"Elly!"

Eleanor fell out of her bed, wheezing and gasping. Smoke filled her lungs, burning and suffocating her. She coughed violently to clear it, stumbling as she forced herself up. Everything was hazy and distant, her head spun faster than a teacup ride in Wonderland.

"Astre? Ciel?" she croaked out, staggering to the door. The handle seared into her skin, she cried out in pain.

"Elly, help!"

"I'm coming," she shouted. "I'm coming, I promise!"

Eleanor looked around the room, coughing again. She couldn't find any weapons, but she found a chair she could pick up. Mustering what strength she had, she picked up the chair and charged the door as fast as she could.

The door fell apart in splinters, fire licking and lapping at her like a chasing hound. It blistered her skin, blood oozing from her as she ran past the fires.

"Elly, please!"

Tears burned at her eyes as she coughed, shame and guilt shredding her.

"I'll save you—I'll save you, I promise—!"

She ran through the manor of fire, searching frantically for their voices. She heard them scream and cry in pain, she heard taunting laughter thereafter. All she could smell was blood and ash, all she could feel was the pain of her burns seared into her skin. All she could see was the smoke and fire.

Her tears were acid rolling down her cheeks when she heard them shriek in fear.

I have to... I have to...!

No matter how badly the fire destroyed her, no matter how much the smoke suffocated her, she would not relent.

She would save them. She had to! They were her friends; her family. The only ones that made her feel comfortable in that new, dark life. They were sweet and innocent, they didn't deserve what was happening to them.

How could she ever face them again if she couldn't keep them safe?

How could ever forgive herself?

She awoke standing in the master bedroom, the room that Astre—no, no Ciel—had taken over. Out of breath, sweaty, and trembling.

It was nearly pitch black. Ciel preferred a completely dark room as he slept, so he had thick curtains to block out even the moonlight. The only light that came into that room was from the hallway, although it was very little.

Eleanor covered her mouth to stifle her heavy breathing and desire to vomit. She stared at Ciel's sleeping face, completely undisturbed despite her apparent entry.

He's safe, she told herself. He's safe. He's safe. He's safe. He's safe—

"My lady?" whispered a voice from behind her.

Horror shot through her, she whirled around, prepared for a fight—

Sebastian, dressed sharply as a butler, stood at the entrance of Ciel's bedroom. He held a triple candlestick, the light pouring into the room. The demon smiled without warmth. "Lost?"

Eleanor swallowed down her stomach acid.

He's not safe.

(✹)

July, 1886

As before that incident in December last year, Eleanor stayed every weekend at the Phantomhive manor. Even on the weekends when Ciel was gone, she still stayed at the mansion, if only to keep watch over it and help manage his paperwork so Ciel wouldn't return to too much work.

Managing a company wasn't easy, after all, and paperwork was... not fun.

One weekend while she stayed at the manor—Ciel had left for business—she checked up on Finnian. The boy had become bolder the longer he lived at the mansion. He even started to greet her.

Eleanor adjusted her grip on her parasol, squatting down beside Finnian who was staring intently at a little bud. The servant was starting to grow some hair, a pretty shade of strawberry blond. He had taken to gardening like a duck to water, although he had a poor habit of destroying many of the tools.

"It looks like your seeds have started to come in," Eleanor commented.

Finnian smiled at her. "Yeah."

"Do you remember what you planted?"

"Uh-uh," he said, shaking his head. Then he scrunched up his face. "Um, wait no—I do remember the lavenders I planted 'cause the young master told me to plant those."

"Did he tell you what else to plant?"

"No, he said I could plant whatever I wanted this year to practice," Finnian exclaimed happily. He pointed down at the bud. "It's actually growing."

"Yes, I see that."

"I did that," he whispered in amazement. "Me. I can't believe I did that."

Eleanor softly chuckled. She patted Finnian's head. "You did a good job."

He leaned into her touch like a puppy. "Ehehehe..."

"Although," she said, "if you stay too long out in the sun you'll get sunburned. Are you taking care?"

"Sunburned?" he repeated in confusion.

"Mmmmm..." She set down her parasol for a moment. Eleanor pulled off her white sunhat, giving it a brush, then she placed it atop Finnian's head. "There you are!"

Finnian blinked, reaching up to touch the hat.

"Keeps the sun outta your eyes, doesn't it?" she said with a kind smile.

Finnian beamed. "Yeah! It does! Thank you, my lady."

She laughed quietly, patting the top of his head again. "You're a good boy, aren't you?"

He wasn't a dog, but Eleanor swore she thought she saw a tail wagging.

(✹)

August, 1886

Eleanor raised the cup of tea to her lips, smelling the lavender. It was lavender grown straight out of the Phantomhive garden. Finnian had done a wonderful job. Eleanor knew that Ciel was fond of lavender, but she hadn't expected him to send back bushels of it with her.

Was he this fond of lavender originally? Eleanor mused. She could have sworn that when she watched the show, she saw more roses in the background...

Eleanor liked to enjoy her breakfasts on the back patio. Her parents were normally out of the house before dawn, and since Edward was attending school he only stopped by to visit in the evenings. In the mornings Eleanor had a couple of hours of peace and quiet until she had to start up her training.

She could not fall behind in any of her studies otherwise her mother would take away her combat training.

Eleanor hadn't been a fan of studying in any of her lives. She'd much rather goof off with friends.

Goofing off had led to early deaths.

If she wanted to live—and damn it she was going to—she had to tackle every issue in front of her without remorse. She could not let up, could not pause, could not falter in any of her chosen tasks. She would pursue her goals with dogged determination, and she would succeed.

Failure would not be tolerable a second time, as it would not only mean her death... but Astre's.

"Snake," she called out, and he was instantly at her side.

He bowed, placing his right hand over his breast pocket as he had been instructed to do. A tiny little snake head popped out of the pocket, flicking its tongue.

Eleanor almost smiled at seeing the baby snake. He was technically not allowed to keep them on his person, but... well... Eleanor wasn't going to reprimand him. What Francis did not know would not hurt her.

"I've a task for you. Something I need you to keep between us," she said.

He raised his head, golden eyes sharp with curiosity.

"Take whatever you need from my allowance. I need you to find a man—an undertaker. He'll have long white hair and look about thirty, maybe a little younger. After you find him, I need you to get a hold of five good comedians that will keep their mouths shut with enough money. Can you do this?"

"Yes," he said quietly.

"Please take care of it."

"As you wish, my lady."

(✹)

It took Snake three days to accomplish that task. Eleanor decided to pay the Undertaker a visit before she left for Ciel's mansion that weekend. She had Snake arrange for the comedians to meet them there, each of the citizens eager for the easy money.

The Undertaker was an eccentric man that Eleanor knew bits and pieces about.

One: he was secretly a grim reaper fugitive.

Two: he was super hot (according to her friends).

Three: he always had good information for the Phantomhive family and would sell it for the price of anyone making him laugh.

The first and third reasons were the only important ones, really. The second one was just so deeply ingrained into Eleanor because she was roped into spending an entire weekend helping one of her friends make a body pillow of him.

That was... something.

The Undertaker resided in a funeral parlor (naturally) that was dimly lit by candles. Eleanor headed inside with the comedians in tow, and Snake at her side.

The Undertaker was a lean man who had long gray hair with a part of that hair tied in a single braid on the right side of his head. His long black fingernails drummed against his front desk, and he smiled at them upon entry. His eyes were hidden by his bangs.

The Undertake cooed, "My, my! So many guests. Was there an accident?"

Eleanor stood off to the side. "Nope. They're going to make you laugh, hopefully."

"Ah. I love a good show."

"Then I hope I can provide. Gentlemen, if you would—"

(✹)

Two and a half hours later—the Undertaker laughed easily, but given how important Eleanor's questions were she wanted to make sure he had a long laugh session—the comedians were paid and shuffled out, leaving behind Eleanor, Snake, and the Undertaker.

Eleanor exchanged a glance with Snake, and her butler understood. He stepped outside, keeping watch over the front door to make sure no one would bother them.

The Undertaker wheezed a chuckle.

"Those must be some heavy questions for so much laughter."

"Exceedingly so. I have three very important questions for you," said Eleanor, squaring back her shoulders. "I hope payment was enough."

"Definitely," he said.

Eleanor brusquely nodded, folding her hands in front of her. "Question one: how can someone break a contract between a demon and a human—the kind of contract where the human offers their soul as payment?"

The Undertaker laughed, although it was more forced than before. "And you think I would know that?"

"You're a reaper, aren't you?" she retorted, and at once she felt his gaze on her sharpen. "Please be at ease, I do not care why you're here, nor what your story is. I've no reason to share what you are, either. I only need knowledge, and you're the only one I can think to ask."

The Undertake drummed his fingers on his table, frowning. He was silent for a solid minute until he cracked a smile and said, "I knew you felt odd. I wouldn't mind dissecting you for a bit."

"I—" Eleanor took a deep breath. "I am not normal, I will admit that. But I don't know if I can trust you yet to tell you what I am. I'm willing to build that trust, however, if we can cooperate."

She did not think he would attack her. He was a fugitive, and her death would likely draw suspicion to his hiding spot. Currently, it would be too disadvantageous for him, which was why she had an honest chance of a mutually benefiting relationship.

Or at least so she hoped.

Frankly, she simply didn't see many other options. She was on a time limit.

Playing it safe would not save Ast—Ciel.

If she was serious about protecting her family, she had to be prepared to put her life on the line. She had to fight with every card available to her, every opportunity thrown her way.

Her friend walked a dark path now, one soaked in blood and misery. If he walked down it alone, he would meet a tragic fate, and everything she had done would be a waste. What she had already sacrificed and gone through to protect him—what the real Ciel had died for—would be meaningless. She couldn't back down, not now, not ever.

She had to swallow back whatever reservations she had and jump straight into the lion's den.

She had to fight.

She had to make sure they survived, together.

He chuckled again, a kind of wheezing laughter. "I can play along. All right. To answer your first question—outside of killing the demon, the only way I know is by destroying the contract with an angel's sword."

Eleanor pursed her lips, relieved by his response. "Question two: is it possible to turn a human into a demon?"

The undertaker let out a pfft. "What a bold question! I can guess why'd you ask it—and the answer is yes!"

Okay.

She closed her eyes, adjusting her final question.

The second question was a fail safe if there was no answer to the first question. It was the resolution of the second season for the anime. Eleanor would prefer to avoid condemning her friend to literal hell, but if it was that or be eaten by a demon...

She honestly didn't know what would be better.

At least, thankfully, there was an answer to her first question.

"Then... Tell me everything you know about an angel's sword."

"There's a difference between everything I know and everything I can tell you," he said with an odd smile. "The last one to appear on earth was centuries ago. You'd know it as Excalibur."

Eleanor cringed. "I have to find Excalibur?"

He laughed loudly at that. "Oh-ho-he-ho-he! Even if you did, it wouldn't work for you. It'd only be a rusted piece of metal."

What?

"An angel's sword is not the sword of an angel—it is not something meant to be wielded by them, rather, it is something closer to them."

What?

"It might be closer than you think," he chortled.

I'm awful at riddles.

She rubbed tiredly at her head. "I see. Thank you. I'll return at a later time once I've had a chance to consider my next questions."

"I'll give you one freebie before you go," called the Undertaker with a creepy smile on his face. "I haven't been so entertained in such a long time, after all..."

She hesitated. "How do demons... how do demons find souls? I mean—do they constantly smell them or and judge them on that or...?"

"A demon cannot judge a soul unless a soul has been offered to it first," answered the Undertaker. "A bit like cracking a nut open. They only see the shell of a human until a summoning or offering is made—then they can take a peek inside to judge its value. Reapers, by the way, are kind of similar in case you're wondering."

So Sebastian cannot see my soul unless I offer it to him?

Eleanor smiled faintly. "Thank you kindly."

"Do come back."

"I suspect I shall. Pleasant evening, sir."

(✹)

September, 1886

The Midford family was a noble family full of knights. Eleanor's father, Alexis Leon Midford, was a distinguished knight and head of the Order of the Garter—an order of chivalry composed of the most senior knights in Britain. Eleanor did not know the specifics of what her father did, but she knew that he rotated between training knights, order meetings, and carrying out missions on behalf of her majesty, Queen Victoria.

As Francis and Edward had changed since the incident, so did Alexis.

Alexis had previously doted on her like a pet.

Now he sought to treat her like a knight. He trained her personally once a week, and every Wednesday he would have her come with him to the academy to spar against the other knights in training. He praised her openly, and after Eleanor won fifty consecutive victories in a row, he purchased a custom-made rapier just for her. He promised her that at a hundred wins, he would buy a pistol for her.

Eleanor quite liked Alexis. He was not brash like Edward, nor did he struggle to give affection like Francis. He was warm, and Eleanor could feel how much he cared about her. She knew he wanted to hug her at times, and saw him actively hold himself back. He would make a motion to pull her in, jerk once as he realized what he was doing, then force his arms back down to his sides.

He did not want to make her uncomfortable, even if that meant he couldn't be as physically affectionate as he wanted.

He was a good man, a very good man. Eleanor was grateful to have him as a father.

Which was why she had no issues taking on small errands for him. She knew he assigned those errands whenever he felt she was overworking herself in the middle of the week. It directly interrupted her training and forced her to take an hour or so delivering something.

He did such because he did not want her to be overwhelmed, but he did not want to directly tell her to stop, as he feared it would upset her more.

Because of how considerate he was, Eleanor couldn't be upset with him despite him interrupting her routine.

On one such day she had to deliver an important message to a boy a few years older than Eleanor named Charles Grey. Eleanor had met with Charles a handful of times at the academy. He was a pretty boy with choppy silver hair, and sharp baby blue eyes. He had challenged her to a duel on multiple occasions and Eleanor had bested him each time.

Outside that, she didn't know much about him.

Eleanor and Snake headed to the party he was supposedly at, message in hand. It was a gathering of nobles in a lavish courtyard. There was a buffet of dainty snacks prepared and waiters bustling about with trays of food.

Eleanor spotted the young man easily—not many had his hair color—and approached him. "Good day."

"Good day," he returned cordially. "Here to ask for a duel?"

"No, no," she said, holding out the envelope. "My father wanted me to personally deliver this."

"I see, thank you," said Charles, accepting the envelope. His baby blue eyes sharply assessed her. "Care to stay?"

"I mustn't, I have a firearm lesson in an hour," she said, curtsying politely. "Good day."

"Good day," he repeated, eyes narrowing even as he smiled. "I look forward to our next match."

Eleanor smiled thinly before taking her leave, Snake right behind her.

She had almost made it out when she spotted a nobleman scowling at Snake. She frowned at that, perplexed.

Then she remembered—his scales.

Snake had mostly spent time at the Midford or Phantomhive manor where the residents stopped caring about his scales. When Eleanor went out shopping, she normally interacted with commoners who would rarely dare to try to meet her gaze let alone Snake's. Attending the academy, her father was always with her so no one would dare to do something so insulting as glare at her attendant.

Eleanor wondered if she ought to confront the noble.

It's rude... but worth making a commotion over? A glare is just a glare and we're almost out the door.

Indeed, the exit was barely a few steps away and then they would be out of sight of the noble. Still, Eleanor couldn't help but glance back at Snake if only to make sure he wasn't bothered. Snake hadn't reacted to the look, assuring Eleanor she was fine to ignore the nobleman for the moment.

She stepped past the nobleman, walking quickly.

"Repulsive thing," he muttered quietly.

Snake flinched.

Eleanor stopped in her tracks.

She whirled around, tugging off her glove. She threw it in the man's face.

"You—what was that for?" he demanded.

"Did you forget your etiquette?" she said coldly. "I demand a duel. You have challenged my honor by insulting my servant. Apologize to him, or draw your weapon, sir."

The man loudly scoffed. "You overreact."

"Apologize to him, or draw your weapon."

He sneered. "It looks like the Mildford family has grown overly cocky. I'll be sure to teach you a lesson, brat."

A crowd had gathered at the commotion, onlookers slowly moving to form a loose circle around Eleanor and the man. Eleanor recognized some of them, but many of them were unfamiliar faces.

"Are you prepared?" she coolly asked.

"If you forfeit, I'll be willing to overlook your arrogance."

"Are you prepared?" she asked again, lavender eyes colder than London's harshest winter.

He scoffed again. "Heh. I am. On three?"

"Three—"

"Two—"

"One—"

"You moron, you never specified which weapon!" he taunted, pulling out his gun and aiming—

Eleanor dove, her speed far superior to the out of shape taunting noble. Her rapier dug straight up into his arm, she twisted her grip to twist his arm. His bones cracked and popped as he screamed. She had pulled his shoulder out of its socket, and likely shattered his elbow from twisting his arm with her rapier inside. He fell to his knees, shrieking.

She ripped her blade out and held it at his throat, his screams abruptly cut off into whimpers.

Her eyes glittered with malice. "Yield, or die."

"I y—I yi—I yield—"

Eleanor scoffed, turning on her heel.

Snake's eyes were sparkling.

"Snake," she said sharply, startling him. "Clean this off."

She tossed him her rapier, and he caught it with ease. He nodded once to acknowledge the order.

"How vile," a woman whispered.

Eleanor stopped again, her head whipping around to glare at the woman who cringed. She started to pull off her other glove—

"I—I misspoke, my lady," the woman hurried to say. "Please f-forgive me."

"I am young, not deaf. Any remarks made on myself or my servant will be taken as slander and I will act accordingly. If you cherish your life, hold your tongue, cur."

Eleanor left, uncaring of the stares at her back. Some were shocked. Some were in fear.

And one pair of baby blue eyes shined in amusement.

(✹)

Eleanor was enjoying a lovely dinner with Francis when Edward came into the room.

"Quite the gossip going on," he said, taking a seat beside Eleanor.

"Oh?" Eleanor neatly cut into her chicken.

"You made a scene," he said.

"Your point?"

Edward smiled. "You shoulda gone for his throat right away."

Eleanor chuckled quietly. "I'll be sure to do so next time, Brother."

Edward slowly reached out a hand to touch Eleanor. She tensed slightly, but did not flinch as he gently patted her head. "Good. Anyone who dishonors you deserves to lose more than an arm."

Eleanor smiled.

(✹)

October, 1886

Eleanor was tired that day.

She had been plagued by night terrors every night that week. Nothing loud or disruptive that would draw attention, but the kind that once she woke up from she could not allow herself to go back to sleep.

She was better than before, but she still had off days. Her marred skin ached on her bad days. Even the ones that had healed to the point where she couldn't see them anymore would throb upon waking from a nightmare.

Her last night terror made her so sick she retched for hours in her bathroom. Snake, whose room was directly next to hers, woke up to tend to her. He held her hair back, quietly wiping away the fluids that oozed out of her. When she finally stopped retching she sobbed violently in his arms, hiccuping and wailing uncontrollably about how she couldn't stop feeling hands on her and oh god please make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm—

He did not flinch or say anything. He held her until she passed out. Then he changed her clothes out of the ones she had soiled from sweat, vomit, and tears, and put her back to bed.

Neither spoke about it in the morning.

So Eleanor was tired. She wanted to sleep, and yet found herself afraid of doing so. She had worked hard to hide the fact she still had nightmares from Ciel.

She didn't think he wouldn't understand—she'd bet all her money he had them too—so much as she simply didn't want to inadvertently trigger his.

It had been nearly a year since the incident. As she was healing, so was he. External triggers could serve as something detrimental to his recovery process, something Eleanor wanted to actively avoid as much as possible. She knew it was a nearly impossible endeavor while he was still actively seeking revenge, but she wasn't going to just... not.

He was her family.

Being with him brought her a sense of comfort and peace she could not find easily elsewhere. She loved him dearly, and wanted to do whatever she could for his safety and happiness.

Ciel was her sunny boy, and Astre was her cooling moon.

That October weekend she enjoyed an afternoon break with her dear friend. Sebastian had prepared a light snack for them along with hot chocolate. Snake had gone to assist Finnian in taking care of some vermin that had snuck into the grounds. After Sebastian brought them their treats, he bade them good day and let the two children chat in peace.

Ciel took a bite out of his tart. "I'll be leaving for Bakewell in a few days. I'll be gone when you visit next weekend."

"Business for her majesty?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps I could help you," she offered.

"Not necessary," he codly rebuffed.

Ah.

There it was.

A wall that could not be seen or touched, but stood firmly in between Eleanor and Ciel.

She hadn't wanted to bring attention to it because she hoped it'd stop growing. Astre—Ciel had always been kind to her, and even after the incident he had not spurned her visits or her friendship.

He spoke in a softer tone for her, and he offered his arm, but that was where he was drawing the line.

He was putting up a wall between them.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Brick by brick; word by word. A rebuttal here, a missed letter there, he'd meticulously distance himself from her until there was a vast expanse between them. It hadn't been so obvious in the summer, but as winter grew closer and closer, the larger the wall became.

Was it because he was scared? Or did he disbelieve it was best for her?

He, who was on borrowed time with a demon at his heels?

Eleanor set down her cup of cocoa, her eyes moving out to look over the sea of lavender he had planted earlier that year. With winter fast approaching, most of it had been harvested already, but there were still plenty in bloom. Ciel had let the ones directly underneath his office stay untouched the longest.

Sweet boy, she thought. Stupid, foolish, sweet boy.

For Ciel, he would not make it to adulthood. He knew that, but he believed Eleanor shouldn't be aware of that knowledge, either.

Which would be easier for her to accept? The death of a fiancé who had grown distant? Or the death of a dear, dear friend?

Don't you know I'm not the type to give up easily?

(✹)

Eleanor pondered on ways to tear down his walls for the rest of the day and into the night.

They had survived such a terrible event already, it would be a painful shame if their friendship could not survive living it after what had happened to them. What was she to do? What words or actions could she perform to prove to Ciel that she would stay beside him—that he was not in this alone?

Yes, she knew the life ahead of them would be difficult. She wasn't—

Well, okay, obviously she was afraid, but that didn't mean she was going to stop.

She would not let her terror strangle her to inaction. It could have its way with her in her dreams, not in reality.

He needed to see that.

How did she show it?

Because Eleanor was exhausted, she went to bed early that night. She barely remembered her head hitting the pillow, she fell asleep almost instantly.

A gunshot rang into the night. Eleanor instantly woke up, grabbed her rapier, and dashed out her bedroom into Ciel's room across from hers.

Throwing open his door, she looked to his bed and found it empty. Her heart stopped, her stomach dropping as her terror shot up to new heights. Each time she blinked, her vision blurred between the present and that night engulfed in flames. She whirled on her heels, barefoot as she ran down the hallway in a desperate search for her friend.

She leapt down the staircase, tumbling and somersaulting to soften her landing. She moved as quick as can be, her eyes roaming about the darkness in search for him.

Another gunshot.

Her heart leapt to her throat, shivers running down her spine.

She turned to the sound, dashing down another hallway.

The front room!

She sprinted as quick as can be, her chest tight with anxiety.

She made it to the grand staircase that stood before the front door. The entire room was lit up with candles, a slew of dead bodies circling around Ciel. Her dear friend was still dressed in his day clothes—he had not gone to bed, evidently, like she had—and the barrel of his gun pressed against a quivering man.

"You are too predictable," said Ciel. "Thank you."

"Please," the man whimpered. "Please spare me, I won't—I won't tell anyone—"

"You know what they say," Ciel said softly. "Dead men tell no lies."

He pulled the trigger.

Bang.

The man slumped to the floor. Ciel pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the blood off the gun barrel. Sebastian approached Ciel, his gaze flickered up to Eleanor, who still stood at the top of the stairs in her nightdress. Ciel turned around to face Eleanor, his expression stoic as he continued to calmly wipe away the blood.

The scene was not a common one, yet it was something that could not be avoided. The Phantomhive family was the Queen's watchdogs and ruled the underworld. Those who sought to usurp them always attempted to kill the family first, or else they'd be hunted down like vermin.

Her dear friend could not avoid the darkness or gore that waited for him. He could not falter in his journey, could not offer the peaceful solution. If he showed such weakness, he would be devoured by the demon in an instant.

His contract with Sebastian kept the demon in check, but likewise the contract kept Ciel bound to a thorny path.

A cold blue eye met with a pair of wide lavenders.

Ah.

She wanted to laugh.

I know what to do now.

She'd take a sledgehammer straight to that wall and shatter it.

She would not let him suffer through this alone.

Did she dare?

"A deal, Sebastian," Eleanor declared, throwing down her rapier. She squared her shoulders as she faced the demon. "A wager."

Dare, she did.

"For what?" asked the demon in amusement.

Eleanor's eyes were resolute under the moonlight. "For my soul."

Ciel sucked in a sharp breath.

Sebastian stiffened, red eyes narrowed as he—

—She shuddered from the dark, hungry gaze that pierced straight through to her soul—

—saw her.

He went very still, his cruel gaze entirely focused on her.

"What are you?" he whispered.

"Is it appetizing enough for you?" she countered.

"You are a treat, my dear," he said, fixated on her. "What do you propose?"

"Double or nothing," she said. "If I break your contract with Astre, you can never punish us for it. If I fail—you devour me with him."

"NO!" Ciel shouted, paling with horror. He dropped his gun and handkerchief in shock, taking a step toward her. "No, no, no! Elly, you cannot—"

"You have yourself a deal," agreed Sebastian. In that next instant, he was in front of her, holding out his hand to her.

She accepted it.

Black thorns erupted from the shadows, entwining around their arms. The thorns dug into Eleanor's skin, blood oozing from her. She winced at the pain, but her grip on Sebastian's hand did not waver.

The thorns dug into her, sinking into her very flesh until they were gone.

Sebastian released her. She withdrew her hand, clenching it into a fist. The pain was lingering. Pulling off her glove, she sucked in a sharp breath.

It's like a tattoo, she thought, looking at the black marks on her skin. Where the thorns had dug in, they had left behind an inky imprint of their likeness. A glance at Sebastian's hand revealed the imprint had encircled the contract he had with Ciel.

Sebastian smiled coldly at her. "Thank you, my lady."

"Elly you moron! You imbecile! How could you—how dare you—how—" Ciel trembled, terrified and enraged all at once. He stormed to her side, grabbing at her hand to examine the new marks, eyes filled with anger.

"We are family. We have lost our sun, but we still have each other," she said softly. "This path set before us is dark, and scary, but we don't have to go down it alone. You don't have to go down it alone."

"I should have! I am the only one who needs to pay—if it wasn't for me—if it wasn't for me—!" Ciel shook, his head bowed as he tightly gripped her hand.

"You are my moon, my dear friend," she said. "A light in this dark night. We are on this journey together, no matter where it leads us. If we fall, we fall together. If we win, we win together."

"You are a fool," he snapped.

"Perhaps," she agreed. "But I am a fool who will do everything in her power to make sure we survive this."

He stepped back from her, burying his face in his hands. "What if I didn't want to?"

"Then it's a good thing I gave you a reason to," she said, smiling without humor.

"Damn you. Damn you, Elly."

"Only if I lose," she said cheekily.

Sebastian let out something that suspiciously resembled a chuckle.

(✹)

December, 1886

"Ah... I don't think I'll be going home for a while," Eleanor observed.

She had gone to stay the weekend at the Phantomhive manor, but on the day she was meant to return home a massive blizzard struck London. As the manor was in the country side, even if the driveway was shoveled the connecting roads to London likely wouldn't be.

Given how heavy the snow was coming down, Eleanor didn't think it would be cleared for a while.

"Better safe than sorry," said Ciel. "I'll have Sebastian phone home for you."

"Thank you."

Eleanor peered out the window in Ciel's office. "On the bright side, it might be enough snow to make a snowman."

Ciel's face twisted as if he bit into a rotten lemon.

"Not for you, obviously," she said. Given Ciel's asthma and weak body, he shouldn't spend much time outside in the cold.

"I can have some carrots prepared for you," he offered, his tone a touch mocking.

Eleanor did not care. She wasn't about to let her friend's teasing stop her from having fun. She smiled. "Yes, please."

"Then I will look forward to seeing what you create," he demurred.

"It'll be a hideous masterpiece."

He chuckled at that.

(✹)

The snow did not let up for the rest of the day, or even the night. When it finally ceased the following morning, Eleanor wasted no time in heading out.

She kept Snake indoors—he wasn't very fond of the cold—but invited Finnian out to play.

The boy with turquoise eyes took one step out into the snow and promptly fell into it. It had snowed to be waist-deep. He let out an adorable shriek, "COLD!"

Eleanor laughed with delight. "Yes, it is cold. That's why I had you bundled up."

She had bought him all sorts of clothes the past few months. Ciel was more than willing to buy whatever his servant needed, but Eleanor took simple pleasure in bringing him new clothes. The boy was always so elated over the smallest things, and it made her smile each time.

He was bundled up in a hick coat with mittens, hats, and scarf, but even that wasn't enough to keep the chill out. Especially since he was waist-deep in snow.

Eleanor covered her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles. She had never seen snow so deep before in any of her lives. She wondered if it was an anime thing, or if London really did snow that much.

She said, "If it's too cold, you can stay inside, Finny."

"No, no. I want to build a snowman with madam," he said earnestly. "What do I do first?"

"Well," she said, tentatively stepping outside. "I suppose we'll need to make some kind of pathway first. We can't very well wade in snow the entire time."

"On it!" Finnian excitedly exclaimed, starting to shove the snow aside with his arms. "Wait right there, my lady. I'll take care of it."

"No, no, I'll help," she said. "Let me grab a shovel first."

It took a little over an hour, but the two had managed to make enough room in the snow to start building snowmen. Once Eleanor showed Finnian how to roll the snow, he quickly got the hang of it and went to work building a massive snowman. Eleanor tried her hand at sculpting, patting down the snow to make the shape of a cat, and then a dog.

Finnian's childish excitement was contagious. His nose was bright red from the cold, and he sneezed every time the wind blew, but his eyes sparkled like a child given free rein of a toy shop. He laughed as he made his giant snowman, excitedly showing off each successful step.

As the day wore on into afternoon, it started to snow heavily once more, which signalled it was time to head back inside.

Eleanor shivered, her clothes were soaked as she trudged inside with Finnian at her heels.

"Dear, dear," tutted Sebastian, stepping down the grand staircase at the entrance. "You both look like drowned rats."

Eleanor was about to retort, but she sneezed so violently she got dizzy and stumbled. "Whoa. That was a doozy."

Snake entered the main room, hurrying to her side. "My lady, I prepared a hot bath for you."

"You are a saint," she told him, smiling warmly. She sneezed again, as did Finnian.

"Ahaha, I think I should take a hot bath too," Finnian laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "See you later, my lady."

"Thanks for playing with me, Finny," she said as Snake helped her take off her coat. She slowly clenched and unfurled her fingers, feeling them tingle from the chill that set upon them.

Snake assisted bathing her, including a vigorous scalp massage that made her feel ooey and gooey.

He had already picked out warm, thick clothes for her to wear afterwards, and she met with Ciel in the dining room for dinner.

Ciel greeted her, "I saw the sculptures."

"Are they hideous masterpieces?" she asked with a grin as she took her seat beside him.

"Grotesquely so."

She giggled in delight, and his smile warmed.

(✹)

Eleanor woke up to the sound of an alarm going off.

It took her a few seconds to remember what the noise was, and another thirty or so to realize what it was for.

Eleanor sat up, reaching over to the little clock she had wound up and carefully pressing the stop. She yawned, rubbing at her eyes.

At the Phantomhive manor, her room was directly across from Ciel's.

As the curtains were drawn back, some light from the starry night filtered in. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Eleanor to discern where the candle stick and matches were. She lit the candle in the candlestick, then climbed out of the bed. She dangled her feet until she found her slippers. She grabbed a shawl to wear over her nightdress—it was literally December and while central heating was technically invented in the early 1800s, it wasn't exactly the best.

She tiptoed out of her room, making her way down the hallway, wondering if she'd run into the demon at night.

Demons didn't sleep, did they?

She'd be surprised if they did.

Yawning again, she made her way to the kitchen, moving quietly in the creaky manor. She lit the candles in the kitchen, then searched for the step stool so she could reach the ingredients she needed.

"Midnight snack?" came an amused voice.

Eleanor paused in moving the step stool, looking over at Sebastian. "Good morning, Sebastian."

"Good evening, my lady," he politely returned. "Feeling peckish?"

"Oh no. This is for Ciel," she said.

"Do you require assistance?"

"No, no, no. It won't mean anything if I don't make it myself," she admonished. "If you're worried, you can keep me company, but you absolutely cannot help me."

"As you wish," he said, stepping into the kitchen.

Eleanor gathered every ingredient she needed and began to heat up the oven so it would be warmed up by the time she was ready to stick the cake in.

"Sebastian?" she asked as she moved about.

"Yes, my lady?"

"Would you be comfortable if I asked you some questions?" Eleanor inquired. "You don't have to answer any of them, I'm only asking out of curiosity."

"Ask away," he said.

"Do demons have birthdays?" she asked.

Sebastian blinked. "Birthdays? Ah—um—it is not something to celebrate. Demons live until we are slain, so celebrating one year can be monotonous."

Eleanor nodded thoughtfully. "I guess that makes sense. Do demons celebrate anything?"

"A good meal?" he asked with a smile that made her feel a little queasy.

Sebastian was an... odd thing. He was handsome, charming, and had a natural charisma that drew people in. Eleanor could plainly see how so many people fell under his sway, both in the actual story and outside it. Even though Eleanor knew he was an adversary, even she had difficulty reminding herself of that fact when he said something particular witty that elicited an involuntary giggle out of her.

It didn't change the fact that he was a demon. He was someone she could not completely trust, and someone who would murder her and Ciel if she could not defeat him.

He would become her enemy one day.

But that day was not today.

Even knowing that a dismal future was ahead of them, Eleanor found it difficult to hate him. Not purely because of his charm—although she had to admit that likely played a role—rather she didn't see much point in it.

It would be as effective to hate Sebastian for behaving like a demon, as it would to hate the sun giving her sunburns.

Pointless.

The sun would shine regardless of her feelings; it would nurture plants and burn away those who lingered too long under it.

Hating him would only be a waste of energy, and cause unnecessary drama. She didn't think she could ever consider him a friend—not so long as he was literally a threat to their lives—but she hoped she could find some kind of middle ground. If only for her peace of mind. If she had to be on her toes every second he was around, she'd never relax at the Phantomhive manor.

A demon would continue to do demonic things; the sun would keep shining.

Ciel and her were Icarus, flying dangerous close with wax wings.

Whether they'd survive the encounter—that was up to Eleanor.

Despite that mindset, sometimes she saw a little more of his demonic side than she felt comfortable with. Red eyes that glistened with hunger and malice, more akin to a shark who just smelled blood, rather than a handsome human man he pretended to be.

Eleanor poured some flour onto a scale to weigh it, giving him a dry look, "You've got a dark sense of humor, don't you?"

"I prefer to think of it as an optimistics' viewpoint," he cordially returned.

She chuckled at that. "Ever met an angel?"

"A couple," he said.

"Are they as pretty as you?"

"They can take a human form similar to this one," he said. "Whether my lady finds that pretty or not is debatable."

"Can you fly?" she asked.

"I do not have wings," he said.

"That's a shame," she said, now sifting the flour into a large bowl. "I would have liked to fly around. Do you have parents?"

"Not in the way you would define them," he said. "You are certainly a curious cat tonight."

"I'm here for a good time, not a long time," she joked with an odd smile.

Sebastian chuckled.

"One more," she said. "For now, at least. I don't want to overwhelm you."

"My, how considerate."

"Do you believe in alternate worlds?"

"Mmm... do you mean such as parallel worlds?"

"Of sorts. Maybe like... the stories people find in books... those worlds actually exist, and authors just glimpse at them."

"That would certainly be fascinating if true," he said. "A very lovely idea."

Eleanor struggled to keep her expression carefully neutral. "Yes... a lovely... idea."

(✹)

Two and a half hours later, Eleanor had a small chocolate cake with strawberries on a cute platter in one hand, and her candlestick in the other. She asked Sebastian to walk her to Ciel's bedroom as a precaution.

If she tripped and fell on her way there, Sebastian could probably still save the cake.

Sebastian opened the door to Ciel's room for her, and she quietly thanked him. He shut the door behind her.

The only light in the room was the candlestick Eleanor held. Ciel was sleeping quietly in the middle of his massive bed.

Eleanor carefully maneuvered climbing onto his bed. She sat the candlestick on the night stand, and pulled out the little candle she had brought from home. She held it over the fire, lighting it, then placed it in the middle of the cake.

With that complete, she reached over to gently shake Ciel awake.

Ciel's brow creased. "Mn?"

"Ciel," she whispered. "Wake up."

"Mng..." Ciel blinked his eyes open. "Wha..." He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What... time is it?"

"Around three in the morning," she said.

"Three—?" Ciel yawned. "What... why?"

"Happy birthday," Eleanor said, holding out the cake. "Make a wish."

Ciel tiredly stared at the cake. "What...?"

"Happy birthday," she said again, smiling.

"Happy..." Ciel rubbed his eyes again, slowly waking up. Then he tensed, suddenly alert. "What? You—it's three in the morning."

"Yeah. Surprise," she said.

"Why are you even celebrating?" he shrewdly asked. "I hadn't planned any sort of party, and I declined letting Madam Red host such."

"I know," she said. "But I still wanted to."

Ciel warily looked back down at the cake. In a small voice he asked, "Why... do you want to celebrate?"

"It's okay if you don't want to," she said, "but I wanted to make sure you knew I was happy you were born. I'm grateful to have met you."

"If you hadn't met me, you wouldn't be in danger."

"That's a what if scenario," she dismissed. "I only deal in actualities—and the truth of the matter is I am happy you are here... Astre."

"Do not."

"You may take the name Ciel, and I will respect that choice," she said, "but I will always care for you as both Astre and Ciel. I won't forget or diminish either side of you."

"Astre was a weak boy who died," Ciel coldly retorted.

"Astre was a kind boy," Eleanor corrected. "A very sweet boy. The Ciel in front of me has his kindness."

He sneered. "You're an idiot."

"Maybe," she said, smiling. "Do you want your cake? I made it your favorite flavor."

"At three in the morning?'

"Best time to have it," she said, lavender eyes sparkling with delight.

"You're insufferable," he said as he reached for a fork and took a bite anyway.

(✹)

Interlude

Eleanor had fallen asleep on Ciel's bed after he had finished eating his cake. She curled up right next to him, tightly holding onto his own nightgown. Ciel had not been able to go back to sleep afterward. In part because he was uncomfortably stuffed, and also because he had a lot of things on his mind.

It was nearing the anniversary of the incident, after all.

Yet she...

Ciel had not realized it was morning until Sebastian opened the double doors to his room to wheel in a cart with his morning tea and newspaper on it.

"Did the young master enjoy his cake?" asked Sebastian as he pulled the bedroom curtains apart to let in the sunlight.

"It was overly sweet," muttered Ciel.

"Yet the young master ate it all?" Sebastian asked slyly. "I underestimated how much of a sweet tooth my young lord has."

Ciel glared tiredly at the demon, gently running his fingers through Eleanor's pale brown hair. "Shut up."

"Yes, my lord." Sebastian quietly poured Ciel a cup of tea, offering it to him. He looked down to Eleanor who was sleeping so heavily she hadn't stirred at all despite the conversation, and sudden light in the room.

Ciel noticed his gaze. He whispered, "Let her sleep."

"Do you require assistance getting out of bed?"

"No, I'll wait until she wakes up," he said, looking out the window as he continued to play with her hair with one hand.

"Very well, my lord."

(✹)

April, 1887

"My lady!" Finnian shouted with glee. He was running toward the carriage, waving both of his arms above his head in excitement. "Welcome home!"

Eleanor could not resist laughing at the boy.

The carriage came to a halt, and Snake stepped out first to assist Eleanor down.

"Thank you for such a warm welcome, Finny," Eleanor said as she took Snake's hand and stepped down from the carriage. "What's got you so excited, my dear boy?"

"We have a new employee here," he said, bouncing up and down. "A maid!"

"Oh my," said Eleanor. "Do you like her?"

"Yeah, she's a super cool sniper," he said.

"That's good to hear. I hope you'll get along well."

"Yes, my lady!"

"I'll put the carriage away," Snake told her, one of his snakes curling around his neck. Eleanor recognized the snake as Emily, a coral snake he had recently picked up. Emily flicked out her tongue, and Snake said, "'Don't trip.' says Emily."

"Thank you, Emily," Eleanor thanked the snake. "And thank you, Snake."

The two of them bobbed their heads. Finnian walked with Eleanor inside the manor where she was greeted by Ciel, Sebastian, and who she assumed to be the new servant.

A young Chinese woman with short maroon-red hair stood nervously before Eleanor. She fidgeted with her maid uniform, her expression difficult to see behind her large glasses.

Mey-Rin? Eleanor thought, the woman and name vaguely familiar. Although the woman before her did not have pigtails like Mey-Rin as her hair was too short.

"Ah, you must be the new maid," Eleanor said, smiling kindly at the young woman.

"Y-Yes ma'am."

"Ciel, hasn't taken you shopping yet, has he?" she asked. "What am I saying? Of course he hasn't, he's a reclusive terrified of sunlight."

Ciel sneered at her, while Sebastian turned his head and let out something that suspiciously sounded like a restrained chuckle.

"I'll be taking her with me when I head back," said Eleanor. "I'll bring her back next weekend."

"Do what you will," dismissed Ciel.

Eleanor reached forward and squeezed Mey-Rin's arm. "We'll get you a bunch of cute clothes to match that adorable face of yours."

Mey-Rin's cheeks were strawberries. She stammered, "Th-Th-Thank you m-m-my lady."

(✹)

Okay, done with the padding. I did want to include her meeting Baldroy but at the time of writing his introduction arc is canonically WIP and I don't want to AU the environment more than necessary. I can always include it in a flashback later.

Next chapter we hit the start of the story.

Answer: Angel. I want to fly, and I feel like they would be the most attentive when I'm sick.

Question: Which of the Phantomhive servants (not counting Sebastian) would you want to serve under you?

Astre!Ciel: We must not be friends anymore. I must walk the path of vengeance and fury alone, for you will only be hurt by my extreme angst and broodiness.

Eleanor: bitch u thought

Reviews are love!