Chapter Text
On the outskirts of London, England, a forest is shrouded in dense fog, nestling around a brooding manor. The manor stood still and quiet like a mountain. The age of the manor was evident in the variety of cracks and crevices, vines spewing out, crawling their way up to the seemingly endless stories. The brooding residence, basking in tranquility with high windows and a manicured garden, was owned by a high-status aristocrat, who greets the day firsthand.
Dawn in particular favored an attempt to embrace a specific room in the manor as the light peeked through the stubborn curtains. It cast a pattern of soft glow across the walls and delicate furniture in the room. In the center of it all was a bed that nestled in a sleeping figure, confined in the soft, warm bedding and plush pillows. The restful snores and calm breathing were raising the fresh sheets with each comforting breath. The serenity at that moment was soon disrupted by the sound of the door opening and closing in a simple rhythm. The sound was then followed by a repeated set of footsteps, trailing towards the curtains.
A shadow, clad in black in a clean-cut tailored suit, hovered over the slumbered figure. "Young Master, it is time to wake up." A voice interrupted the tranquility of the room. The curtains were then pulled apart as the room brightened, greeted by the sun's golden light. The figure under the sheet moved in defiance, feeling the warmth cast by the sun. "We mustn't have the day be ahead of us, sir."
A butler who complimented the darkness of his attire stood at the edge of the bed, gloved hands pouring a hot, fresh beverage of fragrant tea with practiced ease into a small black-and-white-decorated teacup. The aroma filled the air and nose of the grumbling body within the sheets. To finally greet the day was a young boy, his face framed by disheveled, unkempt black hair, highlighted with blue undertones that covered one eye, while the other revealed a deep peacock-blue. Feeling the heavy weight of dreams still, he stretched hastily and yawned to drive sleep away; his white, long-sleeved night gown fluttered around him softly. The smell of freshly brewed tea and baked dough brought him closer to reality.
“For today’s breakfast, I have prepared poached salmon and mint salad, alongside toast, scones, and warm pain de campagne, complemented with the exquisite Wedge-wood tea set. Which would you prefer?” the butler inquired, holding his master's small dish that matched gracefully with the tea set.
The boy stifled a yawn, reluctant to greet the day. "A scone, please," he replied while grabbing the dish, rubbing his face in the process. A moment of silence hung in the air; the steam from the cup swirled in tendrils. The enticing scent piqued the boy's nose and curiosity. "This smell. Earl Grey, I assume?" he assumed, giving it a precautionary blow before taking a long, satisfying sip. The warmth engulfed the boy expeditiously.
"Yes, from Jackson of Piccadilly. I praise your nose once again, Young Master." The butler confirmed, an ounce of pride in his tone.
"Our schedule for today, enlighten me."
"A full day awaits us, Young Master," the butler informed. "There is a meeting with Mr. Huges, the authority on the history of the Roman Empire, that one must attend to."
The boy hummed in acknowledgment.
"Then, in the afternoon, Mr. Damiano of the Poseidon Company is paying a visit."
"Oh? Is that the man I have in charge of stuffed animals at my factory in India?" he asked, nonchalantly swirling his cup below his face.
The butler replied, "Yes. I was told he is Italian. The estate will be sure to offer the best Phantomhive hospitality." He stood if necessary for his master, who took mindful sips at his hot refreshment. "Then lastly, we have an evening meeting with a Chinese master who specializes in Kenpo."
The adolescent boy paused and cocked an eyebrow at the butler, his attention piqued by the mention of the guest in question. "Oh? I don't remember us scheduling such a trivial thing."
A smile etched on the butler's lips while he grabbed a pocket watch from the breast pocket of his vest. The watch's surface is engraved with precision and poise, adorned with Roman numerals. "Indeed, as to why it was the Earl who tracked this foreign man. This meeting was made days prior. " He spoke while attentively eyeing the watch, watching the small hand pass every tick as seconds passed.
The boy furrowed his eyebrows; a scowl displayed his youthful features. He placed his cup rather roughly on his dish. "The Earl, ey, and why would he need someone of expertise such as that? Kenpo, you say. I was never told."
"The Earl has placed a bet—"
"A bet in what, exactly?"
Sebastian hummed in amusement. "A bet to see if I could beat said guest, in exchange for, as he stated, 'freedom from the shambles of supplementary work' that I, Sebastian Michaelis, provided." The boy gave a vexed sigh at the proposal. "Quite melodramatic, I say. Seems to me, Young Master, 'that I shall see myself kneeling before the Earl of Phantomhive.'" Sebastian mused, chuckling at the childish thought.
The young boy dragged a hand down his face, a hint of vexation exhaled through his voice. "Right. Of course. Why not make a silly bet to escape the responsibility that the people of this estate's land rely on?" He grumbled sardonically, bringing his legs down the side of the bed. "The workload of said studies cannot be that back-breaking."
Sebastian, the ever-attentive butler, stood by observing the young boy who wore every strain of frustration on his face while giving back his dish and empty tea cup to the butler. "Well, Young Master, we shall make way to his chambers briefly." He gestured towards the neatly placed coat and petticoat, the shoes placed upright below on the floor. "I know you prefer to dress yourself, unless, of course, on special occasions, but I will dress you accordingly to save time." The young aristocrat eyed the attire, framing the start of a new day full of promised responsibilities.
Both master and butler walked down the hallways of the manor. The walls were high, adorned with embellished chandeliers, tall windows, and paintings of all kinds, each telling its own message and/or story. The windows show their own scenery of the manor's garden and a small glasshouse in the distance.
Preferring to at least tie his own ribbon with practiced craft, the boy walked alongside his butler, who rolled the cart set with the tea set and newly fresh tea. "Sebastian."
"Yes, Young Master?"
"Cancel the meeting with that so-called kenpo master." He firmly instructed, his voice unwavering with authority.
Sebastian maintained a composed smile while rolling the cart with the fresh tea set and beverage. "My Lord will feel quite displeased if I do so, sire."
Waving a dismissive hand, he replied, "I will deal with his tantrum. I'm sure he will entertain himself in the company of Chlaus this evening until dinner." Both the man and the young man made their way towards a door with a high window in front of it. Their shadows emitted figures, big and small, across the door.
Sebastian preserved a cheeky smile. "I'll see to it then. Although, I'm assuming you do not mind providing the Phantomhive hospitality to Mr. Damiano as well this evening still."
The sharp, precise tightening of the ribbon, cutting the air momentarily, made the young boy smirk deviously. "As always, to our guest."
Sebastian stepped aside to open the door as the young man walked in on a controlled stride. The room was just as big as the one he slept in, but more grand. The chandelier that enhanced the gracious ceiling hung elegantly at its center. The reflection of the soft natural light from the sun cast a warm glow throughout the room. A king-sized, plush bed was placed in the center of the room against the wall, and a coffee table sat beside it, holding a vase of vibrant flowers.
In said bedstead lay another sleeping figure within the immense amount of sheets and pillows. From afar, it looked as if the bed was a small lump that rose between every repeated snore and breath.
A pair of footsteps made their way towards the bed along with the subtle sound of the cart rolling its way as well.
"My Lord, it is time to wake up," Sebastian called softly.
The figure, hidden in the bed, grumbled and stirred in defiance, then rested still before surrendering to the comfort of sleep.
"Ciel. You need to wake up." A hand softly shook the person beneath the covers.
After a few moments of gentle prodding, the figure finally rose with a low grumble, emerging from the depths of warm linens.
"Astre-e-e-e, why must you bother your brother when he's sleeping?"
This person mirrored the young boy we followed from the beginning. They shared the same striking black hair with blue undertones, which, for Ciel, was unkempt, and pale, delicate features that spoke of their shared heritage, and lastly, the same pair of peacock-colored blue eyes. The only distinctive difference between the two was that Ciel had both of his eyes exposed to the world, whereas Astre did not, with an eyepatch covering his right eye. A subtle yawn while rubbing his eyes, a groggy smile graced his face, radiating calm that contrasted with the anticipated awakening.
Sebastian, who prepared another cup of fresh, warmed tea, had an impish smile. "My, my, what a sight to see the Earl of Phantomhive in such a disheveled state." He teased the boy before offering him a dish and tea.
Ciel growled, his eyes peeking from behind his fists before he snatched the small plate from him. "Shut it, you."
Astre sighed and eyed his twin brother, hands solely behind his back. "We had agreed to ensure you receive proper rest by letting you have the luxury to sleep in, as I wake up in Sebastian's accord first thing, did we not?"
Ciel, with a bashful smile, waved at him, dismissing his rhetorical question. "You did not have to do such a thing."
Astre crossed his arms, his expression stoic yet seemingly concerned.
"My Lord," Sebastian interjected during their conversation, "we've spared time to accommodate you as you have been experiencing a level of restlessness, working late nights in the office these past few weeks."
Ciel pouted, jerking his head away from the pair of fault-finding eyes. "I was doing fine. No need to take extreme measures to place my being rooms away from where we usually sleep."
"Honestly, that was more for my sake; you've recently obtained the habit of kicking in your sleep," Astre mentioned in thought, letting his stoic demeanor slip in exchange for a matter-of-fact tone, resulting in a small offensive gasp from Ciel.
"I do not!" he exclaimed defensively, scratching his chest.
Astre turned away towards the door. "The scratches and bruises on my calves speak for themselves." He mumbled to the side before he made his way towards and out the door. "Sebastian, see to it the Earl is properly dressed and sent for breakfast. We wasted enough time already, and do not, Ciel, give him a hard time with unneccssary toying."
"I. Do Not!" Ciel exclaimed, ignoring the last statement spoken by Astre, humorously fuming at the ears with his cheeks puffed childishly.
"Now, now, my Lord," Sebastian stepped smoothly in front of Ciel, blocking his view of the doorway, "we must get you ready for breakfast." He interjected, cold morning air instantly hitting Ciels skin as Sebastian lifted the hem of the boy's white, crisp nightgown. His movements were delicate and practiced as he began dressing him by routine.
. . .
As moments passed, silence hung in the air; the safe sound of clothes ruffling against one another was the only subtle exchange.
"Sebastian?" Ciel broke the silence, eyes fixated on his butler.
"Yes, my Lord?"
"Astre was just being silly. Do I kick in my sleep? You're there sometimes when we want you to stay until we fall asleep."
Sebastian paused and glanced at his master, whose face was painted with naivety and innocence of the matter, and the tone hinted at a child's need for reassurance in his question.
He continued to move his hands over the clothing, trying to choose comforting words. "I cannot tell a lie, Young Master. . ." he began with a composed smile.
. . .
"Well?!" Ciel pressed impatiently, eyebrows furrowing slightly.
Sebastian tightened the satin blue ribbon around his collar, finishing the last few touches on the boy's attire. His lips curved into an unwavering enigmatic smile."It would still count as lying if I told you what you wanted to hear." He replied as he stood up, finishing buttoning the boy's shoes.
Ciels' look of naivety was soon replaced by a scowl, then he kicked Sebastian in the shin and sharply turned away, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "As if I was asking anyway," he muttered, trying to mask his irritation. He then scratched his chest absentmindedly.
A small yet significant motion that Sebastian had grasped knowingly. . .