Chapter Text
It’s not a rare occurrence for Ciel to wake up from a nightmare.
It’s quite a common one, really.
When they first started, Ciel would usually wake up screaming, his face would be covered in tears, and his whole body drenched with sweat. He would wrap himself in his duvet, as if that was enough to shield him from the horrors he had experienced, and try to calm himself, trembling all the while. And then Sebastian, who had heard him cry out, would enter his room with a candelabra and announce himself.
Even back then, it was obvious that Sebastian had absolutely no idea what he was doing. While his words were meant to be soothing, and his tone was soft as he urged Ciel to go back to bed, the boy could never get himself to calm down.
Perhaps it was because he knew of Sebastian’s true nature, or perhaps it was because the trauma and pain had still been so, so fresh. Or perhaps, it was because Sebastian was standing there in the same place his parents and Tanaka and his Aunt An used to stand, worrying and fretting over him as they always did. It was just another reminder that what he lost would never be returned.
Funnily enough, Sebastian was at a loss. And Ciel understood why, to a degree. What would a demon know about comforting a small child? Nothing, he would imagine. The first night Ciel woke up from a dreadful nightmare, nothing Sebastian tried would work.
Touching was obviously a no-go. As were bedtime stories, as Sebastian always picked the strangest ones that made no sense, or ones that manifested into more nightmares. He even tried singing one time, and while this wasn’t ultimately a bad idea, so to speak, it was just odd coming from Sebastian, so Ciel swiftly dismissed that method about ten seconds after his butler started.
A temporary solution was briefly accepted, where Sebastian would keep watch over him while he slept, but even that lost its effectiveness.
They had both grown frustrated, as the nightmares had started taking a toll on Ciel’s sleep schedule. Ciel would find himself nodding off during the day during his lessons, which only resulted in him doing poorly on his assignments.
Luckily, though, Sebastian managed to come up with a solution. A hot cup of milk with honey.
It had initially been offered that first night back at the manor, but only because Ciel had been unable to eat Sebastian’s disastrous cuisine. And since he had foolishly told Sebastian about how Tanaka used to scold him about having sweets before bedtime, the mere idea of it had been forgotten.
But then Sebastian had brought a cup when he woke up from a nightmare, and Ciel was suddenly brought back to late nights back before, when he was sick, and his brother would bring him a cup, cheekily whispering not to tell Gramps.
He didn’t know if Sebastian had read up on it or asked around. All he knew was that it worked, and that was enough. Slowly, the nightmares faded into obscurity, though there was an odd night or two where all that was needed was a hot cup of milk with honey.
Ciel doesn’t know why he’s thinking about all of that all of a sudden.
Perhaps it is because he is dying.
The distinct metallic taste of blood lingers in his mouth, and his whole body is sore. He’s lying on the floor; he knows that much, but he’s unable to move. His chest hurts; it feels like it’s going to explode. There’s probably blood gurgling in his lungs from the injuries he’s sustained.
Everything hurts. He doesn’t know where Sebastian is. He doesn’t know where his servants are, either. He is alone.
He’s not even sure how he got here, now that he thinks about it. Try as he might, the events are all melting together in his head. He feels he should know, but for some reason, his mind just keeps throwing blank images at him.
The brief thought that pushes to the forefront of his mind is that he should call for Sebastian. He wants to. The name is on the tip of his tongue. But his mouth isn’t cooperating.
There’s a burning ache in his eye; Ciel knows that means something, but he can’t remember what.
He wants to sleep. He just wants to close his eyes and sleep for the next decade, but he knows he shouldn’t. Ciel knows deep down that this isn’t a good sign, that he should stay awake until help gets here. But his eyelids are so, so heavy, and his body is practically thrumming with exhaustion, and who knows if help is even coming?
His eyelids reluctantly shut against his will, and his breathing starts to slow.
He thinks of his servants. Of Finny and his kindness. Of Bard and his kind looks he gives when he thinks others aren’t looking. Of Mey-Rin and her sharp, attentive eyes, always watching and observing. Of Tanaka and his quiet toughness, which he only brandishes when necessary.
Of Snake and his little companions he brought everywhere. Ciel regrets lying to him; he should’ve told him the truth when he had the chance. He would have understood, right?
Probably. Probably not. Ciel doesn’t know for sure, and he never will, because Snake is gone and he isn’t coming back.
He thinks of his lost family. Of his dad, always smiling at him from afar. Of his mother, who would take the time to sit at his bedside when he was sick. Of his Aunt An, who would play chess with him. Of his brother, who always smiled at him, and took care of him when he was sick. Of his dog, Sebastian, who always lingered by his side, poking at him and nudging him with his nose.
Then finally, he thinks of Sebastian, his butler. The one who promised to never lie, to obey his every command, and to protect him without betrayal.
And now here Ciel is, lying on the floor, choking on his own blood, while Sebastian is nowhere to be seen. He’s not protecting him. He lied.
The seal on his eye burns again, harsher this time. Ciel really is tired.
He doesn’t know why he’s still awake, why he keeps fighting sleep.
It’s a bad thing, isn’t it? To be so tired when he’s in such a weakened state? He should stay awake.
There’s a ringing in his ears, a sharp sound that’s starting to give Ciel a headache. He usually sleeps it off whenever he gets a headache. Maybe he should try doing that now, to stave it off.
Just for a few minutes. By then, surely help will have arrived.
Yes. Just a few minutes.
That won’t hurt.
He awakes to someone shaking him.
“Brother, wake up!”
Ah, another nightmare. He should’ve expected this, really.
“Please wake up! Something’s happening!”
The boy opens his eyes to find none other than his twin brother, the real Ciel, looking down at him with eyes that are full of fear. “Get up!” Ciel says, rougher this time, and this finally rouses the boy to sit up. When he looks around at his surroundings, he’s not shocked to see he’s still in the godforsaken cage.
All of his nightmares start like this. He’s become a bit numb to it.
As he takes in the sight of his long-lost brother, however, a dreadful feeling starts to take root in his stomach. He almost doesn’t like remembering his brother like this; he’s far too skinny, far too beaten up, far too good for everything that’s about to happen to him.
But it’s better than the alternative. Better than the teeth-gnashing, bloody, stitch-ridden image the boy had come to associate his brother with.
“Hear me, my devout monks and nuns!”
That voice starts to spur the boy into a sort of panic. He knows what comes next after this. He knows. But he needs to stay calm. It’s only a nightmare. He’ll wake up at any moment now.
“A month has passed since the full moon… and the vessel is, at long last, full. Now, let us begin the Noble Mass once more this evening.”
The boy tries to analyze these words as he hears them. He has heard these words a thousand times now, never able to completely forget them, but there’s something different about them now. There’s no frightening echo that follows these words like there usually is. And Ciel is still staring at him, eyes narrowed in worry and confusion.
“The stars of this memorable day…” The voice continues. “...are these two!”
The boy is finally able to look away from his brother to outside the cage, feeling the hatred in his heart start to burn, hot and white, like the brand on his side. The cultists all look so intrigued, so anxious to get to their favorite part, and the boy feels a rush of nausea cause him to double over.
He doesn’t want to go through this again. He doesn’t want to see Ciel die like that again.
His brother seems to take this for a silent declaration of fear and huddles in to hug him close, as if to protect him from the night’s horrors.
“They’re going to hurt us again,” The boy says, his voice weak. Just saying those few words causes him to curl in even tighter on himself. Ciel only hugs him closer.
“Something’s odd, though,” Ciel murmurs. “Those people are only looking on tonight.” His eyes are trained on the cultists jeering at them from outside the cage. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
Oh, Ciel, the boy thinks bitterly. You have no idea.
The cage door opens, and the boy is just barely able to glare up at the man who’s about to snatch Ciel away from him. He wants to take control of the nightmare, wants to stand up and die in Ciel’s place, wants to fight back, but his legs are too weak, and Ciel’s grasp on him is too tight.
“Pitiful offerings, the time has come,” The horrid man announces, eying each of them with consideration. Like he doesn’t already know who he's going to pick. “The first glorious lamb whom we offer to our king—” He reaches out quickly and snatches Ciel by the arm. “Is this one.”
The boy reaches out for Ciel, wants to apologize, wants to volunteer to take his place, but he can only crawl just a few feet after his brother before the cage door is slammed in his face. He calls out his brother’s name, reaching his hand between the bars of the damned cage keeping him captive.
Ciel tries to fight back, but he’s too young and much too malnourished to do anything against the cultists dragging him towards the sacrificial table. His eyes are so full of fear and denial, and he keeps blinking rapidly, as if he’s trying to wake up from a nightmare.
“Ciel,” The boy says, louder this time, and firmer.
This is a nightmare. He’ll wake up at any moment now. He knows this isn’t really happening, that it’s already happened, but he can take control now. Just this part. Anything to make this awful moment just a little more bearable. Not that it ever truly will be.
“Just close your eyes, Ciel,” The boy says, though his voice is watery and he thinks he tastes salt. He doesn’t know how to comfort someone in this situation. “Just close your eyes.”
Ciel just stares at him, but he has stopped fighting his captors.
There’s distant cheering from all around them, but the boy keeps his eyes locked on Ciel’s, trying to convey a message. I’ll kill them all, the boy thinks.
Ciel shakes his head, whether it’s in denial or just an automatic response to being yanked towards his death. Then, in the last few seconds before they shove him down onto the table, he conveys his own message. You don’t have to, his eyes seem to say.
Then those blue eyes close, and the boy watches from his spot in the cage as the ritual commences. Ciel is still thrashing, but his eyes are slammed shut, and his mouth is pulled into a grim line as he awaits his horrific fate.
The boy doesn’t want to watch this. He can’t watch this again. Why won’t he wake up?
The cultist finally raises his knife and brings it down with so much force that it wrenches a horrid sound out of Ciel's mouth as it impales him.
The boy can only watch, flinching when wayward drops of blood splatter across his face. Ciel lets out another single, pained cry before going limp, never to move again.
Never to smile again, except in Ciel’s dreams. His good ones, anyway, which seem so far away now. He can’t imagine ever having such a dream again. The very idea is almost a foreign concept to him.
Why won’t this nightmare end already?
“Come forth, Lord of Chaos!” The cultist cries out, followed by the sounds of laughter from all around the room.
The boy feels numb. He wants to wake up now. He doesn’t want to be here.
He can’t remember why he ever believed in God. Or if he ever believed. Because surely, if God existed, someone would have come to save them from this horrid place?
“He isn’t here,” The boy mutters, only barely able to hear his own voice over the roaring laughter infiltrating the room. “He doesn’t exist,” He reminds himself.
The hatred in his heart is filling his chest, filling his head, filling his senses. He supposes the only good thing to come out of this nightmare not wanting to end is the next part.
The part where all of the people in this room die.
Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blows through the room, and the ground starts to shake. The boy grips the bars of the cage tightly, steadying himself as he watches the cultists scatter like roaches. He almost forgot how dramatic Sebastian’s entrance was.
No, he’s not quite Sebastian here, is he? He’s something else entirely.
“What’s going on!?”
“An earthquake!?”
The boy watches as an enormous splatter of inky darkness that smells distinctly of blood spins around the room. He turns his face away, repulsed by the smell. But then, tendrils shoot out from the darkness that start to take hold of a few of the cultists, dangling them by their legs before throwing them into the walls.
He feels a rush of satisfaction coursing through him.
“Answer me.”
The demon’s voice is so unlike the one the boy has come to know. Nothing like the soothing and soft voice he had gotten used to. This one is a growl, full of amusement and delight at the pain he’s causing, and the boy can only stare as the demon continues talking.
“Whoever has summoned me,” The demon addresses. “Yours is no small sacrifice in the pursuit of pleasure and wealth…calamity and tragedy.” A moment of silence, and then, just vaguely, a more humanoid form appears. It’s still not entirely human, though. “Where is the fool who spits upon God?”
The boy opens his mouth to speak, to take responsibility for his actions, but before he can even utter a word—
“Grant me eternal life and wealth!”
“No, me!”
The boy scowls. They really have no idea of how any of this works, do they? He’s not sure what kind of research there even is on this subject, but he knows that these fools don’t even have the faintest clue of what they tried to sign up for.
The demon simply picks up the cultist and throws him to the side. “No.”
This continues for a while, with more cultists offering themselves as contractors, and the demon rejecting them by throwing them around carelessly. The boy spectates, but continues to wonder why this nightmare seems to be dragging on for so long. It usually ends right when Ciel—
It’s when a cultist gets splattered into the ground right next to his cage that he’s snapped out of his thoughts. A surprised sound escapes him, and this seems to alert the demon to his presence.
“Aha,” The demon says. It comes closer, likely to inspect him further, and all the boy can do is glare at it.
Took you long enough, he wants to snap, but he manages to keep his mouth shut.
“My, my,” The demon says. “What a tiny master you are.”
The boy clenches his teeth. What is with this demon and pointing out his size?
“It was you who called for me, hmm?” The demon asks.
“Yes,” The boy answers firmly. There’s no point in beating around the bush. And there’s no point in denying, either. Even though he didn’t intend this, this was all his doing.
“You have summoned me here today. That fact will not change for all eternity…and the sacrifice that has been made will never return.”
The boy casts a sad look at Ciel, who is still lying on the sacrificial table. His eyes are closed, and if the boy tries hard enough, he can almost pretend his brother is just sleeping.
The demon continues. “However, if you wish to be rid of me, that is a wish I can grant. You have made a great sacrifice, after all. You are free to decide whether you would like to make a covenant with me and have your wishes granted… or not. The fare for crossing has already been well paid.”
The boy shakes his head, already tired of talking. He reaches his hand through the bars towards the demon, ready to get to the next part. “I want power,” He says tightly. “I want the power to take revenge upon those who put us through all of this.” He wants this nightmare to be done with. “Demon, I’ll make a covenant with you.”
Distantly, there’s the sound of cultists scrambling to his cage, no doubt to shut him up, but he keeps his own eyes trained on the demon, waiting for confirmation.
“You have displayed no hesitation about any of this,” The demon notes. “That is an admirable yet foolish trait to have. Nevertheless, let us carve the mark of the covenant onto our bodies. The more—”
“Yes, yes, I get it,” The boy interrupts. “Just do it already! Anywhere is fine! I want more power than anyone else!”
“What an impatient master I have,” The demon says. “Very well then!”
A hand surges forward and covers the boy’s right eye.
The pain that emerges from this action is enough to make the boy cry out, and he falls backwards onto the ground, gritting his teeth as the seal forms on his eye. He hadn’t imagined the pain could be so perfectly replicated within a dream. He sits up and grimaces as a sharp ache pulses through his eye.
It feels almost too real.
The familiar metallic taste of blood is back, and the boy wipes what he can out of his mouth and off his face.
“With this mark, the power of a demon is yours,” The demon says, reaching a clawed hand through the bars to gently grasp the boy’s chin. He would never say it out loud, but the action provides him just the smallest bit of comfort. “Never again will you be made to yield to another. Now, unleash your desires!”
“I want them to die,” The boy says, feeling another rush of satisfaction surge through him. “Kill them!”
Just like before, the demon refuses to hold back, and the boy can only watch grimly as blood splatters about the room. Screams of terror echo throughout this space, which the boy greatly prefers to the laughing he was subjected to just moments ago.
Then, after what feels like hours, it goes silent, save for the quiet sound of small wisps of flame flickering on the candles surrounding the room.
“There. All done!”
The lock on the cage door snaps off, and the hinges squeak as the door opens. The demon holds out a hand to help lead the boy out of the cage. His clawed hand is cold and is so much bigger than his, but the boy finds it familiar, and that causes his heartbeat to settle.
This nightmare has been going on way too long. Surely this would be a good stopping point?
“What is your name?” The demon asks.
The boy casts a long look at his brother, who’s still lying on the sacrificial table.
“Ciel,” He replies after a silent apology to his brother. “Ciel Phantomhive,” He says, his voice firmer this time. “I am the heir to the Phantomhive earldom.”
“I see,” The demon grins deviously. “Very well. Then I must take the form befitting the servant of an earl.” Black wisps of smoke surround the demon as he steps forward, and then, finally, the once-humanoid figure actually transforms into his butler. It’s still not quite Sebastian, though. His eyes are still glowing a bright shade of red, and his sharp teeth are still on full display. He looks human, but not nearly human enough.
“Ciel” stares at him for a moment before looking away. Something is wrong.
“Oh, is this form not to your liking?” The demon asks, pointing at himself.
Ciel hurriedly shakes his head. “It’s not that,” He answers. He brings a hand up to massage his temple, feeling strangely exhausted. Can one really feel exhausted in a dream? He meets the demon’s expectant eyes and asks, “What’s next?”
“Well,” The demon says, waving a hand out. “Now it is time for us to work out the details of our agreement.” The table and chairs are conjured up with a snap of his fingers, which almost takes Ciel off guard. He had nearly forgotten how often Sebastian used his powers at the beginning of their contract.
“Alright then,” Ciel says, and takes a seat in one of the provided chairs. He knows what to expect this time, so he’s prepared for the incoming conversation.
The demon gives him a long look, but after a moment, sits down in the other chair. “I will mention at the outset that I cannot accept indefinite or unreasonable conditions, such as until I am satisfied or forever. Human desire knows no bounds, after all.”
Ciel gives him an unimpressed look, waiting for him to get to the point.
The demon holds up three fingers. “Three. I shall grant you three wishes of your choosing, anything you want.”
“Anything,” Ciel repeats, tasting the word in his mouth. Just how true can that really be?
“Anything at all,” The demon confirms with a saccharine smile. “You can be king of the entire realm, or win the heart of the one you love unrequited, or live in luxury, surrounded by money and treasure from all over the world. Whatever you wish.”
Ciel frowns. He has no need for any of that. All he wants is revenge, and he intends to get it. But first, he has to lay out the three ground rules that they first established at the beginning. He sighs, casting another look at his dead brother as he tries to come up with the proper words.
The demon, however, seems to take his silence as its own unspoken question. “If you want your big brother back, I can promise you many peaceful, happy days.”
That does it. “You’re lying,” Ciel says bluntly, and is briefly rewarded with the sight of the demon’s shocked face. “You said the fare for crossing would never return. That means you can’t resurrect someone who’s died or turn back the clock.”
He sits back in his chair. “A person who was dead is alive—What you can do is only make me think that’s true.” He says, raising an eyebrow. He wonders about the logistics of this, but doesn’t ask. He doesn’t intend on actually going through with it, after all.
The demon, however, does not seem as amused as he did last time. There’s a slight smirk on his face, but there’s also a look in his eyes that Ciel can not read, no matter how hard he tries. “Well done,” He says finally. Oh? Was Ciel being tested just then? “You have a solid presence of mind and keen intuition.”
Huh, no mockery this time. Ciel wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. The demon offers no attempt at persuasion, which Ciel appreciates, because he wants to get this over with.
“Demon, I’ve made my choice. This is my first wish.”
The demon inclines his head. “Speak, and it shall be yours.”
“Never lie to me,” He says. Ciel knows that in the future, the demon will inevitably find a loophole to work around this, but he can’t think of another wish that would work better than this one.
The demon raises an eyebrow at this, but surprisingly, says nothing.
“From now on,” Ciel continues. “Answer my questions with the absolute truth.”
“Very well,” The demon says, removing the glove from his left hand. “Your first wish has been granted.”
A familiar sharp pain stabs Ciel in his right eye, but he grits his teeth until it passes.
“You may bind me by the mark of the covenant carved into your eye,” The demon informs. “Now, what about your other two wishes?”
“My second wish,” Ciel says now. “Swear to obey me without question.”
“For how long?”
“Until I’ve exacted my revenge myself,” Ciel answers. He’s careful with how he words this; he remembers how this went the first time, with the demon damn near rushing off to finish the job himself because Ciel hadn’t been specific and fast enough with his words.
The demon leans back in his chair now, looking a bit dissatisfied. “For one who has obtained the powers of a demon, which surpass even human understanding, you are making a rather poor decision.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Ciel says, crossing his arms. “So what do you say?”
“As you wish,” The demon agrees. “Just so you know, I cannot follow orders to alter the terms and conditions of our contract. None of that I want more wishes granted, or I want you to terminate the contract business, alright?”
“Did you have to learn that the hard way?” Ciel asks without thinking. He had been curious about it the first time, given the demon’s knowing tone that spoke of centuries of experience, but he had never asked about it.
The demon makes a face like he’s tasted something sour. “Regrettably.” He doesn’t elaborate further, but his eyes flash for half a second, signalling that he’s remembering something bothersome.
Ciel manages to suppress a smile and nods. “Alright.”
The pain zips through his eye again, but since he was expecting it, it doesn’t hurt nearly as much.
A long-lost memory forces its way to the forefront of his mind, and he sits up straighter in his chair. “Also,” He says, drawing the demon’s attention. “To clarify on that last wish, you only have to obey me no matter what when I say I order you or this is an order.”
The demon looks briefly amused, like he can read Ciel’s mind. “That collateral condition is nice and easy to understand.” He says this easily, as if he wasn’t planning on taking advantage of how vague Ciel was when he initially came up with the wish.
Whatever. They just need to get this over with. “Demon, I have my last wish,” Ciel says.
The demon waits patiently, his expression now giving nothing away.
“For my third wish,” Ciel starts, “—Until I’ve exacted my vengeance, I want you to protect me to the very end, without betraying me.”
“Betray?” The demon echoes.
“There’s a chance you could make a deal with someone else,” Ciel explains with a shrug. He thought it seemed pretty cut and dry. Surely a demon has betrayed their contractor before? “You could make a contract with someone else. And what if they want me dead? I can’t trust anyone anymore, a demon, least of all.”
“Rest easy, please,” The demon says in what is likely supposed to be a reassuring tone. “I never make multiple contracts as a rule.” He tilts his head. “There are greedy, gluttonous types amongst us who do, but I personally do not find it very elegant. It goes against my aesthetics.”
“A demon with aesthetics,” Ciel says, barely able to hide his amusement. The times this demon has gone on and on about his butler aesthetics…
“Why, even a demon has a principle or two,” The demon remarks. “But to get back to protecting you… Protecting you from external attacks is simple, but does said protection also include death by disease?”
Ciel shakes his head. “No, just protect me from external attacks. If I get sick, I’ll deal with it when the time comes. There. My third wish.”
“To begin with, your wish of protection without betrayal can be interpreted as unlawful, as it includes two wishes in one… But I shall compromise in order to have you understand my principle of never making dual covenants.”
Ciel almost rolls his eyes. Must he always be so particular with everything? “Fine.”
The final stab of pain pangs in his eye, and he almost lets out a sigh of relief. Surely, his nightmare will come to an end now?
…
Nothing. What’s going on? His dreams never usually go on for this long. Is it possible that this—
“Now, then,” The demon starts, interrupting Ciel’s train of thought. He gets up from his chair and rounds the table to stand behind Ciel’s chair. “You are my one and only master, and I, your faithful servant, who protects you, will never betray you, and who speaks only the truth. Our covenant shall remain valid until the day your revenge is accomplished.”
“And when it is done, and our agreement has come to an end—” He places his fingers under Ciel’s chin and raises his face upwards so they can lock eyes. “I shall claim your soul as my reward.”
“Yes, yes, I’m aware. Unhand me,” Ciel says, and the demon relents, though the look on his face suggests he was expecting a different reaction.
“You are taking all of this surprisingly well,” He notes, taking a step back so Ciel can stand up. “I must admit, most humans lose their composure when we get to this bit.”
“Would you rather I kick up a fuss?” Ciel asks, though he knows the real reason why the demon is shocked. He wanted Ciel to panic, to curse him and deny it, to say anything that’ll undo their carefully woven contract. But Ciel’s prepared. “Servants must always be paid their wages, anyhow,” He sniffs. “In any case, I want nothing but revenge now, so it’s no skin off my back once it’s all said and done.”
The demon is silent for a moment, his eyes contemplating something as he looks at Ciel. He looks almost wrong-footed, as if he’s unsure how to proceed.
Now that Ciel thinks about it, he has been going about this almost too confidently. He’s been taking all of this in stride, which is a far cry from how he acted last time.
But that’s only because he’s been through all of this before. This is only a dream.
No, perhaps Ciel should be honest with himself. If this were all really a dream, it would’ve ended by now. While he’s had numerous nightmares about this night in particular, they never last this long.
But the alternative is ridiculous. Could he really be going through all of this again? The very idea is just… unheard of.
Regardless, if he really is going through all of this again, then he needs to keep going. He doesn’t want to stay in this dreadful place any longer. He looks over at the table his poor dear brother is still lying on. “There’s one last thing we need to do before we leave here,” He says.
“Oh, and what is that?”
“For me, as Ciel Phantomhive, to succeed Vincent Phantomhive, I need that ring that proves I’m head of the Phantomhive house.” Ciel looks down at his bare finger. He almost misses the slight, comforting weight the ring gives.
“A ring?” The demon repeats, sounding confused.
“The day we were kidnapped,” Ciel starts. “My brother swallowed the ring so no one could take it away from him.”
“I see,” The demon says, crossing his arms as he gives the body a look of consideration. “But taking the metabolism of humans into account, would the ring not have been expelled from his body already?”
“No,” Ciel answers. “He’s definitely still carrying it. He was the stubborn sort. Once he set his mind to it, I just know he did everything in his power to hold on to the ring.”
He steps up to his brother’s body and sighs. He wasn’t able to get the ring himself last time. But he has years of experience now; he has more blood on his hands now than he did his first time here. Surely he can do it himself. No, he has to. He can’t keep solely relying on this demon.
After all, the demon might be the reason he’s in this mess in the first place.
Or maybe not. He probably shouldn’t throw around accusations until he knows for sure what’s going on.
“Shall I retrieve it for you?” The demon asks.
“No,” Ciel answers, forcing himself to straighten. “This is my duty… as the eldest son and heir.” The words taste like poison.
He reaches forward and removes the sacrificial knife from his brother’s abdomen, barely suppressing a flinch at the sound it makes when it gives. He can manage this part this time. He has to. The blubbering child he was the first time should be long gone. Once he has the ring, he can be done with this place.
Ciel raises the knife over the body one more time and brings it down.
He ends up on the floor ten minutes later, exhausted, but to his credit, not crying. The sleeves of his shirt are soaked with blood, and his hands are sticky, but he has the ring.
He actually managed to get it, all by himself.
Ciel supposes he should feel proud, but the only emotion he can muster up is disgust. He looks down at the ring in his hand, at the shiny red blood coating it, and wipes it off on his shirt.
He has the ring now. He can worry about everything else later.
He is the heir to the Phantomhive earldom. That’s what he should focus on for right now. He stands up and steadies himself. He can break down in the safety of his own home later. But right now, he needs to get out of this place.
“Allow me to congratulate you, my lord,” The demon says suddenly, and when Ciel turns to look at him, he’s surprised to see that the demon is kneeling, a hand over his chest in a sign of respect.
That’s odd. What could possibly warrant the demon acting so differently this time? Ciel knows it can’t be only because of his behavior. The demon did so love to get a jab in whenever he could. It’s putting Ciel even more on edge. Where is the mockery? Where are the insults? Where is the passive-aggressive tone the demon normally talks in?
“Something wrong, my lord?” The demon asks, his expression a perfect mask of indifference.
“Nothing,” Ciel answers. He supposes he can worry about that later. Besides, that side of his butler will likely come out eventually as time goes on. He takes one last look around the room and steels himself for what comes next. “This is an order. Burn it.”
“Burn it?” The demon repeats.
“Burn everything here down to ash,” Ciel elaborates. “The building. The bodies. All of it.” He casts an apologetic look at his brother. “Especially him.”
His mind is still a blur, but there’s a memory in his mind that’s standing out to him, especially now.
“‘Twas I who rescued the earl out of the flames that day.” What was likely supposed to sound righteous and true only came out sounding arrogant and idiotic.
A sharp burst of hatred floods Ciel’s chest. The sheer audacity of that…
No. Stay focused.
“Yes, my lord.”
Then, Ciel’s vision is swiftly engulfed in flames.
Ciel stares at the burning building with a feeling of regret.
The feeling doesn’t last long, to Ciel’s credit. A brief moment of weakness. A short moment of sorrow that he had not properly said goodbye to his brother before having the demon burn his corpse to a crisp.
This is for the better, though. This way, he can’t be brought back and used for another person’s sickening sense of sentimentality.
“I simply could not bear to lose another Phantomhive.”
Perhaps you should have done a better job at protecting them, then, Ciel silently simmers.
“If we are finished here, Young Master, perhaps we should return to your manor,” The demon says politely, snapping Ciel out of his thoughts.
“Right,” Ciel says.
A thought crosses his mind that he should return to London and immediately let his surviving family know that he’s alive and well, but that idea only serves to turn his stomach.
He’ll have to see Madam Red. And Tanaka, who was the only servant who did not follow Ciel when they had to flee. Then the Midfords. Elizabeth.
Ciel will choose to save all of that for a later time. Right now, he simply wants to head home and sleep. He does not wish to be smothered so soon after his captivity.
“I believe it’s due three miles west of London, just on the outskirts,” Ciel tells the demon.
“Very good, my lord,” The demon says, bowing his head. “Then if I may…” He crouches and opens his arms. “I will escort you home. Though before that, I suggest we stop by London and acquire a new change of clothes for you.”
“That’s fine. Also,” Ciel says, taking a step forward. “What is your name, demon?”
He never particularly cared about the demon’s incredulous disdain at the name he had chosen; in fact, he found it almost hilarious at times. But truthfully, Ciel never meant it in an insulting way. It was just a way to honor his late dog. He could understand how the demon could find it demeaning, but it’s also not as if Sebastian was an uncommon enough name.
“My name is whatever you would like for it to be,” The demon says delicately, and takes Ciel into his arms, carrying him almost as if he were made of glass.
“Alright,” Ciel says. “Sebastian. From now on, you shall answer to “Sebastian”.”
“Most excellent, my lord. May I be so bold as to inquire after your inspiration for the name? Is that what your last butler was called?”
“No,” Ciel answers, shaking his head. “It’s just a name.”
“Sebastian” frowns at this, but doesn’t pry. “Understood, my lord.”
After the quickest of trips to London to acquire warmer clothing and a bite to eat, Ciel finds himself outside of his manor.
“This is it? It is badly damaged,” Sebastian notes, looking up at the manor with a look of incredulity.
“The assailants burned it down to cover their tracks, from my understanding,” Ciel says, glaring at the ruins of his home. “What a nuisance.”
“No need to worry, my lord,” Sebastian assures. “I will take care of this at once.”
“You do that,” Ciel says as he turns away, looking in the direction of his family’s cemetery. “Come fetch me when you’re done.”
He doesn’t wait for Sebastian to say anything else; he simply walks over to the cemetery, shivering as the cold air seeps through his clothes. He can’t bring himself to cry. Not yet, anyway.
Ciel doesn’t know how long he stands there in front of the graves. He doesn’t imagine it’ll take Sebastian very long to rebuild the manor. And he doesn’t fancy standing in the cold weather for long. But there’s a part of him, a small part, that wants to pay his respects to the deceased.
He has only ever visited this place once.
This time will make it his second.
He supposes he should feel guilty for not visiting more often, but it wasn’t because of any malicious reason. He just didn’t need his resolve to weaken. And he supposed that caring so much would be seen as a sign of weakness by anyone who cared to pay attention, and he simply didn’t need that.
He will not be seen as weak anymore.
“My lord,” Sebastian says from behind him. “It is rather cold today. You wouldn’t want to catch a chill. You should come inside.”
Ciel looks over his shoulder and cocks an eyebrow. “Finished already? That was fast.” He doesn’t know exactly how much time has passed, but it couldn’t have been more than a mere hour.
He’s not surprised, but it does make him wonder why Sebastian waited until dark last time to usher him into the house. Was it because he—
No, what an utterly childish thought. He can’t believe he nearly finished that line of thinking.
“An earl’s butler who can’t rebuild a crumbling manor in this amount of time isn’t worth his salt, my lord,” Sebastian says.
Ciel almost rolls his eyes at the phrase, the first of many that Sebastian would undoubtedly coin. Here we go.
He stands up and follows Sebastian, and feels a rush of relief at the familiar sight of his manor, which is no longer in ruins. It’s pleasantly lit up and is emanating a warmth that he had sorely missed.
Even before he woke back up in that awful place, he hadn’t been to his manor in quite a while due to… extenuating circumstances. It is both good and also odd to be back.
But it’s still not quite the same. It’s missing a few faces as well. He supposes it’s true that you don’t truly miss something until it’s gone.
But he’ll get them back.
Finny, Mey-rin, Bard, and…
His heart clenches just the slightest bit.
Even Snake.
Tanaka… will come back sometime, but not any day soon. He should still be in the hospital, recovering, and the thought of seeing him again only fills Ciel with an unfamiliar emotion.
He can’t find it in himself to be angry with the old man, but he isn’t exactly pleased, either. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling.
Sebastian leads him into the manor and gives a calm, “Welcome home, my lord.”
Ciel blinks a few times as he takes in his surroundings. Everything looks just as it did before he was forced out.
“Shall I prepare a bath for you, my lord?”
Ciel struggles very, very hard to hide a grimace. The last thing he needs is to get soaked in scalding water. And then there’s the food situation. None of it is going to be edible with Sebastian still being so new to the job.
Damn it all. He’s going to have to train Sebastian on how to be a decent butler all over again.
“Yes,” Ciel answers, sounding more subdued now.
Sebastian tilts his head inquisitively. “Is something the matter?”
“Have you ever even done this before?” Ciel asks suddenly, wanting to get a jumpstart on the training. “I mean, are you aware of everything your job as a butler requires?”
Sebastian simply stares at him, as if waiting for clarification.
“Do you even know how to make tea?”
The question is… unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but it’s one of the things at the front of Ciel’s mind.
It’s going to be at least a month before he’ll be graced with an adequate cup of tea, and that is absolutely ridiculous. “Or how to cook?” He continues, and Sebastian raises his eyebrows.
“Is there really a need for me to learn all of that?”
“If we don’t wish to attract suspicion, then yes,” Ciel answers. “Normal butlers don’t rebuild a manor in the span of an hour, in case you weren’t aware.”
Sebastian’s eyebrow twitches, the only sign of his annoyance. “You want me to do everything step-by-step as mere humans do?”
“You don’t have to do everything to the letter,” Ciel acquiesces. “But at least make it seem like you are. That’s how it is, here. Average people can’t make anything without the necessary materials and time.”
“How troublesome,” Sebastian says quietly as he leads Ciel up the stairs and to the bathroom.
“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Ciel says. “After all, what kind of butler would you be?”