep. He watched the shadows in his room dispassionately, waiting for his consciousness to fade, but when the hand of the clock moved towards one and nothing happened, he'd had enough.
Quietly, hoping that everyone had already gone to bed, he slipped off the bed and crept to the door. The kitchen had to be empty at this time and there had to be some dessert left after supper. Unless, of course, his fools of servants had secretly eliminated it.
Knowing that Sebastian would send him back to bed if he caught him, Ciel quickened his pace, looking around suspiciously. Despite all the time they'd spent together, he still didn't know the limits of Sebastian's hearing, and while he could ask directly, he knew Sebastian would be deliberately vague and uncooperative. The bastard loved taking him aback and letting him make wrong conclusions about his capabilities.
The kitchen was lifeless. A quick inspection showed that yesterday's cake was indeed missing, but there was a tray full of freshly-baked cookies. Sebastian must have prepared them in advance.
Ciel gleefully grabbed the cookie and prepared to dash back to his room when loud voices sounded just behind the door. Before he could even register it properly, he dived under the long, narrow table that stood in the farthest corner of the kitchen, crawling behind one of the barrels under it.
For a second, he was caught between the outrage at his own undignified behaviour and the reluctance to crawl back and be seen stealing a cookie. Which was worse? And why did anyone choose to come in here now, when he was just about to leave!
As he was trying to determine which solution would be more embarrassing, the door opened and several people walked inside.
"And I'm telling you, I was right! Sebastian just doesn't want to admit that my answers can be good, too."
"Well, to be absolutely honest, Bard, they weren't that good," Mey-Rin noted carefully, and even without seeing them, Ciel knew that Bard must be scowling.
"If you weren't distracted by making eyes at him—"
"What? I did not!" Mey-Rin yelped. "I most certainly didn't!"
"What is this racket?"
Ciel froze, probably along with Bard and Mey-Rin, as Sebastian joined them. His displeasure was palpable to a degree that made Ciel shudder, hating the mere thought of being caught by Sebastian out of everyone in this pitiful condition, with a cookie in his hand.
"Mey-Rin," Sebastian's voice was cold. "I believe I've asked you to clean the kitchen."
"Y-yes, you did, it's just… I decided to help Bard to—"
…On second thought, he could probably leave the cookie behind one of the barrels and dispose of it in the morning.
Ciel glanced at the floor, then back at the cookie. The feeling of regret was rapidly drowning his common sense, so in the end, he picked another option.
Whether Sebastian already knew he was here or not, Ciel refused to be viewed as a child who couldn't resist a dessert. Leaving it could still compromise him, so why not eat it while Sebastian was busy scolding his oblivious servants?
Satisfied with himself, Ciel bit into the creamy surface, hoping that any sounds he might make would be muted by the argument ensuing. Mey-Rin was apparently striving to place the tray with cookies in the refrigerator while Bard kept insisting that doing anything in the kitchen was his job. Honestly, they couldn't even share their responsibilities without creating mayhem.
Mey-Rin won. Her feet moved towards the table with the cookies and Ciel cringed, suddenly glad that he'd managed to preserve at least one.
As he'd thought, this airhead failed to get to the refrigerator: she slipped on something and the tray went flying. Since none of the cookies landed on the floor, Ciel assumed that Sebastian managed to catch them on time, but to do that, he must have dropped whatever it was he'd been holding. There was a crash and Ciel forgot to take another bite, staring at the broken pieces of his favourite teacups.
Had this demon just dropped a tray with teacups to catch a tray with cookies?
Glowering, Ciel clenched his free hand into a fist, wishing he could tell Sebastian just what he thought about his priorities. However, it seemed that Sebastian was annoyed with himself as it was. There was a long, dark silence, and his voice was a menacing growl when he finally snapped, "Get out of my sight."
Another pause. Then Mey-Rin cried, quietly but so despondently that Ciel's heart twitched unwillingly in sympathy. He lowered his head to get a better look, wondering if he should have a conversation with Sebastian later. He wanted loyalty, not fear, and having his servants constantly reduced to tears wouldn't do.
On the other hand, they truly were hopeless and risked embarrassing him at any event he might have to host in the future. How could he trust them to appear in front of the guests?
Nonetheless, an involuntarily relief surged through Ciel when Bard stepped to Mey-Rin and wrapped his hand around her shoulders. His other hand stroked her hair lightly before sliding down her neck and squeezing it.
"Never mind," he said cheerfully, throwing a wary glance at Sebastian. "We're still learning, aren't we?"
Mey-Rin sniffed but stopped crying, giving Bard a weak smile.
"Learning how to fail every single task assigned to you," Sebastian uttered lowly. He kept staring at them with such strange intensity that Ciel blinked, confused, unsure of what to make of it. Then he backed away, hiding from view again and pressing closer to the wall.
"You're the one who dropped the cups!" Bard protested and Ciel almost groaned. It was the worst thing Bard could possibly say right now.
This time, the silence was so tense that Ciel started to seriously wonder if he should interfere before Sebastian killed both of his servants and they were forced to look for someone else. However, Sebastian's voice was surprisingly pleasant when he said, "You have precisely four seconds to leave the kitchen. One. Two. Three—"
Based on the sounds, Bard and Mey-Rin broke into a run to reach the door before Sebastian finished counting. Ciel stopped breathing for a moment, hoping that Sebastian would clean up and leave, and his eyes widened when instead, he turned and began to slowly approach his table.
Mortified, Ciel squeezed the half-eaten cookie, but before he could throw it behind one of the barrels, Sebastian drawled, "My, my, Young Master. We have taken to spying now?"
Damn him.
Ciel took a deep breath, put on his calmest mask and crawled out from under the table.
"We haven't," he said coolly. "I merely wanted to avoid having a conversation with those morons."
"And what were you doing in the kitchen in the first place? Oh, let me guess," Sebastian stepped closer and snatched the cookie from his hand, smiling mockingly. "My little lord can't fall asleep without consuming more sugar."
"If so, then you didn't put enough sugar in the evening's dessert," Ciel retorted automatically. He knew there was nothing he could say to actually defend himself, but he still wasn't going to let Sebastian have the last word.
Sebastian sighed, then bent down and grabbed him by the chin firmly, pulling him close.
"We will count this éclair as your morning portion of dessert, Young Master," he purred, and Ciel flushed, embarrassed for a reason he didn't understand. Shaking himself free, he stepped away, putting more distance between them, glaring.
"Don't tell me what to eat!" he announced. Sebastian simply stared at him and finally, Ciel was forced to relent. "Fine," he grumbled. He couldn't really argue with Sebastian when he was right, not when Ciel himself had ordered him to put his well-being above everything else.
He stormed towards the door but then paused.
"You've dropped the tray with teacups," he uttered, and Sebastian's left eye twitched. Ciel lifted his head higher, gleefully thrilled.
"You decided to catch the cookies but you've destroyed my favourite tea set," he added. "You couldn't catch all of those things at once?"
"I apologise for my clumsiness, Master," Sebastian said, sounding subdued, as if he had to force the words out. "I assure you this mistake won't be repeated."
"Of course it won't, you've already broken everything," Ciel looked at the ruined pieces in disdain. "Buy a new tea set tomorrow. I want Haviland, in blue, gold, and white."
"As you wish," Sebastian bowed and Ciel finally left, smirking.
Despite this embarrassing situation, he still managed to emerge as a victor.
He might not get his dessert tomorrow morning but let Sebastian look for Haviland tea set, which was a rarity in London, in colours that didn't exist.
That would be entertaining.
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To Ciel's deepest regret, he couldn't send Sebastian on a chase after the non-existent tea set in the morning. The day started with a visitor that Ciel had never expected to see in his house, with the plea for help he'd never thought he'd get.
"I'm not pleading for your help," Sir Arthur Randall growled, his face twisted in an ugly scowl. "Her Majesty wishes for this situation to be dealt with and she recommended that I involve you in the investigation. That's all."
"Is it?" Ciel tilted his head, letting his lips curl upwards. The swell of arrogant satisfaction in his chest that Randall's visit had brought compensated for his stolen chance to complicate Sebastian's life. "From what I understand, you are asking me to handle all the matters myself, without your direct participation."
"You have connections with the underworld. Your influence there surpasses my own."
"I wasn't aware you had any," Ciel smirked, watching how Randall's face grew redder. "Let me clarify. There is an issue with the increasing number of drugs transported by the sea and discharged in the local ports. Since neither you nor your people have any means to affect the dealings of the underworld, you've faced a dead-end and came to me for help. You want me to eliminate those who participate in drugs exchange and intimidate the ports so no one would allow an unsanctioned ship to enter again."
"I did not say 'eliminate'. Is murder the only thing you understand?"
"Well, if you could arrest them, you would have already done that. Am I wrong?" Ciel lifted his eyebrow, and as Randall spluttered, he exchanged a brief, amused smile with Sebastian.
Randall was too proud and law-abiding to admit the truth aloud. If so, Ciel mused, he would have to be pushed a little further.
"I will solve this problem," he said, sending Randall his most innocent smile. "I'll start with the docks in the Port of London. However, I'll require payment for my services."
With the corner of his eye, Ciel noticed how Sebastian's smile widened, and familiar warmth bloomed in his chest, increasing his confidence.
"Payment?!" Randall jumped to his feet so abruptly that he hit the table. His teacup shook dangerously and Ciel couldn't help but notice how Sebastian jerked as if to catch it. His mirth grew, brushing against his ribs, and he had to hide his smirk by pressing his fist to his lips and pretending to cough.
Sebastian was clearly worried that another tea set was going to be ruined.
He was right to worry. Ciel would gladly send him for several more sets, coming up with new non-existent colour combinations.
"Yes, payment," he replied as he regained control over his voice, though his every word still rang with amusement. "I won't help you for free."
"This is for Her Majesty, you insolent brat!"
"Watch your tone," Ciel warned. His good mood evaporated suddenly, replaced by the biting coldness.
He hated being disrespected. He hated being reduced to a child every time someone disagreed with him.
"I was under impression," he said coldly, "that you came here to ask for my help. You know you can't do what Her Majesty requires but you still want to receive Her recognition by completing the task with my hands. I'm willing to assist. However, insulting me is not the best way to get a favourable answer."
Randall clenched his hands into fists, probably in attempt to fight the impulse to strangle him.
"Fine," he hissed finally. "What do you want? Money?"
This man was truly an idiot.
"I have no need for your money," Ciel said in disgust. "Do you honestly think you could offer anything of substance to me financially? You're forgetting yourself."
Randall growled something barely decipherable under his breath and Sebastian frowned.
"Please avoid using such language in the presence of my Master," he said, and although his words sounded friendly, Ciel easily sensed a coiling displeasure under their surface. "And I can assure you, this won't happen."
Interesting. Had Randall threatened him?
Considering how shocked and then mortified he looked upon realising that Sebastian had heard him, yes.
"I apologise," he said so slowly, as if every syllable pained him. "What would you like in return for your assistance?"
Whatever he'd said, it had to be terribly bad.
"I'll need two things," Ciel uttered. "The first one is the immunity for one of my people. I want Scotland Yard to ignore everything he engages in — and by that, I mean everything."
"You can't ask for something like that!" Randall spat. "Scotland Yard is forced to tolerate your underworld dealings as it is. Do you want the criminals to lose the last bits of respect towards the law?"
"Scotland Yard is creating unnecessary raids that send only a handful of pawns in prison," Ciel countered. "I'm maintaining a sufficient control over my districts. My underworld representative knows what he can and can't do because I'm the one who sets limits for him. I don't want him disturbed even occasionally because it creates numerous problems that you wouldn't be able to start to comprehend."
Randall looked like he was about to have a heart attack from his impotent fury. Fighting another smile, Ciel nodded at Sebastian and he stepped to Randall, bowing a little.
"Would you like another cup of tea, Lord Randall?" he asked. "Perhaps a late breakfast?"
"Who do you want this immunity for?" Randall demanded, and Ciel leaned against his chair more comfortably.
"I believe my butler has asked you a question," he noted lazily.
If looks could kill, he would definitely drop dead under the force of Randall's glare. Randall was almost trembling with rage as he turned to Sebastian and spat, "I've already eaten. I don't need anything."
Sebastian bowed again before retreating to his former place. His eyes were lit up with dark satisfaction that Ciel knew his own gaze mirrored.
"Lau," he said, glancing back at Randall. "The Head of the British branch of the Chinese trade company. It's known as "Kunlun"."
"I know who he is," Randall grimaced in distaste. "An outsider."
"Do you agree to this requirement?"
"Yes, damn you. What's the second one?"
"I'll be needing some information. In particular, some files that only Scotland Yard has access to. I'll contact you later with more details."
Randall muttered something again, so lowly and furiously that Ciel failed to understand it.
"That won't happen either," Sebastian said, sounding bored, and Randall jerked his head up in astonishment.
"How—" he started but Ciel interrupted him.
"Yes or no?"
"Yes," Randall sent him another vicious glare. "Let me know when you complete the task."
"I will," Ciel promised, allowing himself a condescending smile.
From the window, he watched how Randall's carriage departed. When it disappeared from view, Ciel sighed and dropped back onto his chair.
"We'll have to go to London," he said. "While I'll let Lau arrange everything, I still want to stay close in case we'll need to interfere."
"You don't sound happy about it," Sebastian remarked and Ciel gave him a sour gaze.
"Of course I don't. We're likely to spend an entire week in the house with nothing to do." Ciel glared at his now-empty cup of tea. "These types of cases are the most boring but technically, they are my main responsibility."
"Understood," Sebastian's eyes lingered on him, piercing and attentive, and a twinge of suspicion stirred inside Ciel.
That gaze never led to anything good.
However, Sebastian sounded as nonchalant as ever when he asked, "Will we be going today?"
"Yes," Ciel replied slowly. Sebastian lips twisted in a brief, mischievous smile, and suspicions grew, hissing in warning angrily. Still, no matter how hard he tried, Ciel couldn't figure out what this warning might be. What could Sebastian be possibly plotting here? There were no orders that he could twist to his advantage. Maybe he simply wanted to go to London, away from the servants?
Ciel could understand this desire.
"So, what are you waiting for?" he asked. "Prepare everything."
Sebastian bowed, but his little smile didn't disappear.
"Yes, my lord," he uttered.
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When they arrived, the sky had only begun to gather dark clouds, turning into one huge splash of grey. By the time Ciel finished arranging everything with Lau and locked himself in his London house office, the thunder was already making the walls shake, filling his ears with hateful noise and distracting him from work.
He disliked rain, especially when he was alone in the house. The only source of comfort was that he'd sent Sebastian to London shops in search of the Haviland tea set — imagining him in this storm, going from one shop to another, was funny enough to lighten Ciel's darkening mood.
He stared at the pile of Funtom correspondence again, depressed at the very thought of having to compose answers to each letter today. Why did everyone want to speak to him in particular? And why were so many employees willing to deceive him? How long would it take for everyone to understand that his age didn't mean he was brainless?
Annoyed, Ciel took another letter… and then stopped.
A strange, eerily familiar acrid smell started to fill the room. Bitter, toxic, revolting — the smell of death itself.
Ciel jumped up, wide-eyed, unable to believe what he was seeing. A plume of smoke billowed from beneath the door, spreading and crawling to him in misty clouds. His lungs constricted even before it reached him, reacting to the memory of it rather than to its actual impact, and the effect was so intense that it made him choke. Nausea boiled and Ciel doubled over, holding his mouth, terrified and incredulous.
Why the fire? How could it happen again, here?
"Sebastian!" he hissed, backing away, closer to the window. "Sebastian, come!"
Nothing happened, only the coils of smoke spread further, licking his boots greedily. There was no fire yet but the smoke was so thick that it destroyed his ability to see, trapping him in a suffocating mist where only the frantic thumping of his heart could be heard.
Ciel clung to the part of his mind that stubbornly fought the panic, persuading him that Sebastian would come before the smoke engulfed him completely, before the fire came, but fear grew at a terrifying speed, thrusting the images of his father sitting in his armchair, unmoving, surrounded by the flames. Ciel could almost feel their burning touch, sense their liquid hotness threatening to spill right over him, and with the last efforts, he took a deep shuddering breath, trying to stay calm.
Seeing nothing but smoke was only scaring him more so he closed his eyes, pressing his back against the wall, and waited.
No matter what his mind was telling him, this was not the past. This was the present. And in the present, he had a demon on his side who would drag him even from the hell itself — a demon who was obligated to protect him until their contract was fulfilled.
Ciel focused on this thought so intensely that when someone touched his shoulder, he flinched violently, stopping himself from crying out only at the last moment, recognising who this touch belonged to. His eyes flew open and he saw Sebastian's confused face.
"Young Master?" he asked. "What's wrong? You called for me."
"What do you mean, what's wro—" Ciel fell silent, staring at the room. At the smoke-free room.
Everything looked normal. There was no smoke, no acrid smell — only the thunder outside kept roaring, accompanying the constant thudding of the rain.
Slowly, Ciel stood up, feeling at a loss.
Had he lost himself in another vision from the past? But it had never happened like this before. He'd never seen such vivid images when he wasn't asleep, and he had certainly never imagined the fire, or the smoke, for that matter. So what was it?
Still shaken, Ciel glanced at Sebastian and managed to catch a fleeting satisfied smirk on his face. It was gone in an instant, though, so he couldn't be sure that he hadn't imagined it.
And even if it was real, why would Sebastian set the room on fire? He could be malicious — he was malicious, but doing something like that for no purpose?
Ciel rubbed his forehead tiredly, hoping to soothe the painful pulsing in it. His thoughts were scattered, still intoxicated by the smoke that had apparently never been here to begin with, so he stumbled towards his table, looking at the letters blankly.
"Young Master?" Sebastian repeated patiently. "Will you tell me what's wrong?"
"No," Ciel shook his head. "It's fine. Did you find the tea set?"
"I'm afraid not. I had checked three shops before you summoned me — if you'd like, I can resume searching right away."
"No," Ciel said again. Another crashing wave of thunder split the sky and he winced. The sound echoed in his head, intensifying the already burning headache. "Stay in the house," he added. After what happened, he didn't want to be alone, even if it meant that his tea set would have to wait.
"As you wish. Would you like me to make you some tea?"
"Yes." Ciel watched how Sebastian left the room and something about him struck him as odd. Only when he disappeared behind the door, Ciel realised what it was.
Sebastian was dry. If he had been checking different shops and then rushed back to the house, he was bound to get at least something wet — his hair, his clothes… anything.
Suspicions shifted in his chest again, unpleasant and stifling, and Ciel leaned against his chair, staring at the ceiling.
It was pointless to try and guess. If Sebastian had decided to play some game, his intentions would become clear sooner or later. Ciel just had to wait — and make him pay dearly once he figured everything out.
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He supposed he should have guessed that after that strange occurrence with the smoke, a nightmare would inevitably follow. This time, Ciel dreamed of the flames, so blindingly orange that it hurt to even look at them. They were everywhere, blocking every exit, and whenever he turned, he saw his parents' bodies.
It was strange because he was sure that he'd seen them dead together, on the floor of their bedroom, his Father holding his Mother in a protective embrace even now. Yet when Ciel ran to find help, when he stormed into the living room, he saw his father again, this time sitting in an armchair. As if someone or something had carried him there, right in the middle of the fire, separating him from his wife.
Which of these visions was the truth? What happened that day?
This nightmare was far from being the worst but Ciel still woke up gasping, his heart desperately trying to claw out of his chest. Tiredness and helpless fury at being so weak that every tiny incident could trigger him were maddening, and Ciel hit his bedside table with all his strength, fighting the urge to scream.
Why did it have to happen to him time and time again? Why couldn't he sleep peacefully? Five days ago, the nightmares that had been haunting him after Lyndon finally stopped, and he treasured each night that he was able to spend without waking. Now, apparently, he was back to where he started, so more sleepless nights for him, more dreams that didn't even make sense.
Ciel pressed his hands into his eyes, trying to calm his breathing, but it didn't help. His heart kept accelerating, his brain kept persuading him that he couldn't breathe, and panic, irrational and vague, was rapidly absorbing him, pushing him to run, run, run.
This impulse was so strong that Ciel concentrated on corralling it entirely, forgetting what and where he was. The next thing he knew, someone's hand slid up his shoulders. Another hand touched his hair in a surprisingly gentle gesture before moving down his neck, giving it a light squeeze.
Ciel relaxed before he even understood what was happening. The touch was instantly familiar, soothing in its protectiveness, and he leaned into it readily, feeling how the fog in his mind began to clear. Then the strangeness of the situation sobered him up completely and he blinked, staring at Sebastian in surprise.
What had gotten into him? Sebastian was never so tactile. In fact, after his hesitant and failed attempt during Lyndon's case, he had ignored Ciel's nightmares altogether, not even coming to his room unless Ciel called for him. So why now? Why such drastic change?
Ciel wanted to ask but a cowardly part of him didn't want to spoil the moment. Sebastian was still touching the back of his neck, watching him attentively, and Ciel stayed silent, grateful that his heart was calming down.
Sebastian repeated his set of movements, caressing his back, then his hair, then his neck again, still staring at him as if Ciel was an object of some fascinating study, and Ciel's jaw nearly dropped when he finally realised what was happening.
Sebastian was mirroring humans again, this time choosing Bard as his behaviour model. Ciel remembered him studying how Bard comforted Mey-Rin in the kitchen, and now he was doing the same, observing the results of his movements curiously.
Another thought came, darker but equally perplexing.
Had Sebastian deliberately created some sort of fire illusion to encourage another nightmare? He must have wanted to try his new method of giving comfort and didn't want to wait. But why would this crazy plot even occur to him?
Sebastian's lips curled in a small, pleased smile as he noticed how Ciel calmed down, and he repeated his movements like the fool he was, probably thinking that the comforting shoulders-hair-neck pattern was a magic secret of humans.
Ciel knew he should be angry for such stunt, for such unbelievable, outrageous disobedience, but hysterical laughter was tearing from his chest and he could no longer hold it. He giggled, knowing he must look utterly stupid, but even this thought didn't help. Sebastian's eyebrows climbed up his forehead as he stared at him in astonishment, as if Ciel giggling, especially in such circumstances, was the most unexpected thing.
His astonishment was too much to bear. This time, Ciel burst into a genuine laughter, falling on his bed and trying to cover his mouth to mute the sounds. Sebastian's surprise turned into palpable disbelief, and then his face took on such an affronted look that Ciel laughed again, loudly and uncontrollably.
This was unbelievable. Sebastian must have finally decided that a good butler should be able to comfort his Master in the moments of distress and started looking for clues. After catching Bard comforting Mey-Rin, the stupid demon thought that repeating the same movements mechanically over and over again was a secret to calming Ciel down, and that the more times he repeated this pattern, the better results he would get.
"I'm glad you're feeling well again, Master," Sebastian said icily. Ciel tried to reply but failed, remembering the smugness on Sebastian's face as he touched his shoulders, hair, and neck repeatedly, like they were some secret magic spells he'd discovered.
Sebastian stiffened even more, narrowing his eyes dangerously at Ciel's continued laughter.
"Is something wrong with you again?" he asked, his voice still cold. "Should I bring you anything?"
"No," Ciel managed to choke out. "Just leave. I'm going to sleep now."
Sebastian studied him for a moment before nodding sharply and disappearing from the room, almost slamming the door shut.
Ciel was still grinning from the absurdity of it all when he fell asleep again.
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In the morning, both he and Sebastian pretended that nothing happened. Sebastian was fulfilling his duties as impeccably as always and Ciel watched him occasionally, wondering how someone so hopeless at some things could be so perfect in others.
Since they had no plans for the next several days, Sebastian insisted on doubling the amount of his lessons. Ciel didn't mind, exactly, but he couldn't help but feel wary. Sebastian was undeniably insulted at his reaction to his efforts last night, and he was petty enough to take it out on him during their lessons, the only time when Ciel couldn't rebuke him.
Determined to not give Sebastian a chance to punish him today, Ciel focused on his tasks vigorously, extracting every little bit of knowledge from his mind and pouring them into his answers. Sebastian, contrary to his expectations, seemed delighted with his progress. As he was checking Ciel's calculations, Ciel watched him with the corner of his eye, noting another interesting fact. Sebastian's pointer, which he used for hitting him for every mistake, was missing today.
Come to think of it, it was missing during other lessons, too, for quite a while now. Had he stopped making mistakes, so Sebastian stopped bringing it?
Maybe his progress was even better than Ciel'd thought initially.
"Absolutely correct," Sebastian concluded, drawing something on the paper with exercises and giving it back to Ciel. "I suggest a short break, Master. I'm going to make you tea and then we can proceed to a violin lesson."
"Violin," Ciel grimaced, his mood souring. He disliked playing as much as Sebastian seemed to be enamoured with music. Ciel sincerely doubted he would ever need this useless skill in his line of work, so Sebastian's fixation on it was annoying at best.
"Every nobleman must know how to play musical instruments," Sebastian uttered, taking off his glasses and checking the time. "You will marry Lady Elisabeth one day. She will appreciate your skills."
"What?!" Ciel exclaimed, a burning sensation hitting his cheeks. "That's ridiculous! If it's the only reason why you're making me have these lessons—"
"Does Young Master not intend to marry?" Sebastian inquired innocently and Ciel glowered at him.
"Don't even talk of such things! And unless you're planning to stretch my revenge for decades, I'm never going to be old enough to marry."
Amusement faded from Sebastian's face, replaced by what looked like genuine surprise.
"I believe young men can marry as soon as they turn fourteen these days," he noted. "You don't expect to live even to that age?"
Ciel stood up, mortified that such conversation was happening at all. And with whom? A demon!
"Women of noble birth tend to marry later," he hissed. "And if you do your job properly, marriage will never be one of my problems. Now cease this pointless discussion! Bring me my tea."
"Yes, my lord," Sebastian bowed, but he still looked strange, as if he hadn't expected to receive such answer. When he finally left, Ciel huffed, moving to the window and crossing his hands.
He had never considered the specific timeframe of his revenge, he just knew he wanted it to happen sooner rather than later. Living to fourteen? Maybe. Maybe even to fifteen. But his search couldn't take longer than that. The more time passed, the more difficult finding the culprits was going to get. And helping Ciel complete his revenge quickly was in Sebastian's own interests — unless, of course, he truly enjoyed being a butler… which was just laughable.
Marriage.
Ciel shivered with disgust at the very notion and went back to his chair.
He'd never thought there would be things for which he'd feel glad to be too young.
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Learning a new composition was as boring as Ciel knew it would be. He tolerated Sebastian's instructions, his fleeting yet constant touches aiming to improve his posture, and the sounds the violin made, which, frankly, he found quite unimpressive. When an hour had passed and Sebastian still urged him to go on, Ciel told himself that he would play one last time. One last time and he would discard the violin, regardless of Sebastian's wishes.
The composition was coming to an end and Ciel prepared to declare that he'd had enough when his gaze fell on Sebastian's face.
Sebastian's eyes were closed, his lips arched in a pleased, relaxed smile. He looked so peaceful that Ciel was taken aback for a second, unable to believe that his playing could captivate a being like him.
The melody ended but Ciel restarted it immediately, watching how Sebastian's smile widened in response and how he tilted his head, obviously enjoying himself.
Warm pleasure flooded his chest and Ciel concentrated on playing, suddenly much more mindful of his abilities. His unexplainable enthusiasm broke through his boredom and this time, he tried to put all his efforts into what he was playing, glancing at Sebastian occasionally to make sure that he was still enjoying it.
The belated annoyance at his own reaction came at him only on the final part of the composition. As soon as Ciel finished it, he put the violin and the bow down, unable to believe that he'd modified his plans just to please the demon. What's gotten into him? Who cared whether Sebastian was enjoying himself? If he liked violin music so damn much, he could play it himself.
However, despite his resentment, he couldn't help but recall the blissful, carefree look on Sebastian's face, and feel pleased at being the one who evoked it.
And it made his resentment grow.
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The storm didn't seem to be waning. On the contrary, it grew stronger in the next two days, to the point where even correspondence stopped being delivered, and Ciel was slowly losing his mind out of boredom.
Now that he'd finished composing all his replies, there was nothing to do with his time. He had lessons, read books, and played chess, sometimes against himself and sometimes against Sebastian. That was it.
He needed work.
When another evening came, Ciel had an idea.
"You wish to do what?" Sebastian asked dubiously.
"I'm going to devise a tabletop game," Ciel said again, his brows furrowing at the need to repeat himself. "I'm not sure I'll make it a part of Funtom production later, so as of now, the primary audience is myself."
"Indeed?" Sebastian drawled sarcastically. "Have you finally become interested in toys, Young Master?"
"Don't be absurd. I just want to try something new."
"If I may ask, how do you plan to start?"
It was Ciel's turn to smirk.
Later, he and Sebastian were sitting on the thick rug in front of the fireplace, surrounded by numerous construction elements, each busy with his own task. Ciel was working on the thick, hard cardboard sheet Sebastian had delivered, dividing it into parts and planning what each part would entail. Sebastian was cutting an endless supply of newspapers into tiny parts, still emanating displeasure at being forbidden to use his demonic powers.
Ciel wasn't sure that all paper bits had to be of the same size, but it was funny to order Sebastian to make them 0.7 inches long and 0.4 inches wide precisely. Sebastian had refused to use anything for measurement, claiming that his eyes were far more accurate than any device, and Ciel promised himself that he would measure each and every one of the paper bits later to test this statement.
"Young Master, would that be enough?" Sebastian nodded at the huge pile of paper pieces.
"It will suffice for now," Ciel acknowledged before focusing on the cardboard again. "You may leave now."
He was so consumed by his work that when Sebastian suddenly appeared right next to him, peering at the cardboard, Ciel almost jumped.
"What are you doing?" Sebastian asked. Ciel narrowed his eyes suspiciously, dubious that Sebastian could be interested in some game, but his curiosity appeared sincere.
"This will be a board," he replied finally. "We'll make game pieces out of those bits of newspapers you've cut. Then there will be dices or something similar that will determine how many steps forward a player will make. There will also be obstacles on his way that will affect his progress."
"So you're thinking of what these obstacles will be?" Sebastian leaned over the would-be board, checking what Ciel had already marked. "'Charmed by the dead'. What does it mean in terms of the game?"
"That the player who happens to enter this area is out for one turn. This one," Ciel pointed at another piece of the board, "will send the player ten steps back."
Sebastian let out a thoughtful sound, still staring at the board. Then he said, "Interesting," and Ciel's eye widened.
He'd intended to make Sebastian work on the game out of pettiness. He never imagined that Sebastian could become actually interested in it. After all, Ciel wouldn't have been interested in it either, he just had nothing better to do.
"May I make several suggestions?" Sebastian wondered and Ciel shrugged.
"You may," he said. "In fact, you may have this side of the board. But keep in mind that we'll have to make drawings for each idea — the board cannot be blank."
Sebastian nodded and took a pencil, clearly concocting some obstacles already, and Ciel wondered what kind of things a demon could come up with.
This whole game development was turning out to be far more engaging than he'd first thought it would be.
Time flew by so quickly that Ciel didn't even notice how the clock struck midnight. Sebastian raised his head, looking briefly perplexed, before letting out a dejected sigh.
"It's past your bedtime, Master," he said. "I'm afraid I've been negligent in my duties."
"Let me see what you've done first," Ciel shifted closer to Sebastian's side, studying his part of the board curiously.
Apart from writing, Sebastian had also drawn some drafts of the future pictures. Ciel hummed, unsure of what to think of some of them. A piece titled 'Popular Fallacies' depicted a dead woman with dissected brain. Then there was 'A Quiet Sunday in London', showing London rebels fighting against the police. Was it another subtle attempt of Sebastian to undermine the Queen's system of governance?
Sebastian's work was more intricate than Ciel had thought. He'd have to spend a while in attempt to figure out the meaning of some of his additions, both textual and subtextual ones. For some reason, Ciel didn't doubt that each of them was far more malicious than the openly gruesome things he himself had come up with.
Sebastian, though, seemed suitably intrigued by them.
"'Lost a Limb'?" he wondered.
"I want to draw a forest of death here," Ciel said, glancing at the words he'd written. "If the player stops at this area, he will lose his legs. All his subsequent scores will be divided into two because—"
"…he'll be able to cross only half the distance," Sebastian finished for him, smiling a sharp, fangs-filled smile. "How positively bloodthirsty of you, Master."
"That's a special game," Ciel noted, unable to hold back a satisfied smirk.
"'A Den of Poison'? Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't it resemble—"
"Of course it does. I can't breathe long after we leave Lau's little basement, so I thought at least one part of the game should reflect it."
"And what will happen to the player?"
"When his next turn comes, he'll be moving backwards. Poisoned smoke does soften one's brain."
"I see," Sebastian's eyes lit up and Ciel lowered his head to hide his smile. Of all things Sebastian could be interested in, it was their self-made tabletop game? Ciel didn't really want to know, but sometimes he wondered what kind of life Sebastian had to lead to be so captivated by the most trivial things.
Still deeply amused, he glanced back at Sebastian's side of the board and raised his eyebrows at the sight of one of the sketches.
Fire. He should have expected this. Sebastian loved playing games.
"'Burning at the Stake'," Ciel read, trying to sound calm. "It looks different from your other sketches. What's the idea here?"
"Fire is something that even demons are wary of," Sebastian replied. "Not all kinds of fire, but some of them might be dangerous even to our kind."
"Fire means death. If the player steps here, he will automatically lose?"
"Not exactly," Sebastian's grin acquired even sharper angles. "I thought it would be fitting if the player had to miss his turn every second time until the end of the game."
"Every second time?" Ciel frowned, considering it. "That's harsh."
"Games often are," Sebastian touched the picture of the fire almost lovingly. "Especially games played by you, Young Master."
Well, he was right.
"All right," Ciel decided. "Then it's set for now. We'll start making actual drawings—"
"Tomorrow," Sebastian interrupted him. "Right now, you have to go to sleep."
"I know that," Ciel snapped. "Stop finishing my sentences."
He was reluctant to retire as he was going upstairs. As soon as he touched the bed, though, sleepiness engulfed him, slowing his senses to the point where he struggled to keep his eyes open.
Sebastian was fussing over him, tucking him in and adjusting his blanket, and Ciel grabbed him by his jacket, pulling him closer.
"Sebastian," he murmured.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Those pieces of paper you've cut. I bet you've made at least one mistake in measurements."
"Why would you think that?"
"I don't think that. I know. Check them yourself, right now. It's an order."
"As you wish," Sebastian smiled in a way Ciel couldn't understand, crossing the distance between them and leaning even closer. Ciel thought he saw a red flash in his eyes but he was too drowsy to think about it further. His hold weakened and a second later, he succumbed to sleep.
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Sebastian was acting strange in the morning. He served Ciel breakfast and tea, was as attentive as always, but at the same time, he looked so sour that Ciel was at a loss.
Had something happened?
On the other hand, why would he care? He had no idea what Sebastian was up to at nights. As long as it wasn't related to him directly, he was free to do what he wanted.
"Where are those bits of newspapers?" Ciel asked. "We have to put them into heated water and then put the pot someplace warm for a day."
"I've already done that," Sebastian said calmly, arranging the white roses on the table. "You've ordered me to take care of them last night."
"I did?" Ciel frowned. "I don't remember."
Sebastian's smile was tranquil when he turned to look at him.
"You were sleepy," he uttered. "Your order was ambiguous but I assumed this was what you meant."
"Well, next time, ask to make sure," Ciel grumbled. Sebastian had ruined his chance to measure his work and find a mistake. Then again, maybe it was for the better — he could focus on the game itself now.
After picking up the supplies, they took their place near the fireplace again, both staring at the now-filled board.
"You paint your part, I'll paint mine," Ciel decided. "I'll also paint the start of the game. You deal with the end."
A cunning shadow flashed across Sebastian's face.
"I will," he agreed, and the fact that he was already plotting some vile scheme was so obvious that Ciel barely refrained from rolling his eye.
Let Sebastian do his worst. As if Ciel cared what kind of ending he made up.
They spent hours drawing, remaining silent when they were satisfied with each other's results and sneering openly when something was wrong. Ciel shuddered as Sebastian added colours to his painting of the flames, setting the drawn woman on fire and giving her face a terrified look. Even though he tried to follow Ciel's style of drawing, his pictures were still infinitely better, and while annoying, it was to be expected.
"How will you call this game?" Sebastian wondered, adding darker shades to another picture.
"I don't know," Ciel picked up a green pencil, trying to make his forest look as vivid as Sebastian's flames were. "I won't be submitting it to Funtom factories, so it doesn't require a name."
"You are not going to name it?" Heavy dissatisfaction in Sebastian's voice made Ciel look up in confusion. Sebastian's eyes seemed redder than usual, like this topic offended him on a personal level.
"Why do you care whether I name it or not?" Ciel asked incredulously.
"I did notice that you have an unfortunate lack of imagination when it comes to giving names, Master," Sebastian's lips twisted in displeasure and Ciel suddenly had an idea.
"Are you dissatisfied with your name?"
Sebastian didn't reply and Ciel chortled with amusement. Now this had never even occurred to him. Was Sebastian truly resentful of his name? He had appeared to accept it, especially when Ciel allowed him to pick the last name of his choice.
"This wasn't a rhetorical question," Ciel said sharply. "Answer me."
"I don't mind the name itself. However, I admit I'm confused by your reasoning. Why did you name me after a dog?"
The disgust underlying the last word was so palpable that Ciel almost snickered. However, his voice sounded cold when he said, "That dog hated me. He couldn't stand even the sight of me and yet he was a perfect guard dog, never forgetting about his responsibilities. I expected the same of you."
Annoyance left Sebastian's face, melting into surprise.
"You named me after someone who hated you?" he asked slowly. Ciel met his gaze, careful to keep his expression even, thinking, 'Eventually, the dog loved me. He loved me above everyone else and he was my source of comfort every time I needed it.'
Ciel had naively followed the association of comfort and safety when naming his demon, oblivious to how the first part of his story with the real Sebastian would reflect his relationship with the fake one.
Sebastian didn't need to know the second part. It was irrelevant.
"That makes sense, doesn't it?" he said aloud. "You are with me only because we are bound by the contract. You are obligated to protect me, just like the dog of the Phantomhive family was. And yet you still attempted to deceive me to terminate the contract early, so I'd say that in regard to fulfilling one's duties, my real dog was superior."
Sebastian's lips tightened and his eyes narrowed, as if he disliked being reminded of his earlier behaviour.
"Besides," Ciel added, "I asked what your actual name was. You told me to choose one myself."
"Demons do not share their true names with humans," Sebastian said condescendingly. The derisive curling of his mouth made Ciel stiffen, suddenly feeling disregarded and mocked. "The true name of a demon holds immense power that humans could use to their advantage were they to know it. We do not reveal even the names of the enemies if they're of our kind. Not to the outsiders."
"Really?" Forgetting about his irritation, Ciel leaned forward. "What would I be able to do if I knew your name?"
"The contract would be more powerful from your side. You would be able to actively oppose me and enforce your will even in circumstances where I would want to resist you. Names are considered intimate among my kind. We do not choose them and we are not given them — they are there from the moment we are born."
There were many things Ciel wanted to ask. He'd give a lot to know whether Sebastian's real name was mentioned in some of the ancient occult books, but it required more engagement than he was willing to demonstrate.
It didn't matter, in the end. Sebastian wouldn't share his name with him and Ciel wasn't all that interested in knowing the sordid details of his undoubtedly perverse life.
Sebastian was his pawn. Nothing more.
"Well, I'm not naming the game," Ciel announced. "If you have such a penchant for naming things, you can do that yourself."
"I'll consider some options," Sebastian agreed easily.
Without speaking another word, they went back to drawing.
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For four more days, there were no news from Lau, and Ciel spent them with Sebastian by his side, finishing their game. They created game pieces out of a chess set, covering them in a sticky mass they obtained after mixing the bits of newspapers with chalk and glue. As Ciel was working on the chess pieces, transforming them into gargoyles, Sebastian focused on constructing a silver-covered whirligig with numbers, which had to function as dices. They also finished painting the board, and when everything was done, they put all elements of the game together, observing their results.
"There's still some of that glue left," Ciel remarked. "I'll make some London buildings out of it for decoration."
Without waiting for a reply, he stepped closer to the board, studying the pictures Sebastian had painted as the ending.
At first he'd thought these were just some men and women sitting in a carriage, but the closer he looked, the more he realized that something's wrong.
"Why are their faces so yellow?" he asked. The people were preceded by a wide reddish banner with strange letters on it. 'Boaz'? What did it mean? The picture of people was followed by the 'Happy End' wording, but knowing Sebastian, there had to be a catch.
Sebastian didn't reply immediately. When Ciel glanced at him for clarification, he saw a familiar all-knowing gaze coupled with a mysterious smile.
Well. Sebastian clearly didn't intend to tell him anything.
Ciel glanced at the picture again, trying to absorb everything he saw on it. The banner, looking like a warning. Strange people. 'Happy End'.
"They're dead," he concluded. "And that otherworldly half-thing you've drawn is going to drag their carriage straight into hell. So anyone who finishes the game is still going to die."
"I thought you would appreciate such ending," Sebastian uttered, looking pleased. "It's fitting, isn't it, my lord?"
"It is," Ciel agreed. "But I don't understand what 'Boaz' means. Is it from the Bible?"
"Not exactly," Sebastian's lips twitched. "It has several meanings. You may view it as something akin to 'poisoned victory'."
Ciel let out a thoughtful noise, still looking at the picture. He'd have to research the word later to understand what exactly Sebastian meant. Overall, he was satisfied with the game — it looked sufficiently scary and interesting, and his fingers burned with desire to touch the smooth surface and start the first match.
That was exactly when Lau knocked on the door.
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Three hours later, Ciel found himself in a small, half-ruined room of the storage next to one of the biggest docks, pressed against Sebastian's chest securely. According to Lau, this was where the major drug-dealing group had to discharge their secret cargo today, accompanied by the port workers who gave them clearance.
As Ciel had thought from the start, this was boring. Lau had done all the work and gave him information, and now all he had to do was wait. As soon as drug-dealers and port workers came in, Sebastian would enter the game. And then everything would be over.
"Young Master?" Sebastian murmured into his hair. "Is there anything in particular you would like me to do once they come?"
Ciel considered it carefully, trying to evaluate the impact of his decision from all sides.
On the one hand, he wasn't thrilled at having to participate in a gruesome murder of some thugs. He despised drugs but they didn't offend him as much as the majority of other crimes did.
On the other hand, he couldn't realistically solve the problem of drugs transportation in all docks of London at once manually. The best option was to set an example for everyone, and to do that, the punishment had to be spectacular.
"Kill them in a way that will be remembered," Ciel decided finally. "Leave one of the port workers alive, though. Understood?"
"I wouldn't deserve to call myself a servant of the Phantomhive family if I couldn't do that," Sebastian assured him. Ciel couldn't see his face from this angle but he knew Sebastian was smiling that deceptively friendly, dangerous smile of his.
Silence stretched, with nothing but occasional raindrops breaking it. Through the cracks in the doorway, only small shards of light went through, and eventually, it started lulling Ciel to sleep. Sebastian kept holding him so he would stay warm and Ciel pressed closer to him, letting his eyelids droop.
He was startled out of sleep by Sebastian's whisper right against his ear, "My lord, they are here."
Ciel clenched his cane and hastened to look through one of the cracks.
The room had indeed filled with people. Some were talking quietly, others were rolling several boxes inside, pushing them towards the back.
They looked ordinary. Pity that their cargo wasn't.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Ciel grumbled. "Kill them."
"Yes, my lord," Sebastian whispered. He clutched Ciel tighter in his arms for a moment, and then, before Ciel could even understand what's happening, he was standing on his own feet, near the drug dealers. Sebastian was nowhere to be found but Ciel didn't let it disturb him — by now, he was familiar with at least a dozen of Sebastian's game scenarios.
"Who is that?" one of the men exclaimed, pointing at him.
"Some thief, probably," another man growled, narrowing his eyes at Ciel. "Get lost, kid."
Ciel snorted derisively, crossing his arms together.
"Your eyesight is failing you," he stated coldly. "You can't even recognise who you are talking to?"
"He's dressed too well to be a thief," someone hissed. "Get rid of him, now!"
There was a loud yelp and the central door suddenly closed. Ciel smiled with the corner of his lips, leaning against his cane.
"What's happening?" the same man who'd addressed him asked, backing away.
"That would be my butler," Ciel replied helpfully, and as soon as he finished saying it, the screams started.
He didn't get any particular pleasure from watching the men who had just been breathing being torn apart, but looking away would mean weakness that Ciel couldn't afford. For this reason, he observed Sebastian's performance coolly, wrinkling his nose as the smell of blood, wetness, and urine reached him. Sebastian was clearly having fun, jumping from one man to another, leaving mutilated bodies behind, moving so swiftly that no matter how hard Ciel tried, he couldn't track his motions adequately.
At first, he couldn't tell how Sebastian had chosen to design this scene. Only when a handful of men were left, Ciel noticed that each body was missing a different limb. Some lacked legs, others lacked hands, and the mouths of all of them seemed split from ear to ear.
It looked rather impressive, Ciel had to admit it. Normally, he disapproved of blood shows, but he needed something that would be remembered and this would do nicely.
Soon, all the screams died out. Only terrified whimpering from one of the corners remained, from the port worker that Ciel had ordered to keep alive.
Sebastian glanced at him, looking sated and otherworldly. His eyes were still burning an unnatural red and Ciel frowned, silently ordering him to control himself. Sebastian, it seemed, understood his command because he bowed, and when he looked up again, his eyes were back to normal.
"Arrange everything," Ciel said curtly. As Sebastian busied himself with it, he walked towards the port worker, stopping one step from him.
"What is your name?" he asked. The man raised his half-crazed eyes, shaking so badly that his teeth were chattering.
"J-James," he mumbled.
"Did you see what happened here?"
James stared helplessly, obviously trying to guess what kind of answer Ciel was expecting.
"The truth," Ciel demanded harshly and James flinched back so hard that he hit his head against the wall.
Honestly.
"I— I— I saw," he whimpered. "That unholy thing… it… it killed everyone. Please…"
"Unholy thing indeed," Ciel agreed, sensing Sebastian's annoyance with his back and barely keeping himself from smiling. "Do you know who I am?"
James tried to answer, but even though his lips moved, no sound escaped.
"Probably not," Ciel concluded. "I'm Earl Phantomhive, the Watchdog of Her Majesty. You will leave with your life today but only for one reason. I want you to warn everyone about what will happen to those who transport the drugs and those who allow such ships to discharge. Tell them that if I hear of even one such activity, they will meet the same fate. I won't tolerate drug dealing within the districts entrusted to me by Her Majesty. Those who do not heed my warning will be punished. Do you understand?"
"Y-yes," James whispered, staring at him as if Ciel was the devil himself. "I will tell them."
"Good. Sebastian?"
"All done, my lord," Sebastian bowed his head and Ciel looked over the picture they were going to leave for Randall and other port workers to find. The bodies were now piled up one over the other, and the severed limbs formed the second pile, placed in the opposite corner.
Cheap but effective enough to frighten their audience. Ciel nodded in approval and watched how Sebastian's fangs glistened as he grinned at him.
"Do you think that would be sufficient to stop the drug trafficking, Master?" Sebastian asked as they left the port. Ciel shrugged.
"It will work for a while," he said. "There will always be some desperate individuals who will still try to transport the drugs to London, regardless of their fear. After several months, the story of what happened today will look like a scary tale to those who weren't personally involved and they will still try to make easy money. So, it will be efficient to a degree. However, that's all I need and all I can realistically do."
Sebastian nodded but his face remained inscrutable, so it was difficult to understand whether he agreed with him or not. Whatever he was thinking, though, he wasn't going to share it, and Ciel wasn't going to push.
All he wanted to do at this moment was to get home and test their new game — and to sleep without nightmares.
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Contrary to Ciel's hopes, a nightmare did come. He hadn't found Sebastian's display at the port overly shocking but it seemed that his mind disagreed.
He hated blood.
The nightmare was familiar, the same type he'd had for months after his release, but as always, it felt terrifyingly real. The light from the candles was tearing mercilessly into his eyes, almost blinding him, and the only thing he could do was listen to the voices.
He knew what each intonation meant. He recognised each rise and fall, each laugh and the person it belonged to. It was vital to know these things. It helped him to understand when they were going to come and when he was going to be chosen — and what for.
He never knew which option was worse, to be 'prepared', as they called it, or to be finally sacrificed.
This inability to decide fuelled madness in him. Madness that was quickly devoured by hatred so strong, he felt he could burst with it.
Finally, he heard the intonations he'd been dreading, the sounds that combined themselves into the sound of his name, and he screamed like he always did — screamed for help that wouldn't be coming.
Someone squeezed his hand suddenly. The sensation was new and unexpected, and it tore Ciel from his nightmare in a matter of seconds. However, the reality was equally oppressive because he didn't recognise the touch. It didn't belong to Sebastian, which made whomever touched him an enemy.
"Get away from me!" Ciel yelled, yanking his hand away viciously. He was still disoriented but he knew someone was near, someone who wasn't Sebastian, someone who wasn't welcome. "Don't touch me!"
"I'm sorry! Young Master, it's me, Bard. Do you know who I am?"
"Bard?" Ciel gasped. "Where's Sebastian?"
"You sent him to Lord Randall. Do you remember? To deliver some news."
…Right. He had deliberately chosen the night for his message to rattle Randall even further.
Ciel breathed carefully, in and out. Bard had brought Sebastian's candelabra with him and the light from it was enough for him to see the clock.
Sebastian had left just twenty minutes ago. He'd managed to have a nightmare like that in about fifteen minutes of sleep?
The seed of fury at himself burned in Ciel's chest, quickly turning into a kernel of full-blown resentment. He clenched his fists, digging his fingers into his skin sharply, and only then did he remember about Bard.
"Why did you come into my room?" Ciel demanded to know. Bard looked sheepish at the accusation in his voice. He made a step back and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"I heard your screaming," he murmured. "I'm sorry, Master. As Sebastian was out of the house, I wasn't sure what to do. If you want me to leave—"
Ciel considered this suggestion for a moment. Then he stared at Bard, who looked out of place but painfully sincere, and discarded it.
"No," he said. "Stay."
Bard nodded, adjusted the candelabra, then shifted uncomfortably. He was obviously at a loss as to what to do now that Ciel had ordered him to stay, but to his credit, he gathered himself rather quickly.
"Want to talk about your dreams?" he asked.
"No," Ciel replied curtly. Bard rubbed the back of his neck again, looking even more uncomfortable, and then, just as suddenly, he smiled.
"I can tell you about mine," he offered. "I've been battling them for years, so I know a few tricks. Maybe they could help you."
Ciel thought about denying that he needed help, but just like the last time, he chose against it.
Talking didn't mean admitting to being weak, did it? And talking about such things with a demon who did not even understand the concept of nightmares was unthinkable.
"Fine," Ciel uttered, and blinked in astonishment when Bard sat right on the edge of his bed. For a moment, he was torn between getting offended and letting it go, and reluctantly, he picked the latter.
Bard was a simple man. He obviously had little idea of what boundaries between masters and their servants were, and scolding him would only reduce his desire to be useful.
"You know I was at the battlefield," Bard said. "I saw death every day. I went to the military to help the civilians. My family was killed in one of the military raids, so I hoped I'd be able to protect someone else the way I didn't protect them. But eventually, I only lost more people I loved."
An uneasy feeling washed over Ciel, making him look away briefly. He was unsure of what expression to take, what to feel in response to Bard's confessions.
He didn't remember the last time someone talked about his feelings so openly. Admitting to feeling guilt, to loving someone? How could Bard just say it so effortlessly, as if it wasn't difficult?
Bard paused, probably giving him time to say something, and when Ciel didn't, he went on.
"They come to my dreams often. Sometimes these are good dreams. Sometimes they are… yeah," Bard sighed heavily, reached for his cigar. Then remembered where he was and jerked his hand back.
"You said you know some 'tricks' to help with the nightmares," Ciel reminded him.
"Yeah," Bard repeated, livelier this time. "Of course, what works for me might not work for you, but dreams are dreams, right? So back when I was with the military, I had a friend, Jess. We used to share a tent with some other soldiers. Every time I started tossing and turning, he crawled to me and squeezed my hand. Lightly at first, then increasing the pressure, up until I woke up. It didn't help at first, mind you. I nearly took his head off during those first times. But Jess was the only person who had ever tried to help me and he always sat with me afterwards, just talking and distracting me. With time, I started associating the hand squeeze with safety because I knew what would follow. Maybe you could find the same anchor, eh? You could ask Sebastian to do something like that whenever you're having a nightmare."
'Sebastian is my anchor,' Ciel thought sourly, his careful hope crashing back into miserable, lonely pieces.
Sebastian was the only being that stayed by his side during his nightmares. His so-called comfort was the coldest and most impersonal thing Ciel had ever seen, and yet his mind still latched onto it, craving his presence and his familiar smell, absurdly associating them with safety.
Sebastian had tried to mimic Bard to soothe him last time, failing to understand that any touch of his and even his mere presence would have the same effect. Obviously, Ciel could never say it, but the association was there and he couldn't remove it no matter how hard he tried.
He doubted he could create a new, Sebastian-unrelated association. Not after all this time.
"Want me to tell you some funny stories?" Bard asked, and Ciel snorted incredulously. He doubted he would find Bard's idea of humour funny but he didn't want to go back to sleep yet.
It looked like Bard was learning to interpret his answers based on his silence because he nodded as if Ciel had said something and grinned.
"Let's start with my first raid," he declared.
Like Ciel had anticipated, he didn't find the first story funny at all. The second one was better. The third made him smile reluctantly, but after the fourth one, he laughed, quietly but heartfeltedly.
His laughter was cut short by the sound of the door slamming open. Jerking from the abruptness of it, Ciel tried to look only for his view to be blocked by Bard, who jumped from the bed and shielded him protectively.
"Oh, it's you, Sebastian," Bard uttered, the relief palpable in his voice. He moved away and Ciel caught a glimpse of Sebastian… and frowned.
Sebastian didn't look human. He was still in a human shape, clearly, and since Bard didn't seem to react, it probably wasn't anything particularly revealing, but by now, Ciel knew him enough to notice the tiniest signs.
The stillness with which Sebastian was standing on the threshold was unnatural. He didn't appear to be breathing, a human characteristic that he'd always imitated successfully, and under this stillness, the pieces of darkness were brewing, entwining and coiling together, preparing to attack.
"Bard," Sebastian said, and his voice, usually deceptively soft, was laced with explicit menace. It promised cruelty at the slightest sign of disobedience. "Leave. Now."
Bard must have caught up on this promise because he backed away to Ciel in what appeared to be an instinctive reaction, and when Sebastian's eyes narrowed, he swallowed audibly.
"S-sure," he murmured. "Have a good night, Master. Sebastian."
Ciel didn't react, watching Sebastian with a frown. When Bard left, some stillness bled out of him, but then he moved towards the bed and Ciel could distinctly hear the sound of the heels clicking.
"Is something wrong?" he asked, perplexed.
"Not at all, my lord," Sebastian smiled, but his smile was biting and icy, and Ciel shivered involuntarily.
Sebastian looked at him as if he despised him, as if he would like nothing more than to break his neck.
When he approached, Ciel stared, wondering if he was about to do just that. His stupid body refused to recognise Sebastian as a threat, though, and while his heart clenched painfully, every other part of him relaxed, succumbing to the illusion of safety.
Sebastian smoothed the bed sheet where Bard had been sitting and straightened again, still smiling.
Ciel wished he didn't. This? This wasn't a smile. This was a snarl of a predator that hated him and that was considering to tear him apart, just like he did to the men at the port.
"Another nightmare, Young Master?" Sebastian asked, his every word emanating fake sweetness. "I'll bring you some hot milk. You shouldn't be awake at this hour."
Ciel couldn't force himself to reply. He just stared as Sebastian left the room, wide-eyed and startled and afraid.
What was that?
A/N: Next chapter - Sebastian's POV covering all major events that happened so far as well as the events of E1 of S1. We've finally reached canon! :D
Crockett Rocket, thank you!)) I always admitted Ciel's cunning and his amazing determination. It'd look impressive on an adult, but on a child? Even more so. I don't want to imagine how Lyndon looked like myself, to be honest, though he absolutely deserved that. Randall was definitely shocked, though :D Thank you as always for your kind words!
Guest, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well, even though it's less dark.
22rubens, thank you so much! I loved the moment with Sebastian's attempt to comfort Ciel after the nightmare as well — pity that Ciel and Sebastian didn't think so, lol! And yes, I always wondered how Ciel and Randall's relationship was shaped.
TheLizard-ling, thank you so much for your wonderful comment – I thought it would be in Ciel's nature to fall asleep to the tortured cries :D He's a child, no doubts here, but he's also an adult in many ways, and a pretty dark and fucked up adult at that, despite his overall goodness.
Sebaciellover, thank you for such a compliment! I really hope you'll continue enjoying the chapters, we have so much to cover.
lilit-di, ah, thank you! It's such a thrill to get comments in another language, knowing that many different readers are reading it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Aservis Roturier, thank you so much again, I truly needed to hear those kind words — I've lost my dearly beloved pet that day and your comment helped me smile. Truly, thank you.