Coattails

by The-Pied-Avocet

Adolescence is the dormant rose of winter: a prickled, ugly, tangled mess of vines and thorns, with flowers promised only in the distant spring. "Spring" seems so far off to the demon that must console his angry, hurting charge in the midst of puberty - but it will come, and not without a price that they both must pay.

26. The Imprinting

On Ao3, I have a document linked that shows the outfit designs for how Ciel and Sebastian are dressed, as well as a floor plan for Sedgemore House.

Imprinting is when a creature of one species begins to see a creature of another species as their parent... or perhaps as their child.

---

What was the definition of a child?

No two Englishmen of this era seemed to agree on the answer. The long-held belief was that a child was a tiny adult who had simply yet to learn the rights and wrongs of the world, but was to be held just as accountable for their actions. Much more recently, some had adopted the mindset that children were innocent creatures meant to be shielded from the truths of reality and treasured for their playful natures. The poor had no such luxury with their progeny: a third, fourth, fifth pair of hands meant a family had that many ways to bring home money for food — though even that wasn't so true anymore, as new laws and advocacy groups had pushed for education for all the nation's youngest. The devout could not collectively decide if children were the closest to their lord's angels or born sinners who needed strict regimens to be sculpted into model adults. And then there were the newfound Darwinists, who theorized that infants had more in common with neanderthals than they did with the parents who raised them.

Before this contract, Sebastian had scarcely had an opinion on the matter. There hadn't seemed to be very many differences between human adults and their offspring to his uncaring eyes; children were stupider and weaker and lacking in fine motor skills, but adults were stupid and weak and clumsy in their own right. When Ciel first offered his soul to him, Sebastian had been mildly curious about what having a charge this young might mean. A faster contract? A simpler one? Perhaps (and this he'd thought with a ripple of hunger) a soul he could mold into the exact type of meal he'd like to devour? It was worth trying just to know.

It was not faster. It was not more simple. But Sebastian had caught on quickly that a child was far more malleable than an adult. He'd learned that simply from talking to Tanaka, when the elderly man first returned to the manor after his hospital stay. The Ciel before the fire had been shy but cheerful. The Ciel before the fire had been trusting and gentle. Those qualities had been burned away with the old house. They had been replaced with a colder, darker outlook. The ten-year-old Ciel was, indeed, a bit like a tiny adult: he had felt more than a lifetime's worth of cruelty in the span of just a short month. He could not walk away from that experience unscathed. Could a true adult? No; but that wasn't the last shift in personality that Sebastian would bear witness to either.

A few remaining qualities of Ciel's past life had hung on at first, for there was nothing yet to replace them. At ten, the boy was quick to please, easily frustrated yet feverishly determined if he didn't immediately get something right, and all too trusting that Sebastian knew what "right" was simply because he was older, even while the boy openly despised his demon. The younger Ciel had also been accustomed to feeling helpless and to being taken care of, initially expecting Sebastian to manage most everything to do with the Queen's missions and his shire so that he could be free to focus on his studies and on starting a business. That bubble had immediately been burst.

By the summer of 1886, however, Ciel had developed an air of pride and unflappability. He delighted in proving adults wrong, in subverting their expectations. During the day, his past could not hope to reach him, and so he played at being indestructible, siccing his demon on those who would wish harm upon him and laughing at their plight. He hired three new soldiers to protect him, and he easily won their loyalty with small kindnesses. His toy company was becoming a toy empire, and it made the name Phantomhive one known throughout the world. Ciel seemed to want to cry out to his parents' assassins, "Come and hunt me, the one you couldn't kill. Come and see what it is to be the hunted."

By his twelfth birthday, the assassins had not taken the live bait. Ciel had become calmer, the fires of his revenge settling but never extinguishing altogether. Sebastian did not rush things; he continued to cultivate the soul. Under his ministrations, he watched the boy's arrogant nature temper into something stoic and self-assured. Ciel was most content when accomplishing a mission for the Queen or completing a major business deal, and he had a near obsession with facts over feelings. No longer did he enjoy when adults questioned his age; he wanted to be respected as one of them. He kept up appearances and threw or attended parties without any serious complaint. He accepted what it meant to be a part of the aristocracy, even if he sometimes ignored the status quo. He did not really care if people thought he was strange, dangerous, or even cursed, but perish the thought of laziness. He worked harder than anybody else around him. He couldn't stop moving forward; he didn't seem to know how. Sebastian did not let him know how.

And then the Shrove Tuesday party happened and the boy metamorphosed a fourth time.

On that February evening, Sebastian watched Ciel transform before his eyes into a much more reactive person. Things that Ciel would have once brushed off were now things that pierced him to his heart. He was fickle, behaving as a contrarian for the mere sport of it. Sometimes he became melancholy or angry out of nowhere. Other times he'd scream at Sebastian, indirectly beg for forgiveness, and become obedient again all in the same day, just to restart the cycle over tomorrow.

Sebastian had spent well over four years with this child. Nearly every year, that child had been a different person. Ciel was trying to grow up, had no choice but to grow up, but the resources for growing up happily and healthily hadn't been provided, and now the already tumultuous process of adolescence was threatening to tear apart all the boy's hard work — not to mention all the demon's. In response, Ciel had cried out in the only way his pride would let him. He'd stayed up half the night. He'd drunk a bottle of wine and left out the evidence. He'd smashed a teacup on the floor. He was changing; it was scary; he didn't know what else to do. Help.

And for some reason, with this latest change in Ciel, Sebastian had changed too. Instead of delighting in the boy's misery, he had tried to ease it. Instead of stirring the mists of this confusion, he had sought to guide the boy out of it. It was as if adolescence was not a stage of life but an illness to be spread, and even a demon with as many centuries behind him as Sebastian had caught it and begun to transition into something entirely new too.

"I am changing," Sebastian admitted tiredly. "It is scary. I don't know what else to do. Help."

"Myaaa," said the cat that lay cradled in his arms, pressing a paw against his mouth as if to shut him up.

Sebastian lowered his eyebrows, put off by the levity that this otherwise lovely feline insisted on. It wasn't as if he expected an answer from a cat, but somehow unleashing a plea into the universe and hoping for an answer seemed like the sort of thing one did when they were truly desperate.

And Sebastian was feeling desperate.

"Tomorrow is the big day," he had said to his charge just half an hour ago in the bedroom. He'd sat down on the opposite end of the bed, his designated place during their nightly meetings in the London house, and smiled widely. "You've worked very, very hard these past two months. Do you feel nervous?"

Ciel had been playing with his eye patch in his hands as he lounged against his pillows. He shrugged, not looking up from the little distraction. "No."

Sebastian blinked in the silence that followed that monosyllabic answer. "Well. That's good to hear. Are you excited, then?"

Ciel sighed. "Maybe. I'm ready to do something else, really. I've had enough of planning this stupid thing; if it goes well, then I'll be satisfied, but right now I'd rather just have it over with."

"Hmm. Yes, I understand." Sebastian nodded. "But you do seem somewhat preoccupied, my lord. Are you sure nothing is on your mind?"

Another sigh, this time more aggressive. Ciel fixed Sebastian squarely with that familiar look of judgment. "Are you an idiot? We finally made it to the last meeting you prescribed for me. Did you forget about that or are you just pretending it doesn't matter?"

"Ah." To be honest, Sebastian had partially forgotten. It seemed so clear that they were going to keep the meetings going after the proposed time limit — Sebastian had begun to hope it would be glossed over. "It is only the last of the meetings that we initially agreed to," Sebastian reminded him. "It isn't the last of all the nightly meetings we shall ever have."

Ciel was still glaring at him. "Are you just deciding that without me?" he said. He folded his arms, sitting up taller. "I believe I'm the one who gets to say that, not you. You already forced me to do this in the first place. Now it's my turn to choose for us both."

"I certainly didn't mean to sound like I'd chosen for us collectively," said Sebastian — or had he? He tried again. "I'm sorry that I spoke so conclusively to you just now, sir. You're right; you are the one who gets to decide what happens next."

"And," Ciel added, as if Sebastian hadn't even spoken, "I believe you told me back in June that if we met until the 7th of August and then I decided I didn't want to have nightly meetings with you anymore, you would never 'broach the subject of my emotional state without a reason again.' Did you or did you not say that?"

Sebastian paused. "Those were… nearly the words I said, yes."

"So," said Ciel, a fiendish smirk slowly lifting up one corner of his cheek, "you offered me that deal and you really thought that I wouldn't choose for you to leave me alone?"

A stinging feeling spread through Sebastian's chest at those words. He… hadn't been expecting them. And he hoped the surprise at hearing them hadn't shown in his expression for more than an instant. "I didn't know what you were going to choose," he replied steadily. "But it sounds as if you feel that you'd like to stop."

Ciel only continued to stare. "Yes. Why? Are you 'disappointed in me' or something?" The last bit was spoken somewhat mockingly.

The sting in his chest deepened. Sebastian felt the truth rise to his lips. He did not try to suppress it this time. "Not in you, sir, but… I am somewhat disappointed, yes. We have spent quite a number of evenings in this fashion now. It was admittedly fascinating, getting to know you in ways I hadn't before. But what really disappoints me is the feeling that so much went unspoken. I think there is a lot you have left to say, if you would give yourself the opportunity to say it."

Throughout that explanation, Ciel's calculating expression twitched with various emotions that he kept from winning out: amusement, puzzlement, a minute flash of fear. When Sebastian finished talking, Ciel shook his head. "No, I don't have anything left that I need to say. Sometimes it was kind of enjoyable to force you to listen to my silly childhood stories, but other times you were too pushy, you know. If we kept going, it would just be about what you wanted, wouldn't it?" Ciel snickered humorlessly. "Well, I'm glad you had fun. I don't think you always cared if it was fun for me."

Sebastian leaned towards Ciel, smiling frankly. "You might recall that the conversations weren't really about 'having fun,' sir. They were about your honest feelings. And I don't think you really wanted to be honest with me most of the time. You're right that it wasn't your job to be; that was for you to decide, ultimately. But if you weren't happy with how things were going, I wish we had talked about it before this moment."

"I wasn't interested in talking about how things were going with the meetings," Ciel said. He sounded very businesslike now. "I just wanted to get them over with. You were the one who told me that the meetings were for me to say whatever I wanted to say. That's exactly what I did. Whether I avoided talking about my feelings or not, that isn't important. I used the time as I saw fit. If that wasn't good enough for you, that's your problem."

Sebastian kept his voice light and unassuming so that Ciel would know he wasn't angry, just candid. "It isn't about it not being good enough for me, young master — quite the opposite. Do you think you could tell me why you didn't request for something to change?"

Ciel glowered. "I just told you: because I didn't need anything to change. Because I just needed to see your so-called trial period through to get my prize. Now the trial period's over, you lost, and you don't get to bring up how I'm feeling without a good reason anymore. We'll discuss what those 'good reasons' are some other time; like hell I'm going to let you decide that on your own too." Ciel scooted his body down in bed until his head rested against the pillows. "But now I'm tired, so go lick your wounds somewhere where I can't see you. You can come back in the morning. Goodbye."

And so, with that, their weeks of nightly meetings came to a very unceremonious conclusion.

"How could this happen to me," Sebastian growled in frustration.

"Myerrrow! " the cat growled back, and rolled out of his arms to strut off down the alley with her tail swishing above her.

Sebastian sighed as he watched her leave. He straightened out of the squatting pose he'd been in and glanced at the rooftops, hoping another cat might appear for him to hold instead. His aggravation felt like it needed alleviating right now… and it bothered him to recognize it. Shouldn't he be glad that the young master had called off their sessions? Shouldn't he be pleased that he was being awarded more distance from the boy that was exacerbating these dangerous feelings of sympathy? But instead what he felt was loss.

This past half year had been as complicated for Ciel as it had been for Sebastian. And these individual complications of human and demon, when Sebastian thought about it, were nearly one and the same. There was a struggle to accept new feelings, a desire for things to remain as they had, and an anger, a fear, as it became creepingly more obvious that things could not remain as they had. Oh, how Sebastian had tried to fight it… reason with it… contextualize it… and fight it again… but in the end, it was fruitless. It only led to exhaustion, and Sebastian was quite sick of living sans confidence.

And Ciel knew what it was to struggle with confidence. In March, Sebastian had begun to feel sympathy for that struggle. He had tried to fight off sympathy for so long now — and through that fight, the sympathy had not been scared away. Instead, it had developed into empathy.

The internal wars one could wage inside their own mind were frightening and exhausting. Sebastian had been fighting one for only six months; how had Ciel dealt with nearly five years of this? Even thinking of it made Sebastian laugh bitterly to himself. No wonder the young master felt like he was falling apart.

All right, then. Sebastian clapped his hands twice, as if to rally himself. It was time to stop getting by so meekly, in earnest. Yes, he was frightened of the foreign magic, he was frightened of feeling sympathy, he was frightened of being frightened. But it was all right to be. It helped him understand the boy who meant more to him than anything. And… it helped him be understood by that boy, too.

"I won't leave him," Sebastian said aloud, softly. "Even if all he wants is to be alone in the world, I won't go away."

Surprisingly, Sebastian felt the odd sting blossom in his chest again as he said that. But why? He wasn't feeling at all like he did in the bedroom when Ciel dismissed him. He placed his hand to his collarbone, puzzling at himself. What was the reason for this?

"Myaahhh."

That brief confusion evaporated as a most fantastic sound lit the air. From the alley she'd disappeared down, the mottled beauty came scampering back, her tail cane-hooked with friendly inquisition. It seemed that she had changed her mind about Sebastian after all; she scampered over to rub against his legs, purring emphatically, and then begged up at him with wide golden eyes.

"Oh, honestly…" With an adoring sigh, Sebastian scooped her up at once, rubbing his cheek against hers with immediate forgiveness. "Welcome back, you capricious waif… I'm sorry about before. If I promise not to speak so rashly anymore, I hope you will promise not to go running off again in turn…"

"Mrrrrrp!" the cat promised, and began kneading at the breast of his uniform.

Sebastian chuckled as her claws punctured straight through the fine threads of the tailcoat. He rubbed a bare finger against the velvet fur at the base of her ear. "Yes, yes… I forgive you… I forgive you…"

---

Morning was a spangle of sunlight beyond the skyline's brick chimneys, which billowed breakfast smoke straight upward through the blue. Sebastian opened the curtains wide to let in the scene, while greeting, "Good morning, young master, Prince Soma — it's time to wake up. And what a beautiful day it is, too; perfect weather for the convention's guests to enjoy Sedgemore House's garden. How fortunate we are."

Ciel didn't move at first. Then, slowly, he opened and closed his long-lashed eyes like butterfly wings against the light that threatened his sleep. "Sebas…tian…? Did you… just call me Young Master Prince Soma…?"

Sebastian was already back at the trolley, pouring tea and assembling it on a saucer. "Not at all, sir. I think you'll find the proper Prince Soma curled up at the foot of your bed."

"Whaaa?!" That reveal was a better alarm than any other. Ciel jolted awake now, slapping a protective hand over his contract eye. "You! What are you doing here?!"

Soma was blinking tiredly now too. Then, deciding he'd seen enough, he nuzzled his face into the top of the comforter. "Nn… Five more minutes…"

"No more minutes!" Ciel threw a pillow at the other boy so that it hit him on the back of the head. Soma uttered a little "Owwww…" and finally began to rise. "What the hell are you doing in here?!" Ciel cried. "I have a right to my privacy, you know!"

"Nngh, what a mean way to wake-up…" Soma rubbed at his scalp, pouting. "You were the one who said I could, you know…"

"As if I would ever allow this!" But then Ciel paused, thinking. "Wait… You came in here last night when I was sleeping and started prattling on about a bad dream, didn't you…"

"I had a nightmare that Bitter Rabbit was a hundred feet tall and he was carrying you away!" Tears budded in Soma's eyes as he recounted it. "He was stomping on all the buildings in London too! He even stepped on Big Ben! And that one's my favorite!"

"I keep a gun under my pillow, you idiot!" Ciel shouted, rather boldly revealing the Baby Browning he favored for protection. "You're lucky my first reaction wasn't to bloody shoot you! Then giant stuffed rabbits would be the least of your problems!"

Soma folded his arms, surprisingly unfazed by the weapon. "Well, I didn't just walk in, I knocked first! And you told me I could enter! I mean, you also said you only let me in because you thought I was Sebastian, but then when I tried to tell you about how terribly awful my dream was, you said I could stay if I promised to shut up."

Sebastian helped Ciel tie on his eye patch while Soma recounted this; beneath his hands, he registered Ciel freeze up slightly at Sebastian's name. After the prince stopped speaking, Ciel cleared his throat. "Right, well, you should count your lucky stars anyway, because it seems that I decided I was too tired to deal with you properly. But don't do that ever again! Learn to sleep in your own bed like a nineteen-year-old ought to! What a silly dream to make you scared anyway… Your imagination is as wild as they come."

"It didn't make me scared!" Soma explained, clenching his fists with determination. "It made me feel like I needed to check on you and make sure you were okay! And I was going to go back to my room, but then when you said I could stay, I felt like maybe you wanted me to."

Ciel was about to take the teacup Sebastian offered out to him, but that comment made his shoulders bunch up with rage. "Absolutely not! What an insinuation! I don't even remember that conversation, so it's clear I was so tired that I would have done anything to make you stop talking! A-Anyway, that's enough about this, Agni must be wondering where you are. Or are you so keen on giving everyone in this house a fright first thing in the morning?!"

But Soma's eyes had glazed over in the middle of Ciel's words. Suddenly he became very alert. "Ciel! It's… today! Today is your Funtom Convention!"

Ciel stared at him hard. "Yes, obviously!"

"It's today!" Soma's eyes grew huge and a smile split over his face. "It's today!" He stood up on the bed. "It's to-day!" With a merry cackle, the prince sprung away and raced over to the door, throwing it open and calling down the hallway, "Agni! Agni! Today is the Funtom Convention! It's here! "

Sebastian thought he heard a distant, desperately relieved, "Oh, my prince, there you are!" but it was swiftly interrupted by Soma's continued chanting of, "It's today! It's the convention! It's today, it's today, it's today, it's today, it's today! Don't just stand there crying, Agni, there's no time to slack! We have to get ready! Hurry up, hurry, hurry, let's go, go, go!"

Then finally, finally, silence reigned.

With a weary hand, Ciel accepted the teacup from Sebastian and helped himself to a long, remedial sip. "Why must he constantly be like this…?" he groaned. "How can he constantly be like this?"

"Prince Soma indeed has energy to spare," Sebastian noted. He smiled. "I prepared you a second flush Darjeeling to assist with waking up, since it's slightly earlier than you're used to, but I think that animated conversation was just as useful."

"Yet entirely less relaxing," Ciel snarled lightly. Another sip, then a glare. "I'm not interested in any more of your thoughts on what just transpired. I want to take a bath before breakfast, so go get the tub ready while I finish this tea. We've got a long day ahead of us, I may as well be as prepared for it as I possibly can…"

Sebastian couldn't agree more. And he'd do his best to show it. Even if Ciel insisted on ending their nightly meetings, he'd find ways to prove he was just as much an ally to the boy as before.

There was a bath with a rinse of rosemary tea and apple cider vinegar to add extra shine to the young master's hair. Afterwards, there was a breakfast of potted chicken and toasty triangles of potato bread and haricot beans baked in tomato catsup. It was a meal made chiefly from the previous night's leftovers, and it was sure to keep Ciel's appetite satiated for the next few hours at least. Soma was apparently still busy getting ready, and breakfast was able to be a quieter affair without the prince's company. Then it was Ciel's turn to get dressed.

If the outfit Nina had designed was blasé by her own standards, to the rest of the world it was as striking as a signal lamp. The single-breasted waistcoat was a black silk brocade. The marigold designs across it resembled the flowers of the pagoda tree in Sedgemore's garden, overlapping and crisscrossing around the waistcoat's buttoned hems. The jacket bore a similar brocade, though the pattern was consolidated to the left shoulder, sleeve hems, lapels, and collar against a rich black scape. The design's physical appearance was meant to mimic the look of the vibrant gold zardozi embroidery that would be worn by Prince Soma and the Maharaja Bitter Rabbits.

After making sure all the minor details were in place — tying the bow tie into a diamond-point, securing the custom eye patch (with a single pagoda flower adorned on its center), lacing the black oxfords so they were comfortably snug — Ciel put on his bowler hat with the matching marigold ribbon and the two of them went off downstairs.

Sebastian's own waistcoat was identical to the young master's, as was the waistcoat of every Funtom employee at the convention today. This way guests would be able to recognize who to ask for direction or instruction on-sight. Nina and her team had made all of the waistcoats according to the rough measurements of each staff member. Sebastian was the only one who had refused to participate in a measuring session.

"I don't care what you think your own measurements are," Nina had growled at him when he'd tried to hand her the slip of paper with all of his dimensions written upon it, back when she and Ciel first met to design the outfits. "I only trust what I see for myself."

Sebastian had given her his usual wry smile in response. "Well I have no desire to 'go under the knife,' so to speak, and I know you're just as eager to be rid of me, so think no more of it. I believe you'll find these numbers are as perfect as you could ever hope to gauge with your tapes and strings."

Nina had flared her nostrils at that response, but swiped the paper from his grip without further argument. In the end, avoiding time spent with Sebastian was reward enough for her too. And, naturally, the waistcoat did fit him perfectly. Butler and designer could think what they liked about each other's professionality; at the end of the day, they recognized the opposing as a master of his or her craft.

The only one to be dressed unlike the rest was, of course, Prince Soma. He stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs with his Bitter Rabbit counterpart in hand, swinging it, as he loved to, by its lengthy ears. The doll had seen quite a few changes along its way to a finished product, and now it was a stunning piece of work. Instead of being colored the light gray of a standard Bitter Rabbit, the Maharaja was one of the specially colored varieties and came in pale plum. The clothing was more or less the same, but the colors and patterns had changed: the turban was now in the same burnished yellow as the dhoti and its glass gem in emerald. The matching green kurta had an updated design of pagoda blossom embroidery too, sewn with the long gold beads and metal filaments that zardozi derived its Persian name from.

"Ciel, Ciel, look at me and Bitter Rabbit! Aren't we just adorable?" Soma cheered. Then he got a proper look at his friend and a smile split across his face. "And you! You're so adorable too, Ciel! The two of us are really going to catch everyone's attention, I think!"

"Right," Ciel said, half-ignoring him as he finished descending, "I suppose we ought to get going. Even if the convention doesn't start for another two hours, we've got to make sure the preparations are coming along smoothly. Let's go hail a cab, then."

"Oh, goodbye Prince Soma, Lord Phantomhive, Mr. Sebastian!" Agni bid them as the trio departed. "I'll take good care of the house while you're away! I can't wait to hear all about the event when you come home! I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks, Agni! We'll see you later in the afternoon!" Soma called over his shoulder.

"Do your best!" Agni's voice followed them onto the thoroughfare. "Make sure to take breaks to eat and drink water! Don't forget that there's a napkin of til chikki in your pocket in case you're too busy to leave your station! You can share some with Lord Phantomhive and Sebastian if they can't leave either! And remember to bend your knees to keep your circulation going! Ah, and do try not to play with the beads on your kurta if you get bored, they can be very fragile! Ohh, goodbye, Prince!"

"God's sake," Ciel huffed, once Sebastian had them all loaded into a clarence and on their way to Sedgemore House, "you'd think he was the one tied to your apron strings and not the other way around."

"Hmm?" Soma had already been absentmindedly tapping at Bitter Rabbit's hard black eyes and squeezing his ears; carriage rides seemed to have the immediate effect of making him lose focus. "Did Agni do something wrong?"

Ciel leaned his elbow against the carriage's thin windowsill and propped his cheek on his hand. "Well, I'm sure you don't think so. If it were me, I'd go crazy from being smothered, having someone harp after me to eat and drink and stand correctly and all that. How insulting."

Soma blinked at him. His eyebrows lowered. "Ciiieeel, are you being mean to Agni?"

Ciel blinked back. "Uh, I only meant that I would find it overbearing…"

Soma shook his head. "Agni only says those things because he loves me, so I don't mind. He doesn't mean any harm in it. What should I be annoyed with? The fact that he cares?"

"He makes it sound like you're an infant," Ciel grunted. "I mean surely you at least know to eat when you're hungry and all that…"

Now Soma grinned. "Ciel, you're so silly! I thought you were usually much better at picking up on these things. Agni isn't sending me off with reminders because he thinks I'll forget. He's saying it to emphasize that I should take extra good care of myself when he isn't there to see after me. It doesn't matter how old you are; it feels good to have someone worry after you. Don't you ever feel that way? Or should I start worrying after you more too?"

"Absolutely not. Didn't I just say I'd find it overbearing?" Ciel growled, and promptly changed the subject.

As Ciel tried to keep Soma focused on today's job, Sebastian's thoughts dwindled off. How much had he himself worried about Ciel in just these past few months? Had he made the boy aware of his worry? Ciel had professed in the past that he hated to be troubled over, too, but… maybe that was something that could start to change.

Maybe, even, it already had been.

They arrived at Sedgemore House to a scanty crowd already assembling outside the gates. Some were eager guests lining up to enter. Others were beat reporters hoping to find a good story during the brief period when almost all of London's nobility were finished traveling for the Season but autumn's hunting period had yet to truly begin. This was another reason that Ciel preferred to travel using unmarked carriages when he was in London: he didn't like the idea of being recognized wherever he went. It was just as useful in his day-to-day life as it was on the Queen's missions. Still, when their clarence was allowed passage, Sebastian felt his sensitive ears picking up on the click-click of the camera shutters, desperate to capture something (anything) that may be of importance. Human desperation came in so many, many forms…

The scene inside Lord Sedgemore's mansion was not terribly different from the one they faced eight days ago when Sebastian and Ciel first arrived in London. Mr. Cavendish was supervising chefs and greeters and waiters and musicians and auctioneers as effortlessly as before. Decorations were being double-checked and straightened and primped. Rows upon rows of Bitter Rabbits were being arranged on the leftmost stairwell; Pitt was setting up his miniature photography studio on the right. And cutting straight through the chaos was—

"Good morning, Lord Phantomhive!" Sebastian's stomach curdled at his voice. "Nice to see you bright and early!"

"Good morning, Mr. Fairclough, Mr. Erickson," Ciel greeted the two sorry excuses for… erm, gentlemen. "At last, the moment is upon us. Tell me, did you get the chance to meet Prince Soma the other day during rehearsal, or shall I make the introduction?"

However, as to be expected of their affable prince, Soma was perfectly keen on making his own introductions. "Good morning, who are you? Do you work for Ciel? What are your names? You can call me Prince Soma! Nice to meet you!"

Sebastian couldn't see his young master's face from behind, but he could guess that the mask of public politeness had slipped a fraction at that. Fairclough and Erickson were clearly baffled, in any case. Ciel stepped back in. "Right, well, it seems that I should have made the introduction while I still had the chance… As you can see, Soma is the lively sort with no regard for basic manners. It's better to just go along with it and be as casual as he is. It'll save you the trouble of trying to keep up, anyway."

That seemed to encourage Erickson not at all, but Fairclough gave a loud laugh of approval. "Truly, I respect a man who so easily befriends others and gives no care that a fellow's station may be below his own! I'm Henri Fairclough, current resident of Sedgemore House and guest of Lord Sedgemore, and this is my coworker, Mr. Frank Erickson. It's a pleasure to meet you, too, Prince Soma. Of course Lord Phantomhive would keep companions of all sorts."

"Trust me, you don't know the half of it," Ciel said with a twist of irony in his words. His tone was back to geniality then. "I do hope the two of you stop by my booth sometime during the event to let me know how you're enjoying yourselves. I had better go check in with Mr. Cavendish now, though, and make sure all is according to plan. Until later, gentlemen."

"Nice to meet you!" Soma bubbled and practically skipped after Ciel.

"Nice to meet you, too," Fairclough added, before he noticed Sebastian's presence. Fairclough then tried to catch Sebastian's eye, perhaps to see if Sebastian would insist on glaring again. This time, however, Sebastian simply refused to acknowledge the man. He walked past him without so much as a glance.

Fortunately and as anticipated, Cavendish confirmed that he had everything under control: the final auction items had been delivered as of that morning, there were runners on standby to race to the markets in case an ingredient ran out, and, thanks to yesterday's rehearsal, everyone seemed to know where to go and what to do. Cavendish suggested that, if they liked, Ciel and Sebastian could wander around and familiarize themselves with the gardens and the estate, if they hadn't already, so that if guests had a question about where something was located, Ciel would be able to answer it.

"That shouldn't be an issue," Ciel said, knowing full well that Sebastian had the entire layout mapped in his head so perfectly that he could paint portraits of it. "Though I might go and see to everything for myself. Well done keeping heads above water, as I knew you would, Cavendish."

"Of course, sir."

Meanwhile, Soma was studying the backdrop of the Taj Mahal he was to pose in front of alongside a four-foot Bitter Rabbit mannequin. He laughed at the imagery. "So, this building is still what comes to mind first when the British think of India? It was lovely in the past, but it's falling apart now, you know."

"I've heard rumors that an Englishman plans to have it refurbished," said Ciel, "but you're right that that doesn't matter to the crowd coming here today. They know the Taj Mahal from postcards, that's all they'll care about."

"Good chance to give it a turn, anyway," Pitt commented, springing up from under his black-clothed table, beneath which he was keeping chests of glass plates. "Not one a' my most popular scenes at Lark's." His eyes lighted on Ciel, and he grinned cheekily with a wink. "'ello, Earl, hasn' it been a while! You're lookin' jus' like a miniature Mr. Vin these days, ain't you? Yes indeed, I wager you'll be the spittin' image a' him b'fore long. Just with dear Lady Rachel's eyes, rest 'er soul. You'll be wantin' a picture today, won'tcha? Wouldja like tah be m' first subject, then?" Pitt hopped behind his camera and grabbed for the shutter release as he said it.

"Uh, n-no, that's all right," Ciel responded after a blink, looking a little spellbound at the photographer's way of speaking — the boy often forgot how familiar Pitt had been with his parents. But Ciel was too warmed by honesty to go about correcting this informality, Sebastian knew. "Do you have everything you need, then?"

"Aye, think so!" Pitt knuckled the brim of his plaid newsboy cap higher on his forehead. "Lookin' forward to a day a' working with Princey! You're a right fun subject, aren't you?"

Soma jumped in the air and landed with his legs and arms spread wide. "Give me a pose! I'll try anything!"

Pitt used one hand to fiddle with the aperture of his Pony Premo and with the other rubbed his chin in thought. "Hmm, anything, mate? I like your style. I'll have to be gettin' creative, then, won't I?"

"I don't know how I didn't see sooner that the two of you would get along," Ciel said dryly. He turned to enter the hallway as Pitt watched in sheer amusement as Soma posed in any ridiculous way he was instructed. "I'll happily leave the both of you to your tasks… whatever it is those tasks happen to be."

The kitchens, the garden, the gallery, library, drawing room, ballroom, and atrium — Ciel saw to all of them firsthand with Sebastian behind him all the way. There were scarce little adjustments that needed to be made, leaves to sweep off of walkways, tablecloths to straighten, nothing that couldn't be solved in minutes or even seconds. By the time Ciel and Sebastian finished their patrol, it was twenty minutes until the convention's start. Guests had been allowed to assemble beyond the front gate by now; their chattering hummed from behind the front door. Mr. Cavendish was also gathering all the staff in the entrance hall for final reminders before the inauguration was upon them.

There were three greeters and a mascot for the front room; fifteen auctioneers and upholders for the drawing room; the head chef, sous, and ten assistants for the kitchen; ten waiters for the outdoor tea area and ballroom, and another ten bussers; five more guides to patrol the area in case any guests had questions; eight musicians; and Pitt, Prince Soma, Cavendish, and Sebastian standing behind Ciel. Ciel surveyed his crew briefly before he spoke.

"Good morning," he greeted, before launching right into business. "All of you are here today representing Funtom because you are considered some of the best at what you do. Many of your paths won't cross at your independent stations, but each one of you counts on each other to pull this event off successfully. Help your fellow teammates as you would want to be helped. If you see someone struggling or confused, see if you can ease their burden. As long as this is possible, nothing should be insurmountable." Ciel squared his shoulders. "However, I am assured of your capabilities, and I believe today will be an abundant success. Above all, it is me who is counting on you. I thank you for your certainty that Funtom's good name will not be tarnished. That's all."

It was somewhat an uplifting speech, but close beneath it lurked the warning: don't mess up. The men seemed to feel it, as they applauded politely but still shot each other wary expressions. They certainly would have to count on one another if trouble came their way — Ciel Phantomhive only had so much sympathy for careless mistakes. (No doubt he used most of it on the three servants at home.)

The employees disbanded to assume their positions. Ciel went and sat on the bentwood chair behind the table that cut off the left stairwell from the masses. Sebastian readjusted the knot of the boy's eye patch and straightened his bow tie as Ciel looked over the notes in his ledger. He was going to be giving another speech in just a moment, this time to the public he'd invited here today. His lips moved as he went over the words, somewhat subconscious. As Sebastian finished tugging at every cuff and smearing away garden dirt from the toes of the boy's shoes, Ciel snapped the little book shut.

"Soma," he called out to the prince; Soma had been busy balancing his little Bitter Rabbit on top of the mannequin Bitter Rabbit's head, "you're coming outside with me and Mr. Cavendish when I give the speech. Don't say anything the entire time and do your best to keep still."

"Huh? Really? I'm coming too?!" Soma's eyes went wide. "Oh, lucky me! Should I bring Bitter Rabbit?"

"Yes, do that. Mr. Cavendish, are we right on schedule? Very good. Let's go outside, then."

As the three of them made to face the visitors, Sebastian watched the boy's retreating back, tall with determination, and felt a smile overcome him. The smile only grew as the doors closed and Ciel's appearance was met with muffled excitement. There was a sense of pride growing in Sebastian. How many long hours of effort had Ciel put towards this day? And all from a conversation they'd had burning letters in a furnace. It really was remarkable that a person of only fourteen had brought this event into existence. Ciel had seemed very distinctly unimpressed with himself at their meeting last night though… The stinging entered Sebastian's chest again. If Ciel couldn't feel proud of himself for this, then that still meant they had a lot of work to do. But how to do it without their nightly meetings? Sebastian knew he'd have to find a way to make it possible.

But it did no good to fret over it this second. Right now, the long-awaited Funtom convention was about to begin.

"Good morning, everyone," Ciel had called out to the crowd. There was a pause as the boy waited for everyone to settle down, before continuing, "For those of you who I haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting, I am Ciel Phantomhive, founder of Funtom Company and your host today. I'm happy to personally welcome you to what I hope is the first of many summer conventions to come. Thank you for being a part of this groundbreaking moment in Funtom's history."

Polite but enthusiastic applause followed. Ciel waited for it to quiet again. "I am humbled by this impressive turnout for what was a relatively impromptu event, and I want to thank all of you for making it today. Especially those of you who have traveled down from northern climates just to be here — if not for this late-Season event, you might well be sitting at home, polishing your rifles and counting down the final days till the Glorious Twelfth. Or perhaps not; I imagine those of you here for Funtom's auction are interested in a very different kind of 'stuffed animal' than taxidermy."

A smattering of laughter. "To my friends and acquaintances whose presence I have sorely missed this Season, I thank you for your patience with my austerity and hope that today's convention provides you with ample entertainment to make up for my lack of presence at your own gatherings. We are fortunate to have the access of Lord Sedgemore's manor today; I could not be more grateful for his goodwill. Within these walls, you'll find a two-story library, a beautiful gallery, and a sprawling garden to keep you well occupied. And though Lord Sedgemore's glorious estate has enough to impress you all on its own, in addition the terrace is outfitted for tea and pastries, and the ballroom will be serving Funtom's acclaimed chocolate-curry buns.

"There is much to do, so please consider exploring beyond the foyer with immediacy, as I would like to avoid crowding and allow everyone to enter in good order. However, after you have done a bit of exploring, I hope you will return to the entrance hall so I can meet with you and exchange your invitation for this commemorative Maharaja Bitter Rabbit." Presumably, Ciel gestured to Soma holding up the latest doll. There was a small ripple of interest from the crowd. "This is a special gift unique to attendants of this convention — this particular iteration of Bitter Rabbit shall never be released in stores. Once you've received your gift, I hope you'll consider taking a photograph to commemorate the event at our makeshift studio just a few steps away.

"Now, I've said enough. In mere minutes, the doors will open and everyone will be invited to come enjoy the convention. If you are in need of direction, please speak to any gentleman wearing a waistcoat that resembles mine. We've worked very hard to ensure your satisfaction today, so thank you again, and I wish you a most enjoyable afternoon."

There was a final spirited round of applause. Half a minute later, Ciel came back inside with Mr. Cavendish and a jubilant Soma. In stark contrast, Ciel was already taking a break from smiling, hurrying back behind their table with a look of seriousness. "Only four hours to go," he said under his breath when he reached Sebastian, and squared his shoulders.

Sebastian muttered down to him, "I thought your speech went very well."

Ciel eyed his butler with a quizzical look that was difficult to decipher before forcing his gaze back on the door. "Obviously. As if I'm going to stand up there and give a poor speech."

Sebastian smiled lightly. "I didn't doubt you for a second." Ciel seemed to pretend not to hear him.

And then the attendees poured in through the double front doors. Most of them were men of every age, but women and children joined them too, and they fanned out to the parlor, ballroom, gallery, and through the hallway between the stairs, not all swarming to Ciel's station at once thanks to the employees directing traffic. But a line formed before the Maharaja booth anyway, as many were eager to retrieve their prize — and just as eager to meet the young man behind the company they had so much appreciation for. Ciel matched this eagerness with serenity.

"Mr. Hendry, is it? It's very nice to meet you. You've been following Funtom since the beginning, is that right? Well, I can't thank you enough for your years of loyalty. How fortunate that I should get the chance to give you this token of my appreciation in-person."

"You've only just started collecting this year, yet you already have that much? My, that's very impressive. Your donations have done wonderful things for the less fortunate of our country, Mr. MacEachern. Funtom is so fortunate to have your patronage."

"Yes, I don't usually show up in-person for Funtom events, so it's a rare treat for me to be shaking hands with so many of our most devoted clientele today. I'm glad you could make it, Mr. Scarlett. This is your daughter, then? Good morning, it's very nice to meet you, too. Miss… Miss Charlotte? So your name is… Er, oh, of course, here you are! Your very own Maharaja Bitter Rabbit. Isn't it endearing that you and your father could share the same interest in toy collecting."

"Correct, I started Funtom in 1886. E-Eight years? Er, no, I was ten years old, actually… Y-Yes, you could say it was impressive, but I'm the ambitious sort, so I only did what made the most sense to me. When I was young, I spent a lot of time indoors, so I— Hmm? Ah, well, I-I am still young, that is true…"

"Whitburn? No, I'm sorry, I can't say I've heard of it before. Near Sunderland, is it? That is quite far, you've had a real trek here. Should I holiday in Whitburn sometime, do you think? No? Oh dear, well, I do appreciate your honesty, Mr. Remington."

"Er, around my age, is that so? N-No, I'm nearly fifteen, actually. Don't worry about it. It's possible your son could get a job for Funtom when he graduates, even if it's not for five more years. We're always expanding our business, so if he's anywhere near as successful as you've been at banking, Mr. Paddon, I'm sure we'd be very happy to have him in our financial department."

"Mr. Ansel, yes, I do recognize your name. You're sort of infamous in the community for purchasing all the displays we made for the Grimm Brothers line, correct? I have great appreciation for your dedication. My favorite? Ah, I really don't think I could choose; which one did you like the best? Hansel and Gretel? Well, they were meant to be the most elaborate of the Grimm dolls, if I recall properly…"

It took nearly an entire hour for the line to their table to cease replenishing. As Ciel waved farewell to their last visitor, he allowed himself a sigh of relief. "About time… that felt like ages. Is it really only noon? God's sake." Ciel's exhausted expression was forced to shift back into a grin as a couple waved at him on their way to the library or garden.

"Yes, I think we've cleared out nearly half our stock of toys," Sebastian said with a glance at the stairwell. He blinked back over as he noticed Ciel rubbing at his forehead. "Are you feeling well, young master?"

Ciel nodded. "Mhm, I'm fine. Just not used to smiling so often." Right after he said so, though, a much rarer look than his false smile appeared: the hint of a real smile. "When it becomes especially grueling to look so happy, I think about when Mr. Scarlett came up to the table and introduced his daughter," he said, quietly enough for only Sebastian to hear him. "Charlotte… For God's sake, the man named his poor child Charlotte Scarlett! She'll be begging to marry the instant she turns sixteen so she can finally rid herself of that old hallmark."

Sebastian put a hand to his chin. "Or, she could embrace it and become a famous actress…" When Ciel stared at him in confusion, Sebastian added, "Just imagine the headlines, my lord."

Ciel cocked an eyebrow, still not understanding; then it dawned on him. "Starlet Charlotte Scarlett… For the love of—" He shoved Sebastian's arm. "You're not funny."

"Oh? Is that why you're still smiling?"

"Not a chance. If it looks like I'm smiling, it's because my face is stuck like this from now on."

"So, this is Lord Ciel Phantomhive, founder of Funtom Company, is it?"

A cheerful yet booming voice with a notable brogue suddenly interrupted their small banter. A burly man with a thick, dark beard stood before them, grinning broadly and staring piercingly with… some sort of intent. With only the smallest snap to attention, Ciel was back to playing host. "Yes, indeed. I am Ciel Phantomhive. Welcome. And who do I have the honor of greeting this afternoon?"

The man bowed deeply, almost comically, at his waist, then laughed loudly. "Why, I think you'll find I'm Lord Wallace Filbert, Marquis of Kirrieken, in the flesh!"

"Ah, Lord Filbert — yes, I know you. It truly is an honor." Ciel reached his hand forward to shake. If he found the man's previous behavior strange, he didn't show it; he'd already exchanged pleasantries with a few eccentrics just today. This greeting required a pinch of deference anyway, seeing as Lord Filbert had a higher status than Ciel's own. "I was exceptionally flattered when I saw you would be in attendance this afternoon. Traveling from Scotland certainly makes you one of my most far-flung guests. I'm privileged that you would take the journey, my lord."

Filbert still had that curiously wide-eyed look on his face. He almost seemed like he wasn't listening to what Ciel was saying at all. His strange grin grew. "Lord Phantomhive," he repeated. "Founder of Funtom Company… Ha!" He gave a sharp laugh. "You know, I've always been impressed by Funtom's work, but this… this is an entirely new scale of impressive."

"Erm, thank you, sir," Ciel tried. He seemed to be feeling he was missing the joke for the second time in as many minutes, though now Sebastian felt he was missing it too.

Filbert laughed again at his own oddball humor. "No need to thank me, lad," he chortled, wiping at his eye. "No, no… Thank the Funtom Company!" More laughter.

Ciel stood there awkwardly, having no idea what to say. Sebastian felt himself getting irritated at Filbert for putting his young master on the spot. Time to get rid of this idiot… He tread up the stairs and grabbed another doll and walked back down, just as Ciel was saying, "Of course, this was far from my own effort. My team did work very hard to ensure this event would go off without a hitch."

"Your team," Filbert said. "Yes I'm sure your team did a lot! Yes, yes, yes, yes… Ah, here we are. Look at this little fellow. A rake in his own right! Yes, I'm quite smitten with him… What craftsmanship. Lovely little gem he's sporting. Such a brilliant shade of smaragdine. He'll look spiffing next to his brothers on their shelf. Now, Lord Phantomhive, do tell your team that they did a wonderful job. Would you please?" Filbert leaned down as he said it, as if deliberately making it known that he was taller than Ciel.

Ciel was clearly trying not to pull an irritated face, just as Sebastian was trying not to punch Filbert in the jaw. "Certainly. I will make your commendations known… Lord Filbert."

"Good lad, good lad… Ah, really, really, what could they be thinking…" Filbert walked off then, still chuckling under his breath.

Only after he was gone and likely out of earshot did Ciel put a hand on his hip, unable to hide his perturbation any longer. "What the hell? What was all that about? Was he making fun of me?"

Sebastian gave a disdainful huff. "I really couldn't say, young master, but I was not overly fond of his behavior."

"Neither was I… Oh." Ciel's eyes suddenly caught movement rapidly approaching, and he stiffened slightly, saying under his breath, "It's just going to be one after the other today, isn't it…"

"Ciiieeel!" Lizzie was racing over to him now from the direction of the ballroom. Her yellow-blonde hair was pulled back in a low coiffure beneath a straw sailor hat beribboned in apple-green. The ribbon perfectly matched her candy-striped day dress with its chic Italian sleeves, though Lizzie could only lament when she made it over, "Oh, Ciel, why didn't you tell me you'd be wearing marigold? We could have matched then!"

"Er, good to see you, Lizzie," Ciel managed to stammer to her disapproving face. "I-I thought that, eh… you'd prefer the surprise. What you're wearing looks lovely anyway, don't you think?"

"Oh, thank you!" Lizzie beamed, all sadness evaporating at once. She plucked at an edge of her skirt and turned in a half circle to show it off. "It's perfect for the final days of summer, don't you think? Such a bright and happy color! I'm so glad you like it!" Then she clasped her hands and brought them under her chin with a delighted gasp. "Ahh, but your outfit is sooo dashing! You look amazing, Ciel, isn't Nina so talented! Truly she can do anything if she can even find a way to make me like black clothing! Oh, I'm so glad I finally get to see you up close! I've been waiting an hour for that horrible line to clear so I could at last come see you!"

Ciel sighed. "Well, I did tell you it would be better to show up at noon, didn't I? Then you wouldn't have had to deal with the initial crowds."

Elizabeth shook her head. "And miss your opening words? I wouldn't dream of it!"

"And neither would we!" Alexis Midford's voice chimed in from behind her. The rest of the Midford family was in tow, Francis linked to her husband's arm and Edward just behind his parents. As they finished approaching, the Marquis of Scotney continued, "You've certainly outdone yourself today, nephew! The food, the decor, the atmosphere — everything is simply sparking with excitement!"

"Uncle Alexis, Aunt Francis, good to see you," Ciel nodded at them politely. "I'm glad to hear you're having a good time so far."

Aunt Francis lowered an eyebrow. "Yes, as usual when it comes to anything with your company's name on it, not a hair is out of place… except for on your own head. Must you always insist on letting your fringe hang into your face like that? I really should have thought to bring a comb, of course you w—"

"Oh, Mother, please! Can't you just be nice to Ciel today?" Elizabeth interrupted unexpectedly, seizing one of the marchioness's gloved hands in her own as she said so. "Isn't it clear how hard he's worked? Let's just be happy and celebrate!"

Francis looked surprised at this interruption. Even more surprisingly, she took her daughter's words to heart. "Yes... You have a point. Ciel did work very hard." She gave her nephew a warmer expression now. "You should be content with yourself, Ciel. It's a good job you've done."

Ciel seemed quietly disbelieving at her compliment. He wasn't used to receiving them from her. "Well, it was above all a group effort. I certainly can't heap most of the praise onto my own shoulders."

"But you can take your fair share~!" Soma suddenly bounded over, nudging past Edward and leaning around the table to sling an arm across Ciel's shoulders. Then, just as quickly, he released Ciel and thrusted his arms out in front of him. "Well, if it isn't Miss Elizabeth! I'm so, so delighted to see you again! And oh! You all must be the rest of Ciel's family! What a joy it is to meet you today!"

"Ahh! Prince Soma!" Elizabeth squeezed past her parents to hug him. Soma, of course, had no aversion to public displays of affection, and he hugged her back tightly. "I've missed you so much! What a long time it's been!"

Soma held her away at arms' length to get a proper look at her. "So it has! You are so beautiful today, Miss Elizabeth, just as you were the last I saw you! You are practically glowing with radiance!"

Elizabeth giggled. "Oh, thank you, Prince Soma! You look beautiful today, too!"

Edward was not going to have another second of this. "Hey, hold on! Just who do you think you are?!" he barked, clenching a fist.

"I am Prince Soma Asman Kadar," Soma announced his full title jovially. "And you must be… Miss Elizabeth's older brother!"

Edward puffed out his chest. "Well… Yes. I am. Erm, what is your relation to my sister exactly, Mr. Prince Soma?"

Soma's laughter chimed around them. "Mr. Prince Soma! Oh, he's as funny as you told me, Ciel. Well, seeing as I am Ciel's brother, and Ciel is betrothed to Miss Elizabeth, that means I am your brother-in-law!"

"In law? They aren't married yet! " Edward roared.

"And you aren't my brother!" Ciel roared too.

"Being an older brother is very hard work, isn't it," Soma said with a meaningful sigh in his 'younger brother's' direction (making said 'younger brother' clench his teeth in exasperation). Soma smiled brightly at Edward. "Well, just as I will always be there to protect Ciel, I am very grateful that you are there to keep dear Miss Elizabeth safe. A big brother's job is never done, after all!"

Edward's face went blank at first. Then he began blushing and rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. "Ah, well, I do keep Elizabeth safe, that is true, ahahaha…"

"I've never once seen you outduel her," Ciel hissed flatly.

"It's all right, Ciel, we can let Edward have this," Lizzie whispered to him behind a raised hand.

Francis and Alexis seemed at a loss for words about this exuberant prince, who was now crooning at them, "Oh, Ciel's adorable family, you should come take a picture with me and your new matching Bitter Rabbits! We'll all look so good together!" Soma gestured over to the backdrop area, then noticed the guests' empty hands. "Eh, Ciel, didn't you give them their Bitter Rabbits yet? Aren't you supposed to be a good host?"

"I was getting to that…!" Ciel's words were spoken behind the same clenched teeth as before.

"Here we are, Lord Midford and Lady Elizabeth." Sebastian offered the prizes out now. "One doll per invitation, I do believe."

"Thank you, Sebastian!" Lizzie cooed, hugging the doll tight but seeming more interested in her dear fiancé. "Ciel, let's take a picture with Prince Soma! Can you remember the last time we were photographed? It had to have been over a year ago, we're well overdue for another."

"This Prince Soma is your friend, Ciel? He's very funny," Alexis chuckled.

"Uh, yeah, he's… funny, sure… Agh!" Ciel was then yanked out from behind the table by both Soma and Lizzie pulling on his hands and dragging him over to the photo area. There wasn't enough space for the whole family to assemble at once, especially not with the life-size Bitter Rabbit taking up a third of the shot, so first Ciel took one with just Lizzie and Soma, and then the four Midfords took one together. Alexis and Lizzie held their dolls aloft happily as Pitt snapped the shutter.

"Haven't seen you by the studio in a while either, Lady Midford!" Pitt exclaimed at Francis as they finished up. "Come by and create some memories sometime, won't ya?"

Francis stared at the photographer coolly. As Sebastian expected, she did not seem to share in her late brother's affections for the pluckiest Aristocrat of Evil. "Good afternoon, Mr. Pitt. Yes, it has been some time. I'm not particularly keen on taking photographs, if you recall. This picture today is enough for me."

"Well, that's all well and good, then, but what about the young ones?" Pitt extended index, middle, and ring fingers to point at Ciel, Lizzie, and Edward simultaneously. "Growin' up fast, ain't they? They won't look like this forever, y'know! Might want to preserve it for ol' time's sake!"

Francis looked over at the children chatting amongst themselves, and fondness crossed her expression. But it was gone with a blink. "They're old enough now to decide if they'd like to do that on their own. I'll leave it to them."

"Ah, well, suit yourself, milady!"

Meanwhile, Ciel was saying, "It really is good to see you, Lizzie, but Soma and I need to get back to our stations now to take care of the other guests. There's still several hours to go."

"Oh, very well," Lizzie had just finished bemoaning when suddenly someone attached themselves to her arm. "Eh? Who—"

"Lizzie, dearest, I have missed you so ardently," Elizabeth's friend Jane Reubin said by way of greeting and promptly absorbed Lizzie in full a hug. She looked harried. "I've been cooped up like a parrot these past few weeks, and I've been dying to spread my wings! Thank goodness for your invitation, Lord Phantomhive, or the Season might have ended for me in utter boredom!"

"M-Miss Reubin, er, welcome," said Ciel, referring to Jane more formally than he usually did as they were in a public setting. "I-I'm glad that today could be a treat for you."

"Oh, Jane! Why haven't you gotten out, darling?" Lizzie asked. More quietly, she added, "Is it because of Lyle?"

Jane nodded, biting her lip. "He won't go anywhere in London anymore, it's just awful, and he won't stay home by himself unless one of us is there with him. Mother and Father are at their wit's end. You won't notice they are, though, they're trying to keep it a secret as best they can. Family business, you know. But I can't stay quiet like them, I'm at the age where I'm supposed to be having fun and meeting people! That's why I'm so grateful to you, Lord Phantomhive. Lyle only agreed to come today because he knew you'd be here."

Ciel was noticeably shocked. "What? He did?"

"Lady Francis, Lord Alexis, how we've missed you," the Reubin parents were greeting the Midford parents now, and struck up a conversation. Lyle was sandwiched between mother and father. He looked glum and even a little pale, but when he noticed Ciel, he walked right over and stopped in front of him.

"Hi," he said merely.

"Er, good afternoon, Lyle," Ciel responded, looking about as awkward as Sebastian had ever seen him. "I'm, I'm glad you could make it today."

"Be polite," Jane instructed her brother in an audible whisper, "if you even remember your manners after letting them rust from lack of use."

"What are those things?" Lyle asked, pointing at the stairwell.

Soma happily jumped in to answer. "Those are Bitter Rabbits!" he explained, gesturing to his own doll as he said it. "Look, I'm dressed just like him! And you can have one all to yourself, too! Isn't that the best?"

Lyle only stared. "I'm too old for dolls. Aren't you too old for dolls, too? Aren't you an adult?"

Jane looked like she wanted to disappear into thin air. Ciel actually looked moderately amused. And Soma merely wagged his finger. "No one is too old for the things that make them happy! This convention is full of adults who collect stuffed toys for fun. So you see? Anybody can enjoy them!"

"Just because an adult enjoys something for children doesn't mean that he's supposed to," said Lyle.

Jane's face turned bright red at that. "Lyle, how could you say such a thing! You're so rotten! Mother, please help, Lyle is being rude to Lord Phantomhive."

"Listen, it's fine, really, it doesn't bother me," said Ciel, waving a hand to show no harm was done. Then he took the Bitter Rabbit that Sebastian passed to him and handed it to Jane. "Here you are, please take this. And I hate to be so brash, but Lizzie, if you and your family could clear out the area with the Reubins? It's starting to get crowded and other guests need to get by."

"Aww, okay… We'll move on." Lizzie took his hands first. "But will you come to our London house afterwards with Prince Soma, though, or maybe this evening? Then we can have dinner together and talk about the convention properly!"

"Uh, sure, maybe, if I'm not too tired," Ciel hastened. "I have to get back to work now, all right?"

After another few moments, the Reubins and the Midfords had gathered themselves up and moved on for the garden. Soma returned to taking pictures with guests, and Ciel went back behind the table with Sebastian. That conversation appeared to have taken some of the wind out of his sails. "In all the bedlam of planning this thing, I completely forgot the Reubins were coming…" Ciel sighed. "So Lyle is still causing mischief wherever he goes. Or doesn't go."

Sebastian would not soon forget Ciel's penultimate conversation with Lyle at Jane's party, and the distress that followed it. As different as his young master and the Reubin boy were, Ciel continued to relate to the little Heathcliff's struggle, and so Sebastian knew he should always pay attention whenever the two interacted. Sebastian offered, "It does look to be a sorry state of affairs. I wonder if sending Lyle away to college really is the best thing for him right now."

Ciel put up a wall between himself and this conversation immediately. "Well, it's not any of my business, and it especially isn't yours. It's better if we don't give it any more thought."

At least for the moment, that was probably true. Today was difficult enough for Ciel without yet again taking on the responsibility of Lyle's emotional state. As short as the boys' interaction had been just now, it was clear Ciel had wanted to squirm his way out of it as fast as he possibly could. So Sebastian didn't push the subject.

Fortunately, the next ninety minutes were a calmer blur. More noble guests came to greet Ciel, as opposed to his customers, at this time. Some guests were more familiar to Sebastian than others. As expected, there was Lau.

"Hiiii, Earl," he'd called out, strolling up to the table as if he owned the place, Ran-Mao an ornament on his arm. "What a bustle of activity all around, yet I don't hear any music for dancing! Just what kind of a ball is this?"

"Always full of jokes, aren't you," Ciel snarled. "As always, I'm not in the mood for your absurd sense of humor. Surely you won't inflict it on my peaceful guests either?"

"Hmm, well, that depends on if you'll make any introductions for me?"

"Make them yourself."

"Still churlish, today of all days." Lau shook his head mournfully. "The poor Earl just can't learn to lighten up, can he, Ran-Mao? Even during his own company's convention."

"See, I knew you knew what this party was for, dammit!"

Ran-Mao wasn't listening to them bicker. Her eyes were hyper-focused on the doll Sebastian was holding out to her now.

"A gift, from the Funtom Company." Sebastian smiled primly. "Won't you have it, my lady?"

Ran-Mao's hands plucked it up gingerly, her eyes never leaving her new prize. Her pupils dilated.

Lau cocked his head to the side. "Oh? Do you like it, then, Ran-Mao?"

Ran-Mao nodded. "Warm. Soft." Her voice was as toneless as ever but the infatuation was clear.

"At least one of you knows how to show a little appreciation," Ciel said, pleased. Regardless, he shooed at them immediately after. "Now run along. If another guest shows up, I don't want to hear what horrible nonsense you'll say to them. And when I tell you to mind yourself, I mean it, by the way. You can have fun, but not at my expense."

"Oh? If the fun isn't at your expense, then whose expense is it, Earl? I should thank whoever is paying for this party."

"God's sake… Just leave, Lau."

And another ten minutes later, a pair that had most certainly not been on the guest list passed by their booth.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Randall and subordinate," Ciel called out slyly as he noted the two walking past his table. "I don't remember sending either of you an invitation."

Randall stopped to give Ciel his narrowest expression. "I didn't ask to be here, Lord Phantomhive, and I won't have you thinking otherwise for more than an instant. I simply go where my keen eyes are needed most. Today, that happens to be here."

"'Subordinate?'" Abberline echoed in disdain.

Ciel sniffed a laugh. "Now, now, if you want me to remember your name, you should become a memorable person, don't you think? Ah, but let's test my retention for the fun of it. You're Inspector…" He tapped a finger to his chin. "Eberly?"

"Abberline!"

"Ah, so close," Ciel chuckled remorselessly to the remorseful man. "Well then, you can work on becoming more memorable, and I'll work on caring about useless detectives. Just keep in mind now, Randall, the curry buns are for my guests first, and all leftovers are to be delivered to the Sacred Heart Orphanage after the event ends, so I'd hate to see you eating on the job. It would be very unbecoming for two members of Scotland Yard to be stealing from stray children, hmm?"

"As unbecoming as it would be for the head of a toy company to be heard openly mocking the police," Randall returned. He began to traipse away, and Abberline hustled after. "Mind your manners, Earl. There are journalists present, and I know from experience that their ears are bigger than a pitcher's."

"Tuh. I have no need for your warnings," Ciel said, though the response was notably less loud than before.

Another twenty minutes later, there came a visitor even more far-flung than that loathsome Lord Filbert.

"Diedrich." Ciel's grin was pearly white when he sighted his father's old schoolmate approaching. "I was shocked to see you RSVP. What could possibly have convinced you to honor my invitation?"

Diedrich's frown twitched beneath his wide mustache. "What indeed. A few things, as a matter of fact, not the least of which is the need for a vacation."

Ciel put a hand to his chin and nodded understandingly. "Ah yes, I suppose the walls of your quaint German villa have begun closing in?"

Diedrich was distinctly unfazed. "My skin isn't so easily gotten under, junior. I've heard it all before; your father made sure of that. And if you really must know, I've been putting up with some particularly overzealous company for the past few months. She's taken over half the castle with her… hobbies. She is the main reason for my departure. I only hope my home is still standing when I return to it…"

Ciel raised his eyebrows. "She? Is there some family I don't know about? Or perhaps you neglected to send me a wedding invitation?"

Again, Diedrich only fixed the boy with a narrow gaze. "'She' happens to be twelve years old."

"Ah, then this will be the perfect souvenir for her," Ciel said, plucking up the doll Sebastian had just retrieved and waving it in Diedrich's face. "A cute little friend to keep her out of your hair. Hmm?"

Diedrich stared at Bitter Rabbit's gently wobbling ears. "She's not the type of girl who likes to play with toys," he eventually answered gruffly.

"Then it's a souvenir for you." Without giving him a say, Ciel grabbed Diedrich's hand and plopped the doll's plump bottom into it. "Who knows, it may just be worth something someday. Then you can finally claw your way out of squalor, hm?"

"I must be mad to have thought that visiting England would be a holiday," Diedrich growled, nearly to himself. "Even if it's better than a close-call with poison or shrapnel, you and your father are always sure to wear me down. The fumes from her experiments must be getting to my brain…"

Ciel looked at Diedrich funny. "What did you say this girl's hobby was again?"

"I didn't. But maybe you'll get the chance to meet her at my… 'quaint German villa' someday and find out for yourself." Diedrich tucked Bitter Rabbit under his arm and made to wander off between the staircases. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to this acclaimed garden where I hope I may have my first moment of peace since summer began."

"Come visit me next week at the London house before you head back, or I should be very disappointed!" Ciel shouted after him in mock-enthusiasm, sounding to all the world like a nephew eager to spend quality time with his uncle, but sounding to Diedrich, Sebastian assumed, like the cheeky threat that it was. Ciel faced forward again with a self-satisfied glint in his eye, which may or may not have been amplified by Diedrich's half-muttered ramblings about "insolence in the bloodline" trailing off over his shoulder.

They were well into the third hour of the convention when one of the more interesting and anticipated encounters occurred. Most of the dolls were gone at this point, and Ciel had admitted in a low voice to forgetting who else was supposed to show up, if it was even anyone he cared about. But Sebastian remembered well the 'guest of honor' they were still waiting on, and he'd looked forward to seeing Ciel's response to meeting this guest. Sebastian didn't know what the guest looked like and neither did Ciel, but Sebastian knew enough about the man to correctly guess his identity on-sight.

The shy-looking younger gentleman with somewhat mussy brown hair and a tweedy brown suit entered the front doors at 1:30. He was immediately cowed by all the noble company milling around him. Once enough of the sea had parted, the man approached their table quickly and with an air of terror. He then thrust out his invitation and said in a wobbling voice, "Er, good afternoon… Pardon me. I was told I could find my kind host here…?" He looked at Sebastian as he said it.

"That would be me," said Ciel, keeping the disdain from his voice and smiling as charmingly as he could. "I apologize, I don't believe we've met before? I'm Lord Ciel Phantomhive. And you are…?"

"U-U-Um! Mr. Arthur Doyle at your service!" the man stuttered, bowing forward and sticking his hand nearly in Ciel's face. "P-Pleasure to meet you, Lord Phantomhive! Er, I mean, the pleasure is all mine!"

At that, Ciel's smile turned from fabricated to genuine, and even adopted a hint of slyness on the way. "Actually, the pleasure isn't all yours, seeing as you're the wordsmith behind my favorite stories. I couldn't be more delighted to see you here, Mr. Doyle. You are younger than I expected."

"I-I-I-I-I'm younger than you expected, is that so?!" the man nearly bleated.

Ciel laughed in earnest. "Looks can be deceiving — I thought you knew all about that, judging by your stories. But I suppose literature and reality are different worlds. In any case, I'm so very glad you could make it. You've only just arrived, yes?"

"Ahm, yes!" Doyle's fingers shuffled awkwardly at the hairs at the nape of his neck. "I-I must admit, I doubt I'll know anyone else, so I'm… I'm not really sure I belong here…"

"Don't be silly, Mr. Doyle. You belong here as well as anyone," Ciel said kindly. "I'd even show you around myself, if only I could leave my station."

Doyle startled. "Y-Y-Y-Y-You would?!"

"Why don't you, my lord?" Sebastian offered then. "We've nearly cleared out the whole stairwell of Bitter Rabbits, and you've been standing here for a few hours without a chance for a break. It seems only right that you enjoy your own party for at least some of it."

Ciel turned his head sharply and blinked up at him. "I can really go?"

Sebastian blinked back, mildly astonished. He had not expected those words, nor their accompanying expression of wonderment. Neither had Ciel expected to make that expression, it seemed, for the boy immediately smoothed out his features and corrected, "That is, you think you can manage the table by yourself?"

"Yes, I think I can manage, my lord." They both knew this conversation was a bit of fluff for Doyle's sake. Obviously Sebastian could manage fine. The reality of what neither of them had been prepared for was that split-second where Ciel had felt like he needed permission to do something and had unthinkingly turned to Sebastian to grant it. Sebastian wasn't sure if his own face had given away that he was affected, but Ciel's did: only, rather than touched, he looked distinctly uneasy about the whole exchange.

"Very good, then. Mr Doyle, right this way." Ciel slipped out the narrow gap between the table and the banister, and he beckoned Doyle to follow him to the ballroom, smiling pristinely now. "Let me show you around the manor, and then we can have a spot of tea in the garden. I don't suppose you had lunch before you arrived? No? Very good, then let's make sure you try a curry bun as well. And there's no need to look so panic-stricken about everything. This isn't one of your tales; no one's waiting in the shadows to bite you like a snake."

"A-ah, snakes and shadows would hardly bother me right now, I think, my lord…"

Doyle nearly scampered after his host into the ballroom, dodging and weaving around people he wasn't even close to bumping into. Five minutes after that, Sebastian picked up on Ciel leading Doyle through the hallway behind the stairwells to the garden, talking about chocolate curry as they went. All politeness, meant to ease the author's cowardice, Sebastian thought to himself with a small smirk. Once the two were at a table together and Doyle had been pacified, Ciel would undoubtedly use the opportunity to get the man talking about his writing. The boy was a fan of very few talents, and Sebastian knew that this introduction was the only one that mattered to Ciel today. It had been such a tedious afternoon; it was nice that something would go right, that Ciel should have a reward for his efforts…

For the next forty minutes, everything was as expected. The crowds flowed in and out of the hall like river fish, never lingering for more than a minute or two before reentering the currents. Fewer groups were coming to have their photograph taken, so Soma wandered off somewhere to mingle and eat. No one came to collect their doll either, though at this point only eight toys remained. It was likely at least a few people would entirely forget to collect too, or that the dolls' prospective owners hadn't showed up in the first place; it wasn't anything unusual.

What was unusual was the sight of Fairclough and Erickson departing hurriedly from the ballroom, across the entrance hall, and behind the door to the drawing room where the auction was being held, throwing slight glances over their shoulders all the way.

Now what was that about? How incredibly suspicious. Sebastian felt the flame of his hatred flicker. He didn't always understand why he despised Fairclough so strongly, why the sight of that man made the very human thing that was a hunch crawl spider-like up his spine. But a good reason to hate him might just be appearing right now. Sebastian definitely needed to know what was going on.

So, Sebastian pushed back the table and walked out behind it into the throng of gentlemen and ladies that had learned to ignore the working man. He moved over to the closed door of the auction room and stood beside it with his back to the wall and strained his ears. It was supposed to be quiet in the auction room, but as bidding wound to a close, Sebastian could make out the familiar murmurings of men stricken with the same ailment that had always befallen their kind: the need for some material thing that could not follow them into the grave. There, if he listened extra carefully, he could also make out the dialogue of Fairclough and Erickson, who had not strayed too far into the room. As Sebastian had suspected, they were not interested in the auction. They were only interested in hiding from someone.

"... have checked the guest list myself. I'm an idiot. I'm a bloody idiot." It was Erickson, in a harsh whisper.

Fairclough's lowered voice was at its heels. "No, I'm the idiot. It would have been so easy for me to ask."

"You're right. Dammit, Clough. He can not see me."

"You've changed your hair since then, haven't you?"

"It doesn't matter. He'll know me. It isn't worth risking it, anyway. I have to get upstairs, but the steps are blocked. Tell me that isn't the only way."

"There's the servant's staircase. It's on the other side of the house. Let me think… The gallery entrance is blocked off in here, so we can only leave the way we came in. And the only way to get to the dining room at the moment is through the ballroom, so that's out. We'll have to go back through the foyer and along the hall until I can get you to the kitchens."

"But what if he's moved into the foyer now? Clough, I mean it. He cannot see me, he cannot even think he has. I'll be done for."

"I know, I know. Don't panic. I'll lead the way. I'll go out first and look around. I'll come back at once if he's out there. If I don't come to fetch you in ten seconds, you follow. Then I'll lead the way through the hall as a lookout. Try not to be odd about it, either. That Phantomhive butler abhors me for reasons I still don't understand. I don't need to seek out more of his ire."

Sebastian had marched swiftly but calmly back to his station the second he heard his name mentioned. Fairclough was clearly about to leave the sanctum of the drawing room, and Sebastian had to pretend as if the men's frantic behavior hadn't caught his attention at all, that he hadn't been eavesdropping. It suddenly seemed a very unfortunate thing that Sebastian had wanted to make Fairclough aware of his hatred in the past. If he'd pretended to be an ally, maybe Fairclough would even have been willing enough to divulge a secret or two. There was no telling now.

As it was, Sebastian would have to try and investigate for himself, to get to the ballroom and analyze its population as soon as Fairclough and Erickson were out of sight. Who was it that had frightened Erickson so? Lau was the only guest that came to mind. But was Lau in the ballroom right now? Sebastian was thrumming with impatience to find out. Just who was Erickson intimidated by and what was the reason?

Sebastian was at the table with his hands tucked inconspicuously behind his back a mere second before Fairclough departed the drawing room. Sebastian pretended to be distracted by Pitt explaining to a couple that they could come pick up their new cabinet cards at his studio or have them mailed if they lived outside London. In his periphery, Sebastian observed Fairclough give the entrance hall a thorough scan. Unfortunately, it ended in an all-clear, as Fairclough did not go back to the auction room to warn his friend. Soon Erickson was in the hall as well, unnerved as a hare in the open. The two men tried to look distinctly composed as they passed by Sebastian's booth. Sebastian gave them only a cursory glance, simply to look more natural. He too was waiting for his chance to bolt.

The hallway swallowed Fairclough and Erickson. Sebastian counted down from five, enough time for them to turn the first corner. Then he would go to the ballroom posthaste. Only three seconds… two… one…

Zero. Sebastian was back out from behind the table, moving as quickly as he could without attracting attention, into that same hall between the stairways but turning right instead of left, towards the open door that lead to the ballroom—

"Lord Phantomhive! Are you quite all right? Whatever is the matter?"

—when Fairclough's voice just barely touched his senses.

Sebastian spun around. The voice was coming from behind that first bend in the hallway, the one that Sebastian had been waiting for Fairclough and Erickson to turn. Ciel must have finished his tea with Doyle and was heading back to their table. But why had Fairclough stopped him? And why did Fairclough sound so concerned?

Ciel's response was thick with uncertainty. "Um, it's, it's fine, I'm… I'm fine, but I, I need to ask Sebastian something now, sorry—"

"Wait, please! Isn't there anything I can do to help? You look as shaken as you did the night of Goode's party."

What?

Sebastian was frozen in place. Something was wrong with Ciel. But he needed to investigate the ballroom before it was too late. If he waited another minute, he could miss his chance to identify the object of Erickson's fear.

Ciel was talking again. "Eh, no I don't think… Sorry, I've got to tell, er, I need to ask Sebastian something."

"Lord Phantomhive, please, let me help you. I've been able to in the past, I've proven myself. Maybe there's something I can do today, too. Surely I can at least do more than your butler?"

Surely not, I think you'll find—!

"Young master, there you are," Sebastian said warmly as he rounded upon them. "I thought I heard you from the booth. Did you say you had something you needed to talk to me about?"

Fairclough's mouth tightened at the corners at Sebastian's arrival. It was immediately evident that Fairclough knew he'd been overheard, and any hope for future civility was immediately severed. Good. If I have no choice now, then let him hate me. Sebastian scarcely minded Fairclough's discomfort. Ciel's discomfort was the more important one. And Ciel did have a distressed atmosphere clinging to him. His eye stared straight into Sebastian's with a silent plea for help. If Sebastian had even an inkling of regret about dashing to his master's side instead of exploring the ballroom, it evaporated in that instant.

Ciel was hesitating, so Sebastian didn't wait for an answer. "Mr. Fairclough, is there some place that my lord and I might speak in private? The study, perhaps?"

Fairclough looked at his strange new rival coldly, but knew better than to argue it in front of Ciel. "The study is locked right now, and I don't have the key on my person. There is a guest room upstairs you can use, if that will suffice. It's the first door to the left at the top of the western stairwell."

"Yes, I think it will do. Young master?" Sebastian gestured for Ciel to precede him, and the boy did so almost blindly. As he followed, Sebastian thought about flashing Fairclough one of his dark-eyed, meaningful looks, but called it off at the last second. He didn't want it to be interpreted that he knew about what had just transpired with Erickson. He only needed Fairclough to understand who was in charge here.

They ventured for the second story together. Fairclough was out of sight, out of mind. Sebastian's thoughts shifted to the current task, and worry was a sudden heartbeat in his chest. What had happened to Ciel to make his posture go rigid, his shoulders tense yet head ducked? It seemed his young master's luck with parties lately was miserable. When people were together in one place, they talked, and Ciel was so sensitive to the talk of people nowadays. They crested the stairwell; Sebastian felt every inch of himself buzzing with anticipation.

The guest room was carpeted in deep green, the same as the rest of the upstairs hall. A four-poster bed with fluffy white summer sheets sat tucked in the corner. An aspen chifferobe occupied the west wall, and at the far end was a horizontal dresser topped with a few old knicknacks: a porcelain wedding vase, a pair of crystal candle holders, a music box with a little crank on the side. There was a homely coziness to it, as if from a decade past, that Sebastian found himself appreciating unexpectedly. It seemed only right that whatever discussion they were about to have took place somewhere relaxed and familiar in nature.

Ciel had strolled briskly forward until he stopped in the middle of the room and spun around, hands balled up by his sides. Sebastian shut the door and approached to crouch down on one knee before the boy so they were closer in height. "Tell me what happened, young master," he said softly.

Ciel was glaring at the wall with the chifferobe, then at the wall with the bed, then somewhere behind Sebastian, then at the floor. Anywhere but in his demon's direction. "That damn Lord Filbert!" he snapped at last. Sebastian felt his eyes tighten. So, that brute showed up to bully the young master once more. "He wouldn't… Ugh! He wouldn't listen to me, just because he thought I was a child! There wasn't anything I could do about it!"

"Lord Filbert addressed you again when you were outside with Mr. Doyle, sir?" Sebastian said, trying to get the facts straight in this moment where it may be hard for the boy to be factual.

Ciel nodded vehemently. "Yes! I guess he thought there was some further joke he could make out of me! Because, I mean, it didn't matter what I said, he wouldn't listen to me until someone else told him that I really was Funtom's founder! He thought it was supposed to be some kind of… publicity stunt, saying a 'child' did all this! But then when a 'real adult' tells him it's true, then it's fine! But he wouldn't possibly believe me! There wasn't anything I could do to change his mind, it was so…" Ciel ran a hand through his hair, blinking quickly. "I hate that they all think this about me! They all look at me and see a child, and there's nothing I can do about it! It didn't matter what I said, I couldn't change his mind! I was… I couldn't…"

Ciel stood there seething for a few seconds, chest rising and falling rapidly. Sebastian didn't speak, letting him find his words again. "If I could threaten him, then he'd know," he spat after a moment. "Then he'd know that I'm stronger than him… Agh, but it doesn't even matter! I can't do that, Lord Filbert's status is higher than mine, and it's not like he's a criminal. I'd only get myself into trouble. So he wins! He gets to walk away unscathed, because I'm smart enough to know that if I yelled at him, I'd be the one who was gossiped about and then everyone would be scrutinizing my age! So I had no choice but to keep calm in front of him, even when he was accusing me of being a lying child! And I wish I could keep calm now! But I'm so angry, and the more I think about it, the angrier I get! Ugh!"

"Can you try and take a deep breath?" Sebastian offered. That suggestion only made Ciel look more frenzied, so Sebastian added, "If you do, you might find it easier to settle your nerves."

Ciel shook his head. "It won't settle my nerves, I swear it won't. Don't you dare say it again, it won't work."

"All right, not now then," said Sebastian evenly. The boy was clearly feeling oppositional, so Sebastian hoped his own patience would help soothe instead. "Let me try and make sense of what happened. Lord Filbert told you he didn't believe you were really Funtom's creator. You told him you were; he still didn't believe you, and then an older person told him that what you said was the truth. Lord Filbert believed that person in place of you."

"And then Lord Filbert apologized for talking to me that way and his friend told him to mind himself, but I don't even care!" Ciel snarled. "I was helpless, he made me helpless, and— and it just wasn't fair! None of it is fair! I've done so much work planning this event for my company, I'm the Queen's Watchdog, I'm the lord of an estate — and all of them only see a stupid bloody child when they look at me!" He propped up his forehead with a hand. "But I'm not, I'm just the same as them! I'm anything but a child, I'm…" Ciel bit his lip and stopped speaking. His blue eye was round and lost and filled with more anguish than Sebastian had witnessed from him in a long time.

Something important was unfolding inside of Ciel. Sebastian could see it, and he was very curious about it, but he knew he needed to be especially careful right now. Ciel was a sensitive person, but he put great effort into keeping the world from knowing it. If this much sadness was coming through in the boy's features, something raw and tender had to be lurking just below the surface; something to be eased like a shy fox from a den.

"I think it was very wrong for Lord Filbert to talk to you the way that he did," Sebastian began. Ciel gave a harsh snort of a laugh in response. "But the simple observations behind his words weren't wrong. You are fourteen, and you are still growing. You are not a young child anymore, but you are, in fact, still a child. You do understand that, don't you?"

Ciel was wide-eyed, bewildered. "No, no, that's wrong! I'm not a child, because I can't be one!" he shouted. He shook his head wildly. "It's not about being fourteen! It's not about growing! It's about everything else! It's about my accomplishments and—!" Ciel's voice seemed to stop short right in his throat. He stood there with his mouth open for only a second, then finished, "It's about everything else!"

"What do you mean by 'everything else?'" Sebastian asked slowly.

Ciel looked at Sebastian like he was an idiot. "Everything! You know, to do with… with the manor fire and you showing up and when I came back and, and everything between those things!"

The boy's words were rushed and losing some of their clarity as his emotions heightened. His rational side wasn't engaged at all. But that was all right; Sebastian wondered if it would make the answer to his next question all the more honest. "Young master, if it isn't related to age, tell me: how would you define a child?"

Ciel's head was turned directly to the wall, so that only the exposed eye faced Sebastian. "A child is a… a weak and helpless person."

Sebastian waited, then asked, "Is that all the criteria?"

Apparently not, because then, with great frustration, Ciel suddenly began rambling, "A child is a weak and helpless person who has to answer to somebody else about everything, who doesn't know anything about the world yet and doesn't have to know anything either because someone else knows, who, who doesn't even want to know anything anyway, and a child is someone who has no control over their own life, who can't do anything about it when they, when… When." A hard, scrunching blink. "When." Another hard blink. It was like Ciel was trying to exit a trance. His tongue moved subtly in his open mouth, struggling to get itself to respond.

Sebastian waited patiently for the words that finally came out greatly stilted. "It's… when… someone… can't… do… anything… about… it."

Ciel had twisted his head so far away now that he was practically looking behind himself.

"Lord Filbert called you a child, which you define as someone weak and helpless," said Sebastian. He wasn't stating this to spell out the facts or to force Ciel to look at them, but to show that he understood the boy's hurt.

A nod.

"Then he proceeded to make you feel weak and helpless, which in turn made you feel like the child he was naming you as."

A smaller nod.

"And being made to feel so weak and helpless and childlike brings you back to 'that horrible month,' doesn't it?"

No movement at all.

"Young master," Sebastian murmured, "do you think you could try taking a deep breath now?"

Ciel turned his shoulder away. He breathed in through his mouth, audible, ragged. The exhale was cut short by a sudden, sharp inhale. He coughed. His body was starting to tremble. "D-Dammit." His voice sounded waterlogged. He sniffed and showed Sebastian his back. "N-No one should be allowed to d-do this to me…"

"Oh," said Sebastian.

Ciel had not cried openly in front of Sebastian in several years, but now it was happening, and it made an astounding feeling wash over Sebastian like a spring rain. As Ciel swiped shamefully at his face, trying to keep the tears from falling too far, the feeling spread across Sebastian's chest, not unlike the stinging ache he'd felt there last night. It was giving him the overwhelming urge to seize the boy and hold him tight in the safety of his arms.

Sebastian knew this feeling. He'd felt it the day Ciel rode Avalon without permission, when Sebastian had imagined the danger Ciel was in and grabbed the boy off of the horse's back without a thought in his head. He'd felt it again seeing Ciel frozen with fear at the top of Gwilym Hastings's stairwell during their last mission; and again on the night they'd thrown the letters into the fireplace; and then again after Ciel spoke with Lyle Reubin at Jane's party, and again at their first successful nightly meeting, and at every nightly meeting after that, and again after Ciel's argument with Tanaka, and again last week after Ciel admitted to wanting to be hugged sometimes, even though it was hard, nearly impossible, to feel okay about it, and again when Ciel had called him father, and…

Now.

The feeling had staggered Sebastian every time with its power. He had been terrified of it, because he feared nothing more than that which was stronger than himself. He was so terrified of its incredible strength that he hadn't been able to name it. At least not until this moment, seeing the fear and guilt and shame emanating off this boy, his boy, and knowing that this powerful feeling armed him with the ability to send that shame away.

It was love. It was love.

It was love that made Sebastian want to seize Ciel and hold him tight in the safety of his arms, a place where surely nothing could ever harm him again, a place he deserved to know, as all children did. But it was also love that made Sebastian understand that it was too soon for that, too unusual for this boy who lived in perpetual fear of being loved. Ciel was crying now because love had been wrenched away from him years ago, and because touch had lost much of its association with love, and because Ciel knew that love and touch were weapons that could be used against him at any time. And Sebastian knew in this vulnerable moment that to offer an embrace could only serve to confuse and terrify the boy who still would not say 'yes' even to the hugs that a small part of him desperately yearned for.

So instead Sebastian stood up, reaching inside the folds of his jacket as he did so and taking out a handkerchief that was really just for show — or for this moment. He rounded the boy and crouched back down in front of him again. "There now, it's all right. Have this."

Ciel flinched at Sebastian's closeness and took a few steps backward, still pawing at his wet face with his knuckles. "L-Leave me alone, I don't want—"

"It's all right," Sebastian hushed. He held out the handkerchief where it could be seen; after a brief hesitation, Ciel snatched it away. "There you are. This is nothing to be ashamed of. You haven't done anything wrong. You're all right."

Ciel scrubbed at his face with the cloth, lifting up the eye patch to rub underneath it, but the self-loathing grimace didn't disappear. "I'm not all right, I'm pathetic! There's something wrong with me! I can't control my feelings anymore, I'm so angry and sad all the time! I'm ridiculous!" His jaw trembled, and he busied himself with the handkerchief once more.

"You have a lot to be angry and sad about," Sebastian reminded him. "But you never talked about that anger and sadness at our nightly meetings. And when you keep your feelings inside for a long time, eventually they find their way out. So, here they are." Ciel scowled and coughed. Sebastian smiled, feeling the sympathy in it. "It's all right, young master. This is a good thing. This is what you need to do right now."

Ciel tried to glare at him, but the look was just too miserable to be angry. He seemed to realize it, too, because he glanced away after only a second and groaned, "Why, though? When am I just going to get over it already? It was so long ago, and I'm still…" His words got stuck at the end, and Ciel coughed again as he tried not to outright sob.

Sebastian hummed an understanding tone in the back of his throat. "They say time heals all wounds, but a wound certainly can't heal if it isn't treated properly — or allowed to breathe. And I would say you've neglected to give this wound the care it really needs, young master." A pause. "I would say that we both have."

Ciel still wouldn't give himself a break. "But a year ago, I was fine in moments like these! All I had to do was tell myself to stop thinking and I would, easily, but now I'm so…" He sniffed hard. "Now I only need to be reminded of that horrible month just the slightest bit and then it's like my thoughts can't shut up about it. I'm… Ugh!" Ciel wrenched off the eye patch and dashed it to the carpet and rubbed the kerchief into his eyes a little too hard. "And now I've got that thing all wet, and my face looks terrible, and I don't even want to be here anymore, and… and I'm so angry I can't even think straight! I hate this!"

"Then let me think for both of us, just for now," Sebastian said. He balanced an arm atop his knee and tried to get the boy to look him in the eyes. "Young master, there's no law saying you need to stay until the end of the event. I can always tell Mr. Cavendish that you weren't feeling well and he can give the closing remarks in your place. Would that bring you some relief?"

"No!" Ciel nearly shouted. "No, because then Lord Filbert might know that what he said affected me, and surely my family will be wondering after me… No, that would be the worst! What a stupid idea!"

"Very well, then we won't do that," Sebastian replied gently. "In that case, I think for now the best thing is to let your feelings run their course. After all, what you were reminded of is very sad. Keeping it inside at this moment would be too painful. It's already been too painful."

"Shut up!" Ciel glared at him with red-rimmed eyes and gritted teeth. "Just shut up! You don't know what's too painful for me! You don't know what's best! Anybody who says they know me is wrong! Everyone, including Lizzie and Soma and especially you! All of you are wrong! "

"All right," said Sebastian to the very face of fear. "All right."

Sebastian went quiet. With no words to attach his anger to, Ciel was left unmoored. His furious expression gave way to anguish. He twisted away from Sebastian yet again. He didn't say anything for a few minutes. And though it was crushing to wait, Sebastian left the boy to his own thoughts — it was what he had asked for.

Eventually, Ciel lowered his hands, kneading the handkerchief in his fingers. He was looking at the floor. "Something is really wrong with me. I don't know what to do about it. I feel so out of control. I can't trust how I'll react anymore. It's so confusing."

Sebastian allowed a smile to enter his voice. "Ah, young master… I believe that if you could see outside your own experiences right now, you would realize that there is nothing wrong with you at all."

Ciel huffed at that but lacked any more energy for yelling. "That isn't true. I can't keep doing this, I'm completely overreacting. This isn't an acceptable way to behave, and I don't like doing it either."

"I don't disagree with you completely," Sebastian said. "What I mean, at least, is that I think something needs to change, too. Considering the way you treat yourself and your own emotions, it isn't surprising to me that you have no choice but to explode like this. I think if anybody experienced what you had and then insisted on keeping it to themself, they would act just the same. But most people wouldn't keep all the experiences you've had to themself, not entirely. It's time you didn't either."

"..." Slowly, Ciel faced Sebastian again. He was looking at him quizzically, still sniffling. "W-Why are you acting like this? Why are you trying to be kind to me?"

Sebastian knew he needed to be careful with his answer. "Because my job is to help you. And this is what helping you means right now, young master."

Ciel was too smart to let that pass. "Then why isn't this what 'helping me' looked like four years ago? Which isn't me saying I wish you'd done this, by the way. I'm just asking."

"I wasn't a very good cook at first either, was I?" Sebastian reminded him. "There are some lessons that take much longer to learn than others."

Ciel's eyes were downcast. "I don't know if that's really the full story, but… whatever. I'm in no position to argue." He bit his lip again. "I don't know… if you hadn't… I don't… I don't know if I'd be able to face anyone downstairs." With a slight flush of embarrassment, Ciel forced himself to lift his chin. "How bad does it look? Is it noticeable?"

After a moment, Sebastian realized Ciel was talking about his appearance. The boy's eyes were somewhat swollen and he seemed to have to breathe through his mouth now, but that was the worst of it. "It is somewhat noticeable, but you don't need to go downstairs right away if you don't want to. And that door in the corner is likely a connecting bathroom, so you can look in the mirror and wash your face if you like."

Ciel nodded, slowly hanging his head again. "Er, yeah, I'll… do that… I'm sure Mr. Doyle will be wondering about me, too. I tried not to leave the table too abruptly after Lord Filbert interrupted but I'm sure it was still a small scene… ugh. Mr. Doyle tried to stand up for me, too, and I had to interrupt him before he said something damning. That author would only get himself into trouble talking back to a marquis…" Ciel rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand. Then, with a little shake of his head, he straightened up. "You should go back downstairs. It's bad enough that the table has been unmanned all this time. Someone should really be there making sure all the guests are able to collect their gift before they leave."

"Would you prefer it if I waited for you, though, young master?" Sebastian offered.

Ciel scowled lightly. "No, it's fine. I'm fine now." He took a deep breath, controlled. "I'm fine now. I don't know what came over me."

Sebastian chuckled, not unkindly; not a bit. The boy was so used to dismissing his own feelings that he managed to say something uncharacteristically erroneous. "Young master, you mustn't forget so easily… We have just talked at length about what it is that 'came over you.' But I'll remind you again that it isn't anything to be ashamed of."

"Okay, fine, yes, you're right, I do know what came over me," Ciel huffed, face pinkening as he brushed past Sebastian and walked over to the door at the far end of the room. "But I'll decide what I get to be ashamed about, not you. All right? Now just… go downstairs. I'll join you again soon, once I… once I make sure I look normal."

"Ah, wait a moment." Sebastian retrieved the discarded eye patch from the floor. "It may make it more cumbersome to see yourself, but would you like help tying this on before I leave?"

Ciel paused. "Oh, right… um, yes."

The boy stood there quietly and held the patch comfortably in place while Sebastian tied the looping bow with care. Then Sebastian freed the bangs that had been trapped by the string and smoothed the hair on the back of the young master's head. Perhaps Sebastian could not hold Ciel in this vulnerable moment, but he was glad for the chance to give the boy some form of coddling, of tactual gentleness. "There you are, young master. That should do."

"Mn." Ciel walked over to the door then without another word. Sebastian remained crouched on the ground until he was certain he was dismissed. And though they spoke no more, Ciel did look back at him briefly with fresh injury still in his gaze — but there may have been a sheen of curiosity there too.

Once the door closed, Sebastian reluctantly left the guest room, with a sense in his core that things were going to be very different from here on.

Before moving back downstairs, Sebastian looked out at the second floor's view. The foyer had evolved somewhat even in that short time. The auction had ended, as evidenced by the number of visitors gathering there and milling about the open space. Gentleman and even a scattering of ladies shook hands, chatted, gloated. Filbert's distinct laugh sounded off from the middle of the pack somewhere. Sebastian would have liked very much to level that Scottish lord with a glare, as he'd done with Fairclough, but knew better than to try it. Fairclough was a nobody in this country and his own, but insulting the Marquis of Kirrieken would likely come around and have social consequences for his young master. Sebastian wasn't going to risk that for anything.

It was only when he was back at the table that Sebastian remembered Mr. Erickson's flight. The ballroom — he hadn't checked it in time. He had lost his senses the second he heard Fairclough declare to Ciel that Sebastian was no match when it came to consolation. But still, there was no regret. Even if looking around the ballroom had only taken ten or twenty seconds, it would've been too late by Sebastian's own high standards. As far as he was concerned, when it came to Fairclough, it was war.

Two people did wander over to claim their dolls at the last second, but otherwise no one came by during the fifteen minutes it took Ciel to collect himself and return. He showed up at Sebastian's side like a ghost, silent and subdued. His jaw was set with the recognizable firmness of a person trying their best to be strong when all they want is to hide. Seeing this, Sebastian wanted very much for three o'clock to chime so all the partygoers would leave. Of course, even afterwards Ciel might think he should see to it personally that Lord Sedgemore's manor was properly cleaned up and put back into place.

Sebastian sought to grant him an out. He leaned down slightly and said quietly, "Perhaps, once the event is over, we should make certain that Prince Soma returns to the London house as soon as possible." He nodded over in the direction of the photography area, and Ciel followed his gaze. Indeed, Soma had folded his arms atop the mannequin rabbit's head and was using them as a pillow for a nap.

Fortunately, Ciel agreed with a soft, "Mm. All right." And then suddenly their table was being accosted again, with people who wanted to thank Lord Phantomhive one last time for the party, for the auction, for the collectible, for inventing Funtom Company. Sebastian had learned long before this moment that it was actually quite acceptable in this current era to leave a party without saying anything to the host at all, and many of the day's guests had departed over an hour ago. The ones who remained were mostly the collectors, waiting for their auction prizes or simply talking with other hobbyists — or talking with Ciel. Sebastian could see the boy was reaching the threshold of what he could tolerate: his handshakes were getting weaker, his smiles no longer reaching his eyes.

"Ciel! Ciel!" Lizzie appeared to the boy's left suddenly with her family behind her. "Mother says we have to leave before traffic picks up," she explained sadly. "So I'm afraid we'll be taking off before your closing words. Oh, but goodness, Ciel! You look so tired! Please say you'll still come to dinner?"

Ciel cleared his throat. "Um, I think maybe I shouldn't after all, Lizzie. I'm sorry."

Lizzie opened her mouth, as if to protest, but Francis put a hand on her daughter's shoulder to stop her. "That's just as well," she said to her nephew. "Come by tomorrow instead, after you're fully rested. Anytime past noon is fine; we have nothing planned. Bring a book or a game, if you like. We can spend time relaxing in the drawing room as a family."

Ciel nodded, somewhat mollified by his aunt's mercy. "All right. Sure. That sounds nice. Um, thank all of you for coming today." The Midfords gave their farewells then, and not long after Mr. Cavendish arrived to tell Ciel it was time to bring the ceremony to a close.

Sebastian watched the two of them climb the stairs to the balcony to address the crowd. The sense of pride was still with him, but it was not striking the same chord as this morning: Ciel was no longer here because he wanted to be, but because circumstances dictated he had to be. That gave his pride an angry glint. Why should circumstances dictate it? Especially for someone so young, who still had little choice but to follow the rules written by older humans. But even Sebastian had played right into the hands of the gentry. He had encouraged the boy to throw this enormous party, because the social season enforced that Ciel attend the whims of others at his own detriment, keep up appearances, act like an adult. Sebastian had not thought to tell the child to forget it all and simply be a child.

Applause resounded. Ciel had finished speaking. With that, the Funtom event was at last over.

As people milled toward the exit or to receive their auction prize, Sebastian noted, through lip movements, that Ciel told Mr. Cavendish to have the unclaimed Maharaja rabbits mailed to the London house. Ciel also apologized that he could not stay any longer, but that he had better make sure Prince Soma made it home in one piece. Cavendish was very understanding. He would see to everything. Think nothing of it. They would meet again on Monday to talk results. Until then.

Ciel waited for the majority of the crowd to move outdoors before he came back down the stairs, most definitely to avoid anyone else trying to thank him for the party. The applause had woken Soma up some while ago, and he was rubbing his eyes and smacking his lips sleepily. "Is it over?" he asked unnecessarily when Ciel finally did come back to the first floor.

"Yes, we're all finished. Let's go back to the London house now," Ciel said simply.

Soma stretched his arms up over his head. "Mm, good! Because I really need a nap."

The aforementioned nap hadn't waited so far, and it didn't wait on the ride back either. Soma had his eyes shut and his mouth hanging open nearly as soon as the carriage tottered off. It didn't take Ciel long to follow suit. Initially, he had seemed to close his eyes simply to avoid having to make eye contact with Sebastian. Still, in only minutes he too was dozing. He slumped towards Soma, and for the duration of the ride the boys slept with one's shoulder propping up the other. But home was not so far away to allow for deep rest. It wasn't long before Sebastian was rousing them with his voice, preceding them out of the cab, putting down the step so they could emerge more easily.

The ever-attentive Agni was opening the door just as Soma slumped up the front steps. "Welcome home, my prince, Lord Ciel, Sebastian!" he cheered. "Oh, don't you look as if you've worked very hard. I prepared Kashmiri kahwa, to celebrate and help you relax, but… it appears as if the both of you would much rather sleep than have tea right this moment. Hm?"

"Yeahhh," Soma said through his yawn, already on his way to his bedroom. "Definitely gonna nap first… Then tea… Keep it warm or something please…"

"I'll do what I can," Agni assured him. "It went well though, yes? Everything was fine?"

But Soma had already trudged up and disappeared down the first corridor, his mind on one thing only.

"How rude of him," Ciel surprised both Agni and Sebastian by speaking up suddenly, voice managing to resound in the high ceiling of the hall even though its quality was growing hoarse. "I think he plans on keeping you in suspense. But don't worry. I promise you he ate and drank and bent his knees and did all the other things that you nagged after him to do."

Agni was stunned for a moment. Then he laughed brightly. "Ah, Lord Ciel! Thank you for your reassurance, even though I know you are joking with me. That is kind of you."

"... Mm. Well, now I think I'll follow Soma's lead and take a nap as well. If that tea keeps on a low flame, we'll enjoy it after we wake up."

"Certainly, sir! I hope your sleep is restful."

It seemed a promising thing that Ciel had been lighthearted with Agni. Ciel was not one to jest unless he was in good spirits — or he wanted to be in them. When they arrived in the bedroom, his fragility returned when there was no longer a need to pretend. He was very quiet as Sebastian unburdened him of the event's layered clothing and put him into his softest, oldest nightshirt, a thing that was thread-worn and stretched oddly in places from Mey-Rin's sorry work at the washboard; a thing Sebastian would have thrown away months ago if he didn't recognize how its familiarity brought Ciel peace. Ciel bunched the sleeves in his fists and rubbed his fingers over the material without seeming to notice he was soothing himself. He sat on his bed and looked at the floor. After a moment, Sebastian sat on the bed too, by the footboard.

For a while, nobody spoke. Then Ciel said, "Maybe I was too hasty when I called off our nightly meetings." He'd admitted it hastily as well. He looked cautious. "But the thing is, I hated them sometimes too. I didn't always want to have them. But I didn't have a choice in it, really. And sometimes actually I think it felt better that I didn't have a choice, but other times I hated you for it. So. I don't know. I don't know what else to say." He stared sidelong at Sebastian as if for direction.

Sebastian offered it. The North Star was easy for him to pinpoint, now. "Young master, if there's anything I want you to take away from our nightly meetings, it's that I will make myself available whenever you need to talk. And when you don't want to talk, that's all right too."

Ciel hesitated again. He stared at his legs hanging over the edge of the bed. "You really think talking about it will help?"

"Yes, I really do."

The boy's grip tightened on the lip of the mattress. "... I don't really want to, though. I really don't know if I… N-No. I don't want to." His eyelids crimped as he said it.

Sebastian nodded. "Of course you don't want to, young master. Of course you don't… You likely aren't ready to. You might not be ready for a while yet. And that's all right. You don't need to say everything at once." An idea shone out to him then, like a coin shines in the sun solely for the fortunate person who passes it from just the right angle. "You can practice by noticing when you feel angry or sad or anxious and telling me that you feel that way. You don't have to say the reason for your feelings, or even to know the reason, for that matter. But acquainting yourself with that honesty and awareness seems like a good place to start. Do you think so?"

Ciel shrugged limply. "I guess. I mean… I don't want… what happened today… to happen again. If I can keep that from happening, then… it might be worth it." Ciel nodded shortly a few times, as if to encourage himself that maybe this was the right thing to do.

It made Sebastian soften to see it. "I hope it will be worth it, sir. We'll only know if we try." He sighed out his nose. "And what happened today may happen again — it won't help you to dismiss the possibility. But if it does, we can be all the more prepared for it."

Ciel glared at him, though it was weak and once more veiled with something like curiosity. Then the boy's eyes were hidden beneath his lids as he snorted, shaking his head. "I don't want to think about it ever happening again. It had better not. If my growth spurts keep up, by the next social season I'll have grown enough to stop being mistaken for a child. It won't be much longer now."

Sebastian wanted to say the opinions of others weren't the matter here; only the young master's opinion of himself. Despite Sebastian's gentle insistence, it was clear Ciel still didn't see himself as a child after all. That was going to need remedying too. Ah, there was so much to do… but there was plenty of time to do it. Right now, what the boy needed most of all was sleep.

Sebastian stood up and pulled back the covers as Ciel moved to settle onto the pillows. "I'm afraid the rate at which you grow and what other people think are aspects outside of even my control. Instead, let us focus on what we can control, which is the way you and I approach your feelings."

Ciel rolled onto his side as soon as Sebastian had the covers over his shoulder. "Whatever."

"Yes, I agree: whatever happens, we shall weather it." Ciel groaned at his butler's sorry attempt at positivity. "Now, now, I hope you have a nice nap." Sebastian closed the curtains, crossed the room, and spoke a final time when he had his hand on the door knob. "Ah, and one last thing, young master?"

"What?" The voice sounded drearily annoyed.

"You did very, very well today. I couldn't be more proud of you if I tried."

Silence. Then at last, a small, tired, hesitant, "Okay."

"Call for me when you are ready. Dinner will be waiting for you then."

Today when Sebastian closed the door behind him, there was no uncertainty about his role in the boy's life.

He could have laughed, loud and long, if it weren't for the concern it would raise. But it all seemed so silly now! Really; this was what he had been afraid of all this time? This incredible power and strength that came in the form of love? Had he really looked down on the concept for so long? It was suddenly no surprise at all, the lengths at which humans would go for the ones they cared about. Love was confidence and bravery and strength all wrapped up into one. How could he have ever guessed? So long Sebastian had only considered the vulnerability that came with love. How unexpected that it would also award him such a rush of capability.

He could never look back. Sebastian had never been more certain in his life of who he needed to be, what he needed to do. Foreign magic be damned: as long as Sebastian was near, the young master's soul couldn't be safer from predators. And Sebastian would never leave the boy stranded again. He would rush to his side, without a thought, without fear, just as he did today. He loved Ciel as a parent. He was no longer ashamed to know it. Someday, when he was ready, Ciel would know it too. Sebastian would make sure of it.

---

Not to examine the ballroom that day had been a terrific error.

Sebastian stood, heaving with leftover rage, in the moonlit gardens of the man he had just killed. Fairclough's grotesque visage was like a mask of Melpomene hanging from that bare December branch, and his blood was an aerosol in the back of Sebastian's throat. I should have done this sooner, Sebastian thought, forgetting it would have been impossible. Then he could have prevented the words that parted those flat purple lips now frozen in perpetual horror. But the man's demise was no cure-all; it could not erase that which had already been spoken. If only it—

Then, suddenly, with no warning or preamble to speak of, the ground opened up and swallowed Sebastian whole.

---

;^) Just a little flash forward...