Chapter Text
“How long can we keep doing this?” a whisper breaks from pale lips, a tremble quivering the tones of desperation as impuissance drowned the male in anguish. The walls were painted in red as the colour bled from the wounds that sorrow had dug into the brick, sorrow life had inflicted on the young man as he stared down at the fireplace, a hand gripping his raven locks in distress.
“Just one more.”
A choked sob emanated from the slightly younger, the men separated only by three years, as helplessness clutched at his tightening chest, anxiety setting its roots deep into the very capillaries of his lungs. “Then it's over?” he pushed back slightly, his back still hunched over in defeat even as he straightened up.
“Yes.”
A sigh and a long pause re-birthed the ever frustrating game of silence before it was broken again with a short, “Alright,” the young man turned his handsome face to the other male and nodded. “One more.”
A cold smile stretched across thin lips.
///
Near sleepless nights breaking into dawn as the wolves that are nightmares snap at the heels, chasing one from the land of dreams seems to be the way these things always start, alas this was exactly how sweet Ciel was awoken. He had been hounded by these terrible dreams for the better part of the year, since his dear cousin Elizabeth had been murdered on her trip to America.
It had been a scandal for the newspapers to go wild over; a newly wedded wife murdered and where was her dashing husband? No one actually knew who or where he was except that he was handsome and had vanished a little before Elizabeth's body had been found. Many suspected fowl play but evidence had the police convicting another man for the murder.
Even still, many gossip.
“My lord?” the maid entered with a tray of tea and scones for the teen who sat up with a yawn, stretching out to relieve the cricks in his spine. He glanced at his maid who fumbled with the tea-set in a vain attempt to make a drinkable cup of tea.
“Meirin, leave it. I'm perfectly capable of making my own cup of tea,” he sighed and the red head nodded as her cheeks flushed the same vibrant colour of her hair. “Just... make my bed,” he said as he scrambled out of the covers, giving the woman an easy task. As a maid, Meirin was useless, god bless her, but she was kind-hearted, trustworthy and an excellent shot. The first two were good enough to keep her around but being handy with a gun in these treacherous times had proven the difference between life and death for the boy in which she was assigned to protect.
To protect poor Meirin's already damaged eyes, evident by her enormous rounded glasses, Ciel washed up and dressed behind a screen. He emerged as he pulled on his jacket and a motherly sigh caught Ciel's attention as the maid approached and tied the ribbon around the teen's neck. It had become habit for Meirin to mother the teen as Ciel's own mother had passed away due to the same poor health that riddled Ciel's own body, giving the seventeen year old childish attributes such as his large eyes, rounded cheeks and his small structure.
It did bother Ciel somewhat to be babied but it was comforting to have someone step into the role of mother even if Meirin was technically being paid to do so. With her kind nature and sweet temperament, the little lord had no doubt the maid would be this motherly if she was some random woman on the street. Ciel supposed that it provided Meirin with some comfort too, having lost her bastard child almost five years ago. Ordinarily, a family of Ciel's status would have cast the girl out on the street for the pregnancy of a bastard but kindness ran deep in the Phantomhive family which was likely why the servants were so loyal.
“Ciel?” Vincent Phantomhive radiated wisdom when he entered a room, seeming that of a man worthy of respect. It was an aura that was well attained with a good heart, status and the experience that came with age. He smiled lovingly at his only child, ruffling the boy's hair which earned him a steady glare. Vincent chuckled, “You're never too old for me to fuss, my boy,” he teased with that playful twinkle that was a result of a young spirit. A sigh regretfully reduced the Earl Phantomhive back to seriousness. “I'm afraid I must ask you to attend work with me and come with me to the ball this evening. Don't look at me like that; you know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.”
Ciel pouted even still but excepted that he would have to attend the dull event out on by his aunt that his father attended every season. His aunt Anne, Baroness Angelina Dalles-Burnett or Madam Red to her peers, was a cheery widow who had become a nurse so that she could assist in healing her dear big sister, Rachel who was Ciel's own mother. In that failure and the removal of her womb due to an accident that had killed her husband and unborn child, the Baroness spoilt her sister's son spent a fortune every year on Ciel's birthday and Christmas. Usually Ciel would have been insulted by the attempt to buy his affection but Ciel knew his aunt and understood it was the only way she could express how much she cared.
“Who is attending this assemblage that is of such significance that I must attend?” Ciel couldn't help but demand, somewhat desperate to wiggle free of the crushing responsibility that was demanded of him. He hated social gatherings and was never one to be social which was why he was often allowed to remain house bound.
“A potential business partner,” Vincent said as he straightened out his jacket in the mirror. “Your aunt thinks this... Sebastian Michael? Michaels? And his brother Claude might be good for our company.”
“A couple more strays Anne has decided to take in?”
Vincent chortled. “Not exactly. While the eldest, Claude, is a bastard child, they are a noble house.”
Ciel frowned. “Michaels? You mean Michaelis?”
“That's the one! You know them?”
The teen lord shook his head, his odd-coloured hair ruffling out the imperfections his father's fussing had caused. “No but I know of them. I came across an article around the time mother died. It was about the Michaelis family. The Lord Michaelis and his Lady were both slaughtered in the night. They never found the killer.”
“Tragic,” Vincent commented gravely but tried to cheer his son with a smile. “Come, lad. We should be off before the workers decide pink is for girls and blue is for boys.”
///
“You're early!” the lady in red cried in horror as her servants made last minute arrangements in the ballroom. “Fifteen minutes early, Vincent. You know how I feel about guests coming before everything is ready. Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?”
“On the contrary, I have the utmost respect for them,” Vincent grumbled and Ciel tried to cover up a laugh with a cough. “Are you going to let us in, Anne, or must myself and my boy freeze to death?”
“Ciel?” Anne immediately perked up as she spotted her favourite -and only- nephew. “Oh! How like your father you look! Except your eyes, you have...”
“My mother's eyes, yes.” Ciel finished out of habit by now. He heard the same repetitive speech every time he saw his aunt but this never stopped her from gushing over how handsome the boy was growing up to be. Or, perhaps maturing into since Ciel had failed to grow upward for several years now. “It's good to see you too, Anne.”
The red woman let her guests into the ballroom once the servants were done and returned to the door to greet floods of welcome guests into her home. It was quite amazing to see how many people enjoyed Madam Red's company enough to attend so many of her lavish parties.
As usual, Ciel stayed well out of the way and kept to the back of the room with an unfinished glass of wine in his hand with no intention of drinking more than he absolutely had to.
A chuckle from the side had a shiver running down the young lord's spine though he had no idea why. “Not a fan of parties either, I see?”
Ciel looked up only to find himself staring into maroon eyes, captivated by the beauty of the owner. “I don't think anyone truly enjoys parties, they just pretend better.”
That earned a laugh, the nature somehow appearing seductive and seemed alter the temperature of the room a few degrees warmer. “And you and I are just to honest to comply? Perhaps you are right and everyone here is too intoxicated to realize how foolish they are.”
“Intoxicated people tend to be fools anyhow.”
The stranger grinned like a cat cornering its helpless prey. “Call me a fool then, for you are quite intoxicating.”
The little lord turned as red as his aunt's dress.
“Sebastian,” another handsome man approached though his attractive features were blemished by an expression of... nothingness. It seemed to freeze Ciel's very blood to see a man so void of anything. “If you're quite done flirting with children...”
“I'm not a child.”
Finally an expression flickered on his face, a mixture of boredom and annoyance. “Of course. What are you? Ten? Twelve?”
“Don't be ridiculous, Claude.” Sebastian offered Ciel an apologetic smile. “He's a little moody. We're here to see the Phantomhive Earl and we can't seem to find him.”
“I'm sure father is around somewhere.”
“Father?” both of the gentlemen seemed genuinely surprised. “We were told the Phantomhive heir was an adult, not a boy,” Claude sneered.
“I'm seventeen.”
“Claude, please behave,” Sebastian said, giving his brother a stern look before smiling charmingly at Ciel. “If you would, Lord Phantomhive, show us to your father.”
Desperate to have no more reason to deal with Claude, Ciel wasted no time in finding his father and introduced the three. He listened intently as his father spoke with the two dark haired gentlemen, leading the way into a more secluded part of the ballroom where they could talk without fear of interruptions.
“Why did you reject them, father?” Ciel asked as they were leaving, glancing back at Sebastian who was watching the Phantomhive heir.
“I don't like them,” Vincent said. “Either of them.”
“I liked Sebastian.”
Vincent snorted. “Of course you did. Everyone enjoys attention and he was paying much more attention to you than appropriate.” he climbed into the back of the carriage. “And that bastard son, Claude... He was cold. Very cold. They don't seem the type to help run a toy factory.”
Ciel begrudged agreeing with his father but, as much as Sebastian had made Ciel hot and bothered, Vincent was right.