You tracked him down, finally watching him turn into an enormous basilica after the coming of night. It was a cruel irony, that the day you finally met the man who made this all happen, one who you'd never ever call your father, it would be in God's house.

The family reunion from Hell would be carried out under Heaven's watchful eyes.

"I still can't believe this." You held back before entering, knowing that once you did, there was no going back for any of you. "I know he was a bad guy, but to have the Queen require us to bring her own grandson down, for me to actually be useful in such a direct way, I feel like it would have been so much easier if I'd never been born at all."

For the first time in seven years, you were able to distinguish something out of the ordinary come from the man who'd been acting so normal the entire time.

Sebastian actually flinched. Was it what you said that made him do so? Or was it the fact you were about to go inside a church? From your previous observations of him, how nothing religious save the host itself affected him, that seemed laughable. You wondered what it would do to him if he actually swallowed the flesh and blood of Jesus Christ Our Lord himself.

It's not like he'd ever be in a state of grace. He hadn't tried to receive communion any more than he'd attempted to enjoy an exceptionally fine cup of regular, non-holy wine. Maybe it'd kill him.

Not likely. You didn't react, though even Ciel noticed Sebastian's strange behaviour as you were instructed to move forward. He was just as shocked as you were when the truth came out, but he was done playing games. Royalty or not, this man had to pay for his sins.

And what better place to atone than St. Paul's? It was a bit ironic, however. Though it was hypocritical, if not altogether subversive, you never truly approved of his "Pharisee born again" redemption story.

Redemption wasn't always possible. Despite the fact you yearned for that to be untrue, more than anything else when it came to your own unique take on the scriptures, you had to push those hopes aside and bring this irredeemable criminal to justice.

His death would be a greater spectacle than any execution since the Tudor Dynasty.

Be that as it may, this one would be far from public. Perhaps history would eventually reveal the full extent of all the gritty details to future generations, but you would never know. You weren't immortal. Though, you did find the idea of reading about your heroism in a schoolbook one day uplifting. On the other hand, you also knew that history was not always kind to its subjects.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's vain to assume that you're the centre of it all. This is bigger than you. It always was. So don't worry. More than just I am content with the fact that you exist."

"Wow, Ciel. You really do have a way with words, now that you're all grown up, don't you?"

"This is hardly the time for sarcasm. I never claimed to be a poet. I'm..." he smirked, finally regaining all of his motivation. "I'm Ciel Phantomhive. I'm a bad guy, too. It's time to finish what I sold my goddamn soul for."

It marked the first time he was so crass about it. Then again, his goal was about to be reached. He was to have his revenge after all this time.

"Right. Let's do it, then." You nodded, as the three of you entered the dark cathedral.

The light of day was all but gone as midnight  spilled down onto the altars. It was a grandiose sanctuary, but in the late hour he was the only one there.

You knew he was inebriated before you even got close enough to hold a conversation. He reeked of it. The smell of tobacco, drugs and other illicit substances radiated off of him like cologne, and you saw sickly coloured clumps of what looked liked vomit forming a trail behind him. He'd thrown up his dinner on his way to where he sat now, half hunched over, clearly not respectfully praying after his latest desecration of something pure and holy.

He didn't talk to you. He didn't talk to anyone until he was forced. It all happened so fast. The room seemed to change. You were so distracted by everything that'd been going on that you didn't have adequate time to prepare yourself for what you were about to see.

It was like a bad dream, but you were awake, and terror had befallen someone else. You heard screaming, screeching, almost like a blackbird, a flock of crows, but it was all coming from one man, as the false, immortal servant so many people admired finally began to change places with his master. You wanted to run, to look away, to somehow disappear into the statues around you. If their eyes could close, you'd want yours to as well.

The true devil in the church that night wasn't the man you'd never call father.

Worst of all, what was even more terrifying than the nightmare befalling him, the man who didn't care about what he'd done to you or any other child, was that you loved that very monster, who now probably regretted not being able to stain the walls of this place with his blood. He was the same beautiful, evil force you'd loved since that night seven years before. You loved him then and you loved him now. You always would, no matter how much he sinned.

Even though you knew he hadn't been lying to you about what you'd encountered before, you couldn't help but doubt his credibility as Ciel ordered him to capture this man alive, as he begged for release. It was all so similar. It was like a scene from a novel you'd read before and decided to read again, one you were only reading, not a part of, despite the familiarity. If only it were that simple, perhaps this would be less terrifying, or at least only horrible for your -never your father- for the man who did this, but it seemed as though you both were equally traumatised.

"Do you know what your men did to me, Your Highness?"

Ciel spoke. The way he referred to the man cowering beneath the swirling black fog, billowing around black feathers as they plunged the once beautiful chapel into bottomless darkness, bothered you.

You wondered if he'd suspected you had anything to do with this when he first met you. It was clear he couldn't trust many people, but you couldn't say you were happy he had a reason to trust you, given what that took, what it was worth, what it cost.

"Do you know what I had to do to get here? How much I gave up? What I literally sacrificed?!?!?" He was shouting. Even though there were no real fine lines ever drawn beforehand as to how Ciel would handle the carrying out of his aspirations, you would have thought years of preponderance would have prevented such a surge of emotions. The pageantry wasn't as grand as you'd expected.

It was because he wasn't acting like they had been. All of them were going to pay. Many of them had, only a few were left, and you'd stand by Ciel and the rest of this one-time bonded group of evil noblemen as this particularly evil nobleman's severed head rolled away from his lifeless corpse. It would all be over soon.

"You know what my family did for yours! You know what hers did, too, don't you?" Ciel pointed behind where he remained, screaming directly into the face of a coward.

You didn't want to be addressed here, not like this. Of course you wanted to be involved directly, but not immediately, so early in this part of the undertaking. This victory belonged to Ciel. You wanted to wait for your own time to confront him. You pictured a lonely prison cell, right past the Traitor's Gate, once prepared for the beheading of another royal, one less deserving of her fate than his, where you could enter, dressed innocently, saintly, in white, brandishing a cross, urging him to repent. You'd been going over the words you'd say, the ones you wanted to be the last, if not only thing he ever heard from you.

May God have mercy on your soul.

"Of course you do." He had fallen to the floor, cowering, begging.

"Please don't do this!"
"Please!"
"Please!"
"I don't want to die!"
"Please!"

Sebastian wasn't "Sebastian" then, and you were remiss to openly acknowledge him, but even with all the extraneous details, there was a brief pause in the calibre of the chaos around you when that barbarian of a man repeated that word for the last time.

"Look at me!" Ciel kneeled down an grabbed the man's hair. He was pathetic, clawing at the front of his coat, acting more like a child than the youthful man holding him down had ever been. "You're a descendant of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria herself! How could you do this to her? To me, to anyone devoted to you, to your own flesh and blood? You're disgusting." He shoved him to the ground as the man covered his mouth with his hands, speaking what sounded like a prayer in Latin through his fingers.

The ancient language intrigued the demon who apparently had been commanded to leave by what might have been the least compelling force to exist, and a sinister, evil rancour filled the entire chamber. He was laughing at the vain attempts of the man you were after as he clamoured to expel him.

You stepped forward as Ciel raised a hand, and impulsively, though you knew this was his moment, this wasn't your place, you grabbed it in yours, and he turned, shocked, to look at you. You both had tears in your eyes: the angry, bittersweet cries of two children swept up in the storm caused by the man you had to bring home in chains.

The moment of silence lasted for what seemed like an eternity before you broke it, speaking in a kind and supportive manner. God had not abandoned you, and though you knew Ciel's endgame was different from yours, you would not abandon him. You'd make sure his last days were filled with as much love and serenity as people like you could understand.

You wished you could feel anything else other than what you did then. Though you'd heard those words lamented on your behalf scores of times, irritated as you quietly tolerated them on most occasions, your heart was breaking as you felt their full weight come down on you as you voiced them in earnest.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way." He wasn't angry with you for saying them, but he was angry nonetheless as he turned his attention back to his prisoner.

"The time for remorse ended the day I decided to live!" He grabbed the man's collar as you noticed the air around you thin. You'd have to leave the churchyard soon. A company was waiting to escort the disgraced prince home. The only semblance he ever held to the timeless figure adorned in the glass widows above you was that he was going to bear the weight of all your sins. He was one of you, the progenitor and the heir of the evil world of his fathers, and he had betrayed everyone. Even though some of you would have their crimes forgiven solely because he'd pay for his, he was no scapegoat. "Sebastian!"

The blackened smoke cleared as arms much stronger than those of any man you'd ever touched, especially willingly, effortlessly lifted the man from the ground as he struggled in vain, and began to bind his wrists. You helped, and briefly, the dim light within the room caught on your ring, and you snatched your own hands away from his shackles. You didn't notice Sebastian's grip slacken briefly as you did so. Ciel stood over the one he'd been so eager to catch all his life, gleefully enjoying his demise.

A part of him looked like he wished he could have been the one to kill him, but that wasn't his birthright. The man finally coughed and hissed at Ciel as he spat offensively on the hallowed grounds.

"That's what yer good for, ain't it? Her Majesty's Watchdog." Ciel narrowed his eyes. "Bringing his master what she wants. Good fer nothin' little runt, just like your bloody father." He leered at you, briefly. It was the only time he ever acknowledged you. "You too, doll. You're nothing like me. I shoulda killed your whore mother myself! You're as big a liar as the devil himself!

The second distinguishable sign arrived after seven long years of uncertainty. A flash of light, brighter and redder than the typical, equally paralysing violet glow, slashed through the night, clearly in response to more than one of the man's statements.

"You're wrong." Finally, you saw a part of the confusing entity you thought to be so human after all come trough once more. He smiled, turning once to you, then in a slightly different, darker fashion to Ciel, before continuing. "That's my area of expertise." He leaned in and whispered, but this time, it was emphatically cruel. No temptation, no seduction, but clear, direct threats. It obviously did the trick. The man was horrified.

"My master chose to live, and thanks to the only good thing you ever did, that means you're going to die."

The clanging of chains and the sound of muffled grunts gave way to the exchanging of weaponry and the scratches of pens on paper before the clomping of horses hooves on uneven stone indicated that you were headed to the Tower of London.